While my household will not celebrate Easter until April 27, this is Good Friday for those who follow the new calendar. When a server failed today, I suggested that we leave it alone and see if it comes back on Sunday.
The others working on the issue decided that it'd be better to simply build out a new box. I must concede that this is probably the best angle of attack.
March 21, 2008
March 20, 2008
When not to multitask
I did get a new bike and took it out on its maiden voyage this afternoon. The weather's not really the best for that type of thing, what with it being windy as hell, but I figure that a three or four mile first run is in order. I took a moment to figure out how the quick release works on my front wheel in case I need to use it, filled the water bottle, and checked the air pressure. Everything is ready to roll, so I hop aboard and begin my ride.
After about three miles, I hear a weird noise and begin to investigate. I look at the front fork, and don't see anything that would rub there. It doesn't sound like metal scraping, so I don't look very long at the chain or any of its associated mechanics. As I begin to look at the rear wheel, it dawns on me that this type of inspection is probably best done whilst the bike is standing still and I'm not astride it.
Just about the time I come to the recognition that there could be a basic safety concern involved in the inspection of a moving bike, I feel the front take a big dip as I hit the curb. It doesn't take a master's degree in mechanical engineering to understand that a 250 pound man moving at roughly 15mph carries quite a bit of momentum (for the geeks among us, that momentum amounts to 762 N·s). Once the shocks compressed about as much as they were going to, the entire affair begins to rotate about the hub of the front wheel and said 250lb man converts from "operator of a bicycle" into "flying mass of fat and stupidity."
Upon gravity enforcing its rights under the fundamental laws of physics, I come to rest on the sidewalk. First concern? Look for witnesses, being as I'm in my own neighborhood at this point and don't need anyone to have seen that. Fortunately, nobody's around (it's a bit cool and windy, and it is only 3:30 in the afternoon). Second, I check for injury and third, the condition of the bicycle. Just a square foot of road rash on the legs for me and no real damage to the bike. At least the water bottle was full, and I could rinse the grime off the road rash.
My wife is wholly unimpressed with the entire situation, as this event happened only 24 hours after I told her "No, I'm not buying a dorky looking bike helmet. I don't fall." My friend, Kevin, asked "You were, of course, wearing a brain bucket, right?" Of course not... and now I can't do that. If I do, then she wins.
After about three miles, I hear a weird noise and begin to investigate. I look at the front fork, and don't see anything that would rub there. It doesn't sound like metal scraping, so I don't look very long at the chain or any of its associated mechanics. As I begin to look at the rear wheel, it dawns on me that this type of inspection is probably best done whilst the bike is standing still and I'm not astride it.
Just about the time I come to the recognition that there could be a basic safety concern involved in the inspection of a moving bike, I feel the front take a big dip as I hit the curb. It doesn't take a master's degree in mechanical engineering to understand that a 250 pound man moving at roughly 15mph carries quite a bit of momentum (for the geeks among us, that momentum amounts to 762 N·s). Once the shocks compressed about as much as they were going to, the entire affair begins to rotate about the hub of the front wheel and said 250lb man converts from "operator of a bicycle" into "flying mass of fat and stupidity."
Upon gravity enforcing its rights under the fundamental laws of physics, I come to rest on the sidewalk. First concern? Look for witnesses, being as I'm in my own neighborhood at this point and don't need anyone to have seen that. Fortunately, nobody's around (it's a bit cool and windy, and it is only 3:30 in the afternoon). Second, I check for injury and third, the condition of the bicycle. Just a square foot of road rash on the legs for me and no real damage to the bike. At least the water bottle was full, and I could rinse the grime off the road rash.
My wife is wholly unimpressed with the entire situation, as this event happened only 24 hours after I told her "No, I'm not buying a dorky looking bike helmet. I don't fall." My friend, Kevin, asked "You were, of course, wearing a brain bucket, right?" Of course not... and now I can't do that. If I do, then she wins.
March 18, 2008
New bike
My wife's been doing a better job of taking care of herself than I've done of caring for myself the past couple of years. While she's busy taking off the weight she gained during two pregnancies (and then a couple more pounds for good measure), I'm still lounging about enjoying beer and cigars and doing as little of that pesky "exercise" stuff as I can comfortably avoid. In all honesty, I've always hated going to the gym and when younger, I liked getting my exercise outdoors. My knees are not so good for running anymore, so I decided I'd go with a bicycle.
