Okay, let me explain. No, I'm not in trouble with the Law. At least, not that I know of. Let's step into the Wayback Machine and revisit this.
Back already?
Okay, remember that letter I got from the Graduate School? It said my admission was provisional, pending my performance in class and getting some prerequisites done. Well, in the interim, they rolled the prerequisites into the regular core courses, so all I had to do was keep a B or better in my first 3 classes.
Got my final grade back today for the Management of Software Systems class. Made an A. Once again, ass kicking deferred. The final exam was crazy, though. There's open-ended questions and then there's "write me a book about ___." I wrote 26 pages, then changed the font and margins to save some trees, even still I had 21 pages to turn in. I think I heard weeping on the other end of that email.
So that's now three A's for my coursework. A 4.0 GPA. Not too shabby a start. This means that the provisional status is removed and I'm now a fully admitted Grad Student in Good Standing. Yahoo! (Or you can yell Google! Whatever trips your trigger.)
It's been hard keeping up study discipline the past three semesters. Work gets so insane that it takes time away from reading, research, writing and just plain old nose-in-the-textbook studying before test time, but that's what pays the bills, so I just cowboy up and deal with it. My boss is working on his Master's too, so he's sympathetic and helpful, too. It's good, because we can trade on-call support nights with each other for class time and such.
Besides work, I got family, community projects, lawn care (grass doesn't mow itself - but what an AWESOME genetic engineering project we could work on!!) and at some point, working off the sleep debt. Everyone has been really supportive, and I can't thank you all enough.
I've still got a long way to go, and it's only going to get harder. I hope I can stick with it. Discipline, hard work, and dedication are what it's going to take. Support from friends and family help a lot too. Onward!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
In the Garden of Eden, Baby...
How the conversation really went back in the Garden...
God: "Where the hell are you two?"
Adam: "Shh! Quit fiddling with your fig leaves, He'll hear you!"
God: "I heard that. Come out so we can talk."
Eve: "Dammit. Does this fig leaf make my ass look big?"
Adam: "No, you ass makes your ass look big!"
Eve: "Fuck you!"
God: "Look just answer me this... who ate my apple?"
Eve: (Points at Adam) "He did!"
Adam: (Points back at Eve) "She made me!"
God: "I told you two to stay away from that tree."
Eve: "Wasn't my fault. It's that damn snake of yours."
God: "Well, you've really fucked up now. I'm kicking you both out of the Garden. No more free ride. Eve, your punishment is that giving birth to your kids will hurt like hell, and -"
Eve: "Kids? I'm still a virgin, dammit! We're still dealing with his hang-ups about sex!"
God: "What do you mean? You're not being fruitful-"
Eve: "Fruitful? We eat a stupid apple and you throw us out!"
God: "No, I mean, you're not busy having kids? Why?"
Adam: "She won't let me be on top."
Eve: "Damn straight. He keeps going on and on about how he and his old girlfriend used to fight about that..."
God: "Wait, is that why Lilith skedaddled on you? Jeez, man. Think, she's on top you got the best angle for all the goodies."
Adam: "I want to be on top."
God: "Fine, you're on top in bed, but she gets to ride your ass to the grave the rest of the time."
Eve: "I can make that work."
And so it goes...
God: "Where the hell are you two?"
Adam: "Shh! Quit fiddling with your fig leaves, He'll hear you!"
God: "I heard that. Come out so we can talk."
Eve: "Dammit. Does this fig leaf make my ass look big?"
Adam: "No, you ass makes your ass look big!"
Eve: "Fuck you!"
God: "Look just answer me this... who ate my apple?"
Eve: (Points at Adam) "He did!"
Adam: (Points back at Eve) "She made me!"
God: "I told you two to stay away from that tree."
Eve: "Wasn't my fault. It's that damn snake of yours."
God: "Well, you've really fucked up now. I'm kicking you both out of the Garden. No more free ride. Eve, your punishment is that giving birth to your kids will hurt like hell, and -"
Eve: "Kids? I'm still a virgin, dammit! We're still dealing with his hang-ups about sex!"
God: "What do you mean? You're not being fruitful-"
Eve: "Fruitful? We eat a stupid apple and you throw us out!"
God: "No, I mean, you're not busy having kids? Why?"
Adam: "She won't let me be on top."
Eve: "Damn straight. He keeps going on and on about how he and his old girlfriend used to fight about that..."
God: "Wait, is that why Lilith skedaddled on you? Jeez, man. Think, she's on top you got the best angle for all the goodies."
Adam: "I want to be on top."
God: "Fine, you're on top in bed, but she gets to ride your ass to the grave the rest of the time."
Eve: "I can make that work."
And so it goes...
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Chutzpah, Redefined
El Snob De Musica has a story to tell and it reminded me of one of my own misadventures. Not that I hang out with transvestites at 4 in the morning or anything like that, in spite of what Coyote, Taco, Fett and Blue may tell you. Lies, Damn Lies and Politics, I tell ya!! Tim insists that the story be told, so here goes...
Back in 1986, before I was old, chubby and lazy, which is to say before I learned to drive, I used to run on bicycle tours in the summers between sessions at the University. I rode my bike everywhere back then, and I had a metabolism to support my feeding habits; sadly, I still have the feeding habits but not the metabolism. Or the bike. Traded up to a motorcycle in '89 and never looked back.
Our '86 summer tour started off at the Old City section of the Twin Cities (same location The Skating Gnu managed to make a slapshot that pinged both pipes and scooted crosswise behind the goalie without scoring - read all about it here- needless to say she was PISSED about missing that shot) and went down towards the coast to Myrtle Beach (Home of the Myrtle Beach Open, another story for another time!) then along the coastline through the Frances Marion National Forest, a stopover at Sullivan's Island and then on into Old Charleston. Five days at about 75 miles per day. Good times.
We had great weather all the way down until we got to the coast. Something was brewing offshore. While we were pedaling through the National Forest, we were sheltered from whatever it was until we reached Sullivan's Island. By then we could tell it was gonna be a wild ride into the city. We had no idea how wild until we topped the Cooper River Bridge and came to a complete standstill, thanks to a steady 50 mph headwind. Turns out we came into Charleston from the North and Hurricane Charley spun in from the Southwest. Not much of a hurricane at that point, but it was rain enough for us, and the wind did actually stop us in our tracks.
By the time we reached our accommodations in the Old City (First Scots Presbyterian Church) we were completely soaked. The city was getting more rain than it could handle, and we were actually paddling in two-foot flooding the last leg. We looked liked drowned rats, and felt worse.
Nevertheless, a quick shower and a dryer full of fresh clothes did the trick and after the rain stopped we were out on the town to take in the sights. Down by Battery Row, one of my comrades and I were poking in and out of open homes, shops, and eateries. We came up on one grand home on East Bay Street where a whole bunch of people were streaming in and out. Thinking it was an open house, we just strode right in...
Right into a SEA OF TUXEDOS!!!
Imagine if you will, two bikers in bandannas, cutoff jean shorts, torn shirts, docksiders and no socks facing off against a house full of James Bond stunt doubles. We looked at them, they looked at us, both sides in complete surprise. We'd walked all the way inside, and there was no turning back.
A pair of gorgeous girls in antebellum dress walked up to us, winked at each other and asked us for our invitations. Before I could think of an honourable exit strategy, my buddy pats his pockets down, points right at me and says, "He's got 'em!" They turn to face me with gracious smiles and expectant stares.
I quietly explained that we were sorry to intrude, that we thought this was an open tour or something, please don't arrest us, etc. One of the girls, smiled and replied in that deliciously sweet Southern accent that only a young lady of good breeding can do, "That's okay, come on in, have some refreshments and shake hands with the next Lieutenant Governor of the Great State of South Carolina!"
Somehow we'd managed to crash the kickoff party for Tom Hartnett's election campaign for Lt. Governor! Too late to cut and run, we walked in with every ounce of pride we could muster and had ourselves a grand time. Our second time through the hors d'oeuvre line we got to schmooze with the host himself, with a flock of penguins turning green with envy looking on.
