Sufficient time has passed since the surgery so we saw the doc on Monday to turn on my daughter's VNS. I once again explained what it would do to her. I don't think she's ever really understood what we were doing or why. She just grudgingly went along. Naturally, she'd rather we'd all just leave her alone but she also wishes she didn't have to deal with her seizures. For all her trepidation, she's been a trooper.
So the doc brings out this laptop computer with a device attached by a cable. I didn't note what kind of computer it was but I did notice a DOS command prompt when he exited the program. I'm thinking this was a 486 that was still chugging along running proprietary software. Anyway, he has my daughter hold the device, a metal box about 3"x4"x7" with a single LED indicator light, up to her chest. He changes a few settings on the computer screen (frequency and strength of the charge) and less than ten minutes after arriving we're done.
After a few minutes, she receives her first pulse. It's weird for her, of course. Then again five minutes later (and so on forever more) she gets another one. She describes it as a kind of vibration feeling which is to be expected. A small electric current is sent up the vagal nerve which runs up the side of the throat for 30 seconds every 5 minutes. She can also activate it herself with one of the supplied magnets which would send a stronger charge for when she feels a seizure coming on. Although not uncommon, we did not note any drastic change to her voice. It should also be noted that it is set at the lowest and most infrequent setting so she can get used to it. No doubt the doc will be upping the charge a bit in a month or two.
Interestingly, today she was asking for her magnets so that she could activate it herself. Not only does this show she's getting used to it but also is ready to take some action herself to control her seizures. We'll have to explain to her that this device may not show real effectiveness for a few weeks or perhaps even months. On the other hand, some patients have noted some improvement almost immediately. Personally, I think just having the option that there's something she can do when a seizure approaches would give her some sense of control. As long as she can derive some benefit from that, the added sense of control could give her a much needed confidence in dealing with the world in general.
Hardly a cure-all but a step, a small but significant step in the right direction. Sure she has a long ways to go but I'll take my victories wherever I can find them and build on from there.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Monday, December 27, 2004
Holiday re-cap
I foolishly stepped up to "direct" the "sacred drama" at our church which was performed in lieu of the liturgical readings on Christmas Eve. I had eight kids who wanted to narrate on a script that only called for three. With my theater background I figured I could work them all in and that the different voices would add more texture to the experience.
However, it seems I crossed some sort of Catholic liturgical line. I was told that because it was part of the Mass only three narrators could be allowed. Huh? So at the second rehearsal (out of 3 total) I put the kids' names into a hat and pulled out the three. Fortunately none of the three girls who never showed that night were picked. Two kids were disappointed and I looked like a heel once again. I had already severely let down a couple of little girls who had their heart set on being Mary. I had anticipated that one. But it was probably made worse because I picked my daughter who, I swear, was by far the best one for the role (based on her peformance AND her height relative to the actors playing angels and Joseph).
Unfortunately, at the time of the actual performance I missed most of it as I was corraling and educating all the last minute "ancilliary" shepherds and angels--about two dozen kids who, as they were told to, just showed up that evening at Mass and put on a make-shift costume and who had little to no idea what they were supposed to do. Still, from what I saw and from what I heard, it seemed to come off well.
I wish my singing solo earlier did as well. It was before Mass as people were coming in and taking their seats. I was to sing this solo written from Joseph's perspective. However, with all the commotion and the placement of the mikes relative to the piano, I could not hear the piano and could not pick out my starting note. We had to stop and start again. How embarrassing. But once I got going on it, it went quite well. But, boy, we could sure use some monitors back there.
Please, God, let this be the last year of Santa!
My youngest daughter insists on sleeping on the couch by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. My middle one, who due to her disabilities has maintained her Kringlistic beliefs, just would not fall asleep. Finally I was sneakily schlepping stocking stuffers past her open bedroom door at three o'clock in the f-ing morning! Then I had to load up the stockings and sneak them back to hang them, ever so quietly, about two yards from my sleeping young 'un. After that, I got to drag out the biggies from the Jolly Ol' Elf: a PS2 for the littlest one, a nifty telescope for Miss Middle girl, and a TV/DVD/VHS combo for the oldest. They were all well-received in the morning, or so I imagine as this was the first year where the missus and I were not up before the kids.
I bought Mrs. Koko several smallish items (a Christmas pin, a cologne sampler collection, a Wizard of Oz DVD, etc.) but her biggie was a nice leather coat that she was in no way expecting. She was way impressed and pleased. I received Metal of Honor: Rising Sun for the GameCube (and was up until 1am last night playing it), the Star Wars trilogy in DVD (what a cool bonus disk!), and a way, way, way cool black pork pie hat.
Man, I LOVE this hat. I've been wanting a pork pie for over a decade but could never justify spending that kind of money on something so trivial for myself. I'm not a "sexy, gorgeous" guy type but this baby brings out my "charming and cute" qualities. Then from my ma-in-law I got a healthy gift cert from the local music store which I'll be putting toward an acoustic guitar amp. And my big bro bought me a couple of guitar lessons at Sacramento's premiere guitar store. Too cool.
On a downer note, my godmother was in a minor traffic accident and suffered six broken ribs. That meant that her planned open house on Sunday was cancelled and I'm without my Christmas tamales this year.
However, it seems I crossed some sort of Catholic liturgical line. I was told that because it was part of the Mass only three narrators could be allowed. Huh? So at the second rehearsal (out of 3 total) I put the kids' names into a hat and pulled out the three. Fortunately none of the three girls who never showed that night were picked. Two kids were disappointed and I looked like a heel once again. I had already severely let down a couple of little girls who had their heart set on being Mary. I had anticipated that one. But it was probably made worse because I picked my daughter who, I swear, was by far the best one for the role (based on her peformance AND her height relative to the actors playing angels and Joseph).
Unfortunately, at the time of the actual performance I missed most of it as I was corraling and educating all the last minute "ancilliary" shepherds and angels--about two dozen kids who, as they were told to, just showed up that evening at Mass and put on a make-shift costume and who had little to no idea what they were supposed to do. Still, from what I saw and from what I heard, it seemed to come off well.
I wish my singing solo earlier did as well. It was before Mass as people were coming in and taking their seats. I was to sing this solo written from Joseph's perspective. However, with all the commotion and the placement of the mikes relative to the piano, I could not hear the piano and could not pick out my starting note. We had to stop and start again. How embarrassing. But once I got going on it, it went quite well. But, boy, we could sure use some monitors back there.
Please, God, let this be the last year of Santa!
My youngest daughter insists on sleeping on the couch by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. My middle one, who due to her disabilities has maintained her Kringlistic beliefs, just would not fall asleep. Finally I was sneakily schlepping stocking stuffers past her open bedroom door at three o'clock in the f-ing morning! Then I had to load up the stockings and sneak them back to hang them, ever so quietly, about two yards from my sleeping young 'un. After that, I got to drag out the biggies from the Jolly Ol' Elf: a PS2 for the littlest one, a nifty telescope for Miss Middle girl, and a TV/DVD/VHS combo for the oldest. They were all well-received in the morning, or so I imagine as this was the first year where the missus and I were not up before the kids.
I bought Mrs. Koko several smallish items (a Christmas pin, a cologne sampler collection, a Wizard of Oz DVD, etc.) but her biggie was a nice leather coat that she was in no way expecting. She was way impressed and pleased. I received Metal of Honor: Rising Sun for the GameCube (and was up until 1am last night playing it), the Star Wars trilogy in DVD (what a cool bonus disk!), and a way, way, way cool black pork pie hat.
Man, I LOVE this hat. I've been wanting a pork pie for over a decade but could never justify spending that kind of money on something so trivial for myself. I'm not a "sexy, gorgeous" guy type but this baby brings out my "charming and cute" qualities. Then from my ma-in-law I got a healthy gift cert from the local music store which I'll be putting toward an acoustic guitar amp. And my big bro bought me a couple of guitar lessons at Sacramento's premiere guitar store. Too cool.
On a downer note, my godmother was in a minor traffic accident and suffered six broken ribs. That meant that her planned open house on Sunday was cancelled and I'm without my Christmas tamales this year.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
VNS implanted
Well, the middle child got her Vagal Nerve Stimulator implanted. Her surgery was scheduled for 9am on Friday and she was home by 1pm that same day. The doc says she lost about one cc of blood which is indicative of a very successful procedure. We finally took the bandages off today and got to see the scars. They're still a bit red and puffy but she has a lot more mobility already. We won't get the device turned on until a couple of days after Christmas. The medicos want to be sure she is completely healed before we add the next variable.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The above was composed on the date listed but not posted until nearly a week later. I was trying to find a way of posting some digital pix we took during the process and once she came home but never did.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The above was composed on the date listed but not posted until nearly a week later. I was trying to find a way of posting some digital pix we took during the process and once she came home but never did.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Tree Day
As much as I long for a Rockwellian joys in our family life, the truth is we have very few traditions established. However, over the last few years it seems a trip out to Davis Ranch in Sloughhouse is an event even our teenage "Daughter of Constant Complaint" gets excited about. Sure there are plenty of churches and Boy Scout troops hawking Christmas trees at nearly every intersection and parking lot in town but Sloughhouse, though out in the country, is actually closer than my work. And all the trees are the same price ($28) no matter how big.
Usually, I push for getting the ol' tannenbaum the Saturday immediately following Thanksgiving (I have decreed in full fatherly mode that Christmas season officially begins when Santa parks his fat, red hiney in front of Macy's on 5th Avenue in NYC at the end of the parade.) However, a whole slew of life-crap has just devoured our time and the house was not properly prepped for a tree that weekend. So it was marked on the calender for the following one: December 4 - get the tree; Dec 5 - decorate it.
But then, on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, the day before all the kids go back to school, Mrs. Koko wrenches her back. She is out of commission completely for the next 3-4 days. The first few days of that week had at least two of my three daughters ill with one thing or another. The house which had settled into a mild chaos as I focused on clearing out the garage and gathering the Christmas trimmings, fell further into disarray while I was at work. We barely clear enough space to maneuver in a tree by that Saturday and luckily, after a couple of nights of Flexeril, Mrs. Koko's back is behaving a little better (though not soon enough for her to make it to a yearly cookie exchange--no holiday treats in the Koko house yet).
Saturday comes and there's a slight (but planned) delay whilst the older two daughters get their hair trimmed and colored. And then, we're off! The usual sibling arguments once there and the inevitable disagreement over which tree is the "perfect" tree. Mom like Tree A (which really was the better tree) but the youngest one (9 yrs old) is on the brink of tears if we don't get Tree B. Her sisters side with her...eh, it's almost as nice as Tree A and, frankly, we were losing daylight and it was getting cold. We go with Tree B. I give my girls a few tries with the saw but eventually it's up to Dad to fell the poor plant. Then, while I lash our quarry to the roof of the minivan, the rest of them go on a second hunt for a tree for grandma. Soon we have two trees strapped to the van and, after a brief stop for some kettle corn, we're off to the Sloughhouse Inn--our traditional stop on all our tree safaris--just a half mile up the road. The missus and I each have a prime rib sandwich while the girls dine on burgers and a calamari appetizer. As it supposedly can earn the Daughter of Constant Complaint some extra points at school, we ask to see the manager so she can interview him about the many and various ghost stories associated with the Inn. He was cool about it and had a decent story to tell himself even though he'd only been there a few weeks.
We drop off grandma's tree and set it up for her. It's a bit taller than she usually gets but it looks great. Then we get ours home. I have a bit of trouble getting the stand to fit over the trunk and have to saw off a bit of the knots on the side before I can get it in. Finally I got it in the stand and drug the tree into the house to our traditional tree-spot, in our front bay window. Only...it doesn't fit. The tree is about a foot too tall. The ceiling slants upward from the window so we bring it further into the room. But it's not clear of the ceiling until it is practically in the very center of the room, right in front of the TV. OK...on to Plan B. Some quick furniture rearrangement and we get the tree positioned under the peak of the vaulted ceiling.
This is easily the largest tree I've ever had in my house in my entire life. And the girls just love it.
Now if I can only pull off my hoped-for surprise this year...ages 9, 14, and 15 and they've never been to the snow. One thing or another always seemed to get in the way. I'm looking now for a vacation rental for the weekend following New Years (they're all booked up until then) up in/near Tahoe. Keep your fingers crossed.
Usually, I push for getting the ol' tannenbaum the Saturday immediately following Thanksgiving (I have decreed in full fatherly mode that Christmas season officially begins when Santa parks his fat, red hiney in front of Macy's on 5th Avenue in NYC at the end of the parade.) However, a whole slew of life-crap has just devoured our time and the house was not properly prepped for a tree that weekend. So it was marked on the calender for the following one: December 4 - get the tree; Dec 5 - decorate it.
But then, on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, the day before all the kids go back to school, Mrs. Koko wrenches her back. She is out of commission completely for the next 3-4 days. The first few days of that week had at least two of my three daughters ill with one thing or another. The house which had settled into a mild chaos as I focused on clearing out the garage and gathering the Christmas trimmings, fell further into disarray while I was at work. We barely clear enough space to maneuver in a tree by that Saturday and luckily, after a couple of nights of Flexeril, Mrs. Koko's back is behaving a little better (though not soon enough for her to make it to a yearly cookie exchange--no holiday treats in the Koko house yet).
Saturday comes and there's a slight (but planned) delay whilst the older two daughters get their hair trimmed and colored. And then, we're off! The usual sibling arguments once there and the inevitable disagreement over which tree is the "perfect" tree. Mom like Tree A (which really was the better tree) but the youngest one (9 yrs old) is on the brink of tears if we don't get Tree B. Her sisters side with her...eh, it's almost as nice as Tree A and, frankly, we were losing daylight and it was getting cold. We go with Tree B. I give my girls a few tries with the saw but eventually it's up to Dad to fell the poor plant. Then, while I lash our quarry to the roof of the minivan, the rest of them go on a second hunt for a tree for grandma. Soon we have two trees strapped to the van and, after a brief stop for some kettle corn, we're off to the Sloughhouse Inn--our traditional stop on all our tree safaris--just a half mile up the road. The missus and I each have a prime rib sandwich while the girls dine on burgers and a calamari appetizer. As it supposedly can earn the Daughter of Constant Complaint some extra points at school, we ask to see the manager so she can interview him about the many and various ghost stories associated with the Inn. He was cool about it and had a decent story to tell himself even though he'd only been there a few weeks.
We drop off grandma's tree and set it up for her. It's a bit taller than she usually gets but it looks great. Then we get ours home. I have a bit of trouble getting the stand to fit over the trunk and have to saw off a bit of the knots on the side before I can get it in. Finally I got it in the stand and drug the tree into the house to our traditional tree-spot, in our front bay window. Only...it doesn't fit. The tree is about a foot too tall. The ceiling slants upward from the window so we bring it further into the room. But it's not clear of the ceiling until it is practically in the very center of the room, right in front of the TV. OK...on to Plan B. Some quick furniture rearrangement and we get the tree positioned under the peak of the vaulted ceiling.
This is easily the largest tree I've ever had in my house in my entire life. And the girls just love it.