I figured that'd be easy enough... After all, when I was a kid, I told my dad "I need a bicycle." He'd ask me what kind, and I'd reply with something like "A ten speed." Christmas would come and magically a ten-speed bicycle appears next to the tree. Hot damn. Recently, I got my son a bicycle, using the same basic logic. "What does he need?" Hell if I know. Something with training wheels, maybe?
I consider, briefly, calling my dad and telling him I want a bicycle just to see if that type of request would be something one could carry on making for an entire lifetime. After deciding against that, I went off in my own little Leonard Nimoy way in search of a bicycle.
I go to a bike shop, figuring that this would be where I could find a bike. Lo and behold, there were dozens of them... all of them very different. I am given choices of road bikes, cruisers, mountain bikes, and hybrids. They ask about the material I want the bike made of (while most are made of metal, they apparently make a carbon fiber composite jobber for the type of guy who needs to maintain a low radar cross-section during his afternoon ride) and the type of suspension. They ask about kind of brakes (disk brakes on a bicycle are an option, now?). They ask where I'm going to ride it. They ask how much I'm willing to pay for it. Suddenly, buying a new bicycle is as easy as buying a new car, and in some cases apparently could be just about as expensive.
I never imagined that it'd be this type of work just to get a bicycle to try and work off a few pounds. I think I need a beer and some time to relax after that much effort. God help me once Iactually get to ride the damned thing.
I figured that'd be easy enough... After all, when I was a kid, I told my dad "I need a bicycle." He'd ask me what kind, and I'd reply with something like "A ten speed." Christmas would come and magically a ten-speed bicycle appears next to the tree. Hot damn. Recently, I got my son a bicycle, using the same basic logic. "What does he need?" Hell if I know. Something with training wheels, maybe?
I consider, briefly, calling my dad and telling him I want a bicycle just to see if that type of request would be something one could carry on making for an entire lifetime. After deciding against that, I went off in my own little Leonard Nimoy way in search of a bicycle.
I go to a bike shop, figuring that this would be where I could find a bike. Lo and behold, there were dozens of them... all of them very different. I am given choices of road bikes, cruisers, mountain bikes, and hybrids. They ask about the material I want the bike made of (while most are made of metal, they apparently make a carbon fiber composite jobber for the type of guy who needs to maintain a low radar cross-section during his afternoon ride) and the type of suspension. They ask about kind of brakes (disk brakes on a bicycle are an option, now?). They ask where I'm going to ride it. They ask how much I'm willing to pay for it. Suddenly, buying a new bicycle is as easy as buying a new car, and in some cases apparently could be just about as expensive.
I never imagined that it'd be this type of work just to get a bicycle to try and work off a few pounds. I think I need a beer and some time to relax after that much effort. God help me once Iactually get to ride the damned thing.
March 17, 2008
More disturbing stuff from the kid
Although Easter for us is not until April 27, we are stocking up with things like Peeps and other Easter goodies... Will admit that we'll be picking up most of that stuff after the new calendarist churches celebrate the holy season, but we still get a bit festive along with everyone else.
Today, my two-year-old daughter was presented with a package of pink chick-shaped peeps. She tore into it, and commenced on a campaign of disturbing imagery wherein she ate the head of each Peep before placing it back into the packaging. This left us with some sort of Peeps version of Mme. Tussuad's chamber of horrors in the kitchen.
The following comments have come from a variety of friends/family:
Today, my two-year-old daughter was presented with a package of pink chick-shaped peeps. She tore into it, and commenced on a campaign of disturbing imagery wherein she ate the head of each Peep before placing it back into the packaging. This left us with some sort of Peeps version of Mme. Tussuad's chamber of horrors in the kitchen.
The following comments have come from a variety of friends/family:
- She trying out for Marilyn Manson videos?
- Her real father, Ozzy Osbourne, would be proud.
- Your daughter is the world's youngest carnival geek.
- I think you should put knives and other dangerous implements where she can't reach them not for her safety, but for yours.
Fits in:
kids
March 12, 2008
But what about those paper butt gasket thingies?
So I'm reading the news... all the news that's unfit for print, apparently... when I come across a story wherein some geezer in Florida suggests that it should be a legal requirement that there be adequate TP when you wander into a public lav. I'm sure The Great Cornholio will derive some measure of relief from this.
I hate the penalty shootout
Sour grapes? Maybe partly so. I've never cared for it, though, and today's result doesn't help matters.
I think they should settle it in a more manly style. A knock-out fight between the managers in the centre circle. I reckon David Moyes could've beaten Fiorentina's manager.
I think they should settle it in a more manly style. A knock-out fight between the managers in the centre circle. I reckon David Moyes could've beaten Fiorentina's manager.
