Ye Olde Countrie

Laura is in a minor panic. She leaves Saturday morning for her trip. One minute, she's ready, the next, she'll never be ready on time. Par for the course. She has her wardrobe planned, but not packed. Shoes selected (comfortable for walking long distances, something nice for special occasions). Since she hasn't practiced using her new camera hardly at all, I will sneak the instruction manual into her suitcase. We ordered pounds and euros from our bank, I picked them up yesterday. With apologies to our cousins across the ocean, it looks like monopoly money. (it sure as hell costs more, though. The exchange rate is kicking our ass. Good ole' US dollar.)

Antonia (bless her pea-pickin' heart) has prepared a few sightseeing suggestions for Laura and her sisters and has posted it for everyone's edification. Laura is now officially excited. Outside of London, they are planning to go to Bath and, come hell or high water, Stonehenge. There is a 3 day trip to Paris which is to include Versailles, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and what ever else can be done in 3 days (which probably isn't much).

Laura is collecting addresses for postcards and requests for items to bring back. If she doesn't watch out, all she'll be doing while there is buying tourist trinkets and writing post cards. (although that does sound a lot like the family vacations I've been on in the past). She's asked me at least 5 times what I want her to bring me, so far all I can think of is a beefeater hat. I don't think it'll fit in her carry-on, though. So, I guess she'll have to just surprise me. Having her home safe, sound, and happy will be gift enough.

While there, Laura has promised to go to a pub and drink a beer - for me. She CAN'T STAND beer, but knowing my penchant for it she will have one and I will have to enjoy it vicariously. There is also the promise of having some "traditional" English food. Bubble & squeak, toad in the hole, fish & chips, bangers & mash. I don't know if (some of) these are really food eaten by the indigenous population or a practical joke on visiting Yanks. Food in France is a no-brainer. A chocolate croissant & cafe-au-lait for breakfast; a baguette, cheese and wine for lunch; and something fabulous for dinner. (Laura looked up horse in her phrase book, it wasn't even in there. She's a bit worried that their trying to hide something.)

So, she'll be gone two weeks and I will be......mowing the grass, feeding the cats, playing with the dog, trying to keep the plants alive until she gets back. Last year while Laura was in Kansas City nursing her mother most of her plants, well, didn't to so good. But this year I have the incentive of fresh tomato sandwiches, fresh sliced tomatos with mozzarella and basil and a touch of olive oil, fresh tomato in my salad, bruschetta, (sense a theme here?) so I will assiduously water and weed the garden, the first crop should be ready when Laura gets back. Kris is taking classes during the summer semester, but since classes are only two days a week she'll be living at home - so no bachelor parties for me. (right. these days I have one beer and I fall asleep watching TV.) Since Zack works swings, I never see him until the weekend anyway, and then he's usually going somewhere. I am working on relearning arabic anyway, that'll keep me out of trouble during the evenings.

So, keep your fingers crossed for safe, on-time flights, no missed connections, sunny MILD weather, no snooty french waiters, and a minimum of misunderstandings (have a fag? no thanks, I'm straight - and married).

Cheers & bon voyage.

anyone want to be me a while?

Sometimes I hate being a grown-up.

Which is weird because when I was a kid I couldn't wait to grow up. It constantly irked me that I had to get my parents' permission to do anything. Especially when I was a teenager in high school. Twice my parents called the cops to report me missing because I didn't come home when I was "supposed to". The first time was when we lived in Austin. I was 15 and in the 10th grade. Texas required driver's ed if you wanted to get your license before 18. I couldn't get into the school's driver's ed course so I took a commercial one. One day a week instead of riding the bus home, I took a city bus downtown for the class. I would take the city bus back to the high school and my parents would pick me up from there. This particular time the school orchestra had a concert on the same night as my driver's ed class. I didn't want to carry my uniform and instrument to school on the bus one of my parents (I can't remember which) gave me a ride to school. After school, as usual, I went downtown for my lesson and when I got back to the school afterwards I changed into my uniform and played in the concert. After the concert I called home to get a ride and my mom was almost hysterical. What class? What concert? All they knew was that I didn't come home from school - and they had called the police to report me missing. I swore to them that I just knew I had told them about the concert - hadn't they given me a ride to school that day with my instrument and uniform? Didn't they remember I always had my driver's ed class that day? But it was a good chance that I didn't. I had made my own plans and the situation was covered.