Nice guy, by the way. Got to shake his hand, still have the campaign button he gave me.
Back in 1986, before I was old, chubby and lazy, which is to say before I learned to drive, I used to run on bicycle tours in the summers between sessions at the University. I rode my bike everywhere back then, and I had a metabolism to support my feeding habits; sadly, I still have the feeding habits but not the metabolism. Or the bike. Traded up to a motorcycle in '89 and never looked back.
Our '86 summer tour started off at the Old City section of the Twin Cities (same location The Skating Gnu managed to make a slapshot that pinged both pipes and scooted crosswise behind the goalie without scoring - read all about it here- needless to say she was PISSED about missing that shot) and went down towards the coast to Myrtle Beach (Home of the Myrtle Beach Open, another story for another time!) then along the coastline through the Frances Marion National Forest, a stopover at Sullivan's Island and then on into Old Charleston. Five days at about 75 miles per day. Good times.
We had great weather all the way down until we got to the coast. Something was brewing offshore. While we were pedaling through the National Forest, we were sheltered from whatever it was until we reached Sullivan's Island. By then we could tell it was gonna be a wild ride into the city. We had no idea how wild until we topped the Cooper River Bridge and came to a complete standstill, thanks to a steady 50 mph headwind. Turns out we came into Charleston from the North and Hurricane Charley spun in from the Southwest. Not much of a hurricane at that point, but it was rain enough for us, and the wind did actually stop us in our tracks.
By the time we reached our accommodations in the Old City (First Scots Presbyterian Church) we were completely soaked. The city was getting more rain than it could handle, and we were actually paddling in two-foot flooding the last leg. We looked liked drowned rats, and felt worse.
Nevertheless, a quick shower and a dryer full of fresh clothes did the trick and after the rain stopped we were out on the town to take in the sights. Down by Battery Row, one of my comrades and I were poking in and out of open homes, shops, and eateries. We came up on one grand home on East Bay Street where a whole bunch of people were streaming in and out. Thinking it was an open house, we just strode right in...
Right into a SEA OF TUXEDOS!!!
Imagine if you will, two bikers in bandannas, cutoff jean shorts, torn shirts, docksiders and no socks facing off against a house full of James Bond stunt doubles. We looked at them, they looked at us, both sides in complete surprise. We'd walked all the way inside, and there was no turning back.
A pair of gorgeous girls in antebellum dress walked up to us, winked at each other and asked us for our invitations. Before I could think of an honourable exit strategy, my buddy pats his pockets down, points right at me and says, "He's got 'em!" They turn to face me with gracious smiles and expectant stares.
I quietly explained that we were sorry to intrude, that we thought this was an open tour or something, please don't arrest us, etc. One of the girls, smiled and replied in that deliciously sweet Southern accent that only a young lady of good breeding can do, "That's okay, come on in, have some refreshments and shake hands with the next Lieutenant Governor of the Great State of South Carolina!"
Somehow we'd managed to crash the kickoff party for Tom Hartnett's election campaign for Lt. Governor! Too late to cut and run, we walked in with every ounce of pride we could muster and had ourselves a grand time. Our second time through the hors d'oeuvre line we got to schmooze with the host himself, with a flock of penguins turning green with envy looking on.
Nice guy, by the way. Got to shake his hand, still have the campaign button he gave me.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
I Like Pie!
She's my cherry pie,
Cool drink of water,
Such a sweet surprise.
Tastes so good make a grown man cry,
Sweet cherry pie!
Warrant, Cherry Pie
So, I'm working from home this week, and it's been an absolute zoo. Work is going crazy, and I had a paper due last night. I'd been working on it since Saturday, and by 1:00pm yesterday afternoon, I had exactly one paragraph written, and that one had been scrapped three times already. Needless to say, I was stressed to the breaking point. Finally got it turned in, all 5 pages with 7 minutes to spare. Talk about cutting it close! It's probably not my best work, but I was at least able to cover my main points and reach a point of satisfaction with it before time ran out.
Today, work is more of the same, insanity from the start. Mrs. Gnu, using her superpowers of intuition, (namely, listening to me swear like a sailor all morning) figured I could use a pick-me-up.
She came in to the office around lunchtime and had in her hands, a delicious, piping hot, homemade cherry pie. With a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side.
God, I love that woman!
Now, if only I could get her to dress up and do a remake of the video...
Cool drink of water,
Such a sweet surprise.
Tastes so good make a grown man cry,
Sweet cherry pie!
Warrant, Cherry Pie
So, I'm working from home this week, and it's been an absolute zoo. Work is going crazy, and I had a paper due last night. I'd been working on it since Saturday, and by 1:00pm yesterday afternoon, I had exactly one paragraph written, and that one had been scrapped three times already. Needless to say, I was stressed to the breaking point. Finally got it turned in, all 5 pages with 7 minutes to spare. Talk about cutting it close! It's probably not my best work, but I was at least able to cover my main points and reach a point of satisfaction with it before time ran out.
Today, work is more of the same, insanity from the start. Mrs. Gnu, using her superpowers of intuition, (namely, listening to me swear like a sailor all morning) figured I could use a pick-me-up.
She came in to the office around lunchtime and had in her hands, a delicious, piping hot, homemade cherry pie. With a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side.
God, I love that woman!
Now, if only I could get her to dress up and do a remake of the video...
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Six of one...
Conversations of the Damned:
We decided to order pizza tonight in commemoration of a wet, cold, dreary Saturday...
PizzaGurl: "Thank you for calling Total Domination's Pizza, may I take your order?"
Me: "I'd like two orders of Kickin' Chicken Bites, please."
PG: "Would you like ranch or blue cheese with those?"
Me: "One of each, please."
PG: "You mean one of each in each order or one with ranch and the other with blue cheese?"
Me: "That's basically the same thing."
PG: "Uhhh.... nooo. If you get one of each in both that's totally different than each with two of the same."
Me: "...Bwuh?"
Our future is in the hands of our children.
God save us.
Post-Script: The Domination's Pizza guy arrived, with tasty Italian goodness in hand. Two orders of Kickin' Chicken, one order of bread stix and a pepperoni pizza. Just like the Romans of Caesar's time, feasting for all!
Opening the two orders of chicken, we find... drum roll please... Ranch dip in both. The bread stix, on the other hand, had two blue cheese dips that don't usually come with them.
Well, who says results don't matter? Yay PizzaGurl!
We decided to order pizza tonight in commemoration of a wet, cold, dreary Saturday...
PizzaGurl: "Thank you for calling Total Domination's Pizza, may I take your order?"
Me: "I'd like two orders of Kickin' Chicken Bites, please."
PG: "Would you like ranch or blue cheese with those?"
Me: "One of each, please."
PG: "You mean one of each in each order or one with ranch and the other with blue cheese?"
Me: "That's basically the same thing."
PG: "Uhhh.... nooo. If you get one of each in both that's totally different than each with two of the same."
Me: "...Bwuh?"
Our future is in the hands of our children.
God save us.
Post-Script: The Domination's Pizza guy arrived, with tasty Italian goodness in hand. Two orders of Kickin' Chicken, one order of bread stix and a pepperoni pizza. Just like the Romans of Caesar's time, feasting for all!
Opening the two orders of chicken, we find... drum roll please... Ranch dip in both. The bread stix, on the other hand, had two blue cheese dips that don't usually come with them.
Well, who says results don't matter? Yay PizzaGurl!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Ow! Ah Bwoke a Toof! It Hurth, Dammit!
Stop laughing! The damn thing hurts!
I don't know how I did it, but I managed to break a tooth while eating a ham sandwich last week. The day after I converted from contractor to full-timer at The Company. I haven't even had time to fill out all the paperwork and I'm already putting in benefits claims!