Now if I can only pull off my hoped-for surprise this year...ages 9, 14, and 15 and they've never been to the snow. One thing or another always seemed to get in the way. I'm looking now for a vacation rental for the weekend following New Years (they're all booked up until then) up in/near Tahoe. Keep your fingers crossed.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Say "cheese", Mary
CNN.com - 'Virgin Mary' sandwich back on eBay - Nov 16, 2004
OK, this time I can see "a face" as well. So often I have trouble seeing anything in the Holy Rorschach tests that pass for visions of the BVM or the fruit of her womb. But this time I can see someone. But tell me, just how in tarnation do we know who the lovely young lady is? I'm thinking it's Fay Wray who, recently shuffled off this mortal coil. We really don't know what the Blessed Virgin looked like. Sure we can guess but folks are generally so ethnocentric and/or over exposed to the Western library of Biblical art that Mary and Jesus often appear as a young mother from Dresden with her chubby little son. I'm sure Jesus did not look like Jeffrey Hunter, Max von Sydow, Robert Powell (okay, maybe he came close) or Jim Caviezel. And he certainly did not look like Ted Neeley (although it'd be cool to think the Savior could belt out a rock ballad like Neeley did in "Gethsemene") nor Jeremy Sisto (Jesus as a frat boy?). No, Jesus was not a white man, not in the European sense anyway, and neither was his mother.
So when folks see an image in their windows or cheese sandwiches how do they know just who it is they're seeing? And why, oh why, would the Most Holy Mother of God appear in such a profane manner?
OK, this time I can see "a face" as well. So often I have trouble seeing anything in the Holy Rorschach tests that pass for visions of the BVM or the fruit of her womb. But this time I can see someone. But tell me, just how in tarnation do we know who the lovely young lady is? I'm thinking it's Fay Wray who, recently shuffled off this mortal coil. We really don't know what the Blessed Virgin looked like. Sure we can guess but folks are generally so ethnocentric and/or over exposed to the Western library of Biblical art that Mary and Jesus often appear as a young mother from Dresden with her chubby little son. I'm sure Jesus did not look like Jeffrey Hunter, Max von Sydow, Robert Powell (okay, maybe he came close) or Jim Caviezel. And he certainly did not look like Ted Neeley (although it'd be cool to think the Savior could belt out a rock ballad like Neeley did in "Gethsemene") nor Jeremy Sisto (Jesus as a frat boy?). No, Jesus was not a white man, not in the European sense anyway, and neither was his mother.
So when folks see an image in their windows or cheese sandwiches how do they know just who it is they're seeing? And why, oh why, would the Most Holy Mother of God appear in such a profane manner?
The other shoe has dropped...on me
I received this yesterday...
I'm somewhat disappointed, of course, but not overly so. I still have a job; my family will continue to be fed and housed. Plus, I've been goaded and motivated to start looking around in greater earnest. PLUS, now I can focus on a good lead for a web/Flash client which will also include a semi-regular maintenance contract.
I want to thank you for your efforts in pursuing this programmer position with our company. You are a very talented programmer and it was a pleasure meeting you.My first response, typically self-deprecating and negative having been built upon a near-lifetime of low self-esteem, was that the work I submitted was not up to par and/or too slow in getting there and so they don't want me. But why bother with the "you are a very talented programmer"? So then I started to think that maybe the guy who interviewed me the first time (the head of the programming area) did indeed like me and want to hire me but the owner-guy is pinching his pennies. Could be...but they've just signed a contract with provider which will likely result in a sharp increase in subsequent client hospital contracts. In short they are going to see a marked increase in business soon and should be able to afford a better quality employee. Oh well.
Unfortunately we will not be able to offer you the position because the company is not prepared at this time to make a commitment to a salary your level of experience would command.
Mr. [Business Owner] is looking to fill the position with more of an "entry level" programmer.
If I may, I would like to keep your resume on file just in case the company needs someone with your experience in the future.
Again, I want to thank you for the opportunity to interview you; I enjoyed our conversation.
I'm somewhat disappointed, of course, but not overly so. I still have a job; my family will continue to be fed and housed. Plus, I've been goaded and motivated to start looking around in greater earnest. PLUS, now I can focus on a good lead for a web/Flash client which will also include a semi-regular maintenance contract.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Everything hits at once
Holy Guacamole, what a week it's been! Actually, it's been a two-week week. As I last blogged here, I got "an assignment" from my prospective employer to write up a program to show my skills. I get the specs and it seems easy so I quickly write back "no problem; I'll have it for you next week". I work on it on the Veteran's Day holiday and am surprised that I get it 90% finished in about three hours or so. "Hey," I thought to myself, "I am as good as I thought I was." And then I let it sit for most of the weekend thinking I'll just check it over on Sunday before I email it back to the guy.
Well, Sunday comes and I review the spec once more to make sure I've covered everything. Hmm, almost. I was supposed to build a program to search for files based on user-entered search criteria--that part was easy--and it is supposed to search the current directory and every subdiretory below that. Oh. Okay... Well, I told him "next week", I never specified a particular day. I can work on it a bit at work, too, right? No way, Jose. Turns out back at work I've got a bit of a production problem the users are clammoring about. I'm focused on that every minute of the workday. And then, a big-ass production problem kicks in on Tuesday and I'm putting in overtime all week to try to resolve it. I've got no time at work for this extra project and with the overtime I'm getting home late and after dealing with kids and other home stuff I've got maybe 30-60 minutes of awake time to try and solve the new wrinkle in my "audition piece".
I fix my major production problem at work. Or so I thought. Turns out I made a journeyman's error (which, BTW, slipped right through the walkthru with two other programmers) of not correcting some cut-and-paste code. So then I have to re-fix my fixed program and put that back into production. And it bombs out again! You can imagine my boss is feeling the pressure which she passes on to me. Further analysis reveals that my program is not at fault but the data is hinky for about two dozen records (out of about 4300 total). Just as the day is coming to an end last Friday, I create a way to pull off those records, put the rest through the conversion program and then bring the offending records back in (they were essentialy already converted by another program). I give the word to the data center to run that jobstream as soon as possible and if it finishes okay to run the rest of the regular jobs that have been held up for a week. Meanwhile I'm still plugging away the finishing touches for my extra-curricular assignment and at about 5pm on Friday I ship off my solution.
My wife takes me out to dinner that night during which I get a call on my cell phone: the job ran fine as did the first step of the regular run as well. Whew! The next day is my birthday and we go out to eat again. I still had a web page I had done at work which I was going to clean up (removing the proprietary info) and send off to my possible-future employer but birthday stuff got in the way.
This morning I check in and so far I'm hearing good things from my users. There's 4 or 5 records with unique conditions that didn't process quite right but overall the data looks great and properly updated. So, I'll be ablet to spend the rest of this morning and early afternoon finishing up that web page. I just hope my work outshines my tardiness and that the reason for my lateness--my dedication to my primary job--is seen in a good light as well.
During all this folderol, I've had to put off putting together something for potential outside web client as well. This job is going to force me to resurrect what little Flash knowledge I have but it will also require a good dose of creativity on my part. It should be fun.
It never rains but it pours.
Well, Sunday comes and I review the spec once more to make sure I've covered everything. Hmm, almost. I was supposed to build a program to search for files based on user-entered search criteria--that part was easy--and it is supposed to search the current directory and every subdiretory below that. Oh. Okay... Well, I told him "next week", I never specified a particular day. I can work on it a bit at work, too, right? No way, Jose. Turns out back at work I've got a bit of a production problem the users are clammoring about. I'm focused on that every minute of the workday. And then, a big-ass production problem kicks in on Tuesday and I'm putting in overtime all week to try to resolve it. I've got no time at work for this extra project and with the overtime I'm getting home late and after dealing with kids and other home stuff I've got maybe 30-60 minutes of awake time to try and solve the new wrinkle in my "audition piece".
I fix my major production problem at work. Or so I thought. Turns out I made a journeyman's error (which, BTW, slipped right through the walkthru with two other programmers) of not correcting some cut-and-paste code. So then I have to re-fix my fixed program and put that back into production. And it bombs out again! You can imagine my boss is feeling the pressure which she passes on to me. Further analysis reveals that my program is not at fault but the data is hinky for about two dozen records (out of about 4300 total). Just as the day is coming to an end last Friday, I create a way to pull off those records, put the rest through the conversion program and then bring the offending records back in (they were essentialy already converted by another program). I give the word to the data center to run that jobstream as soon as possible and if it finishes okay to run the rest of the regular jobs that have been held up for a week. Meanwhile I'm still plugging away the finishing touches for my extra-curricular assignment and at about 5pm on Friday I ship off my solution.
My wife takes me out to dinner that night during which I get a call on my cell phone: the job ran fine as did the first step of the regular run as well. Whew! The next day is my birthday and we go out to eat again. I still had a web page I had done at work which I was going to clean up (removing the proprietary info) and send off to my possible-future employer but birthday stuff got in the way.
This morning I check in and so far I'm hearing good things from my users. There's 4 or 5 records with unique conditions that didn't process quite right but overall the data looks great and properly updated. So, I'll be ablet to spend the rest of this morning and early afternoon finishing up that web page. I just hope my work outshines my tardiness and that the reason for my lateness--my dedication to my primary job--is seen in a good light as well.
During all this folderol, I've had to put off putting together something for potential outside web client as well. This job is going to force me to resurrect what little Flash knowledge I have but it will also require a good dose of creativity on my part. It should be fun.
It never rains but it pours.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
They Called My Bluff
Is this typical of private industry? To just keep yanking your chain and adding new hoops to jump through? Second interview over and done with last week and word gets to me that the company has been calling my references. So...it's looking good, right?
Last night I get an email that says essentially, "Koko, you mentioned that you build websites on the side. Do you have any examples you could show. Also, do you have any examples of programs you've written in a language other than COBOL?" Oh boy. Y'see...my "web sites on the side" business has been in a long germinating period. A couple years ago I started a decent sized site but got bogged down in my day job and meanwhile the client's family experieced a long, drawn out personal tradgedy. That site went nowhere. I kept most of the code but, here's the stupid-me part, I've forgotten the password for the Access database that drives the site. And, frankly, that design is so old it would've been redone by now anyway. I've got a church site to which I've contributed heavily (about 80-90% of it) but I've pretty much turned that one over to a fella who is still learning how to wrangle Contribute and his pages are a freaking mish-mash. Then there's my crown jewel which, sadly, is not out in the wild but was an internal site. However, the plug was pulled on that one just two weeks before it's big redesigned launch all due to politics. I'm going to have to do some fancy hunting and gathering to try and pull together a decent portfolio. I know, I know...I should've had this done already but I never expected a job to fall into my lap like this or that I'd go so far into the process.
And a program example, too? Okay, here's the thing. I haven't really programmed all that much in Visual Basic what I did was well over a year and a half ago (save for a refresher course a little while back). I don't think I saved any of that either as it was all ad hoc programs for a particular, immediate need. I do have a collection of macro-intensive Excel worksheets (written with VBA which is like a VB lite) which I contributed heavily to but I'm going to need more. Maybe I can ask him for some imaginary specs and I could work up a prototype from that? Or, maybe I could do that myself?
Oh boy...how to play this hand? It's time to put up or shut up and I'm not sure I've got the cards.
Last night I get an email that says essentially, "Koko, you mentioned that you build websites on the side. Do you have any examples you could show. Also, do you have any examples of programs you've written in a language other than COBOL?" Oh boy. Y'see...my "web sites on the side" business has been in a long germinating period. A couple years ago I started a decent sized site but got bogged down in my day job and meanwhile the client's family experieced a long, drawn out personal tradgedy. That site went nowhere. I kept most of the code but, here's the stupid-me part, I've forgotten the password for the Access database that drives the site. And, frankly, that design is so old it would've been redone by now anyway. I've got a church site to which I've contributed heavily (about 80-90% of it) but I've pretty much turned that one over to a fella who is still learning how to wrangle Contribute and his pages are a freaking mish-mash. Then there's my crown jewel which, sadly, is not out in the wild but was an internal site. However, the plug was pulled on that one just two weeks before it's big redesigned launch all due to politics. I'm going to have to do some fancy hunting and gathering to try and pull together a decent portfolio. I know, I know...I should've had this done already but I never expected a job to fall into my lap like this or that I'd go so far into the process.
And a program example, too? Okay, here's the thing. I haven't really programmed all that much in Visual Basic what I did was well over a year and a half ago (save for a refresher course a little while back). I don't think I saved any of that either as it was all ad hoc programs for a particular, immediate need. I do have a collection of macro-intensive Excel worksheets (written with VBA which is like a VB lite) which I contributed heavily to but I'm going to need more. Maybe I can ask him for some imaginary specs and I could work up a prototype from that? Or, maybe I could do that myself?
Oh boy...how to play this hand? It's time to put up or shut up and I'm not sure I've got the cards.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Second Interview
Just a couple of hours ago I returned from my second interview with HFS Software, a local software company. I think I can say it went well. They did ask me for references at the end which is a good sign (I emailed them off before I started this post). The head guy, the boss man, the owner/founder commented that I obviously can get along with people which is important because it is a small office (about a dozen people). What can I say? I charmed them.
:::Tech Jargon Warning:::
I was and am concerned that this shop uses Delphi and PC-COBOL. Apparently they are also looking forward to completing their roll-out to a 32-bit platform. I have to admit that I don't know what difference it would make programmatically between 16 or 32 bit except for the possible size overflows of passed strings. Also, I don't really know Delphi. I know Visual Basic, a bit, which I (and my interviewer) assume is similar. But I don't even know VB all that well. Maybe I do. I honestly don't know because I've never been a real VB programmer. I've played at it and cooked up a few apps at work but that's about it. COBOL I've done on the mainframe and I'm sure it's roughly the same on the PC (probably easier). But I was upfront about my Delphi experience...not so much with my limited VB work.
:::Jargon over:::
I think I can do this job. Hell, I'm almost positive I can but I may have a bit of a learning curve. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't have it yet. I think I made a good impression on the boss. Maybe not quite as good with the daughter/heir apparent, hard to tell as I'm really a doofus at reading women. Frankly she seemed a bit uncomfortable to be part of the interview. I can understand that. Lots of people don't like being on either side of the desk for that. It was easier for me because I'm not hungry for it; I have a job already. Still, I am hoping.
:::Tech Jargon Warning:::
I was and am concerned that this shop uses Delphi and PC-COBOL. Apparently they are also looking forward to completing their roll-out to a 32-bit platform. I have to admit that I don't know what difference it would make programmatically between 16 or 32 bit except for the possible size overflows of passed strings. Also, I don't really know Delphi. I know Visual Basic, a bit, which I (and my interviewer) assume is similar. But I don't even know VB all that well. Maybe I do. I honestly don't know because I've never been a real VB programmer. I've played at it and cooked up a few apps at work but that's about it. COBOL I've done on the mainframe and I'm sure it's roughly the same on the PC (probably easier). But I was upfront about my Delphi experience...not so much with my limited VB work.
:::Jargon over:::
I think I can do this job. Hell, I'm almost positive I can but I may have a bit of a learning curve. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't have it yet. I think I made a good impression on the boss. Maybe not quite as good with the daughter/heir apparent, hard to tell as I'm really a doofus at reading women. Frankly she seemed a bit uncomfortable to be part of the interview. I can understand that. Lots of people don't like being on either side of the desk for that. It was easier for me because I'm not hungry for it; I have a job already. Still, I am hoping.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Job Hunt Experiment Paying Off?
Nine days ago I blogged about how the IT industry in the US is outsourcing itself out of existance and how this might directly affect yours truly. Buried in one paragraph was the intimation that I was looking for employment in the private industry (I'm currently a State worker) and closer to home. Specifically, someone very new to the local BBS I frequent posted a job opening. It looked promising as I had much of the required skill set so I went for it and emailed my resume. This apparently worked well enough to earn me a response detailing a little more about the company and asking if I'd be interested in "an informal interview". Yes, I responded and we set it up.