The second time they called the cops on me it was totally my fault. I was 17, we were now living in Georgia, and I was a senior in high school. I was playing in the college symphony and had been invited to a frat party by one of the college students in the symphony. I told my parents I was going to the party, they told me to be home by 11:00. I was having a good time and didn't want to leave the party, so I called around 11:00 and told them I gave them some excuse why I couldn't leave immediately, so my folks told me by home by midnight and no later. I wanted to stay and knew I couldn't get them to agree, so I didn't call home again. The party broke up around 4:00 AM, I went to Denny's for breakfast with some friends and toodled on home at 6:00AM. Mom read me the riot act. Dad was out looking for me. He called home after a little and Mom told him I was home. When he got home, I got the riot act again. I got grounded for 6 weeks.

I have always had a really strong independent streak. (read stubborn here and you won't be far off of the mark). I wanted to make my own decisions. So I grew up. I make my own decisions. Little did I know what those decisions were really going to be. When we first got married we weren't making a whole lot and sometimes the decisions were - which bill were we going to pay this month and which could be put off a month? The baby hasn't eaten for over a day. Is he sick? No fever, no other signs of being sick. What to do? Should we rent a house when we move, or look to buy? I hate paying rent but what if we buy and I loose my job? 30 years is a long time. My job sometimes requires me to travel at the drop of a hat. Who will keep the babies when Laura has to go to work? She'll lose her job if she can't go to work. I'll lose my job if I don't travel when needed. I can't afford a car payment, but if I buy a used car will it wind up breaking down a lot and costing as much or more? How do I find someone to take care of the cats while we are on vacation - not just anyone would volunteer to scoop litter boxes. Do I look for another job while I have one or do I stay here where I am sorely needed - but don't know if we will be in business next year?

All of those decisions (and thousands more) were made. That's life, huh? But my teen-aged self had no concept of the no-good-choice, make-the-least-bad-choice decision. And my teen-aged self really had no concept of the level of responsibility I would be taking on. Not that I shirked it - even then I always accepted and bore the brunt of the results of my decision-making. But I had no real concept of how my choices would effect the others in my life. That they too would have to pay the consequences for my choices. I've learned that lesson the hard way. In terms of the two police episodes up above, I now know, being a parent, how terrifying it can be not knowing where your child is, hoping they are okay. My parents had to endure the consequences of my selfish decision to party. I have had to pay those same consequences once or twice when raising our kids.

There are larger consequences to the decisions I make now. I read about the problems the world is facing and I wonder. In driving my 20 year old car, am I damaging the environment by polluting and consuming more fossil fuels or saving resources by keeping the car out of a landfill? I don't volunteer a lot, so am I part of the problem because I'm not part of the solution? I donate what I can afford to local charities, but is that a suitable substitution for not being there? I give someone on the street a few bucks, will that money be used to buy crack or a sandwich? Am I a bad neighbor because I don't pick up that hitchhiker due to being afraid of being robbed or attacked, but I remember my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere and wishing someone would give me a ride. Which candidate do I vote for? Was this shirt I want made in a sweatshop? On and on and on.

In general, I accept that as an adult the decisions I make are made as well as I can make them. I can only do so much, the woes of the world are not my sole responsibility. But when it comes down to it, though, I sweat each one of them. I worry if I did the right thing. Every time.

Sometimes I hate being a grown-up.