(Note: The Company is not to be confused with the Company or the company for that matter. I don't talk much about work for a reason; it's like Fight Club in my opinion. I don't talk about it. Unless I do. I'm ornery, remember?)
Worse yet, this was in the middle of mid-term week for my Software Management class. Will the pain never end?
A quick update: Psych class turned out good. Got an A. Now, on to Management of Software Systems. I do this for a living, so once again, it's an A or ass-kicking time. The Skating Gnu and her hockey team made it to the semi-finals in the Capital City Cup tourney. They put up a helluva fight against the tournament favourites and made a good accounting of themselves. Mrs. Gnu is still putting up with our crazy crap. I love that woman more and more each day. (Happy Belated Birthday, Dear!)
So, mid-terms. Tough class so far, lots of readin', researchin' and writin'. And readin'. And writin'. And scotch. Scotch? Yup. Scotch. Makes the researchin' much more interestin'. We get our test at the beginning of the week. Six questions, open book, open notes, open season on external sources. And I just HAD to break a goddamn tooth! Well, no use complainin' so take two Advil and start plowin' through it. Books scattered all over the office, 36 hours of work, and 18 pages written before I finally decided I'd done my best work on it. Turned it in, hoped for the best, took more Advil to kill the pain. Scotch to follow when it's safe to do so.
As usual, the Monday-morning quarterbacking starts the moment I declare myself finished. Mrs. Gnu said I should just turn it in and be done with it, don't sit there and over-analyze what I've written- just get it over with. She's right, I know she's right, and I know it's the best advice, but when it's my ass on the line, I find it a little hard to let go. Test anxiety again.
Grades were posted yesterday afternoon. I had to read it twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
100%
Toothache? What toothache?
I don't know how I did it, but I managed to break a tooth while eating a ham sandwich last week. The day after I converted from contractor to full-timer at The Company. I haven't even had time to fill out all the paperwork and I'm already putting in benefits claims!
(Note: The Company is not to be confused with the Company or the company for that matter. I don't talk much about work for a reason; it's like Fight Club in my opinion. I don't talk about it. Unless I do. I'm ornery, remember?)
Worse yet, this was in the middle of mid-term week for my Software Management class. Will the pain never end?
A quick update: Psych class turned out good. Got an A. Now, on to Management of Software Systems. I do this for a living, so once again, it's an A or ass-kicking time. The Skating Gnu and her hockey team made it to the semi-finals in the Capital City Cup tourney. They put up a helluva fight against the tournament favourites and made a good accounting of themselves. Mrs. Gnu is still putting up with our crazy crap. I love that woman more and more each day. (Happy Belated Birthday, Dear!)
So, mid-terms. Tough class so far, lots of readin', researchin' and writin'. And readin'. And writin'. And scotch. Scotch? Yup. Scotch. Makes the researchin' much more interestin'. We get our test at the beginning of the week. Six questions, open book, open notes, open season on external sources. And I just HAD to break a goddamn tooth! Well, no use complainin' so take two Advil and start plowin' through it. Books scattered all over the office, 36 hours of work, and 18 pages written before I finally decided I'd done my best work on it. Turned it in, hoped for the best, took more Advil to kill the pain. Scotch to follow when it's safe to do so.
As usual, the Monday-morning quarterbacking starts the moment I declare myself finished. Mrs. Gnu said I should just turn it in and be done with it, don't sit there and over-analyze what I've written- just get it over with. She's right, I know she's right, and I know it's the best advice, but when it's my ass on the line, I find it a little hard to let go. Test anxiety again.
Grades were posted yesterday afternoon. I had to read it twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
100%
Toothache? What toothache?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
We Interrupt the Static...
Due to overwhelming workloads, schoolwork, holiday insanity and just general laziness, there will be no posts this month.
Wait....
Damn!
Wait....
Damn!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Writer's Block
I have a paper due Sunday. My second one for the Organizational Behaviour class I'm taking this semester. The first one was a complete success - got a 100 on it. I have never, ever scored that high on a paper before. I was flabbergasted. Unfortunately I feel like I set way too high a standard because all week I've been struggling with ideas for this paper.
Writer's block is a raw, howling, untamed bitch sometimes. I'll get started on an idea, then it grinds to a stultified impasse as I run headlong into one dead end after another. All week, I've been tossing topics, notes and ideas into the trashcan, which is now resembling some sort of forlorn Think Tank of Misfit Ideas.
Until this morning.
Inspiration is like a bolt from the blue: it hits you at the most unlikely moments, and when it happens to me, I am always awestruck at the human mind's capacity to solve problems without overtly thinking about them and come with the most unlikely of solutions at the most unexpected moments. In this case, it hit me in the shower this morning. (No, I did not drop the soap!)
I stepped out of the shower and told Mrs. Gnu, "Hey, I finally found a topic for my paper!"
Mrs. Gnu: (annoyed at the growing puddle on the carpet under my feet) "Where'd you find it?"
Me: (returning the sarcasm with interest) "In the shower, right where I left it. Oh, and last night I found Jesus. He was behind the couch all this time."
Never tangle with an inspired smartass...
Writer's block is a raw, howling, untamed bitch sometimes. I'll get started on an idea, then it grinds to a stultified impasse as I run headlong into one dead end after another. All week, I've been tossing topics, notes and ideas into the trashcan, which is now resembling some sort of forlorn Think Tank of Misfit Ideas.
Until this morning.
Inspiration is like a bolt from the blue: it hits you at the most unlikely moments, and when it happens to me, I am always awestruck at the human mind's capacity to solve problems without overtly thinking about them and come with the most unlikely of solutions at the most unexpected moments. In this case, it hit me in the shower this morning. (No, I did not drop the soap!)
I stepped out of the shower and told Mrs. Gnu, "Hey, I finally found a topic for my paper!"
Mrs. Gnu: (annoyed at the growing puddle on the carpet under my feet) "Where'd you find it?"
Me: (returning the sarcasm with interest) "In the shower, right where I left it. Oh, and last night I found Jesus. He was behind the couch all this time."
Never tangle with an inspired smartass...
Friday, February 8, 2008
To Infinity...
I had the most bizarre dream last night.
I was driving home from work, and I looked up in the rear-view mirror at the car behind me, only to discover it was an exact duplicate of mine. Even the driver looked like me. That's weird, I thought, and scratched my head. So did the driver in the car behind me. I waved. So did he, and I could that see that he was waving to someone behind him. I flashed my lights, so did he.
I pulled over to the side of the road. So did he. I got out of the car, and looked back at the car behind me. I could now see an infinite number of "Me" doing the exact same thing. Right as I was turning around to look down the road ahead, that little voice in my head said, Don't do it, you'll fuck up the space-time continuum by instantly creating another infinite number of you in that direction.
Sure enough, there we were, staring at the back of the head of the "us" in front of... well, us. See? I told you it was a bizarre dream.
So now I have an infinite set of "Me" in both directions, and I've got to figure out how to fix this. So, since I carry two cell phones, one for work, one for personal use, I call "myself." Phone 1 dials, phone 2 rings in my pocket.
Me: "Hello?"
Me: "Yeah, it's me. Behind you - don't look goddammit!!" I looked. Goddammit. There I was, looking behind myself to infinity.
Me: "We're fucked, aren't we?"
Me: "Yeah, looks like it. Got ideas?"
An infinite number of Gnus scratch their collective heads. Ad infinitum.
Me: "Okay, here's what we do. I'll walk up to the car in front of me and get in. Y'all do the same."
(No need for agreement or discussion, we all came up with the idea at the same time. Funny, that...)
So I walk up to the car in front of me, and get in. And when I look up from the dashboard, I'm all alone on the side of the road.
Or am I...?
I was driving home from work, and I looked up in the rear-view mirror at the car behind me, only to discover it was an exact duplicate of mine. Even the driver looked like me. That's weird, I thought, and scratched my head. So did the driver in the car behind me. I waved. So did he, and I could that see that he was waving to someone behind him. I flashed my lights, so did he.