So yesterday, I leave work early and the light rail, bus and my pedal power all align nicely getting me home 35 minutes before the interview. As the office is just two miles from my house, this gave me plenty of transition time. I arrive there a perfect three minutes before the schedule two o'clock appointment and am soon greeted by a tall man who looks familiar. He notes that I look familiar, too, and soon realizes it is because his step-daughter and my youngest daughter are good friends. Well, there's a nifty ice-breaker.
The interview goes well, I thought. I did learn that while this is the leading national company delivering medical financial software for reporting the the federal government, it is also a small shop with just over a dozen total employees. I'm informed that they carry the usual benefits and a generous self-directed, retirement benefit (he told me that with profit sharing it usually works out to about 20-25% of salary). The downside is that the health care option is limited to just one: Kaiser. We've done Kaiser and were pleasantly surprised when we finally tried another HMO. Oh well, Kaiser isn't awful, just...mediocre. And we do have a concern with my middle daughter's epilepsy treatment. While we didn't talk hard numbers or even ranges of salary, he did make the statement that my salary, should I get the job, would be definitely increased. He seemed like he was almost laughing at the incredibly low amount I am being paid now. Hmm, that sounds promising.
Anyway, I guess I passed that audition because he told me that he would be scheduling a second "informal" interview with the company's owner and his daughter who is also apparently the heir-apparent for the owner's eventual retirement. Yes, it is a family business and, it would seem, well taken care of. I've never known working in a place like that. I've worked for the State for the last 18-1/2 years, almost straight out of college.
I'm somewhat excited about the prospect of more money and working so incredibly close to home. But on the other hand, I've nothing to lose as I've already got a job. Still, I think I'm begining to want this so much that I might get nervous. We'll have to wait and see how the next step goes.
So yesterday, I leave work early and the light rail, bus and my pedal power all align nicely getting me home 35 minutes before the interview. As the office is just two miles from my house, this gave me plenty of transition time. I arrive there a perfect three minutes before the schedule two o'clock appointment and am soon greeted by a tall man who looks familiar. He notes that I look familiar, too, and soon realizes it is because his step-daughter and my youngest daughter are good friends. Well, there's a nifty ice-breaker.
The interview goes well, I thought. I did learn that while this is the leading national company delivering medical financial software for reporting the the federal government, it is also a small shop with just over a dozen total employees. I'm informed that they carry the usual benefits and a generous self-directed, retirement benefit (he told me that with profit sharing it usually works out to about 20-25% of salary). The downside is that the health care option is limited to just one: Kaiser. We've done Kaiser and were pleasantly surprised when we finally tried another HMO. Oh well, Kaiser isn't awful, just...mediocre. And we do have a concern with my middle daughter's epilepsy treatment. While we didn't talk hard numbers or even ranges of salary, he did make the statement that my salary, should I get the job, would be definitely increased. He seemed like he was almost laughing at the incredibly low amount I am being paid now. Hmm, that sounds promising.
Anyway, I guess I passed that audition because he told me that he would be scheduling a second "informal" interview with the company's owner and his daughter who is also apparently the heir-apparent for the owner's eventual retirement. Yes, it is a family business and, it would seem, well taken care of. I've never known working in a place like that. I've worked for the State for the last 18-1/2 years, almost straight out of college.
I'm somewhat excited about the prospect of more money and working so incredibly close to home. But on the other hand, I've nothing to lose as I've already got a job. Still, I think I'm begining to want this so much that I might get nervous. We'll have to wait and see how the next step goes.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Daddy's Little Girl
My youngest daughter had been a acolyte at the Presbyterian Church we used to attend. Her duties then were to walk down the center aisle, slowly so the flame on the end of her candle-lighter does not go out, and then light the two candles on the altar table and leave back up the center. Then at the end of the service she was to come down the aisle again, snuff the candles, then stand with the minister and exit with him. She started doing that when she was in the second grade.
But having moved south a few miles we wanted to find a church closer to home--it really helps build a sense of community when you see familiar faces at church and school and soccer and the grocery store, etc--and my wife was finally submitting to her years long pull toward the Catholic Church. I feel it is important that the family not attend separate churches so I had to consider becoming Catholic myself and putting my daughters through that as well. I was raised Catholic and missed much of the traditions, however, I was very leary of re-joining them as I was afraid much of my political and theological leanings would not fit well. Turns out the parish priest is even more liberal than I am, I think, and his explanation of the usage of the term "virgin" helped me accept some of the Marian ideas of the RC. So last Easter, the whole family was confirmed into the RCC.
Still it was a tough slog for the kids. Frankly, a Catholic Mass is not as fun a most Protestant services mainly because the kids have to stay through it all. Before my daughters would go off to their classes after about 10-15 minutes in the sanctuary, but the Catholics keep them all in for the most part. But my youngest (who still pines for our "old church") is game girl who tries to make the best of her situation. She started singing off and on with the children's choir and just recently signed up to be an alter server. Now, back in my day it was only the boys who could do that as it was seen as a possible step toward the priesthood, but I guess back in the 80s the pope cleared the way for girls to participate, too.
Yesterday was her first time as an alter server. I was surprised at how proud I was to see her up there. She looked so incredibly sweet as she was the only fourth grader up there, the rest were sixth graders I believe. The other two girls and the boy were very kind and helpful which helped a lot. She asked them and they allowed her to hold one of the candles while the priest read the gospel and she held the bowl for him to wash his hands in preparation of the Eucharist. Once when she was sitting with the rest during the homily, she was looking kind of bored. I caught her eye and winked at her and she smiled the sweetest smile. That's going to be one of the memories I'll be able to rely on to make me feel better for years to come.
But having moved south a few miles we wanted to find a church closer to home--it really helps build a sense of community when you see familiar faces at church and school and soccer and the grocery store, etc--and my wife was finally submitting to her years long pull toward the Catholic Church. I feel it is important that the family not attend separate churches so I had to consider becoming Catholic myself and putting my daughters through that as well. I was raised Catholic and missed much of the traditions, however, I was very leary of re-joining them as I was afraid much of my political and theological leanings would not fit well. Turns out the parish priest is even more liberal than I am, I think, and his explanation of the usage of the term "virgin" helped me accept some of the Marian ideas of the RC. So last Easter, the whole family was confirmed into the RCC.
Still it was a tough slog for the kids. Frankly, a Catholic Mass is not as fun a most Protestant services mainly because the kids have to stay through it all. Before my daughters would go off to their classes after about 10-15 minutes in the sanctuary, but the Catholics keep them all in for the most part. But my youngest (who still pines for our "old church") is game girl who tries to make the best of her situation. She started singing off and on with the children's choir and just recently signed up to be an alter server. Now, back in my day it was only the boys who could do that as it was seen as a possible step toward the priesthood, but I guess back in the 80s the pope cleared the way for girls to participate, too.
Yesterday was her first time as an alter server. I was surprised at how proud I was to see her up there. She looked so incredibly sweet as she was the only fourth grader up there, the rest were sixth graders I believe. The other two girls and the boy were very kind and helpful which helped a lot. She asked them and they allowed her to hold one of the candles while the priest read the gospel and she held the bowl for him to wash his hands in preparation of the Eucharist. Once when she was sitting with the rest during the homily, she was looking kind of bored. I caught her eye and winked at her and she smiled the sweetest smile. That's going to be one of the memories I'll be able to rely on to make me feel better for years to come.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Dreams...Hopes...and Reality
Two nights ago I had another bad dream. It was kind of similar to the one I wrote about before. Much shorter this time and updated to be in our new car. I was driving alone in our new (used) Mercury Villager. I was doing okay but I was running just a bit late. I was coming up to an intersection on the other side of which were two separate freeway entrances: one going off to the right and one to the left. The one on the left went up a large overpass structure as it veered leftward and it was banked at a severe angle. The light at the intersection changed just as I was approaching it and slowing down. I had to accellerate and barely had time to read the signs and figure out that I needed to take the left entrance. I went up it and the bank of the overpass was too much. The van started to go over and I started plummetting in free fall. I saw the ground below spinning as the van was falling and I had time to say a prayer and will my love out to each of my daughters and my wife and then...I woke up. It was about 3:30am and I didn't sleep anymore that day.
The next day (or was it the same day) we had a follow up appointment with my daughter's neurologist. That day in the email that Mrs. Koko sent me to remind me of the appointment, she said that since surgery was no longer seemed like a reasonable option and the latest medicine wasn't working (the Felbatol made her shaky, jumpy and gave her a "weird feeling" which was a lot like a pre-cursor to her seizures) she was ready to push for the Vagus Nerve Stimulator (VNS). We arrive at the doc's office and as it is a late appointment no one else is in the waiting room and we are ushered right in by the doctor even though we were a few minutes early. As soon as we enter the room, the first words out of his mouth are "I think we should try the vagus nerve stimulator." (No, he's not one to say 'hello' or any of the other common courtesies one might expect; he's not rude necessarily as much as he is a skilled and focused professional.) Well, the wife was surprised (she thought she'd have to fight for it) and pleased. Me? I'm dubious. The data is hardly conclusive on the VNS and they still don't know why it does work when it does. It seems hardly more than a crap shoot to me. But like the doc said, it's like a lottery ticket; what have you go to lose? Well, it is a surgery being peformed on my daughter, albeit a far more minor one compared to what we had contemplated earlier this year.
Interestingly, he also told us that his partner presented my daughter's case at a national gathering of epilepsy doctors at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine. Many of the docs there suggested a something-or-other scan which would mean invasive probes and injecting a dye during and after a seizure which would have to be monitored inside a gamma scanner. They also offered that the VNS should be explored as an option. When you have the nation's top experts in the field telling you something, I guess you should listen. So, we're going to start moving along this line.
The thing is, as my wife points out: time is passing and in less than a year our daughter will be in high school and she is not learning enough. What the hell is going to happen to her in the future? She is a bright enough girl and she's turning into a real beauty (if she wasn't so shy we could probably get her jobs as a print model; she is quite thin and long-legged with nice coloring). But she has an incredibly low self-esteem and no self confidence about anything. What is to become of my precious little girl?
The next day (or was it the same day) we had a follow up appointment with my daughter's neurologist. That day in the email that Mrs. Koko sent me to remind me of the appointment, she said that since surgery was no longer seemed like a reasonable option and the latest medicine wasn't working (the Felbatol made her shaky, jumpy and gave her a "weird feeling" which was a lot like a pre-cursor to her seizures) she was ready to push for the Vagus Nerve Stimulator (VNS). We arrive at the doc's office and as it is a late appointment no one else is in the waiting room and we are ushered right in by the doctor even though we were a few minutes early. As soon as we enter the room, the first words out of his mouth are "I think we should try the vagus nerve stimulator." (No, he's not one to say 'hello' or any of the other common courtesies one might expect; he's not rude necessarily as much as he is a skilled and focused professional.) Well, the wife was surprised (she thought she'd have to fight for it) and pleased. Me? I'm dubious. The data is hardly conclusive on the VNS and they still don't know why it does work when it does. It seems hardly more than a crap shoot to me. But like the doc said, it's like a lottery ticket; what have you go to lose? Well, it is a surgery being peformed on my daughter, albeit a far more minor one compared to what we had contemplated earlier this year.
Interestingly, he also told us that his partner presented my daughter's case at a national gathering of epilepsy doctors at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine. Many of the docs there suggested a something-or-other scan which would mean invasive probes and injecting a dye during and after a seizure which would have to be monitored inside a gamma scanner. They also offered that the VNS should be explored as an option. When you have the nation's top experts in the field telling you something, I guess you should listen. So, we're going to start moving along this line.
The thing is, as my wife points out: time is passing and in less than a year our daughter will be in high school and she is not learning enough. What the hell is going to happen to her in the future? She is a bright enough girl and she's turning into a real beauty (if she wasn't so shy we could probably get her jobs as a print model; she is quite thin and long-legged with nice coloring). But she has an incredibly low self-esteem and no self confidence about anything. What is to become of my precious little girl?
Whiskey Buisiness
Last week, in anticipation of the third presidential debate, I got a hankerin' for a nice martini. Unfortunately, I didn't have any Grey Goose handy (and is there really any other vodka for a decent martini?). Oddly, on the local BBS I frequent, another fellow was thinking the same thing. Could there have been a zeitgeist at work?
Later that week, Friday I think, Mrs. Koko and I traipse over to Macroni Grill for supper. We get our favorite server: Sarah (yes, with an "h" at the end or as she says, "'Sarah', fully dressed."). She is a kick. I just wish she could ignore all her other patrons and just sit down with us. But, as my martini mood had once again revisited me, I seized the opportunity to finally order one. Oh...yes.... A fine, Grey Goose martini with a twist (no olive, please). Here's to civilized living...and satisfying the zeitgeist.
Now, with that martini thirst quenched and the weather turned blustery and decidedly wet, it is finally that wonderful time of year I call "Whiskey Season". To be sure, brandy is also encouraged. It's really a matter of my wallet and how much I'd like to consume in an evening. I have to go a bit slower with the Irish Whiskey than I do with brandy. I used to be an unwaivering Bushmills, even though it comes from the Protestant distiller which no "real Irishmen" would drink from (except for the special dispensation for Guiness, of course). Jameson always seemed a bit harsher to me going down though it does have a nice finish. But now, I can't say as I really have preference of one over the other. That is, as long as we're talking about the "basic", low-end bottle. I've not tried Jameson's 12 year old whiskey but Bushmill's Black Bush is by far my drink of choice, especially this time of year. And it makes a great gift.
Later that week, Friday I think, Mrs. Koko and I traipse over to Macroni Grill for supper. We get our favorite server: Sarah (yes, with an "h" at the end or as she says, "'Sarah', fully dressed."). She is a kick. I just wish she could ignore all her other patrons and just sit down with us. But, as my martini mood had once again revisited me, I seized the opportunity to finally order one. Oh...yes.... A fine, Grey Goose martini with a twist (no olive, please). Here's to civilized living...and satisfying the zeitgeist.
Now, with that martini thirst quenched and the weather turned blustery and decidedly wet, it is finally that wonderful time of year I call "Whiskey Season". To be sure, brandy is also encouraged. It's really a matter of my wallet and how much I'd like to consume in an evening. I have to go a bit slower with the Irish Whiskey than I do with brandy. I used to be an unwaivering Bushmills, even though it comes from the Protestant distiller which no "real Irishmen" would drink from (except for the special dispensation for Guiness, of course). Jameson always seemed a bit harsher to me going down though it does have a nice finish. But now, I can't say as I really have preference of one over the other. That is, as long as we're talking about the "basic", low-end bottle. I've not tried Jameson's 12 year old whiskey but Bushmill's Black Bush is by far my drink of choice, especially this time of year. And it makes a great gift.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Time for a career change?
Uh-oh...
There's a famous scene in The Graduate where Benjamin Braddock is making his dazed but cordial rounds at his graduation party. A neighbor or family friend corners him and tells him, "One word, Ben: 'plastics'." "Plastics" was the word of the future of industry in the sixties & seventies. By the eighties though it was "Computers". You'd always have a job if you "knew computers". That was my time.
Well, on a whim while hanging out with my girlfriend (who would eventually become my wife) in the early mid-eighties, I answered an ad from one of those trade schools for computer programming. It seemed a particularly good idea as I was a drama major and not getting many roles. Anyway, I got the financial aid and did the course: every single weeknight for an entire year (with one week off for Christmas). I learned BASIC, COBOL and something called RPG. About half to two-thirds of the students washed out before the end of the year. I made through and it qualified me for an entry level programming job with the State of California and thus began my programming career some twenty years ago.
Now, midway through my earning years I see my industry dwindling. I see my competition growing. I'm looking at 20+ years on my mortgage and college for my oldest daughter in two and a half years. And my career advancement prospects are dwindling fast.