Friday Miscellany

There is finally a tentative schedule for the system installation in Bahrain. Nothing is written in stone yet, but it looks like I will be leaving the last week in May and staying a month. I've been reading up on visa requirements and getting an international driver's license. The Department of State has the standard warnings for any middle eastern country, but nothing specific or current for Bahrain. I'm also trying to find out what is just across the causeway in Saudi Arabia that would be worth seeing. I'll probably try to cross the border just to say I was there. Insha' Allah. I've got my old vocabulary flash cards out and a few of my old text books and have started trying to relearn enough arabic to get by. I am also listening to the BBC news broadcasts in arabic while at work, thinking maybe that if I hear it enough some long-dormant brain cells will wake up and I will recover some of my old linguistic ability.

If this schedule holds I will be leaving the week after Laura gets back from her trip to England & France. At first I was going to be leaving while she was gone, but things so far have worked out so that I don't. Two weeks and counting before she leaves. She's getting nervous - and excited - about her trip. All of her preparations are complete, except for buying some euro's & pounds from our bank. They are looking for a place to have a high tea, but from the prices it maybe won't be so high. She doesn't like beer but promises to go to a pub for a meal and a pint just for me. I tell her she should try some scrumpie but hasn't been convinced. Neither is she up for toad in the hole, but might go for some bangers & mash or maybe some bubble & squeak. If anyone has any don't-miss destination suggestions, now is the time to suggest.

Now if she can convince her sister (who is a nurse and has an untethered imagination) that she won't die of an altitude-induced blood clot during the flight(s) or get mad cow disease from eating british beef, yada, yada, yada, they should have a good time.

I wish I could go with her.

Meanwhile, Kris' spring semester finals are on the same day that Laura leaves for England - May 5th. She only has 2 to take, and they are one immediately after the other on the same day. She then gets a week or two off and then she starts the summer semester. She's doing really well. The state of Georgia has a lottery-funded scholarship program that pays for tuition & fees for students who maintain a B average - which she has. I'm really proud of her.

Zack has settled in where he works. He is making friends there (which is difficult for him) and seems to enjoy his work. He works swing shift and that fits right into his normal wake/sleep schedule. That also means that during the week we only see him if he comes home for supper. During the weekend he's usually out doing something. Last weekend he used his tax return to by a new computer. Sometime or another, when I can get around to it, he's hinted at me maybe running a network cable to his room - but no hurry, after all he still has his laptop with a wireless card so he can still get to the internet. He won't outright ask for anything, he always comes at it sideways. Usually I hear about his wants through Kris (via Laura) way before he starts dropping hints to me. Dads are always the last to know.

Truthiness

I left a comment over at De's recently wherein I said the following "Blogging has given me a way to reach out in a controlled way - I get to decide how much of me everyone sees....". This was said within the context of De describing how little she sees of her neighbors and how little she feels a part of the neighborhood. What I meant to say was that I was much like her in that I see little of my neighbors and that blogging has given me a way to reach out and create a community that I feel I can belong to. But I do believe Freud intervened and I have inadvertently stated a truth.

The challenge for me in blogging is, much as it is in real life, to be completely candid in what I write here as well as what I comment elsewhere. None of you know me in "the real world" and can't call me on any untruth I might tell. It would be easy to write about myself as I wish I were instead of how I really am. But I don't. At least, I don't here any more than I do when talking about myself anywhere else. Much is said about the anonymity of the internet and the license it carries to do and say anything. But I don't exercise that license. Bob is my real name (nickname), but I haven't shared my full name here nor the specifics about where I live and where I work. I worry a bit about something I write here coming back to haunt me, but I don't know what. I'll never be popular enough for groupies nor controversial enough for someone to seek me out but there is this niggling worry I haven't yet got rid of. All of that being said, I really try to tell the truth about myself and what I think about any given topic.

But I haven't discussed several things here that I might have. There is a line that I have yet to cross. I'm not sure where the line even is, but I am aware of the reluctance in me to discuss certain things. Sex or politics, for instance, are topics that I don't see being discussed in the blogs that I read that in turn read here - so I don't blog about them. It isn't that I don't have views or opinions about these topics (ask Laura, she'll tell you in a hearbeat that I have an opinion about everything!) but I guess the absence of posts about them in the blogs I regularly read leads me to believe that they aren't topics for discussion here.