I pulled over to the side of the road. So did he. I got out of the car, and looked back at the car behind me. I could now see an infinite number of "Me" doing the exact same thing. Right as I was turning around to look down the road ahead, that little voice in my head said, Don't do it, you'll fuck up the space-time continuum by instantly creating another infinite number of you in that direction.
Sure enough, there we were, staring at the back of the head of the "us" in front of... well, us. See? I told you it was a bizarre dream.
So now I have an infinite set of "Me" in both directions, and I've got to figure out how to fix this. So, since I carry two cell phones, one for work, one for personal use, I call "myself." Phone 1 dials, phone 2 rings in my pocket.
Me: "Hello?"
Me: "Yeah, it's me. Behind you - don't look goddammit!!" I looked. Goddammit. There I was, looking behind myself to infinity.
Me: "We're fucked, aren't we?"
Me: "Yeah, looks like it. Got ideas?"
An infinite number of Gnus scratch their collective heads. Ad infinitum.
Me: "Okay, here's what we do. I'll walk up to the car in front of me and get in. Y'all do the same."
(No need for agreement or discussion, we all came up with the idea at the same time. Funny, that...)
So I walk up to the car in front of me, and get in. And when I look up from the dashboard, I'm all alone on the side of the road.
Or am I...?
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Between The Sheetz.... With Gas!
My hometown has become ground-zero for great gas prices, ever since we got a Sheetz. Right around the corner from Gnu HQ, complete with a fast food joint inside and touch screen ordering kiosks at the pump. (Tip: When using them in the cold, try rubbing your thumb to make it warm then press the buttons, the screen is heat-sensitive.) The foreign guy who owns the Shell station across the street (no idea where from, I just know he hocked up a hairball every time he spoke) had gouged the area for many years; now he has to actually compete. Life is good, because Capitalism works!
So, I'm inside ordering up breakfast for the Gnu Herd on our way out for the day. I put my order in and wait for the hot, delicious goodness to arrive. On the counter, I see some stuff that needs to be cleaned up, so, being the good citizen I am, I scoop it up and head for the trashcan. One of the staffers sees me and smiles, "Oh that's okay, sir. We'll get that for you."
I smile at her and reply, "No worries, I like clean Sheetz, too!"
Poor girl nearly pissed herself laughing. I'm tellin' ya, one of these days...
So, I'm inside ordering up breakfast for the Gnu Herd on our way out for the day. I put my order in and wait for the hot, delicious goodness to arrive. On the counter, I see some stuff that needs to be cleaned up, so, being the good citizen I am, I scoop it up and head for the trashcan. One of the staffers sees me and smiles, "Oh that's okay, sir. We'll get that for you."
I smile at her and reply, "No worries, I like clean Sheetz, too!"
Poor girl nearly pissed herself laughing. I'm tellin' ya, one of these days...
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Oh The Irony!
How ironic is it that this morning's hockey game was canceled due to...
Yep you guessed it. Snow and ice.
Only in the South!
Yep you guessed it. Snow and ice.
Only in the South!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
The Thin Squiggly Line Between Genius and Idiot
Tonight I performed another successful culinary experiment: Swedish Meatballs over Egg Noodles. Of course, the meatballs I concocted had more in common with Sioux cuisine than Stockholm: I made them with locally raised Bison.
Rave reviews from the family got me to thinking back to previous experiments. I figured it was time to share one which turned out quite well in the end, but in the process I tried one small experiment that probably doesn't cast the best light on me, but it's too damn funny not to share...
Last November, we had a celebration dinner. The Skating Gnu had just returned from the Capital City from a 6-2 trouncing of their hockey team, and I'd just gotten an A on my first Grad School paper. So, we stopped by an awesome Asian Supermarket on our way home and picked up a few things for a Vietnamese feast.
The evening's menu:
Appetizer:
Spring Rolls with Chinese sweet sausage, fried shrimp, fresh basil and Yamica root, served with Thai sweet/sour dip.
Main:
Tilapia fillets, pan seared in butter with fresh ginger, garlic and lemongrass, and sides of wild brown rice and stir-fried snow peas.
Dessert:
Lime sorbet.
Wine:
2002 Fieldstone Russian River Valley Gewürztraminer
(Orange-Pineapple juice for the Skating Gnu)
The recipe I had for spring rolls called for ground peanuts. Now, understand, we engineers are a lazy bunch: we devise better ways of doing tasks so we don't have to expend so much effort. That's why we have supermarkets, SUV's and microwaves instead of chasing Buffalo down on foot, skewering them with sticks and roasting them over a fire.
So, ground peanuts, eh? I figure I can either do it the hard way by beating the ever-loving crap out of a Ziploc bag full of Planter's dry roasted, or...
I spy with my good eye, the coffee grinder in the corner of the countertop. I've used it to grind coffee, of course, also used it to grind up some dry herbs and even peppermint candies for some Christmas Peppermint Hot Chocolate. So, I load the grinder up and push the button...
... and that, dear readers, is how you make Peanut Butter. Good grief, it took me forever to get that crap out of there.
On the plus side, my morning cup o' joy now has a distinctive nutty finish to it.
Rave reviews from the family got me to thinking back to previous experiments. I figured it was time to share one which turned out quite well in the end, but in the process I tried one small experiment that probably doesn't cast the best light on me, but it's too damn funny not to share...
Last November, we had a celebration dinner. The Skating Gnu had just returned from the Capital City from a 6-2 trouncing of their hockey team, and I'd just gotten an A on my first Grad School paper. So, we stopped by an awesome Asian Supermarket on our way home and picked up a few things for a Vietnamese feast.
The evening's menu:
Appetizer:
Spring Rolls with Chinese sweet sausage, fried shrimp, fresh basil and Yamica root, served with Thai sweet/sour dip.
Main:
Tilapia fillets, pan seared in butter with fresh ginger, garlic and lemongrass, and sides of wild brown rice and stir-fried snow peas.
Dessert:
Lime sorbet.
Wine:
2002 Fieldstone Russian River Valley Gewürztraminer
(Orange-Pineapple juice for the Skating Gnu)
The recipe I had for spring rolls called for ground peanuts. Now, understand, we engineers are a lazy bunch: we devise better ways of doing tasks so we don't have to expend so much effort. That's why we have supermarkets, SUV's and microwaves instead of chasing Buffalo down on foot, skewering them with sticks and roasting them over a fire.
So, ground peanuts, eh? I figure I can either do it the hard way by beating the ever-loving crap out of a Ziploc bag full of Planter's dry roasted, or...
I spy with my good eye, the coffee grinder in the corner of the countertop. I've used it to grind coffee, of course, also used it to grind up some dry herbs and even peppermint candies for some Christmas Peppermint Hot Chocolate. So, I load the grinder up and push the button...
... and that, dear readers, is how you make Peanut Butter. Good grief, it took me forever to get that crap out of there.
On the plus side, my morning cup o' joy now has a distinctive nutty finish to it.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Ice, Ice, Baby
Walking 'round the room singing Stormy Weather,
At Fifty-Seven Mt. Pleasant Street.
Now it's the same room but everything's different,
You can fight the sleep but not the dream.
Things ain't cookin' in my kitchen,
Strange affliction wash over me.
Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire,
Couldn't conquer the blue sky.
There's a small boat made of china,
Going nowhere on the mantlepiece.
Do I lie like a loungeroom lizard,
Or do I sing like a bird released?
Everywhere you go,
you always take the weather with you,
Everywhere you go,
you always take the weather with you.
Take The Weather With You
Crowded House, from the album Woodface, 1992
So the Tar Heel State has had its first taste of winter weather this week. It's about time, I was afraid for a while that the whole continent had drifted south towards the tropics and the 32 billion species of disease-vectoring mosquitoes that thrive in the fever swamps down there. We ended up with more disappointment than snow, naturally, but school was canceled so the kids are happy nonetheless.