Currently, I'm still a civil service worker although I've started sniffing around some private industry shops. I'm hoping for more interesting work and a much shorter commute without losing any money. Now, I've got to wonder how long any private industry job will be around.
OR...
Maybe it's time to start working on changing careers. As much as I'd love plying my trade as a full time freelance writer, it is unlikely I could make much more than 2/3 of my current income and that's not including losing the benefits I now enjoy. My other potential passion? Well, it'll take some years and some money but I've always wondered about a career in law. I understand that the McGeorge School of Law has a decent reputation. I've perused a couple of LSAT books and they seem like a veritable cake walk. Okay, that's overstating it a bit but the test is not a knowledge quiz but a critical thinking examination. This is not only be something that could open up a second career option, it could be something I could truly enjoy. However, I don't see myself being one of those uber-wealthy tort lawyers. My interest lie in helping folks negotiate and combat government bureaucracy, especially in special education. It may not make me much more money than I'm making now but I'd be able to sleep well at night. Then again, politics is interesting, too...
I'll have to look into it because I have NO idea what it'll cost in terms of time or money. But there's this...this aching, nagging feeling in my chest when I think about it...pulling at me... But dare I put my family through such an ordeal?
Friday, October 15, 2004
All Hallow's Eve Eve
Okay, so Halloween falls on a Sunday this year. It's bound to happen at least once every 14 years (7 days a week and a 50/50 chance of it being a leap year which could "leapfrog" Oct 31 from Saturday one year to Monday the next). As it is I've got to make sure I go to church that morning instead of playing guitar at the evening service so I can take my girls out for the Great Candy Shakedown. But, come ON, people! I just don't get people who say stuff like from this article.
For on thing, the term "Halloween" comes from "Hallow e'en" which is a shorted form of "All Hallow's Evening". It marks the day before All Hallow's Day which is November 1. I remember taking my first communion on that day. It is a day of some, albeit forgotten, significance in Christendom. "Hallow" refers to the "hallowed ones" sometimes called "saints" (little "s"). As a matter of fact, November 1 is often referred to as "All Saint's Day". Maybe if the last day in October was known as "Saintseen" it would have a totally different connotation. Hallowed ones, or little-s saints, refers simply to the dead. The night before All Hallow's Day, tradition tells us, our dead relatives are allowed to walk the earth to check up on us. I believe this is exactly the tradition behind the Mexican Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead where we've seen pictures of people marching around with large skeletons around them. Though morbid, it is actually a sweet tradition to honor one's passed relatives.
Later, of course, as many people are uncomfortable with the dead walking around and probably due to the confusion of the word "Underworld", things took a more devilish turn. Underworld used to refer to the place where the dead went. You know, crossing the River Styx, ruled by Hades...ah, "Hades". Somewhere along the line, Hades got confused with Hell and now we can see where the satanic association may have been derived from.
Oh well...that ain't gonna help those poor trick-or-treaters down in Georgia.
But on the plus side, they do have some enterprising young'uns there. The article notes some kids are taking advantage of the double dose of trick-or-treating and going out both nights. At least they'll get a better return on their costume expense dollar.
"'It's a day for the good Lord, not for the devil,' said Barbara Braswell, who plans to send her 4-year-old granddaughter Maliyah out trick-or-treating in a princess costume on Saturday instead.
For on thing, the term "Halloween" comes from "Hallow e'en" which is a shorted form of "All Hallow's Evening". It marks the day before All Hallow's Day which is November 1. I remember taking my first communion on that day. It is a day of some, albeit forgotten, significance in Christendom. "Hallow" refers to the "hallowed ones" sometimes called "saints" (little "s"). As a matter of fact, November 1 is often referred to as "All Saint's Day". Maybe if the last day in October was known as "Saintseen" it would have a totally different connotation. Hallowed ones, or little-s saints, refers simply to the dead. The night before All Hallow's Day, tradition tells us, our dead relatives are allowed to walk the earth to check up on us. I believe this is exactly the tradition behind the Mexican Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead where we've seen pictures of people marching around with large skeletons around them. Though morbid, it is actually a sweet tradition to honor one's passed relatives.
Later, of course, as many people are uncomfortable with the dead walking around and probably due to the confusion of the word "Underworld", things took a more devilish turn. Underworld used to refer to the place where the dead went. You know, crossing the River Styx, ruled by Hades...ah, "Hades". Somewhere along the line, Hades got confused with Hell and now we can see where the satanic association may have been derived from.
Oh well...that ain't gonna help those poor trick-or-treaters down in Georgia.
But on the plus side, they do have some enterprising young'uns there. The article notes some kids are taking advantage of the double dose of trick-or-treating and going out both nights. At least they'll get a better return on their costume expense dollar.
Monday, October 11, 2004
Look, up in the sky...all the way to heaven.
The "rule of three" gathered its final victim today. First was Janet Leigh of Psycho fame. Next, we lost Rodney Dangerfield. And today we lost another celebrity who, ironically, was a real stand-up guy: Christopher Reeve. Meaning no disrespect for Ms. Leigh or Mr. "No Respect", but Mr. Reeve was really accomplishing something. His advocacy for spinal cord injury research and stem cell research helped boost those areas many times over. His is a legacy that goes far beyond his film career. He was a great man who will be missed.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Flotsam & Jetsom
Back in September whilst shopping for a gift for my mommy, the Mrs. Koko accompanied me and we perused some wedding bands. You see, hers had sad date with Mr. Garbage Disposal a couple of years ago and mine became too uncomfortable to wear as I wear all my beer weight in my fingers. So while we both got sized (in a place recommended by DarkWings, thank you), I passed a discrete word to the salesgirl to pull some 1/4 karat solitaires. Whys so small, you ask? Cuz that's what Mrs. Koko has before she bent the prong and lost her diamond and I don't know WHAT ever happened to the ring! Plus, frankly money is not flying out my cornhole so we gotta be a bit practical (and if I can seal that in a romantic "how it used to be" wrapper, all the better). Bit of an ordeal navigating RT to get to the jeweler during lunch break...somehow was able to keep it to myself...finally I totally surprised her with the ring on the 20th anniversary of our first "date". Yes, she was quite smitten all over again.
...
Major hailstorm a couple of weeks ago. Man, the hailstones were easily about 1/2 to 3/4 inch in diameter and it lasted for about 10-15 minutes. The rain continued to downpour for another half hour after that. I went out in it just to experience it (and to look for one of the two stray cats we've semi-adopted). Man, I got soaked but I love to experience the fullness of what Nature can bring.
...
Was called upon for a couple of solos for church choir 'cause the teen girls weren't paying attention and Chris, the leader, was getting a bit frustrated with them. I did okay. Got a nice compliment on my Psalm bit. We do it to very AME-style gospel (damn but I wish I was born a black woman sometimes) which I love and even added a little "Mmmmm-mmmmmm" between the lyrics. Got a nice compliment for it afterwards.
...
My daughter's soccer team WON! I coached many of these girls two years ago--turns out both them and I too last year off--and we went 0-10 then. So this was our first victory of this year AND before. Now, if I could just get my assistant coach to shut up during the game. He is so damn negative, especially with his own daughter. They've got enough pressure out there, dammit, they don't need to hear complaints and whining from their coaches during the damn game. They're only nine and ten years old!
One of the new girls (new to me anyway) asked if I was going to coach next year so that she could ask for me specifically. That really was sweet.
...
Y'know...there was something else...something I've been meaning to share for a couple of days now...but I just can't think of it. Damn!
...
Couldn't order the tickets ahead because Koko has absolutely NO credit whatsoever. Couldn't get to the box office because they're only open during my work hours Monday through Friday. And I told this to my oldest daughter, a fifteen year old who is borderline GATE qualified but lacks the common sense God gave a goat. At 6:10pm tonight as I come through the door after over an hour's commute home, the rest of the family is at the table, halfway through their dinner. My daughter asks me about the tickets. I explain that, as I told her I was unable to get them. She asks me when the concert is and I tell her it is scheduled to start in about an hour. Bit of panic and last minute prep and we're out the door about 20 minutes later.
We hope to be able to by tix at the door...I explain that this may not be possible. Furthermore, I explain that while I know the name of the venue and that it is on the UCDavis campus, I do not know exactly how to get from the freeway to the concert hall. We pick up her boyfriend (he is begining to wear on me not because he is her boyfriend but because he is her first boyfriend and has been her boyfriend for many months now--it is time to move on!) and after a few last minute words with his stepmom (that dad and stepmom are cool, the mom is flake-a-zoid supreme) we're off. Long story short: the concert is sold out. Oh, why such the hue and cry for this concert? It was the "Nintendo Fusion" concert and Sonic Youth were supposedly going to perform music from Nintendo games. THIS is what my gamer daughter was all hyped up about. On the way there, her and her BF were discussing Final Fantasy characters and comparing the various incarnations post FF7 and how they stacked up. I mean they were even critiquing the costuming and the depth of the NPC (which I take to mean "non-primary characters"). These are real gamer geeks. But you know what? They applying legitimate critique and analysis to their world; as a former Star Trek geek, I gotta respect that.
...
I know there was something else...something I wanted to relate...oh well...maybe later.
...
Major hailstorm a couple of weeks ago. Man, the hailstones were easily about 1/2 to 3/4 inch in diameter and it lasted for about 10-15 minutes. The rain continued to downpour for another half hour after that. I went out in it just to experience it (and to look for one of the two stray cats we've semi-adopted). Man, I got soaked but I love to experience the fullness of what Nature can bring.
...
Was called upon for a couple of solos for church choir 'cause the teen girls weren't paying attention and Chris, the leader, was getting a bit frustrated with them. I did okay. Got a nice compliment on my Psalm bit. We do it to very AME-style gospel (damn but I wish I was born a black woman sometimes) which I love and even added a little "Mmmmm-mmmmmm" between the lyrics. Got a nice compliment for it afterwards.
...
My daughter's soccer team WON! I coached many of these girls two years ago--turns out both them and I too last year off--and we went 0-10 then. So this was our first victory of this year AND before. Now, if I could just get my assistant coach to shut up during the game. He is so damn negative, especially with his own daughter. They've got enough pressure out there, dammit, they don't need to hear complaints and whining from their coaches during the damn game. They're only nine and ten years old!
One of the new girls (new to me anyway) asked if I was going to coach next year so that she could ask for me specifically. That really was sweet.
...
Y'know...there was something else...something I've been meaning to share for a couple of days now...but I just can't think of it. Damn!
...
Couldn't order the tickets ahead because Koko has absolutely NO credit whatsoever. Couldn't get to the box office because they're only open during my work hours Monday through Friday. And I told this to my oldest daughter, a fifteen year old who is borderline GATE qualified but lacks the common sense God gave a goat. At 6:10pm tonight as I come through the door after over an hour's commute home, the rest of the family is at the table, halfway through their dinner. My daughter asks me about the tickets. I explain that, as I told her I was unable to get them. She asks me when the concert is and I tell her it is scheduled to start in about an hour. Bit of panic and last minute prep and we're out the door about 20 minutes later.
We hope to be able to by tix at the door...I explain that this may not be possible. Furthermore, I explain that while I know the name of the venue and that it is on the UCDavis campus, I do not know exactly how to get from the freeway to the concert hall. We pick up her boyfriend (he is begining to wear on me not because he is her boyfriend but because he is her first boyfriend and has been her boyfriend for many months now--it is time to move on!) and after a few last minute words with his stepmom (that dad and stepmom are cool, the mom is flake-a-zoid supreme) we're off. Long story short: the concert is sold out. Oh, why such the hue and cry for this concert? It was the "Nintendo Fusion" concert and Sonic Youth were supposedly going to perform music from Nintendo games. THIS is what my gamer daughter was all hyped up about. On the way there, her and her BF were discussing Final Fantasy characters and comparing the various incarnations post FF7 and how they stacked up. I mean they were even critiquing the costuming and the depth of the NPC (which I take to mean "non-primary characters"). These are real gamer geeks. But you know what? They applying legitimate critique and analysis to their world; as a former Star Trek geek, I gotta respect that.
...
I know there was something else...something I wanted to relate...oh well...maybe later.
My Pirate Name?
My pirate name is:
Red Davy Flint
Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!
Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.
And y'know...the cockatiel we just got does seem to favor me...rides on me shoulder most o' the live-long day, he does. Why not? I don't do the laundry, ye scurvy dog!
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Memories...
On a local BBS someone started a "nostalgia" topic and it got me strolling down the lane. This is probably more than you'd like to see but once you open the flood gates...
I remember...
...looking up at my mom as she collapsed in tears at the hospital desk when told that my father had died
...being intimidated in the first grade by Sister Wilhemena at St. Mel's (yeah, a saint named "Mel". Go figure!)
...hanging out with my friends in the tunnels dug in the field down the street in Fair Oaks
...trying to think of sins bad enough for confession
...swinging at the various "anatomically correct" pinatas at my godparent's house every Easter since before I was born
...looking out my window to see if I could spot Neil Armstrong on the moon
...wearing a funky metal bar brace to bed that kept my feet splayed outward to correct my "pidgeon toe"
...riding my red, Schwinn Stingray (with a white banana seat) all over the neighborhood and in the park
...swinging wildly at my big brother while he held me off with his hand on my head, his arm extened until he grew bored and just shoved me to the ground
...seeing a dog frozen to death at the bottom of the bell tower at St. Philomene's
...riding my bike home from school and getting the front tire hit by a car, knocking me to the ground but that was about it
...watching helplessly as my sixth grade big brother was beaten up by eighth graders
...playing crack the whip out in the grassy area of the school when the fog settled in and obscured us from the teachers
...arguing with my brother to watch Star Trek reruns rather than the boring old Watergate hearings
...always being one of the last picked for any sport
...putting a fishhook throug my finger when my godfather tried to show me how to fish on a camping trip up in Markelyville
...the traditional week in Sly Park for sixth graders where after one particularly long hike, the bus broke down to take us back and we had to hike even more, almost missing lunch but they scraped together some chili for us and it was the best meal I had ever had
...my first crushes on Kim Ehrhardt and Carolanne Maxham
...starting to tell dirty jokes in middle school
...feeling special because I made it into Jazz Band
...seeing Count Basie and later Dizzie Gilespie in concert
...giving up the trumpet because there's no way I could tolerate marching band
...my first play: learning how to do an Irish accent from a priest, sitting offstage right with all the girls in the play while the rest of the boys were by themselves off stage left which lead to my first real girlfriend
...the softness of her lips for that first kiss and that strange dizzying buzzing in my head for about an hour or two afterward
...my second play where I got a lead I thought I didn't deserve and the awful feeling of impending embarrassment on opening night knowing that people would be watching me and how that nervousness completely melted away after I said my second line and I was hooked forever
...riding my bike down the American River Trail countless times, eating wild blackberries and sucking on anise
...coming out of a rehearsal for a dictatorial director in college and learning that John Lennon had been shot
...hearing a friend come out of the closet and learning that gay people are all around me and experience all the same things and feel all the same things and are really no different from me
...skipping a philosophy class because my friends and I deduced that it would be far more educational to continue our discussion in the pub
And my earliest, most precious memory is a single image of my father as I looked back over my shoulder after coming down the hallway. He was laying on his side on the couch in a white tank top. He looked up and smiled at me.
That is my only memory of him. He died when I was barely four years old.
I remember...
...looking up at my mom as she collapsed in tears at the hospital desk when told that my father had died
...being intimidated in the first grade by Sister Wilhemena at St. Mel's (yeah, a saint named "Mel". Go figure!)