Don't get me wrong, there is little I won't talk about if asked. But much of the decision to talk about something depends on who is asking or who the audience is. I don't see the anonymity of the internet as freeing. I tend to base my decision on whether to post or comment about something as if I were talking to someone.

Do you have topics that you consider off-limits? Why?

*** This post was really published Thursday, 12 April - not Monday as stated above. I began it then and forgot that blogger hangs onto the original date unless you tell it otherwise - and I forgot to tel it otherwise. I only mention this because I am frequently disconcerted when seeing a new post at a blog I visit daily and it is dated 3 days ago!***

5 Questions

I threw my hat in the ring for the 5 questions meme, and I got mine from Chani.

1. If you controlled the flow of time, what would you change?

Jeez, we only have @10,000 years of recorded history! I can't decide, so I get two answers! In terms of world history, I would probably stop Archduke Franz Ferdinand from being assassinated. Europe, the middle east and various and sundry bits of the world were literally remapped after world war I in a way that, I believe, directly or indirectly has led to the majority of the conflict (and suffering) in Europe and the middle east since then.

In my life, I would not change anything. There are many things I wish I had done differently, but each was a learning experience. Primarily, though, my wife and children are the most important things in the world to me and I wouldn't change the path of my life that led me to them.

2. If it's true that our choices are a result of beliefs and desires, but desires and beliefs are based on what we are taught, are our choices really free?

Yes, in the large sense. Beliefs are shaped not only by what we are taught, but also upon our interpretation of that teaching. Every person experiences the world in a unique way. What we are taught, interpreted through the lens of personal experience, that makes each person's beliefs unique and therefore allows for free choice.

I don't know that I can accept that desires are based on what we are taught. (they can influenced surely, but based upon?). I don't think it is nearly as straightforward and that this is a question of nature vs. nurture.

3. Does the end justify the means?

No. We should be held accountable for how we live our lives, not by what we achieve.

4. If we are all "special", how does that make any individual special?

We are all "special" in the sense that we are individuals each with our own strengths - and weaknesses. That doesn't preclude that there are those people that have characteristics or abilities that are developed far beyond those around them. Not everyone can be a Mahatma Gandhi, or Albert Einstein, or Rosa Parks, or Benjamin Franklin, or Martin Luther.

If we would teach our children to accept themselves for who they are then we wouldn't have to have these interminable ceremonies where every child gets some kind of award or certificate for fear of them feeling inadequate or left out.

5. For the final irritating question, what would you choose as a universal priority?

That every person on this planet have the opportunity to be the best they can be.

Now - let the discussion begin!

Wondering......

I have been tagged with the Thinking Blogger Award. I have somehow convinced TWO bloggers that I make them think. Who knew? I am still at the stage of being surprised that anyone is interested in reading my blog. So I am honored that Urban-Urchin and Lex of On Second Thought not only read me, but that I give them pause to consider - or reconsider - why certain things are as they are. I thank you both.

My task today is to pass this forward. I have had a difficult time preparing this list, partially because most of the blogs I read daily are ones that check by here and I don't want this list to be self-selective - and because I just have to be a little different. These aren't in any particular order, I just jotted a few notes as I visited my normal daily/semi-daily reads.

Chani at Thailand Gal challenges me to reconsider the cultural norms of the U.S. as she writes of her progress/struggles in assimilating herself into Thai culture and philosophy.

De at Sober Briquette challenges me with her absolute honesty about herself. She sets a high standard in discussions about ourselves.

I still think of my next thinking blogger as Grannyvibe, but she has a new blogger identity as Lymphopo over at As The Tumor Turns. She is one of the most remarkable people I've run across in the blogsphere. At her former blog she wrote about living in southern Louisiana, racism, etc. She was diagnosed with cancer last year and disappeared for a while, then resurfaced to write about her experiences with cancer. She is amazing.

Sieg Pedde at The Atavist is a fairly new read for me, but in this short amount of time he has really made me reexamine the basis for several of my beliefs. He brings an intellectual rigor to any topic being discussed that I truly respect.

Jen at One Plus Two challenges my heart as she writes about her struggles with her vocation as well as the other roles she finds herself in that maybe she didn't anticipate.