The adults, on the other hand, went completely bat shit.
It's a little known fact, one I mentioned in my last Postcard, that Southerners and ice typically don't mix well. Our normal reaction - and you could be forgiven for assuming that this is required by state law for all residents over 18 to behave this way- is to stampede to the closest grocery store and buy copious amounts of bread, milk and eggs. No idea why, it's just a Dixie tradition. If the power stays on, we're having French Toast. Power goes out, we're throwing rotten eggs at each other.
So Mrs. Gnu stopped by the local Wal-2-Wal-Martians Supercenter to pick up a few things. State law, remember, and we're law-and-order types. The place was packed. Chock full of the entire county population, in a full-contact deathmatch for the last scraps of uncooked toast. Most of her list went unscavenged and she beat a hasty retreat before someone tagged her to go in the cage to take on Marge Trailertrash for the championship.
Then the weather forecasts finally solidified and agreed that, yes, we were actually getting something. Maybe snow, more likely sleet, most likely just that cold, wet rain that gets inside your coat collar and freezes you to the bone. Of course what falls down and melts during the day will freeze at night. I made the call to work from home today and let Darwin run its course on the highways this morning and evening, and thin the commuting herd out a bit.
Sure enough, reports came in from all over of people playing billiards in two-ton sardine cans all over the roads. Every year this happens: a thin sheen of ice and people completely forget about the laws of Physics. You get four basic types out there causing trouble on the roads:
1. The busy executive, driving the pricey small-penis-compensator who's too fucking important to plan ahead, slow the fuck down and allow extra time to get to work. You'll find them smashed up the ass of the last car they tried to pass before the lane closed down.
2. Captain Fucktard, proud new owner of a shiny big honkin' SUV that he bought just for this occassion. God only knows why he seems to think 4x4=TANK. But you can see the end results of four wheels actively engaged to that Hemi drivetrain but still spinning wildly out of control, as you pass by the Century Oak tree he just wrapped himself around. Dumbass.
3. The Citizen Snowplow, sauntering along in the left-hand lane at speeds normally considered too fast for continental drift. While it may be sensible to slow down a little when winter weather hits, these folks take it way too far and usually end up with a busy executive crammed up their ass.
4. Maladjusted Yankees. Every November, you hear them say, "We know how to drive in snow. We're from the Great White North!" Every January, you find them in the ditches, every last one of them. Right where we left 'em.
As for me, I'm waiting out this localized apocalypse, bunkered down in my zombie-proof house.
With French Toast.
At Fifty-Seven Mt. Pleasant Street.
Now it's the same room but everything's different,
You can fight the sleep but not the dream.
Things ain't cookin' in my kitchen,
Strange affliction wash over me.
Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire,
Couldn't conquer the blue sky.
There's a small boat made of china,
Going nowhere on the mantlepiece.
Do I lie like a loungeroom lizard,
Or do I sing like a bird released?
Everywhere you go,
you always take the weather with you,
Everywhere you go,
you always take the weather with you.
Take The Weather With You
Crowded House, from the album Woodface, 1992
So the Tar Heel State has had its first taste of winter weather this week. It's about time, I was afraid for a while that the whole continent had drifted south towards the tropics and the 32 billion species of disease-vectoring mosquitoes that thrive in the fever swamps down there. We ended up with more disappointment than snow, naturally, but school was canceled so the kids are happy nonetheless.
The adults, on the other hand, went completely bat shit.
It's a little known fact, one I mentioned in my last Postcard, that Southerners and ice typically don't mix well. Our normal reaction - and you could be forgiven for assuming that this is required by state law for all residents over 18 to behave this way- is to stampede to the closest grocery store and buy copious amounts of bread, milk and eggs. No idea why, it's just a Dixie tradition. If the power stays on, we're having French Toast. Power goes out, we're throwing rotten eggs at each other.
So Mrs. Gnu stopped by the local Wal-2-Wal-Martians Supercenter to pick up a few things. State law, remember, and we're law-and-order types. The place was packed. Chock full of the entire county population, in a full-contact deathmatch for the last scraps of uncooked toast. Most of her list went unscavenged and she beat a hasty retreat before someone tagged her to go in the cage to take on Marge Trailertrash for the championship.
Then the weather forecasts finally solidified and agreed that, yes, we were actually getting something. Maybe snow, more likely sleet, most likely just that cold, wet rain that gets inside your coat collar and freezes you to the bone. Of course what falls down and melts during the day will freeze at night. I made the call to work from home today and let Darwin run its course on the highways this morning and evening, and thin the commuting herd out a bit.
Sure enough, reports came in from all over of people playing billiards in two-ton sardine cans all over the roads. Every year this happens: a thin sheen of ice and people completely forget about the laws of Physics. You get four basic types out there causing trouble on the roads:
1. The busy executive, driving the pricey small-penis-compensator who's too fucking important to plan ahead, slow the fuck down and allow extra time to get to work. You'll find them smashed up the ass of the last car they tried to pass before the lane closed down.
2. Captain Fucktard, proud new owner of a shiny big honkin' SUV that he bought just for this occassion. God only knows why he seems to think 4x4=TANK. But you can see the end results of four wheels actively engaged to that Hemi drivetrain but still spinning wildly out of control, as you pass by the Century Oak tree he just wrapped himself around. Dumbass.
3. The Citizen Snowplow, sauntering along in the left-hand lane at speeds normally considered too fast for continental drift. While it may be sensible to slow down a little when winter weather hits, these folks take it way too far and usually end up with a busy executive crammed up their ass.
4. Maladjusted Yankees. Every November, you hear them say, "We know how to drive in snow. We're from the Great White North!" Every January, you find them in the ditches, every last one of them. Right where we left 'em.
As for me, I'm waiting out this localized apocalypse, bunkered down in my zombie-proof house.
With French Toast.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Gnus on Ice
The Skating Gnu had an away game in the Twin Cities today. I volunteered to keep score along with three other parents, two from each team. Although the score was lopsided to the point where we stopped posting updates to the scoreboard, everyone seems to have had a great time. I've had the pleasure of witnessing a fine example of sportsmanship and good old Southern hospitality from a young team with great potential.
Our hosts are members of a fine organization. They have their priorities in proper order. Youth sports is about kids having fun. It's a game, not a career, and most folks seem to understand that. Some people have a notion that hockey parents are crazy: yelling at the kids, coaches and refereees, throwing tantrums, fighting or just acting like children themselves. Granted, there are cases where such foolishness happens, but I don't see it around this part of the country.
Instead, I see a cadre of dedicated parents, working hard to help run organizations in far-flung cities whose primary focus is on kids having fun playing a great game. The first rule is to keep it fun for the kids. The second rule is help them learn lessons they'll use for the rest of their lives: Teamwork, Sportsmanship, Communication, Practice and Perseverence. The third rule is to have fun, play hard (but fair and honourable!) and do your best.
The parents in the stands shouted encouragement, not curses. Coaches taught teamwork, communication and strategy, not aggression, showboating or dirty play. Those of us in the scoring booth had a great time swapping stories about how our kids got hooked on hockey, how well all the kids were doing in the game, complimenting each other on great moves, checks, scores and some good-natured joshing over missed shots, awesome goalie saves and slapshots. All-in-all, I'd say the sport is in good hands here with a bright future.
Hockey is not native to the South, but it's becoming one of the fastest growing sports around here. These hardworking volunteers help promote a sport in a region of the country whose normal reaction to a sheet of ice is to collectively stampede to the grocery store in mass panic to purchase the maximum allotment each of bread, milk and eggs.
Kudos to all the volunteers and parents who help keep the game fun for the kids!
Our hosts are members of a fine organization. They have their priorities in proper order. Youth sports is about kids having fun. It's a game, not a career, and most folks seem to understand that. Some people have a notion that hockey parents are crazy: yelling at the kids, coaches and refereees, throwing tantrums, fighting or just acting like children themselves. Granted, there are cases where such foolishness happens, but I don't see it around this part of the country.