...hanging out with my friends in the tunnels dug in the field down the street in Fair Oaks
...trying to think of sins bad enough for confession
...swinging at the various "anatomically correct" pinatas at my godparent's house every Easter since before I was born
...looking out my window to see if I could spot Neil Armstrong on the moon
...wearing a funky metal bar brace to bed that kept my feet splayed outward to correct my "pidgeon toe"
...riding my red, Schwinn Stingray (with a white banana seat) all over the neighborhood and in the park
...swinging wildly at my big brother while he held me off with his hand on my head, his arm extened until he grew bored and just shoved me to the ground
...seeing a dog frozen to death at the bottom of the bell tower at St. Philomene's
...riding my bike home from school and getting the front tire hit by a car, knocking me to the ground but that was about it
...watching helplessly as my sixth grade big brother was beaten up by eighth graders
...playing crack the whip out in the grassy area of the school when the fog settled in and obscured us from the teachers
...arguing with my brother to watch Star Trek reruns rather than the boring old Watergate hearings
...always being one of the last picked for any sport
...putting a fishhook throug my finger when my godfather tried to show me how to fish on a camping trip up in Markelyville
...the traditional week in Sly Park for sixth graders where after one particularly long hike, the bus broke down to take us back and we had to hike even more, almost missing lunch but they scraped together some chili for us and it was the best meal I had ever had
...my first crushes on Kim Ehrhardt and Carolanne Maxham
...starting to tell dirty jokes in middle school
...feeling special because I made it into Jazz Band
...seeing Count Basie and later Dizzie Gilespie in concert
...giving up the trumpet because there's no way I could tolerate marching band
...my first play: learning how to do an Irish accent from a priest, sitting offstage right with all the girls in the play while the rest of the boys were by themselves off stage left which lead to my first real girlfriend
...the softness of her lips for that first kiss and that strange dizzying buzzing in my head for about an hour or two afterward
...my second play where I got a lead I thought I didn't deserve and the awful feeling of impending embarrassment on opening night knowing that people would be watching me and how that nervousness completely melted away after I said my second line and I was hooked forever
...riding my bike down the American River Trail countless times, eating wild blackberries and sucking on anise
...coming out of a rehearsal for a dictatorial director in college and learning that John Lennon had been shot
...hearing a friend come out of the closet and learning that gay people are all around me and experience all the same things and feel all the same things and are really no different from me
...skipping a philosophy class because my friends and I deduced that it would be far more educational to continue our discussion in the pub
And my earliest, most precious memory is a single image of my father as I looked back over my shoulder after coming down the hallway. He was laying on his side on the couch in a white tank top. He looked up and smiled at me.
That is my only memory of him. He died when I was barely four years old.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Mom's 70th
Well my big bro and I pulled it off. We finally did something for our mother, just us for her. Usually, because her birtday falls in a month with other (step-) family birthdays, they all get celebrated together. But his was her 70th and my brother and I thought something extra was needed. I came up with the idea and BigBro did the initial leg work. I have an old picture of the three of us from when I was about 1-1/2 and brother was about five. I proposed we copy and crop out our face pix from that and put them in a locket. Bro checked out the jewelry and picked one out. I checked it out the next day and okay'ed the order. Two days later I picked it up and had it engraved.
Unfortunately, the photo work didn't go as planned. I got the pix copied okay and editted/sized them just so on my home 'puter using PhotoShop Elements. But when I went back to Kinko's (with only 15 minutes before I had to leave for the restaurant we were meeting my mom at) their Sony photo machine was not working. At the last minute, actually about ten minutes after the last minute, I just printed up a couple of bad, inkjet versions of the pix to use a placeholders in the locket.
Word came via my brother earlier that day that mom said that since we were taking her out to dinner we were not to get her anything else. Like we ever listened to her before. The dinner went well; the gift was very appreciated. I think we did okay. Granted, we really didn't have that high of standards to meet. Still, I glad we were finally able to do something nice for her, just her, on her birthday.
Unfortunately, the photo work didn't go as planned. I got the pix copied okay and editted/sized them just so on my home 'puter using PhotoShop Elements. But when I went back to Kinko's (with only 15 minutes before I had to leave for the restaurant we were meeting my mom at) their Sony photo machine was not working. At the last minute, actually about ten minutes after the last minute, I just printed up a couple of bad, inkjet versions of the pix to use a placeholders in the locket.
Word came via my brother earlier that day that mom said that since we were taking her out to dinner we were not to get her anything else. Like we ever listened to her before. The dinner went well; the gift was very appreciated. I think we did okay. Granted, we really didn't have that high of standards to meet. Still, I glad we were finally able to do something nice for her, just her, on her birthday.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Pedophile vows to start new life in Wash.
Pedophile vows to start new life in Wash.: "'I have no idea why God has allowed me to live. It must be grace, because it's undeserved, unearned. All I can do is give back and be as unobtrusive as possible.'"
Well, he seems to understand grace. And he seems to be fully "recovered". But for such vile crimes....can it be said that he is not the same person who commited those crimes? Like someone who suffered a mental illness, perhaps a tumor, which drove them to crime. Once cured, can they be trusted? Are they in effect a different person?
This guy seems legitimately remorseful. But then, wouldn't he say the same things if he weren't but wanted to get out? Only time will tell.
But I'm curious about his observation...why has God allowed him to live?
Well, he seems to understand grace. And he seems to be fully "recovered". But for such vile crimes....can it be said that he is not the same person who commited those crimes? Like someone who suffered a mental illness, perhaps a tumor, which drove them to crime. Once cured, can they be trusted? Are they in effect a different person?
This guy seems legitimately remorseful. But then, wouldn't he say the same things if he weren't but wanted to get out? Only time will tell.
But I'm curious about his observation...why has God allowed him to live?
There she is...Our Commodity
CNN.com - Less talent, more skin at pageant - Sep 17, 2004
I grant you that the Miss America contestants been an increasingly competitive with regard to the talent portion and have come from far more educated background than their predecessors. However, we're still just setting them up as this year's hot commodity, "...and just look at the new packaging! Va-va-va-VOOM!"
Hey, Koko loves looking at the pretty ladies, don't get me wrong. But when paraded around as if at a marketplace... not so much. It's like seeing all the new corvettes on the dealer's lot compared to catching a glimpse of one pulling up to a fine restaurant or tooling down a country road. Beauty, and the intangible charm that is held by all women, can only be truly savored "in the wild". Staged marketing leaves a taste like beer from a can rather than the keg. (Have I used enough metaphors yet?)
But the pageant people know what side their bread is buttered on. "McMaster said the swimsuit competition demonstrates physical fitness and accounts for just 10 percent of a contestant's final score." Physical fitness? Yeah, right. Just like the Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit edition sells so much because of it's tribute to athleticism.
I grant you that the Miss America contestants been an increasingly competitive with regard to the talent portion and have come from far more educated background than their predecessors. However, we're still just setting them up as this year's hot commodity, "...and just look at the new packaging! Va-va-va-VOOM!"
Hey, Koko loves looking at the pretty ladies, don't get me wrong. But when paraded around as if at a marketplace...
But the pageant people know what side their bread is buttered on. "McMaster said the swimsuit competition demonstrates physical fitness and accounts for just 10 percent of a contestant's final score." Physical fitness? Yeah, right. Just like the Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit edition sells so much because of it's tribute to athleticism.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Early retirement? I wish
So, last Friday I get called into the principal's office--I mean my manager's office--and get a formal warning?...reprimand?...talking-to about my (earned, paid, and approved) absences over the last eight months or so. Sure, there's been some hardships what with the one car struggling for survival (which it eventually lost just last month) and that little problem with my daughter facing potential brain surgery. But through it all, I've done my work (programming) and met my deadlines and even received a little emailed pat on the back for helping another programmer with a client on a system I knew little about. But what's this? I'm not in the office enough? And I get the impression that it's not really my manager that's all that put out about it--except for when I come in late which is almost always due to the fact that I depend upon a not-totally-reliable bus & light rail system--but that she is responding to the complaints of others. My co-workers? My manager's boss? I don't know so now I must suspect everybody.
My morale was not all that high anyway as budget cuts and departmental re-orgs have shifted me into working on mainframe programs (f-ing COBOL) in a 30-year old language that I haven't touched in over a decade rather than on web apps and or Visual Basic programming. But now...I was quite close--I could feel the words rising in my throat before I choked them back--to simply saying "Fine. I'll just quit then. And as I am, or was, the ONLY person you have working on the PL system, I guess your target dates are going slip way beyond the legal mandates. That's too bad, isn't it?" I am paid to be a programmer not a chair warmer. As long as I am indeed programming and meeting/exceeding my milestones, does it really matter how happy I keep the clock watchers?
My morale was not all that high anyway as budget cuts and departmental re-orgs have shifted me into working on mainframe programs (f-ing COBOL) in a 30-year old language that I haven't touched in over a decade rather than on web apps and or Visual Basic programming. But now...I was quite close--I could feel the words rising in my throat before I choked them back--to simply saying "Fine. I'll just quit then. And as I am, or was, the ONLY person you have working on the PL system, I guess your target dates are going slip way beyond the legal mandates. That's too bad, isn't it?" I am paid to be a programmer not a chair warmer. As long as I am indeed programming and meeting/exceeding my milestones, does it really matter how happy I keep the clock watchers?
Gamer Grrlz
This is where my oldest (15) daughter is headed. Her dream job is to be a "character designer" for Nintendo. I'm hoping she can parlay her female-ness into a scholarship as she graduates high school (if all goes as planned) in three years. I don't imagine male/female parity being achieved in the gaming world in the intevening years. I pushing her to write to Mary-Margaret and WomenGamers to get a sense of what she will need and what she will be up against. I'd also like to see her start a website or blog in order to build a portfolio of her reviews as well as her character ideas.
But what am I saying? like she doesn't spend enough time on the computer?! It's hard not to be worried about the time she spends on the 'net. We monitor it somewhat but can't be there over her shoulder all the time. She's a good kid...bright but naive in some ways, completely not either in others. The thing us 21st century parents have got to realize is that the computer is a communication device, the new telephone. The stereotype of the teen girl used to be with the pink princess phone pressed to her ear while she lay across her bed with her head hanging upside-down. It's time to update that and put the "typical teen girl" at her desktop with about a half dozen different IM's going.
But whatever the device, too much time wasted will impact school work and that's where the parental rubber meets the road.
But what am I saying? like she doesn't spend enough time on the computer?! It's hard not to be worried about the time she spends on the 'net. We monitor it somewhat but can't be there over her shoulder all the time. She's a good kid...bright but naive in some ways, completely not either in others. The thing us 21st century parents have got to realize is that the computer is a communication device, the new telephone. The stereotype of the teen girl used to be with the pink princess phone pressed to her ear while she lay across her bed with her head hanging upside-down. It's time to update that and put the "typical teen girl" at her desktop with about a half dozen different IM's going.
But whatever the device, too much time wasted will impact school work and that's where the parental rubber meets the road.
Friday, September 03, 2004
Below; Zell High
What Kerry actually said (in his nomination acceptance speech): "I will never hesitate to use force when it is required. Any attack will be met with a swift and certain response. I will never give any nation or international institution a veto over our national security."
What "democrat" Zell Miller says he heard: "Kerry has made it clear that he would use military force only if approved by the United Nations".
Lies! Lies and misrepresentations and misleading exaggerations and on and on it goes. "But they all do it. Kerry's done it, too, hasn't he?" Well, there have been a few cases of misrepresentations of the Bush administration. This is true. But for every one of the Dems overstatements, we are barraged with 20 outright lies from the right. Go to the Annenberg FactCheck site and see for yourselves.
What "democrat" Zell Miller says he heard: "Kerry has made it clear that he would use military force only if approved by the United Nations".
Lies! Lies and misrepresentations and misleading exaggerations and on and on it goes. "But they all do it. Kerry's done it, too, hasn't he?" Well, there have been a few cases of misrepresentations of the Bush administration. This is true. But for every one of the Dems overstatements, we are barraged with 20 outright lies from the right. Go to the Annenberg FactCheck site and see for yourselves.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Hello?
Okay, file this under "It's probably nothing, but just in case..."
The Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence, our Terran efforts to look beyond ourselves, using millions of personal computers as a huge multiprocessor may, that's may have caught a signal from the Great Out There. I wouldn't say they've got anything definitive and I certainly would not rule out some clever hacker jacking the data, however, just in case this turns out to be something... Well, remember you read it here, folks.
ref.:
Guardian Unlimited | The Guardian | Odd signal from a galaxy far, far away
The Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence, our Terran efforts to look beyond ourselves, using millions of personal computers as a huge multiprocessor may, that's may have caught a signal from the Great Out There. I wouldn't say they've got anything definitive and I certainly would not rule out some clever hacker jacking the data, however, just in case this turns out to be something... Well, remember you read it here, folks.
ref.:
Guardian Unlimited | The Guardian | Odd signal from a galaxy far, far away
Friday, August 27, 2004
On to Plan B...okay, how about Plan C?
It has been said that God does not send us more troubles than we have the strength to bear. I sure wish He didn't have such confidence in me. Madeline's EEG showed multi-focal seizures, not focused locally. She is no longer considered a good candidate for surgery. She will have epilepsy her entire life. Will her learning disabilities continue? worsen? abate? Who knows... The doc wants to introduce a new med: felbatol. It has a slightly jaded history but, according to the doc, those bad cases almost always had some other variable contributing (patient with lupus or some other pre-existing disease). Still, we will of course be monitoring her. And, as is usual with this doc, we'll be introducing the new drug slowly, one-quarter dose for a week followed by a half-dose for a week, followed by three-fourths... The upside is that this drug tends to wake up the patient. Maddy has had to content with sleep issues in class for years and years. She often falls asleep in class. Yes, she sometimes stays up too late, lying in bed for hours in the dark. But there is not always a direct connection with one incident and the other. Rather, it seems that often it is the effort to concentrate, to overcome her disability, that simply exhausts her. Then, too, she could be subconsciously using the sleep as a means of escape. The doctor says that his patients report feeling not only more awake but "better" on this drug--more alert. That is certainly something our daughter needs in school. She can't learn if she is not awake and alert. I'm sure that will also help her moods. She has had many emotional problems--sometimes leading to minor suspensions--which are also impeding her learning and her whole school experience.
I was admittedly hoping that this marathon of coping could finally be headed for an end. That surgery would cure the epilepsy and solve the learning disabilities. Such was not to be the case. This is my little girl and I don't know what to do for her.
I was admittedly hoping that this marathon of coping could finally be headed for an end. That surgery would cure the epilepsy and solve the learning disabilities. Such was not to be the case. This is my little girl and I don't know what to do for her.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
The waiting is the worst part
Today we meet with the doctor to hear his prognosis on the data collected during our daughter's 5-day hospital stay. It has been weighing on me almost constantly. I can understand now, or at least empathize, with those people who seek escape in...whatever. I used to think, "yeah, a little break from the world is nice...keeps me from getting too down and burned out". But I was just thinking about the fun in seeing a summer blockbuster movie or having a few beers around the pool. And while I personally am not into any recreational drugs, I could understand folks who would unwind with them on the weekends from time to time. However, I still had disdain for those who "just can't deal with reality, man". I mean, c'mon, escaping is no solution. You know the problem is still going to be there when you sober up, right?
Damn straight it's going to still be there. That's why I'm coming to understand that mindset now. It's like grief for a loved one. The stress/anxiety becomes a part of you. Every breath is just a bit more constricted. Every movement feels just a bit more heavier. God, I don't want to be here. Escape becomes the solution. But not to the real problem, but to the newer more prominent one: the oppressive stress. Escape relieves stress but it does not negate it. The cause is still there. The image that comes to mind, and it's a silly one, is using an umbrella to deflect the stream of water that someone is aiming at you with a hose. The umbrella relieves you from the wetness, but the real problem--the flow of water--remains. That's what one needs to deal with. But it's just so nice to be dry for while.