There are so many more blogs I read, I couldn't include them all here. Each has its own unique viewpoint on the world that I appreciate and that brings me back time and time again. In their own way, they all are thinkers and for those not listed above, I extend special mentions! Thank you all for including me in your worlds.

hooked on a feeling......

Surprise! Betcha didn't expect to actually see a new post. I've been having a difficult time finding a topic - and the motivation - to post about. Yesterday I was reading this post and found I had a few things to say about it. (Chani amended the post to narrow it's focus, my comments are not similarly limited in scope.)

"Love is a behavior, not a feeling".

I started with the assumption that behavior is learned and feelings are innate. I believe that love springs from a capacity we are born with. Someone in a comment somewhere, in response to the statement above, asked, what about the love a mother has for her child? I assert that it is innate. The human animals are programmed for self-preservation. But we also will die to protect our children. Jumping in the path of a bus to push our kids out of the way without regard to the danger to ourselves is not a behavior, it is instinctive. This instinct overrides the instinct for self-preservation. We are born with the capacity to love, the instinct to love. At it's purest, it is selfless - as in the case of protecting our kids from danger. I believe we can have this kind of love for other people - not just our children. I don't want to get into "we were fated to be together" or "one true love" because I don't know if we always know that to be the case. (It may can turn out to be the case, though.) What else keeps two people together when everything would tear them apart except for some innate feeling? Logic telling you that it won't work and your "heart" telling you it will. Or the opposite - loving someone enough to let them go, placing their needs above yours.

This isn't to say that everyone's capacity for love is the same. Not everyone can play an instrument or can play sports or can paint. You can teach someone to do these things, but unless they have a "talent" for it - an innate ability for it - they won't rise above a certain level.

We can also learn how to place others above ourselves, and this could also be called love - but maybe deserves another appellation? Chani's post I think is more about this and describes it better than I can. This is the "love" that is a behavior. Our instinct is to selfishness (self preservation) and with no overriding instinct (the love I describe above) we have to learn to override it. It isn't instinctual, it is considered - but can become automatic through training/learning (a la pavlov and his dogs!). I wish it were instinctual, then good people like Jen wouldn't be at their wits end trying to help others. The world would be a much better, happier place if everyone could learn this love.

Friends

Thanks for the suggestions for future posts. I will certainly blog about my trip to Bahrain when it happens. I am working on posts about Germany and Crete, still trying to keep them at least to novella length.

However, I do have a question somewhat related to the his & hers post that I want to pose. I'm looking for your experiences and/or opinions about "mixed" friendships, especially when the friend is married.

I met "Lisa*" soon after she came to work. She and I hit it off immediately. We were both programmers sitting in cubes in the same area and would frequently start the workday having a cup of coffee in one or the other's cubicle. There wasn't much that we couldn't talk about to each other. Lisa would unload on me about her husband's ex-wife and how she would use the step-children jerk her husband's strings, or just about disagreements she would have with him, (and so you don't think all she did was complain to me) about their vacation plans, her career aspirations, her son, etc., etc., etc. I felt comfortable telling her about things of a similarly personal nature about myself too. When Lisa had surgery, I visited her at home bringing movies & books to occupy her during her convalescence.

However, after about a year things started to cool off. We met less and less often - although the conversations, while less frequent, remained as personal as they had been. I wondered if maybe I had done something to offend her, or maybe she came to feel that I wasn't as good a friend as she needed. Lisa had told me early on that she made friends much more easily with men, but I noticed that she started spending more and more time with the women in the office, going to lunch, etc. I asked her about this, and was told that nothing had changed, she still thought of me as a close, valued friend. About this time she started talking more and more about her religious beliefs and how much the church meant to her. Her opinions about topics we discussed became more conservative.

One day we had lunch and I related all of this to her, that I felt we had lost some of the closeness of our friendship. The conversation wandered around but the gist is that she felt that, both in terms of her marriage and her religious beliefs, we could not be close friends. It was inappropriate for a woman to be close to a man that wasn't her husband. And that is the way things remain today.