Instead, I see a cadre of dedicated parents, working hard to help run organizations in far-flung cities whose primary focus is on kids having fun playing a great game. The first rule is to keep it fun for the kids. The second rule is help them learn lessons they'll use for the rest of their lives: Teamwork, Sportsmanship, Communication, Practice and Perseverence. The third rule is to have fun, play hard (but fair and honourable!) and do your best.
The parents in the stands shouted encouragement, not curses. Coaches taught teamwork, communication and strategy, not aggression, showboating or dirty play. Those of us in the scoring booth had a great time swapping stories about how our kids got hooked on hockey, how well all the kids were doing in the game, complimenting each other on great moves, checks, scores and some good-natured joshing over missed shots, awesome goalie saves and slapshots. All-in-all, I'd say the sport is in good hands here with a bright future.
Hockey is not native to the South, but it's becoming one of the fastest growing sports around here. These hardworking volunteers help promote a sport in a region of the country whose normal reaction to a sheet of ice is to collectively stampede to the grocery store in mass panic to purchase the maximum allotment each of bread, milk and eggs.
Kudos to all the volunteers and parents who help keep the game fun for the kids!
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Happy New Year 2008
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' auld lang syne
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes,
and pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin’ auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin’ auld lang syne.
CHORUS
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gies a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie-waught,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
-Sir Robert Burns
National Poet of Scotland
Just in case you'd forgot the words, here they are. Sing it loud, sing it proud!
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' auld lang syne
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes,
and pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin’ auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin’ auld lang syne.
CHORUS
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gies a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie-waught,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
-Sir Robert Burns
National Poet of Scotland
Just in case you'd forgot the words, here they are. Sing it loud, sing it proud!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Another Trip Around The Sun
I'm just hanging on while this old world keeps spinning
And it's good to know it's out of my control
If there's one thing that I've learned from all this living
Is that it wouldn't change a thing if I let go
Yes, I'll make a resolution
Then I'll never make another one
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun
Just enjoy this ride ...
Until it's done.
-Jimmy Buffet & Martina McBride
Trip Around the Sun
Another year has come and gone. Looking back on 2007, I guess I could sum up my personal corner of the time-space continuum as a Year of Change. Most changes for the better, although some events set in motion have yet to play out for better or worse. Here's hoping for more good than bad.
Today marks our 13th Anniversary, so Mrs. Gnu and I will have lots to celebrate. Tonight, we'll enjoy the ringing in of the New Year from home. I'm not about to risk life and limb on the roads this evening. It never ceases to amaze me just what slow learners much of the population appears to be. Every year, we see stories on the evening news where one idiot after another wraps themselves around a tree or telephone pole. Or worse, smacks head-on into an innocent family. The damned fool staggers away without a scratch, drunk and clueless, while the family dies a horrifying death.
Please, if you go out to celebrate, be smart. Designate a sober driver for the evening or hail a cab. Being a designated driver for your friends isn't a chore, it's a lifesaver. They will thank you later and you'll thank yourself for ensuring your friends and loved ones live to party on in 2008.
If you insist on driving drunk, do the world a favour and drive off a cliff by yourself and take your mutant stupidity genes with you, out of the gene pool. The world is much, much better off without you. Take yourself out but don't take any of us normal people with you.
Hopefully, we'll all wake up New Year's Day, ready to start 2008 afresh. The hangover is optional, unless you drove yourself home, in which case may your head explode, you damn fool.
Got your resolutions ready? I do. Here's mine:
1. Grad School: Stay the course. I got a good start last semester, now I resolve me to not slack off, goof off, put off, or otherwise not take it seriously and do my utmost best for every class. Hell, I'm paying for it, so why not get all I can from the experience!
2. Family: Family first, all others later. I have a bad habit of being a workaholic, plus I take on too many projects in my free time. I've been working hard to simplify my life, eschewing most projects, officer/committee assignments in the community and charities, and keeping a sane balance between school and home. This year, more simplifying.
3. Me: Have fun, learn lots, work hard, love much, laugh often. 'Nuff said!
For all who celebrate intelligently...
Have a Safe and Happy "GNU" Year!!!
And it's good to know it's out of my control
If there's one thing that I've learned from all this living
Is that it wouldn't change a thing if I let go
Yes, I'll make a resolution
Then I'll never make another one
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun
Just enjoy this ride ...
Until it's done.
-Jimmy Buffet & Martina McBride
Trip Around the Sun
Another year has come and gone. Looking back on 2007, I guess I could sum up my personal corner of the time-space continuum as a Year of Change. Most changes for the better, although some events set in motion have yet to play out for better or worse. Here's hoping for more good than bad.
Today marks our 13th Anniversary, so Mrs. Gnu and I will have lots to celebrate. Tonight, we'll enjoy the ringing in of the New Year from home. I'm not about to risk life and limb on the roads this evening. It never ceases to amaze me just what slow learners much of the population appears to be. Every year, we see stories on the evening news where one idiot after another wraps themselves around a tree or telephone pole. Or worse, smacks head-on into an innocent family. The damned fool staggers away without a scratch, drunk and clueless, while the family dies a horrifying death.
Please, if you go out to celebrate, be smart. Designate a sober driver for the evening or hail a cab. Being a designated driver for your friends isn't a chore, it's a lifesaver. They will thank you later and you'll thank yourself for ensuring your friends and loved ones live to party on in 2008.
If you insist on driving drunk, do the world a favour and drive off a cliff by yourself and take your mutant stupidity genes with you, out of the gene pool. The world is much, much better off without you. Take yourself out but don't take any of us normal people with you.
Hopefully, we'll all wake up New Year's Day, ready to start 2008 afresh. The hangover is optional, unless you drove yourself home, in which case may your head explode, you damn fool.
Got your resolutions ready? I do. Here's mine:
1. Grad School: Stay the course. I got a good start last semester, now I resolve me to not slack off, goof off, put off, or otherwise not take it seriously and do my utmost best for every class. Hell, I'm paying for it, so why not get all I can from the experience!
2. Family: Family first, all others later. I have a bad habit of being a workaholic, plus I take on too many projects in my free time. I've been working hard to simplify my life, eschewing most projects, officer/committee assignments in the community and charities, and keeping a sane balance between school and home. This year, more simplifying.
3. Me: Have fun, learn lots, work hard, love much, laugh often. 'Nuff said!
For all who celebrate intelligently...
Have a Safe and Happy "GNU" Year!!!
Monday, December 24, 2007
Reason for the Season
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the Angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone all round them: and they were sore afraid.
And the Angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
Luke 2:8-14
(As told by Linus Van Pelt)
I hate Christmas.
Not the quiet, humble remembrance of the miracle of the birth of our Savior Jesus of Nazareth, but the over-hyped, commercialized insanity that has so thoroughly corrupted most holidays in these modern times. I can almost understand why Oliver Cromwell banned the holiday and everything associated with it back in 1647.
It has gotten completely out of hand. It was bad enough when Halloween decorations were getting pushed aside by the initial onslaught of the tinsel horde back in October. It got worse when Thanksgiving was effectively co-opted into a launching board for the full-on insanity. Now we arrive at the Blessed Eve and everyone has apparently lost their sugarplum-addled minds.
It's impossible to walk into any grocery store, bookstore, or any other place of business and conduct any normal activity without getting run over, elbowed, shoved or otherwise violently ravaged by masses of panicked, brainless idiots acting like this year's Christmas is the Second Coming of Christ Hisownholyself.
Driven into a rabid lather by a constant bombardment of jingles, flyers, ads and coupons, the masses are stampeding like some monstrous hybrid of Cattle and Lemming, storming through the parking lots like they were interstate highways and jamming every store, post office and roadway in a desperate attempt to compensate for their total lack of foresight, planning and basic intelligence.