The other night I had a dream. I was driving the family along a highway--I-80 toward Auburn, I'd guess--and the car wasn't responding well. I was kind of tired but okay but the steering was getting heavy. I didn't dare let up on the gas because traffic was really clipping along. I remember seeing a Rolls Royce pass us by but it's paint job was really bad--oxidized and blotchy. I pointed it out to the girls; they weren't too impressed. And then I really had to struggle with the steering. I looked down and noticed that the steering wheel had shrunk in diameter to about 8-inches. I remember thinking "Why is this lowrider steering wheel in here? Why would anyone want this in their car? It's too hard to control..." The car wouldn't turn and then we went off the road. We somehow made it across the opposing lanes and went up the hill on the other side. I was screaming; the girls were screaming. We started to roll over...and I woke up.
Pretty clear cut symbolism, I should think. I'm losing control of mine and my family's lives. I'm not properly equipped and not paying attention. The Rolls? Even quality stuff can go to shit if you don't take care of it whether it is a fine car...or a family.
I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't operate. I'm not too sure I'll be too stable during the days leading up to it if they can. But if they can't; if Maddy has to live the rest of her life with epilepsy (which, when you come down to it, is not really all that bad) and with the resulting learning disabilities (the real shitty part), we're going to have to realign our entire future lives. And, even if they can operate there really is not a guarantee that the learning disabilities will dissipate. That's just my assumption, my hope, my prayer.
Damn straight it's going to still be there. That's why I'm coming to understand that mindset now. It's like grief for a loved one. The stress/anxiety becomes a part of you. Every breath is just a bit more constricted. Every movement feels just a bit more heavier. God, I don't want to be here. Escape becomes the solution. But not to the real problem, but to the newer more prominent one: the oppressive stress. Escape relieves stress but it does not negate it. The cause is still there. The image that comes to mind, and it's a silly one, is using an umbrella to deflect the stream of water that someone is aiming at you with a hose. The umbrella relieves you from the wetness, but the real problem--the flow of water--remains. That's what one needs to deal with. But it's just so nice to be dry for while.
The other night I had a dream. I was driving the family along a highway--I-80 toward Auburn, I'd guess--and the car wasn't responding well. I was kind of tired but okay but the steering was getting heavy. I didn't dare let up on the gas because traffic was really clipping along. I remember seeing a Rolls Royce pass us by but it's paint job was really bad--oxidized and blotchy. I pointed it out to the girls; they weren't too impressed. And then I really had to struggle with the steering. I looked down and noticed that the steering wheel had shrunk in diameter to about 8-inches. I remember thinking "Why is this lowrider steering wheel in here? Why would anyone want this in their car? It's too hard to control..." The car wouldn't turn and then we went off the road. We somehow made it across the opposing lanes and went up the hill on the other side. I was screaming; the girls were screaming. We started to roll over...and I woke up.
Pretty clear cut symbolism, I should think. I'm losing control of mine and my family's lives. I'm not properly equipped and not paying attention. The Rolls? Even quality stuff can go to shit if you don't take care of it whether it is a fine car...or a family.
I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't operate. I'm not too sure I'll be too stable during the days leading up to it if they can. But if they can't; if Maddy has to live the rest of her life with epilepsy (which, when you come down to it, is not really all that bad) and with the resulting learning disabilities (the real shitty part), we're going to have to realign our entire future lives. And, even if they can operate there really is not a guarantee that the learning disabilities will dissipate. That's just my assumption, my hope, my prayer.
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Offline longer than expected.
Daughter checked into the hospital for continual EEG observation on Monday. It was expected to be a three day stay, possibly as long as five days. She just came home today. The doctor has not yet seen the data from Wednesday & Thursday where she got a pronounced fearful feeling and eventually threw up--this is her typical siezure nowadays. From what he saw on Monday & Tuesdays data did not show any siezure activity, just some "pre-cursor spikes" while she slept. The potential bad news is that those spikes were multi-focal, meaning from many areas of the brain. If that is the nature of her epilepsy, surgery becomes far less likely a curative. However, those may be secondary spikes...and, as I said, he has yet to review the really pertinent data.
But she is home now and life can return to normal once more. That is until Monday when the wife starts work again. (She was laid off but we just got word that she was re-hired last week.)
But she is home now and life can return to normal once more. That is until Monday when the wife starts work again. (She was laid off but we just got word that she was re-hired last week.)
Monday, August 09, 2004
it's the little things
Father Jim is a damn good priest.
He is sub-ing for Father Brendan who is away on vacation. Father Jim is a towering Scotsman who teaches at...Oxford?...some prestigous English institute of higher learning and still a damn fine fellow. Missus Koko took our middle girl to see him a week and a half ago for the sacrament of the annointing of the sick (it's not just for Last Rites anymore apparently). And, since I was off today to take her into the hospital for her video observation, I joined Mrs. Koko at the midweek morning Mass. Father Jim presided over it and afterwards as he greeted the folks leaving, he took hold of my hand after shaking it, pulled me back toward him and my wife who was just exiting the church and he asked about our daughter. Just the simple act of remembering her need and her name touched me. But then, with my little one facing potential brain surgery, I've got an emotional hair trigger lately. Heck, I even lit my first candle ever in a Catholic church while we were visiting San Francisco. But then St. Peter & Paul Cathedral is a beautiful church in the heart of the city's Italian district in North Beach. Naturally, my prayers were for my daughter.
He is sub-ing for Father Brendan who is away on vacation. Father Jim is a towering Scotsman who teaches at...Oxford?...some prestigous English institute of higher learning and still a damn fine fellow. Missus Koko took our middle girl to see him a week and a half ago for the sacrament of the annointing of the sick (it's not just for Last Rites anymore apparently). And, since I was off today to take her into the hospital for her video observation, I joined Mrs. Koko at the midweek morning Mass. Father Jim presided over it and afterwards as he greeted the folks leaving, he took hold of my hand after shaking it, pulled me back toward him and my wife who was just exiting the church and he asked about our daughter. Just the simple act of remembering her need and her name touched me. But then, with my little one facing potential brain surgery, I've got an emotional hair trigger lately. Heck, I even lit my first candle ever in a Catholic church while we were visiting San Francisco. But then St. Peter & Paul Cathedral is a beautiful church in the heart of the city's Italian district in North Beach. Naturally, my prayers were for my daughter.
Literary Dreams
It's been just over 12 hours since I woke up but I wanted to note an odd series of dreams I had last night. I can only remember the highlights now but I'll do my best to weave them into a coherant narrative.
I was attending a rehearsal for a production of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion somewhere up near Lake Tahoe, I believe. Maybe it was an audition. Anyway, a friend/acquaintance who was somehow connected to the production and I went for a walk and found ourselves in the woods. We were set upon by two young thugs who roughed us up a tiny bit. And, while my friend was on the ground, one of the thugs pulled out a pistol and shot him three or four times. Naturally, I ran. I then found myself in nice but not great hotel, kind of like the $120/night places in San Francisco--better than the EconoLodge but not quite Hyatt level. Panicked, I go around trying doors and end up in a room with Janeane Garafalo. She buys my story of the murder in the woods and gives me refuge. We end up watching TV side by side on the couch. Soon we're holding hands and then the TV goes off. I turn to her and she leans in. We kiss, a sweet kiss that soon turns more passionate. My hand moves to her waist and then up inside her t-shirt but she pushes my hand away just as I realize she is not wearing a bra. Held to first base, but that is still so cool cuz I'm kissing Janeane f-ing Garafalo!
Soon after that I woke up--DAMMIT!--it was about 3am so I went back to sleep. Next I dream about seeing a production of GBS's Pygmalion starring some Asian/Pacific Islander guy as Professor Higgins. The dude was good but just odd casting.
Odd that I would dream so much about a particular literary work, no? But what is Shaw's play about? Transformation of a bright but rough young girl who has been cheated by circumstance into the wonderful, desireable, and self-actualized creature she should be. Such is my hope with my daughter Madeline. She is in the hospital right now under 24-hour observation, hooked up to an EEG and under constant video survelliance to more accurately map her siezures. If they can pinpoint the focus of the siezures to a particular point in her brain, as seems likely given that her MRI showed slight scarring in the area wher the previous EEGs indicated the siezure came from, then she is a good candidate for surgery. A prospect that at once inspires and terrifies me. I mean, we're talking brain surgery here. F-ing with the essential organ of being for my daughter. Just the mere contemplation of it brings tears to my eyes. But on the other hand, this procedure holds a very good chance of curing her from her epilepsy and probably aiding the coping of her learning disabilities as a result of that. Oh, what she could become if this shroud of seizures could be lifted from her! I wonder what transformation she would undergo.
Meanwhile, I'm just going to label the friend getting shot and making out with Janeane Garafalo as non sequiter brain dumps. It's just safer that way.
I was attending a rehearsal for a production of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion somewhere up near Lake Tahoe, I believe. Maybe it was an audition. Anyway, a friend/acquaintance who was somehow connected to the production and I went for a walk and found ourselves in the woods. We were set upon by two young thugs who roughed us up a tiny bit. And, while my friend was on the ground, one of the thugs pulled out a pistol and shot him three or four times. Naturally, I ran. I then found myself in nice but not great hotel, kind of like the $120/night places in San Francisco--better than the EconoLodge but not quite Hyatt level. Panicked, I go around trying doors and end up in a room with Janeane Garafalo. She buys my story of the murder in the woods and gives me refuge. We end up watching TV side by side on the couch. Soon we're holding hands and then the TV goes off. I turn to her and she leans in. We kiss, a sweet kiss that soon turns more passionate. My hand moves to her waist and then up inside her t-shirt but she pushes my hand away just as I realize she is not wearing a bra. Held to first base, but that is still so cool cuz I'm kissing Janeane f-ing Garafalo!
Soon after that I woke up--DAMMIT!--it was about 3am so I went back to sleep. Next I dream about seeing a production of GBS's Pygmalion starring some Asian/Pacific Islander guy as Professor Higgins. The dude was good but just odd casting.
Odd that I would dream so much about a particular literary work, no? But what is Shaw's play about? Transformation of a bright but rough young girl who has been cheated by circumstance into the wonderful, desireable, and self-actualized creature she should be. Such is my hope with my daughter Madeline. She is in the hospital right now under 24-hour observation, hooked up to an EEG and under constant video survelliance to more accurately map her siezures. If they can pinpoint the focus of the siezures to a particular point in her brain, as seems likely given that her MRI showed slight scarring in the area wher the previous EEGs indicated the siezure came from, then she is a good candidate for surgery. A prospect that at once inspires and terrifies me. I mean, we're talking brain surgery here. F-ing with the essential organ of being for my daughter. Just the mere contemplation of it brings tears to my eyes. But on the other hand, this procedure holds a very good chance of curing her from her epilepsy and probably aiding the coping of her learning disabilities as a result of that. Oh, what she could become if this shroud of seizures could be lifted from her! I wonder what transformation she would undergo.
Meanwhile, I'm just going to label the friend getting shot and making out with Janeane Garafalo as non sequiter brain dumps. It's just safer that way.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Actually, it could've been worse...
Nearly ten years ago the missus and I did something a little stupid. We bought a brand new minivan. Yes, we knew we'd be losing thousands of dollars in value as soon as we drove off the lot but we wanted a car with no worries, at least for a little while. And it was truly nice to be tooling around in a new car for many, many months. Maybe even a years. But the troubles started coming in. I remember in 1999 or 2000 having the transmission overhauled to the tune of $1900. Ouch. And there's been a serpentine belt that snapped on the way home one dark night. The support arm for the alternator cracked and was about $300 to fix. Then several months ago the passenger door that had been creaking finally gave way. I chronicled that event in my previous blog. Not resolved to keep the expenses down, the ol' red Caravan pulled another rabbit out of her hat.
So I thought it a good idea to make sure she was in good working order before taking my nine year old off to camp 130 miles away. So after recently having it smogged for its DMV registration, I had the oil changed. During this procedure, the mechanic noticed that the PCV filter needed replacing and that the serpentine belt was cracked in several places (this he showed me; it was all too true). Naturally, I had those things taken care of the very next week. Finally last Friday, two days before taking my girl up to camp, I purchased a full set of brand new tires for just under $500. Ouch, but what what a relief. We had been running around on the spare for nearly a month and the remaining tires were nearly all down to the tread warning bar. We were set for the trip.
We get her up to camp near Occidental, CA, with just 15 minutes to spare before the end of registration time--we ran into some unexpected traffic. Get her settled and are on our way about an hour later. As it was just past dinner time we drive over to Bodega for a seafood meal. Unfortunately the bar menu, while cheaper, is far more limited and the oldest daughter likes her shrimp grilled, not breaded and fried. So we opt for the restaurant. It was quite good but not fantastic. The portions were quite large and I just assumed they'd box up the half-a-meal I left behind (pasta primavera w/ salad shrimp added). Nope. I guess some cat was very happy that night.
And then it's back on the road for home. We hit a bit of a delay just as Rte. 12 connects with US-50. It's down to a single lane during some nighttime construction work. After about ten minutes, though we are on our way. But just as we are crossing the great overpass that joins us up with Highway 50, the engine revs up inexplicably and there's no power to the wheels. We are just coasting. Fortunately it is downhill but once momentum is gone we start slowing down. Eventually, I discover that if I turn off the engine and then restart it I can accellerate for about twenty yards before the transmission disconnects again. I hobble to an off ramp and call my insurance's 24-hour line. They say they might reimburse my towing expense but can't be sure because for some reason they could not pull up my policy. It's just after midnight and I decide to deal with it in the morning. The exit we are at is pitch dark save for the glow of the AutoMall sign in the distance so I limp the van to the next exit down. Fortunately, that's the one with about a half dozen fast food joints and diners and about as many motels. The Holiday Inn Express costs more than we have on us (no, we have no credit cards). In order to use my mother-in-laws AmEx card, she'd have to fax them a copy of her driver's license. That's more of a hassle than I'm willing to put her through. But the desk clerk gives us a line on a cheaper place: the Inns of America. That's when I discover that we don't have any reverse as well as any forward gears. I have to push the van out of the parking spot with a bad knee earned over the weekend (see previous post). Actually it only hurts when twisted not during normal pressure, so when the older teen offerst to help, I tell her to stay in the car. We make it down the road in fits and starts and it turns out that with her contribution we scrape together just enough to get us all a room.
It should be a relief, and to a great degree it was. We call my mother-in-law to update her and she agrees to meet us the next morning around 9am.
Sack time. However, my middle daughter gets up about a dozen times that night to the bathroom and my oldest (the one with the cash) ends up getting sick in the middle of the night. Too much stress, seafood, and probably some allergies as well. Fortunately she makes it to the toilet and there's no extra mess which is good because if I smell it, I'm compelled to add my own. But the poor thing, I felt bad for her and would've forced her to accept a hug from ol' dad if I wasn't exhausted.
Next day: Girls seem well, if tired. Ma-in-law shows up promptly as I'm negotiating a tow and locating a transmission repair shop. Breakfast at Denny's. Meet with the tow truck at the motel. Check out and then meet up again at the transmission place. Hand over the van and head on back home. That afternoon the verdict comes in: $2400. If the van were in "good" condition I could maybe get $2200-2500 for it. But I never fixed the door which was going to be $800-$1200. Nope, that price tag was the death knell for Ol' Red. I've started looking into the tax requirements for donating a car to charity. I figure I can claim fair market value at around $800 figuring as I just put $500 worth of tires on it which have less than 200 miles on them. If I had the van home, I'd probably be asking that much. I'll have to collect the documentation.