Fits in:
footie
Outlook 2007 first impressions
Last week, Unisys decided to saddle me with install Outlook 2007, what with that being the new company standard and all. Some of it, I like. Other bits, I don't.
First, the "ribbon." I hate it. I don't like it in any of the other Office products, either. Consider me old fashioned, but I really want my productivity tools to allow me to be productive and I simply cannot be as productive when I must spend a majority of my time trying to figure out "Where the hell is [feature]?" The rest of the look and feel of Outlook 2007 doesn't thrill me, either. Looks a little too "My First Mail Client by Fisher Price" to me.
I don't like how the flags have changed from "pick a colored flag" to pick a single flag and assign "color categories," but that's hardly the end of the world. I'll get used to that and probably eventually wonder how I managed the other way.
I do, however, like the fact that the Outlook client doesn't offer the opportunity to use Word as its mail editor. The native editor is good enough for what I'm doing. I like that screen shots are now embedded inline as PNG files (although a problem with the Notes client being incapable of reading PNG does make it tough on my primary customer, and on some of those on the Unisys side who are accustomed to sending screen shots). That makes messages much smaller, at times. I also very much appreciate that Outlook 2007 embeds the digital signature rather than attaching it. Makes searching for stuff with attachments in my sent mail a bit easier.
First, the "ribbon." I hate it. I don't like it in any of the other Office products, either. Consider me old fashioned, but I really want my productivity tools to allow me to be productive and I simply cannot be as productive when I must spend a majority of my time trying to figure out "Where the hell is [feature]?" The rest of the look and feel of Outlook 2007 doesn't thrill me, either. Looks a little too "My First Mail Client by Fisher Price" to me.
I don't like how the flags have changed from "pick a colored flag" to pick a single flag and assign "color categories," but that's hardly the end of the world. I'll get used to that and probably eventually wonder how I managed the other way.
I do, however, like the fact that the Outlook client doesn't offer the opportunity to use Word as its mail editor. The native editor is good enough for what I'm doing. I like that screen shots are now embedded inline as PNG files (although a problem with the Notes client being incapable of reading PNG does make it tough on my primary customer, and on some of those on the Unisys side who are accustomed to sending screen shots). That makes messages much smaller, at times. I also very much appreciate that Outlook 2007 embeds the digital signature rather than attaching it. Makes searching for stuff with attachments in my sent mail a bit easier.
Fits in:
work
March 07, 2008
Social networking site ruins my evening
Okay, so maybe the site itself didn't ruin my evening's plans. Perhaps it was my little brother (whom I commented was a dear wonderful friend back in a September post reflecting on forty years gone by) who really ruined my evening. Or, at least he managed to derail my entire night's plans by telling me on the phone about ning.com, or more specifically a community created for those who went to my high school in England. Being as the loss of friendships over the years in the constant relocation cycle was among the things in my reflections post, I went looking.
Three hours later, I've posted, changed, reordered, and modified a profile. I went through old friends' blog entries, read about those who've passed, and essentially took a meandering stroll down memory lane.
What that did not do, however, was get the photos which I needed to clean up/post done. It did not help me get some spackle up on the wall where a chair gouged it and it needs new paint. I hate my brother for this. I must plot my revenge, now.
Three hours later, I've posted, changed, reordered, and modified a profile. I went through old friends' blog entries, read about those who've passed, and essentially took a meandering stroll down memory lane.
What that did not do, however, was get the photos which I needed to clean up/post done. It did not help me get some spackle up on the wall where a chair gouged it and it needs new paint. I hate my brother for this. I must plot my revenge, now.
March 03, 2008
Diagnostics
I'm having some trouble with a printer. For some reason, it keeps giving an error indicating some sort of issue with consumables. I did some looking, and HP's web site says that it's got something to do with the printer's inability to read a chip on the toner cartridge. I thought I had it nailed down with a little wire that appears not to stick out as far as it ought to. With that, I started to take that bit apart.
I'm grunting and cursing whilst undoing the screws which aren't entirely conveniently placed such that I could get at that bit. A helpful voice comes from behind... "I don't think you're meant to take that part out."
I replied, "If I weren't meant to take it off, HP would have fastened it via weld or rivet, not with a screw."
I'm grunting and cursing whilst undoing the screws which aren't entirely conveniently placed such that I could get at that bit. A helpful voice comes from behind... "I don't think you're meant to take that part out."
I replied, "If I weren't meant to take it off, HP would have fastened it via weld or rivet, not with a screw."
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