And the rampaging asshattery don't stop there. Someone always has to screw things up whenever there's a gathering of people enjoying themselves. Can't have the children singing Christmas songs in school. Reams of restrictions on decorations at work. The full-scale excommunication of greeting people with"Merry Christmas." Invading armies of athiests, ne'er-do-wells, terrorists and their Liberal enablers armed to the teeth with Nativity lawsuits and worse. Monks and priests duking it out over chair arrangements in the Church of the Holy Sepulcre- you think I'm kidding!
Enough already. Someone spank all these overgrown children and send every last one of them crying in shame to their beds without their supper and with sure promises of stockings full of ashes and switches to greet them come morning. It's time to bring back Reason this Season.
I find that the less I do for Christmas, the more I enjoy it. Every year, I have scaled back my holiday efforts, and every year since, a little more joy returns from the void. No more visiting relatives I can't stand to be around the rest of the year. No more huge spending sprees on extravagant crap no one wants or uses. No more fighting over decorations, wrestling with strings of lights, toy-store meltdowns, or last-minute rushing about.
All I want for Christmas is Peace and Quiet. I want to hear the stillness of snow falling on pines, the crackle of the fire, the soft breath of family snuggled up next to me, and most important of all, the still, small voice which God uses to bring hope, comfort and joy to those who listen for it.
I wish the same for all my friends and loved ones, too. I didn't get around to sending as many postcards as I would've liked to this year, not because I don't care but because I was busy living life. No oversight or offense at all, just an overflowing plate of life and blessings. I've had a lot going on this year. Holidays happen once a year; life is what happens between the holidays. Don't forget to live.
Remembering why we celebrate, who we celebrate, and above all praising God in the highest, Peace; Have a Safe, Quiet, Happy Christmas.
And the Angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
Luke 2:8-14
(As told by Linus Van Pelt)
I hate Christmas.
Not the quiet, humble remembrance of the miracle of the birth of our Savior Jesus of Nazareth, but the over-hyped, commercialized insanity that has so thoroughly corrupted most holidays in these modern times. I can almost understand why Oliver Cromwell banned the holiday and everything associated with it back in 1647.
It has gotten completely out of hand. It was bad enough when Halloween decorations were getting pushed aside by the initial onslaught of the tinsel horde back in October. It got worse when Thanksgiving was effectively co-opted into a launching board for the full-on insanity. Now we arrive at the Blessed Eve and everyone has apparently lost their sugarplum-addled minds.
It's impossible to walk into any grocery store, bookstore, or any other place of business and conduct any normal activity without getting run over, elbowed, shoved or otherwise violently ravaged by masses of panicked, brainless idiots acting like this year's Christmas is the Second Coming of Christ Hisownholyself.
Driven into a rabid lather by a constant bombardment of jingles, flyers, ads and coupons, the masses are stampeding like some monstrous hybrid of Cattle and Lemming, storming through the parking lots like they were interstate highways and jamming every store, post office and roadway in a desperate attempt to compensate for their total lack of foresight, planning and basic intelligence.
And the rampaging asshattery don't stop there. Someone always has to screw things up whenever there's a gathering of people enjoying themselves. Can't have the children singing Christmas songs in school. Reams of restrictions on decorations at work. The full-scale excommunication of greeting people with"Merry Christmas." Invading armies of athiests, ne'er-do-wells, terrorists and their Liberal enablers armed to the teeth with Nativity lawsuits and worse. Monks and priests duking it out over chair arrangements in the Church of the Holy Sepulcre- you think I'm kidding!
Enough already. Someone spank all these overgrown children and send every last one of them crying in shame to their beds without their supper and with sure promises of stockings full of ashes and switches to greet them come morning. It's time to bring back Reason this Season.
I find that the less I do for Christmas, the more I enjoy it. Every year, I have scaled back my holiday efforts, and every year since, a little more joy returns from the void. No more visiting relatives I can't stand to be around the rest of the year. No more huge spending sprees on extravagant crap no one wants or uses. No more fighting over decorations, wrestling with strings of lights, toy-store meltdowns, or last-minute rushing about.
All I want for Christmas is Peace and Quiet. I want to hear the stillness of snow falling on pines, the crackle of the fire, the soft breath of family snuggled up next to me, and most important of all, the still, small voice which God uses to bring hope, comfort and joy to those who listen for it.
I wish the same for all my friends and loved ones, too. I didn't get around to sending as many postcards as I would've liked to this year, not because I don't care but because I was busy living life. No oversight or offense at all, just an overflowing plate of life and blessings. I've had a lot going on this year. Holidays happen once a year; life is what happens between the holidays. Don't forget to live.
Remembering why we celebrate, who we celebrate, and above all praising God in the highest, Peace; Have a Safe, Quiet, Happy Christmas.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Ass-Kicking Averted... For Now!
No, I was not kidnapped and probed by aliens. Nor was I lost in the Bermuda Triangle. Wasn't whacked by Mrs. Gnu for yet another prank or bad joke (jury's still out on this one though - stay tuned).
I have been super-busy with work and school. I don't usually talk about work here, and for good reason. It's the same reason I don't go to office parties: why the fuck would I show up for a social engagement just to stand around and talk about work?!
Anyways, the crunch is over, we're approaching the year-end code freeze. Finally, some time to breathe and rela-OH CRAP! My Final Exam!! I'm four chapters behind, working 14-hour days, gotta sleep sometime... screw that, I'll sleep plenty when I'm dead!
That's what my life was like last week. Scrambling from one project emergency to another as the entire company races to make year-end deadlines before the freeze takes effect. Run home from work, hit the books till the wee hours, wake up at Zero-dark-30 do it all over again. All day Saturday and Sunday, I read, re-read, reviewed, wrote, and tried to cram as much information into my head as I could without making my ears bleed.
The final exam had to be completed before midnight, Sunday. Four hours, multiple choice and essay - not just any essay, open-ended questions! "Tell me everything you know about...____!" Arrgh! Well, not much use complaining, just buckle down and hack through it. If I don't know it now, I never will.
Test anxiety was stuffed in a box and shipped to the Outer Hebrides. No time for self-doubt. I finished the exam with three minutes to spare out of four hours allotted time. Phew! My fingers were tired from the non-stop brain dump. But it was over.
Made a 94. That was below my average for the class (96.8) but enough to finish off with a solid A for the course. Yay!! No ass-kicking for me!
I feel like I've actually accomplished something. It was a tough class, actually. I learned a lot, which helped to solidify what I already knew from my own experience and add to it in ways I hadn't had the opportunity to explore before. I'm glad I put in all the extra effort because the study habits I've gained will come in handy when I'm faced with even harder courses down the road. I'm already working ahead on next semester's course. The books arrived the week before this class's final, and it was really tempting to crack them open and get a head start. One class at a time.
Next semester: Organizational Behaviour. A psychology course... hmm. Mrs. Gnu says I should do well because I like to fuck with peoples' minds and I'm a first-class bullshitter. She's got a point.
I have been super-busy with work and school. I don't usually talk about work here, and for good reason. It's the same reason I don't go to office parties: why the fuck would I show up for a social engagement just to stand around and talk about work?!
Anyways, the crunch is over, we're approaching the year-end code freeze. Finally, some time to breathe and rela-OH CRAP! My Final Exam!! I'm four chapters behind, working 14-hour days, gotta sleep sometime... screw that, I'll sleep plenty when I'm dead!
That's what my life was like last week. Scrambling from one project emergency to another as the entire company races to make year-end deadlines before the freeze takes effect. Run home from work, hit the books till the wee hours, wake up at Zero-dark-30 do it all over again. All day Saturday and Sunday, I read, re-read, reviewed, wrote, and tried to cram as much information into my head as I could without making my ears bleed.
The final exam had to be completed before midnight, Sunday. Four hours, multiple choice and essay - not just any essay, open-ended questions! "Tell me everything you know about...____!" Arrgh! Well, not much use complaining, just buckle down and hack through it. If I don't know it now, I never will.