That night we go looking at new cars. I expressly stated that we would NOT be purchasing a car that evening; we'd wait until the next day. However, we found a 1998 Mercury Villager with just 10,540 miles on it, loaded with extras and kept up very nicely. We bought it putting about half the price down in cash which seriously dipped into our rainy-day fund. But heck, it looked pretty wet outside to me.
My camping daughter has no idea about any of this. We're going to pick her up on Saturday at 9am. Since we'd have to leave home around 5:30am to make it in time and since there's no way we can wake up two teenagers in time to leave then, tomorrow we're going into Santa Rosa to stay the night, just 20 miles or so from my daughter's camp. Then, I'm taking them all to the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. It's one of my middle daughter's favorite places and she goes in to the hospital on Monday for observation of her epilepsy. They'll probably have to shave her head. I want her to have at least one good memory from this summer. Which reminds me, tonight we'll have to make the s'mores she was promised whilst her baby sister was at camp.
So I thought it a good idea to make sure she was in good working order before taking my nine year old off to camp 130 miles away. So after recently having it smogged for its DMV registration, I had the oil changed. During this procedure, the mechanic noticed that the PCV filter needed replacing and that the serpentine belt was cracked in several places (this he showed me; it was all too true). Naturally, I had those things taken care of the very next week. Finally last Friday, two days before taking my girl up to camp, I purchased a full set of brand new tires for just under $500. Ouch, but what what a relief. We had been running around on the spare for nearly a month and the remaining tires were nearly all down to the tread warning bar. We were set for the trip.
We get her up to camp near Occidental, CA, with just 15 minutes to spare before the end of registration time--we ran into some unexpected traffic. Get her settled and are on our way about an hour later. As it was just past dinner time we drive over to Bodega for a seafood meal. Unfortunately the bar menu, while cheaper, is far more limited and the oldest daughter likes her shrimp grilled, not breaded and fried. So we opt for the restaurant. It was quite good but not fantastic. The portions were quite large and I just assumed they'd box up the half-a-meal I left behind (pasta primavera w/ salad shrimp added). Nope. I guess some cat was very happy that night.
And then it's back on the road for home. We hit a bit of a delay just as Rte. 12 connects with US-50. It's down to a single lane during some nighttime construction work. After about ten minutes, though we are on our way. But just as we are crossing the great overpass that joins us up with Highway 50, the engine revs up inexplicably and there's no power to the wheels. We are just coasting. Fortunately it is downhill but once momentum is gone we start slowing down. Eventually, I discover that if I turn off the engine and then restart it I can accellerate for about twenty yards before the transmission disconnects again. I hobble to an off ramp and call my insurance's 24-hour line. They say they might reimburse my towing expense but can't be sure because for some reason they could not pull up my policy. It's just after midnight and I decide to deal with it in the morning. The exit we are at is pitch dark save for the glow of the AutoMall sign in the distance so I limp the van to the next exit down. Fortunately, that's the one with about a half dozen fast food joints and diners and about as many motels. The Holiday Inn Express costs more than we have on us (no, we have no credit cards). In order to use my mother-in-laws AmEx card, she'd have to fax them a copy of her driver's license. That's more of a hassle than I'm willing to put her through. But the desk clerk gives us a line on a cheaper place: the Inns of America. That's when I discover that we don't have any reverse as well as any forward gears. I have to push the van out of the parking spot with a bad knee earned over the weekend (see previous post). Actually it only hurts when twisted not during normal pressure, so when the older teen offerst to help, I tell her to stay in the car. We make it down the road in fits and starts and it turns out that with her contribution we scrape together just enough to get us all a room.
It should be a relief, and to a great degree it was. We call my mother-in-law to update her and she agrees to meet us the next morning around 9am.
Sack time. However, my middle daughter gets up about a dozen times that night to the bathroom and my oldest (the one with the cash) ends up getting sick in the middle of the night. Too much stress, seafood, and probably some allergies as well. Fortunately she makes it to the toilet and there's no extra mess which is good because if I smell it, I'm compelled to add my own. But the poor thing, I felt bad for her and would've forced her to accept a hug from ol' dad if I wasn't exhausted.
Next day: Girls seem well, if tired. Ma-in-law shows up promptly as I'm negotiating a tow and locating a transmission repair shop. Breakfast at Denny's. Meet with the tow truck at the motel. Check out and then meet up again at the transmission place. Hand over the van and head on back home. That afternoon the verdict comes in: $2400. If the van were in "good" condition I could maybe get $2200-2500 for it. But I never fixed the door which was going to be $800-$1200. Nope, that price tag was the death knell for Ol' Red. I've started looking into the tax requirements for donating a car to charity. I figure I can claim fair market value at around $800 figuring as I just put $500 worth of tires on it which have less than 200 miles on them. If I had the van home, I'd probably be asking that much. I'll have to collect the documentation.
That night we go looking at new cars. I expressly stated that we would NOT be purchasing a car that evening; we'd wait until the next day. However, we found a 1998 Mercury Villager with just 10,540 miles on it, loaded with extras and kept up very nicely. We bought it putting about half the price down in cash which seriously dipped into our rainy-day fund. But heck, it looked pretty wet outside to me.
My camping daughter has no idea about any of this. We're going to pick her up on Saturday at 9am. Since we'd have to leave home around 5:30am to make it in time and since there's no way we can wake up two teenagers in time to leave then, tomorrow we're going into Santa Rosa to stay the night, just 20 miles or so from my daughter's camp. Then, I'm taking them all to the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. It's one of my middle daughter's favorite places and she goes in to the hospital on Monday for observation of her epilepsy. They'll probably have to shave her head. I want her to have at least one good memory from this summer. Which reminds me, tonight we'll have to make the s'mores she was promised whilst her baby sister was at camp.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
E-level becomes AIYEE-level
I'll be coaching my 9-year-old daughter's soccer team this year. This'll be about the fifth time I've coached her (I had last year off). Since I earned my "F" level license about eight years ago when my oldest daughter started soccer, I thought that I had better hone my skills. So I decided to up my license to an "E" level which meant going to a clinic. That's one evening of lecture and two six-hour days on the field. At first I thought that the last day would conflict with when we're taking my youngest to summer camp, but the coach/trainer also had a conflict on that Sunday. So he decided to double up on Saturday: 12 hours. Well, realistically he figured we'd get through the material and training in about ten hours. It worked for me as it freed up Sunday for traveling to camp.
A couple of days prior to the clinic I had a chance to buy some gear I'd be needing as coach: cleats, athletic shorts and a couple of shirts. Not being an athletic guy normally, this was all new to me. I decided to wear my cleats to the field workshop on Saturday. I was a little nervous about that as this would be the first time I'd wear them (actually the first time I've ever worn any cleats) and I wasn't sure how my feet would feel at the end of a ten-hour day. Turns out, my feet weren' the issue. About fifteen minutes into the opening warm-ups, a felt my left knee kind of "pop". Just a little. But I knew it wasn't good. It was sore the entire day and really interferred with my level of participation. I may not be good but I like to make a go of it anyway and get some experience doing the drills I'm going to be asking of the team.
After practice, Missus Koko and my daughter pick me up and we go off to Old Navy to pick up some stuff the wee one (not so wee anymore, though) will need at camp. No way can I take standing around with that knee. I bide my time at Baskin Robins (Mmmm, Banana Royale). By the end of the day, I'm using a cane to get around.
And practices start the following week.
A couple of days prior to the clinic I had a chance to buy some gear I'd be needing as coach: cleats, athletic shorts and a couple of shirts. Not being an athletic guy normally, this was all new to me. I decided to wear my cleats to the field workshop on Saturday. I was a little nervous about that as this would be the first time I'd wear them (actually the first time I've ever worn any cleats) and I wasn't sure how my feet would feel at the end of a ten-hour day. Turns out, my feet weren' the issue. About fifteen minutes into the opening warm-ups, a felt my left knee kind of "pop". Just a little. But I knew it wasn't good. It was sore the entire day and really interferred with my level of participation. I may not be good but I like to make a go of it anyway and get some experience doing the drills I'm going to be asking of the team.
After practice, Missus Koko and my daughter pick me up and we go off to Old Navy to pick up some stuff the wee one (not so wee anymore, though) will need at camp. No way can I take standing around with that knee. I bide my time at Baskin Robins (Mmmm, Banana Royale). By the end of the day, I'm using a cane to get around.
And practices start the following week.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
"...a 70% chance..."
You take the good. You take the bad. You take it all and there you have the state of our health care. Last year, I finally convinced the missus to wean herself away from Kaiser and try something different. Besides, we were aiming to get our learning disabled daughter into the MIND Institute out of UC Davis. Well, UCDMed doctors near our home weren't taking any new patients so we signed up with Sutter...and loved it. The medical offices are conveniently close. Getting an appointment is generally easy and quick. And the whole atmosphere is far less stressful. PLUS, Sutter has some of the pre-eminent pediatric neurologists and neurosurgeons.
Skipping the boring details, we had another MRI done on our daughter and the medicos were able to spot a tiny legion (less than 3mm) in her brain. Her previous MRI, done several years ago, missed this as the technology did not provide the necessary level of detail. What this means is that this is the likely cause of her seizures and could potentially be removed with surgery. I gotta tell ya, the first time that prospect was brought up to me I was rather strongly against it. The idea of someone cutting into my daughter's head kind of freaked me out. I was hoping that we could just continue the meds and maybe the onset of puberty might mitigate her seizures (as odd as that sounds it was suggested to us by one of her previous doctors as a possibility). However, I've come around and we are pursuing this possibility. Naturally, several tests must be performed to ensure that the area to be removed is not near anything "important"--i.e. speech, memory, motor and/or sensory control areas. Strange to think that there are unimportant portions of the brain but since we only use about 4-6% I guess there's some wiggle room. In mid-April we met with the surgeon, a wonderful woman who says Maddy seems like a good candidate for surgery. Next step is for her to be observed with an EEG during several seizures. This means an overnight (or 2) stay while she is off her meds. We decided to postponed this until this summer so she'd be out of school. (Interesting note: Dr. Z. is also on staff with UCD so whatever path we took would have eventually led to her. Hmm, fate seems to have had this one decided for us.)
Then when we called in June to schedule the observation, we discovered that Dr. Z (the neurosurgeon) had gone on sabbatical. It seems she was on the verge of completing some groundbreaking research that would visually identify the damaged brain tissue making surgery that much more accurate (better than EEG & MRI mapping, I'm guessing). Whether it is the sabbatical or just a bureaucratic snafu, the communication broke down somewhere between the neurosurgeon, the epilepsy monitoring unit (EMU), the neurologist, and the primary care physician. I spoke with various assistants and then waited for someone to get back to me. Called again. Waited again. Called again. Got a different number to call since the paperwork had been forwarded on to the EMU. Called that number and got voice mail. Waited. Got a call back. More bureaucratic dancing. Finally after mentioning (for about the third time) that the request was initiated by Dr. Z and not Dr. A, the neurologist, a light went on for the person on the other end. Waited just a bit more. Got a call back and Maddy is scheduled to go in after Dr. A gets back from his vacation: August 9. This will be immediately following her sister coming back from camp--the same camp Maddy had to miss because we were never able to schedule her time in the EMU.
We assume she will have at least a portion of her head shaved for the EEG. This, on top of the possibility of brain surgery, has our daughter quite upset as she will have to start school in just a few weeks afterwards. I keep telling her though that for the price of a few weeks of not looking like you're used to, you may very well be free of seizures for the rest of your life. And that she'd be able to concentrate better and do better in school.
I keep telling myself that, too.
Dr. A. told us that 70% of patients deemed as good candidates for surgery are seizure free afterwards. Those are pretty good odds, I think.
Dear God, please let it be so.
Skipping the boring details, we had another MRI done on our daughter and the medicos were able to spot a tiny legion (less than 3mm) in her brain. Her previous MRI, done several years ago, missed this as the technology did not provide the necessary level of detail. What this means is that this is the likely cause of her seizures and could potentially be removed with surgery. I gotta tell ya, the first time that prospect was brought up to me I was rather strongly against it. The idea of someone cutting into my daughter's head kind of freaked me out. I was hoping that we could just continue the meds and maybe the onset of puberty might mitigate her seizures (as odd as that sounds it was suggested to us by one of her previous doctors as a possibility). However, I've come around and we are pursuing this possibility. Naturally, several tests must be performed to ensure that the area to be removed is not near anything "important"--i.e. speech, memory, motor and/or sensory control areas. Strange to think that there are unimportant portions of the brain but since we only use about 4-6% I guess there's some wiggle room. In mid-April we met with the surgeon, a wonderful woman who says Maddy seems like a good candidate for surgery. Next step is for her to be observed with an EEG during several seizures. This means an overnight (or 2) stay while she is off her meds. We decided to postponed this until this summer so she'd be out of school. (Interesting note: Dr. Z. is also on staff with UCD so whatever path we took would have eventually led to her. Hmm, fate seems to have had this one decided for us.)
Then when we called in June to schedule the observation, we discovered that Dr. Z (the neurosurgeon) had gone on sabbatical. It seems she was on the verge of completing some groundbreaking research that would visually identify the damaged brain tissue making surgery that much more accurate (better than EEG & MRI mapping, I'm guessing). Whether it is the sabbatical or just a bureaucratic snafu, the communication broke down somewhere between the neurosurgeon, the epilepsy monitoring unit (EMU), the neurologist, and the primary care physician. I spoke with various assistants and then waited for someone to get back to me. Called again. Waited again. Called again. Got a different number to call since the paperwork had been forwarded on to the EMU. Called that number and got voice mail. Waited. Got a call back. More bureaucratic dancing. Finally after mentioning (for about the third time) that the request was initiated by Dr. Z and not Dr. A, the neurologist, a light went on for the person on the other end. Waited just a bit more. Got a call back and Maddy is scheduled to go in after Dr. A gets back from his vacation: August 9. This will be immediately following her sister coming back from camp--the same camp Maddy had to miss because we were never able to schedule her time in the EMU.
We assume she will have at least a portion of her head shaved for the EEG. This, on top of the possibility of brain surgery, has our daughter quite upset as she will have to start school in just a few weeks afterwards. I keep telling her though that for the price of a few weeks of not looking like you're used to, you may very well be free of seizures for the rest of your life. And that she'd be able to concentrate better and do better in school.
I keep telling myself that, too.
Dr. A. told us that 70% of patients deemed as good candidates for surgery are seizure free afterwards. Those are pretty good odds, I think.
Dear God, please let it be so.
Friday, July 23, 2004
Where's my muse when I need her?
Not quite a year ago I attended a friend's 50th birthday celebration. I was asked by her husband Pat to write a song for the occasion--nothing profound, mind you, just a fun novelty ditty. Well, I did and it went quite well. I've heard that the Kitty, the birthday girl, played that portion of the video many times and sang along. Now, fast forward to about a month ago. She wants me to return the "favor" to her husband on his 50th. I've been so consumed with re-financing and pool installation and a particularly busy time at work that I've done nothing for the Pat's song. Kitty came by last night to brainstorm some ideas and work out some of the event scheduling (oh, I'm emcee-ing this shindig as well). I've got a draft of the first stanza so far and the party is tomorrow evening. I'd better get pretty damn creative pretty damn soon.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
All wet and lovin' it
OK, the pool is in. The filter is fixed and hardly leaks at all. And even the solar heater seems to be doing its job. Now, my girls, the youngest two especially, are spending much of their day in the pool. And yes, we are VERY strict about the "no one swims alone" rule. We knew a family who lost their two-year old son and his two-year old cousin at the same time due to an unsupervised pool (they mistakenly believed the gate was locked). That is a tradgedy the mere contemplation of which brings me to a difficult emotional state. Even though all my kids can swim and the pool is not so deep that even the youngest can stand with her head above the water, accidents can happen. So either swim with a sister or have mom or dad within earshot (no going back in and watching TV or playing on the computer).