I miss her friendship. While we have a very comfortable working relationship we are merely casual friends. We still work in the same office. Lisa and I don't have very many one-on-one talks anymore, excepting that when she's angry at her boss Lisa will still come into my office and rant.

I am fully aware that my take on this could be totally off base, that we just drifted apart and that I am not what she wants or needs in a friend, that the reasons she gave were merely to save my feelings. I am also aware that people do change, that friendships dissolve over time. This could be the case, and I can accept that. I have in any case accepted that our close friendship is gone.

What bothers me are the reasons she gave. If she told me the truth, it really bothers me that she has come to believe that men and women cannot have a close PLATONIC relationship exclusive of marriage. I know that people think, given our baser natures, it can be difficult to believe from either perspective that the other isn't thinking about or wanting to have sex. Speaking for myself, I made a promise of monogamy when I got married that I have kept and will keep. I would not become romantically involved with anyone else unless our marriage had ended. I expect this behavior in anyone who is married. I do not assume that a woman I am friends with is interested in me in a romantic way. In other words, my having a close female friend has no impact at all on my relationship with my wife. I love my wife no less, nor does it interfere with my marital commitment to her.

Do any of you have any experiences to share like this? What are your opinions - can a married man or woman have a close friend of the opposite sex? Do your religious beliefs have a bearing on this, or am I just running into conservative social standards? True friends are so hard to find. Friendship should not be squandered because of some perceived social prohibition.

*not her real name

Friday Miscellany

Greetings from the hermitage. Not THE Hermitage but merely my self-imposed monk's cell. I guess my last post drained me of anything I had to say. That, and I've been really busy. I went on a business trip this week(shades of Meno's post), had no internet access at the hotel and had little time for it at the plants I visited.

I really don't have anything of consequence to share. I could discuss the details of the project I was traveling for, but somehow I don't think any of you are interested in how I'm going to add RF scanning capabilities to the receiving, staging, issuing and cycle-counting procedures in my system. No? Thought so. We could also talk about the other project I'm working on - adding the capability for the system to work with currencies other than U.S., and to be able to specify a different currency for each purchase order while maintaining inventory in the host country's currency. The last project is to get me ready to go to Bahrain sometime around April or May. No? Thought not.

Well, what else is going on? I'm watching Mythbusters with the kids. We make fun of the stupid stuff (trying to get a crocodile to chase a quail-festooned robot) and cheer on the explosions (replicating the flammable skin on the Hindenberg). Kris has been spending more weekends at home, I think she learned a lesson last semester about getting involved in too many things causing her grades to suffer a bit.

Boring stuff, I know. Maybe I'll find another meme, easy blog fodder. I'll work on something else to stir everyone up soon. Any ideas?

Have a good weekend!

His & Hers

**This post was renamed. The original was CRAP**

The majority of the blogs I read are written by women. Mostly it is because the few blogs I started reading were written by women, primarily read by women, and so when I followed links to other blogs ipso, facto they were written by women too. It is also by preference that I do so, I have always felt I had more emotionally in common with women than men. I have always had more female friends than men. In these blogs written by women, aside from the self-identified mommy bloggers who use their blogs primarily to discuss issues directly related to child rearing, my observation is that most content is gender specific. Or at least I read it that way. Relationships, parenting, observations and experiences in the world around us are common topics in these blogs. I don't think these experiences are gender specific, but they are commonly couched in terms that are. Exhortations to moms everywhere, sisters unite, etc. are things I see frequently. Jen recently wrote about coming to terms with being a mother recently. Why didn't she refer to herself as a parent? She didn't discuss pregnancy or birth - which is something only a mother can do - she talked about the conflict between how she sees herself and what she perceived as how she should perceive herself as a mom. I went through a huge change when our 1st child was born. Every parent does. While Jen didn't explicitly exclude fathers in her discussion about her feelings, there is an implicit exclusion through the use of mother/mom. Meno wrote recently about feeling lonely when her husband was out of town and went on to preface a question with this statement: "I am thinking about all of you woman who are alone through divorce." I immediately wondered if she assumed it was only the women in these dissolving marriages that were lonely. There are a whole chain of gender-based assumptions I could infer from that statement. Divorces are initiated by men who are moving on to new relationships, leaving women behind. Therefore women and not men are lonely during the break-up. That she isn't interested in whether men are lonely during divorce. Why wasn't her thoughts of a more general nature - i.e. "I am thinking of all of you out there who are alone through divorce." I know neither Jen nor Meno are specifically excluding half of the potential readers out here. I also know that by far the majority of their actual readers are female, so why not address the known audience? I ask, why not address everyone?