Test anxiety was stuffed in a box and shipped to the Outer Hebrides. No time for self-doubt. I finished the exam with three minutes to spare out of four hours allotted time. Phew! My fingers were tired from the non-stop brain dump. But it was over.
Made a 94. That was below my average for the class (96.8) but enough to finish off with a solid A for the course. Yay!! No ass-kicking for me!
I feel like I've actually accomplished something. It was a tough class, actually. I learned a lot, which helped to solidify what I already knew from my own experience and add to it in ways I hadn't had the opportunity to explore before. I'm glad I put in all the extra effort because the study habits I've gained will come in handy when I'm faced with even harder courses down the road. I'm already working ahead on next semester's course. The books arrived the week before this class's final, and it was really tempting to crack them open and get a head start. One class at a time.
Next semester: Organizational Behaviour. A psychology course... hmm. Mrs. Gnu says I should do well because I like to fuck with peoples' minds and I'm a first-class bullshitter. She's got a point.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving
Ah, Thanksgiving. A time for feasting, gathering, reminiscing, laughing, and remembering. Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays that I never stopped loving.
Thanksgiving, like Independence Day, is an American invention. Before the founding of this Republic, neither holiday existed. Yes, the pilgrims did celebrate their feast before the Founding Fathers were born, but it was America of all nations that remembered to give thanks.
To give thanks. Think about that. Thanks to whom? Does it matter?
It matters to me. I am thankful to a lot of people for a lot of things. Thanksgiving is a reminder to the nation to remember where we came from, how we got here, and who stood by us along the way.
So without further ado, the top 5 things I am thankful for:
1. I am thankful to God for everything. This life He gave me has a purpose, and it's a gift to be treasured every day. I am thankful for His gift, through the good times that I enjoy as well as the bad times through which I learn and become stronger.
2. I am thankful for my wife and daughter. If not for their love and support, I would be a broken, bitter man. They keep me sane and nourish me with happiness. I do not understand how anyone can take their family for granted. There are those in my past family history who failed to learn this lesson, and the sad, bitter loneliness of their meager existence serves as a warning not to follow their path.
3. I am thankful that I have work to do. Work may drive me nuts some days, but it is far better than not having any work at all. Work is a gift: of opportunity, of achievement, of improvement for me. Take the gift, make the best of it you can and give it your all. One of the rewards of a job well done is the joy you take in the knowledge that it was your job well done.
4. I am thankful for my friends. Over the years I am thankful that I have accumulated far more friends than enemies. I may not stay in touch with all of them equally well, but they're all loved and appreciated nonetheless.
5. I am thankful to be an American. America, in the immortal words of President Ronald Reagan, is the last, best hope for mankind. Nowhere else in the world, in no other epoc in the history of mankind would I have the freedom and opportunity to seek my highest level in life by the sweat of my own brow. I am thankful for our heritage, our way of life, our history - warts and all- and most especially my fellow Americans who face danger around the world defending our God-given freedom. To our soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines and coasties: THANK YOU FOR KEEPING AMERICA FREE.
What are you thankful for, dear reader?
Thanksgiving, like Independence Day, is an American invention. Before the founding of this Republic, neither holiday existed. Yes, the pilgrims did celebrate their feast before the Founding Fathers were born, but it was America of all nations that remembered to give thanks.
To give thanks. Think about that. Thanks to whom? Does it matter?
It matters to me. I am thankful to a lot of people for a lot of things. Thanksgiving is a reminder to the nation to remember where we came from, how we got here, and who stood by us along the way.
So without further ado, the top 5 things I am thankful for:
1. I am thankful to God for everything. This life He gave me has a purpose, and it's a gift to be treasured every day. I am thankful for His gift, through the good times that I enjoy as well as the bad times through which I learn and become stronger.
2. I am thankful for my wife and daughter. If not for their love and support, I would be a broken, bitter man. They keep me sane and nourish me with happiness. I do not understand how anyone can take their family for granted. There are those in my past family history who failed to learn this lesson, and the sad, bitter loneliness of their meager existence serves as a warning not to follow their path.
3. I am thankful that I have work to do. Work may drive me nuts some days, but it is far better than not having any work at all. Work is a gift: of opportunity, of achievement, of improvement for me. Take the gift, make the best of it you can and give it your all. One of the rewards of a job well done is the joy you take in the knowledge that it was your job well done.
4. I am thankful for my friends. Over the years I am thankful that I have accumulated far more friends than enemies. I may not stay in touch with all of them equally well, but they're all loved and appreciated nonetheless.
5. I am thankful to be an American. America, in the immortal words of President Ronald Reagan, is the last, best hope for mankind. Nowhere else in the world, in no other epoc in the history of mankind would I have the freedom and opportunity to seek my highest level in life by the sweat of my own brow. I am thankful for our heritage, our way of life, our history - warts and all- and most especially my fellow Americans who face danger around the world defending our God-given freedom. To our soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines and coasties: THANK YOU FOR KEEPING AMERICA FREE.
What are you thankful for, dear reader?
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Beyond that point, there be dragons...
From first to last,
The peak is never passed.
Something always fires the light
That gets in your eye.
One moment's high,
Then glory rolls on by,
Like a streak of lightning,
That flashes and fades
In the summer sky.
-Rush, Marathon
Power Windows
Well, I've reached the point of no return. Or maybe the "Point of Know Return" if you're from Kansas. I have passed the midway point of the class. So far so good. It's been a helluva challenge though, juggling work, family, school, sleep. This is no cakewalk, but I'm glad I'm doing it. We had our mid-term exam last week. I stayed up late reading , re-reading, re-re-reading - you get the picture. Reviewing notes, lectures and chapters till I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I really, really wanted to do well on the exam. For me, it was affirmation that I knew the tricks of my trade, that I am on the right track.
Problem is, I have test anxiety. Specifically, I go into exams confident and as ready as I can be, but halfway through, that dark-matter part of my brain marked "Doubting Thomas" starts second-guessing my answers. Is the answer A or is it really C? Did I answer that essay question completely enough? Did I write down too much and in doing so get it wrong? This armchair quarterbacking continues long after the exam is over until the grades are posted. Until then, sleep is fleeting. It bothered me all through school and I guess I never got over the problem. It's come back in spades.
Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Grades were posted yesterday afternoon. I aced that mother. I was in shock and had to read it twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things, but I'm a happy Gnu tonight. "Thomas" has been stuffed back into the cobwebbed recessed of my mind.
For now.
Finals loom large in the near future. Here, there be dragons.
The peak is never passed.
Something always fires the light
That gets in your eye.
One moment's high,
Then glory rolls on by,
Like a streak of lightning,
That flashes and fades
In the summer sky.
-Rush, Marathon
Power Windows
Well, I've reached the point of no return. Or maybe the "Point of Know Return" if you're from Kansas. I have passed the midway point of the class. So far so good. It's been a helluva challenge though, juggling work, family, school, sleep. This is no cakewalk, but I'm glad I'm doing it. We had our mid-term exam last week. I stayed up late reading , re-reading, re-re-reading - you get the picture. Reviewing notes, lectures and chapters till I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I really, really wanted to do well on the exam. For me, it was affirmation that I knew the tricks of my trade, that I am on the right track.
Problem is, I have test anxiety. Specifically, I go into exams confident and as ready as I can be, but halfway through, that dark-matter part of my brain marked "Doubting Thomas" starts second-guessing my answers. Is the answer A or is it really C? Did I answer that essay question completely enough? Did I write down too much and in doing so get it wrong? This armchair quarterbacking continues long after the exam is over until the grades are posted. Until then, sleep is fleeting. It bothered me all through school and I guess I never got over the problem. It's come back in spades.
Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Grades were posted yesterday afternoon. I aced that mother. I was in shock and had to read it twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things, but I'm a happy Gnu tonight. "Thomas" has been stuffed back into the cobwebbed recessed of my mind.
For now.
Finals loom large in the near future. Here, there be dragons.
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