Now we've got to get the water pH balanced which will take overnight and then we'll have to apply a heavy dose of chlorine, too. We've been using it but the pool is essentially just tap water right now and it is starting to show it.
So, it can be viewed as a bit of an inconvenience, I suppose. But they're not in it all the time and it gives me motivation to hurry on home. That and the fresh bottles of Bombay Saphire and Schwepp's Tonic. By the grace of God, I do give thanks that I live in a civilized world.
Oh, and we've already noticed the beginings of a secondary benefit. Our second daughter, the middle schooler with learning disabilities, is not only away from the TV more (poor thing has no friends as she is emotionally immature), but she is challenging herself physically in the pool. After seeing me do it, she tried to do a handstand but she failed. However, after just a little coaxing she tried again! It's difficult to express how wonderful that is. Her epilepsy and learning disabilities has also caused a delay in her emotional and physical-control maturity. Also, as an LD kid, she is so used to failure that her self-esteem is lower than dirt. To see her push herself even after meeting with defeat was one of those small but great moments of being a parent.
Now we've got to get the water pH balanced which will take overnight and then we'll have to apply a heavy dose of chlorine, too. We've been using it but the pool is essentially just tap water right now and it is starting to show it.
So, it can be viewed as a bit of an inconvenience, I suppose. But they're not in it all the time and it gives me motivation to hurry on home. That and the fresh bottles of Bombay Saphire and Schwepp's Tonic. By the grace of God, I do give thanks that I live in a civilized world.
Oh, and we've already noticed the beginings of a secondary benefit. Our second daughter, the middle schooler with learning disabilities, is not only away from the TV more (poor thing has no friends as she is emotionally immature), but she is challenging herself physically in the pool. After seeing me do it, she tried to do a handstand but she failed. However, after just a little coaxing she tried again! It's difficult to express how wonderful that is. Her epilepsy and learning disabilities has also caused a delay in her emotional and physical-control maturity. Also, as an LD kid, she is so used to failure that her self-esteem is lower than dirt. To see her push herself even after meeting with defeat was one of those small but great moments of being a parent.
from Welles to Shyamalan
Entertainment News Article | Reuters.com
As a semi-regular viewer of the SciFi channel, as soon as I saw the first promo for "The Buried Secret of M. Night Shyamalan" I knew that it was a hoax. And now the entertainment "press" are boo-hoo-ing that they were made to look silly because they weren't in on the joke. Cry me an f-ing river! The suits are falling all over themselves with apologies because nobody knows what to do with actual creativity. I don't know if this is sad or just plain stupid.
As a semi-regular viewer of the SciFi channel, as soon as I saw the first promo for "The Buried Secret of M. Night Shyamalan" I knew that it was a hoax. And now the entertainment "press" are boo-hoo-ing that they were made to look silly because they weren't in on the joke. Cry me an f-ing river! The suits are falling all over themselves with apologies because nobody knows what to do with actual creativity. I don't know if this is sad or just plain stupid.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
"Inconvenience & Labor" vs "Hope & Confidence"
So we get up this morning to see that the pool has drained maybe three inches. A this rate it'll be a day or two before it is emptied. And you know what, who says it really needs it. I know it would be best to have blocks under all the supports but I've got them under the ones on the long side where the ground was noticably softer than elsewhere. And as we thought about it, it made sense that the top would bow in as the pool filled. The water first spreads out the bottom, after all, which would cause the top to bend inward. So, the wife came back around to my original way of thinking (having now nearly obliterated my confidence in my plan) and I jam the boards I removed back under that one support. It was still quite muddy there and the back neighbors were watering their lawn so it would continue to get muddy, no doubt. It took a but of finagling but with a bit of digging out and a good amount of hammering into place, I got them in place. And now the pool is once again filling. By the time I get home today, it should be about waist deep. Tonight's project will be laying out and "dressing" the power cord for the pump. Oh, and I've got to pick up an additional hose to connect the solar heater and maybe a "first time use" sanitizing kit.
Man, just wading around in the knee-deep water last night while setting up the siphon (which worked far too slowly), was nice. It's going to be quite motivating to get my arse home after work during Sacramento's notoriously hot summer days.
...provided the pool doesn't collapse from our ineptitude.
Man, just wading around in the knee-deep water last night while setting up the siphon (which worked far too slowly), was nice. It's going to be quite motivating to get my arse home after work during Sacramento's notoriously hot summer days.
...provided the pool doesn't collapse from our ineptitude.
All wet...well, not yet
Damn, hubris bites. Especially when it is my own.
I could blame my work. I emailed in this morning that I would be a bit late. You see, we were nearly done setting up the new soft-sided pool (a big one, 14'x26'x52") and I had to complete the pump/filter connections this morning. Then the missus notices that the pool is really, seriously bowing in along the middle of the long sides. We're both wondering just how bad will that be as the water fills it? So, we decide to put a few blocks of pressurized wood under a few of the supports. We bought enough to go under all of the supports and that was our original plan but it didn't seem necessary. Well, I get a rather quick response from my boss that the program I just put into production is kicking out bad data and I'm needed ASAP. Left unsaid is the recent talk we had about the many hours here and there I've been missing for various family needs.
So, back to the pool. We think that if we prop up the middle supports with the wood blocks it will help level the pool. I do about four on one side and three on the other, just where it was sagging the most or the poles were really loose with too much slack. The wife is not sure and suggests that we (and by "we" she means me) put blocks under all the poles. It sounds like a good idea but I'm already running way late for work and I gotta get out of there, besides the pool finally looks completely level like never before. I go off to work and we start the filling of the pool.
This evening as I get home it is about a foot deep and the middle sections are now sagging inward. We figure that as the water level rises, they will bow back out. We continue to fill the pool. Now, about twelve hours after we first turned on the hose, the sag is even worse and the wife and I are getting worried. I do a google on "soft sided pool" and "filling" and I discover a little tidbit: "Important: if you use blocks, you must use them under ALL supports to prevent undue stress on the frame." Well, Jesus H. Tap-dancing Key-rist on a pony! There's about 18" of water in my pool now and I've got to either pull the blocks out or put new ones under those supports without any. I go around to the far side and discover that the ground is flooded. I check for air bubbles from the pool thinking maybe the stress cause a seam to split but I see no sign of damage. It must be from my backyard neighbors. I've had that happen before. But this also tells me that I cannot remove the blocks because that side will often be soggy. No, I need to block every support.
So now, I've rigged a siphon hose and the pool is draining. I doubt it'll be empty enough by 6am tomorrow (that's when I'd be available before work to fix the pool) for me to work on it. This will be very disappointing to my daughters but then if we were to break the pool, it would be even more disappointing and expensive.
I could blame my work. I emailed in this morning that I would be a bit late. You see, we were nearly done setting up the new soft-sided pool (a big one, 14'x26'x52") and I had to complete the pump/filter connections this morning. Then the missus notices that the pool is really, seriously bowing in along the middle of the long sides. We're both wondering just how bad will that be as the water fills it? So, we decide to put a few blocks of pressurized wood under a few of the supports. We bought enough to go under all of the supports and that was our original plan but it didn't seem necessary. Well, I get a rather quick response from my boss that the program I just put into production is kicking out bad data and I'm needed ASAP. Left unsaid is the recent talk we had about the many hours here and there I've been missing for various family needs.
So, back to the pool. We think that if we prop up the middle supports with the wood blocks it will help level the pool. I do about four on one side and three on the other, just where it was sagging the most or the poles were really loose with too much slack. The wife is not sure and suggests that we (and by "we" she means me) put blocks under all the poles. It sounds like a good idea but I'm already running way late for work and I gotta get out of there, besides the pool finally looks completely level like never before. I go off to work and we start the filling of the pool.
This evening as I get home it is about a foot deep and the middle sections are now sagging inward. We figure that as the water level rises, they will bow back out. We continue to fill the pool. Now, about twelve hours after we first turned on the hose, the sag is even worse and the wife and I are getting worried. I do a google on "soft sided pool" and "filling" and I discover a little tidbit: "Important: if you use blocks, you must use them under ALL supports to prevent undue stress on the frame." Well, Jesus H. Tap-dancing Key-rist on a pony! There's about 18" of water in my pool now and I've got to either pull the blocks out or put new ones under those supports without any. I go around to the far side and discover that the ground is flooded. I check for air bubbles from the pool thinking maybe the stress cause a seam to split but I see no sign of damage. It must be from my backyard neighbors. I've had that happen before. But this also tells me that I cannot remove the blocks because that side will often be soggy. No, I need to block every support.
So now, I've rigged a siphon hose and the pool is draining. I doubt it'll be empty enough by 6am tomorrow (that's when I'd be available before work to fix the pool) for me to work on it. This will be very disappointing to my daughters but then if we were to break the pool, it would be even more disappointing and expensive.
Friday, July 09, 2004
Rumspringa
We can't make fun women, Jews, Asians, Native Americans, Latinos, and certainly not African Americans. So who's left? Okay, so there'll always be the ubiquitous "easy target": the white male duffus (and, no, that is not redundant). But, c'mon, Ray Ramano has adequately replaced the void left by Tim Allen. But there must be some minority group we can really stick it to, right?
Well, leave it to UPN to find SOMEbody we can still debase and exploit: the Amish. It'll be like Kingpin meets The Real World. It sounds awful. And, yes, I probably will tune in but I'm not proud of that.
Well, leave it to UPN to find SOMEbody we can still debase and exploit: the Amish. It'll be like Kingpin meets The Real World. It sounds awful. And, yes, I probably will tune in but I'm not proud of that.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Eat Two, Octavius?
Just got back from seeing Spiderman 2 and I gotta say: pretty awesome summertime fun flick. Besides simply adding more and more stuff to action films, I never could see how they could really get any better than the tons of stuff we've all seen since Indiana Jones through Pirates of the Carribean. But Sam Raimi does it. The direction, the fantastic use of the camera, during the battle on the train was phenomenal. Not just capturing the same kind of framing that is used in comic books, but also jarring us with chaotic angles that take us into a sort of Spidey's-eye view of the world. And Kristen Dunst...ahhhhh. I do so like the red headed ladies. McGuire and Molina were more than fine in their respective roles, although I didn't really see the chemistry between them--something you only very rarely see in films--a sub-sensory visceral connection between hero and villain. On the spot now I can only recall it between Keaton and Nicholson in Batman. It is that rare.
The romance is touching and noble. The theme of responsibility for one's choices (going a tad beyond the first film's theme of the responsibility that comes with power), is worthy of far more grandiose films. Or you can just sit back and ride the roller coaster. But do yourself a favor and note some of the symbolism such as the the power of great aspirations to lift you above the humdrum of life and how when we give up our dreams we come crashing to earth. Note, too, the Christ-like crucifixion as Spidey "gives his life" for strangers and how they become his ersatz evangelists by not spreading his word but by living the example he set for them. Good stuff, I'm telling ya! Unless you're like my stepdad or my wife's Uncle Bill, neither of whom can tolerate a film that deals in any way with something outside of recorded human experience, see this movie.
The romance is touching and noble. The theme of responsibility for one's choices (going a tad beyond the first film's theme of the responsibility that comes with power), is worthy of far more grandiose films. Or you can just sit back and ride the roller coaster. But do yourself a favor and note some of the symbolism such as the the power of great aspirations to lift you above the humdrum of life and how when we give up our dreams we come crashing to earth. Note, too, the Christ-like crucifixion as Spidey "gives his life" for strangers and how they become his ersatz evangelists by not spreading his word but by living the example he set for them. Good stuff, I'm telling ya! Unless you're like my stepdad or my wife's Uncle Bill, neither of whom can tolerate a film that deals in any way with something outside of recorded human experience, see this movie.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Presbies drive to the brink of change...then turn away
PC(USA) - 216th General Assembly (2004) - News - Stand against gay ordination upheld
They had a chance to enact just the first step toward recognizing the rights of gays to fully participate in their church. It was looking like they would finally move an inch forward, though not completely around this stumbling block. But in the end, the conservatives won back their precious status quo with the tiniest of nods: they admit a "period of discernment" which they've handed over to their Theological Task Force on the Peace, Unity and Purity of the Church. I guess this former presby should've seen it coming. When faced with a difficult decision, Presbyterians will almost invariably refer the matter to a committee.
They had a chance to enact just the first step toward recognizing the rights of gays to fully participate in their church. It was looking like they would finally move an inch forward, though not completely around this stumbling block. But in the end, the conservatives won back their precious status quo with the tiniest of nods: they admit a "period of discernment" which they've handed over to their Theological Task Force on the Peace, Unity and Purity of the Church. I guess this former presby should've seen it coming. When faced with a difficult decision, Presbyterians will almost invariably refer the matter to a committee.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Freedom of Speech vs Freedom of Religion vs Hate
What is it about the right wingers that they so love to be "victims"? Although no such action has occurred, this article reports on a group offering their services just in case an action occurs. What action? Well, seems some Pennsylvania pastors are concerned that if they preach against homosexuality it will be tagged as hate speech which is an actionable offense. Has this happened? No. Is it likely to happen? No. If it did happen, would it get far given the extents to which the Supreme Court went just so it wouldn't have to decide if it was okay to coerce children to say "under God"? Of course not. But better to bemoan yet another "attack by the liberals" on their freedoms.
Hey, preacher, never mind what the law says for a moment. Ask your self the now-cliche question: What would Jesus do? And before you answer that, first remember what he said about homosexuals. In case you don't recall, let me refresh your memory. According to the Gospel of Matthew, he said nothing about homosexuals. According to the Gospel of Mark, he said nothing about homosexuals. According to the Gospel of Luke, he said nothing about homosexuals. And according to the Gospel of John, he said nothing about homosexuals. Nothing, nothing, nothing and nothing. This is the man who ate with sinners, scolded the Pharisees, and told the rich man the odds didn't look good for him to get into heaven. And yet not a single word about the nancyboys? Hmm, I wonder if there's a lesson to be learned there?
The question hinted at in the article is not whether or not the Bible might be considered "hate literature". Of course it won't. But there are passages which could be highjacked to support some pretty ugly things. It's happened before (i.e. slavery, oppression of women) and it is happening now with regard to homosexuality.
I'll just have to pray for those poor, misguided Pennsylvanian ministers.
Hey, preacher, never mind what the law says for a moment. Ask your self the now-cliche question: What would Jesus do? And before you answer that, first remember what he said about homosexuals. In case you don't recall, let me refresh your memory. According to the Gospel of Matthew, he said nothing about homosexuals. According to the Gospel of Mark, he said nothing about homosexuals. According to the Gospel of Luke, he said nothing about homosexuals. And according to the Gospel of John, he said nothing about homosexuals. Nothing, nothing, nothing and nothing. This is the man who ate with sinners, scolded the Pharisees, and told the rich man the odds didn't look good for him to get into heaven. And yet not a single word about the nancyboys? Hmm, I wonder if there's a lesson to be learned there?
The question hinted at in the article is not whether or not the Bible might be considered "hate literature". Of course it won't. But there are passages which could be highjacked to support some pretty ugly things. It's happened before (i.e. slavery, oppression of women) and it is happening now with regard to homosexuality.
I'll just have to pray for those poor, misguided Pennsylvanian ministers.
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