I think the answer to my questions are fairly obvious. People primarily identify themselves by their gender. Society does. But it is a catch-22 situation. Society always will if people continue to do so. Society identifies me first as a woman, so I identify myself to society as a woman, etc, etc, etc. For most of my life I have formed closer relationships with women than I do men. I have more relationships with women than I do men. I've been reading blogs for 3-4 years now and still 90%+ of the blogs I read regularly are written by women. So I can't, and don't, complain when the posts are about PMS, or pap smears, or giving birth. I made a choice to read these blogs and I learn a lot about how women deal with these things. I also learn a lot of how women are treated by society. I am by definition an outsider when it comes to these things and I accept that I cannot be anything else. But what really troubles me is that there are a lot of topics discussed as female that really apply to both genders. I am a parent. I don't see the role of dad as being separate and distinct from the role of mother - after the pregnancy and birth phase, anyway. I don't see the role of husband as being separate and distinct from the role of wife. Period. It bothers me that I feel I am excluded from conversations about parenting and marriage because the blogs I read express the experience in gender specific terms of mom and wife. I do not live in a bubble, I do know that our society DOES assign roles in terms of gender in these relationships. But as I said above, society always will if we continue to take on these gender-based roles.

I also realize that I live in a male dominated society, one where for the past 320 years every law has been written by and for men. I am white, male, and heterosexual. I am in every societal sense of the phrase "the man". So for me to complain about feeling excluded could easily be written off as being a whiner in these forums where women dominate. However - I think that we will always have gender inequalities if we continue to primarily identify ourselves by gender. I am not a dad, I am a parent. I am not a husband, I am a spouse.

I know that neither of these two lovely people whom I have picked on here are specifically excluding me. Jen has explicitly said that she is not doing so - at least twice that I remember. I hope that neither of them are offended at what I have said here, I am merely using them as examples to explain a greater problem that I see around me. We can only begin to resolve our differences if we choose to cease to have them.

Friday Miscellany

The last few days I've been in a funk. Tonight Laura and I had a "get-the-hell-out-of-the-house-we-need-a-break" night. We tried Red Robin for the first time (great burgers, lousy prices) and went to a movie. We saw the new (well, new to me) James Bond - Casino Royale. (we don't get out to the movies very often). It was enjoyable, if predictable. I'm feeling better.

A few days ago we were on the way out the door, going somewhere or another, and Laura asked me to hold on for a sec, she had to visit the restroom. more than a few secs pass by and she FINALLY comes out. I ask what took so long and she responds "I had a heck of a time getting the cat out of my pants."

This past monday we were going to bed, settiing in for the night, and one of the cats jumped up for a snuggle. She started to urp (the cat, not Laura). Laura picked up the cat trying to get it off of the bed before the explosion. She didn't make it (both the cat and Laura). The cat went off like a fire hose, all. over. me. Exclusively. She had just eaten and drank about a gallon of water. Did you know that cats don't chew? Laura is still giggling about it. She told my daughter about it tonight, and Kris laughed for about 5 minutes straight. Yes, I exist for the amusement of my family.

I don't watch much network TV, it's mostly PBS, Discovery Channel, HGTV, BBC America - whatever strikes my interest at the time. The guys I work with are BIG into American Idol, Heros, Dancing With the Stars, Lost, etc. They are usually our lunchtime conversation. I haven't seen any of them, but I am intimately familiar with the plot lines. (On Heros, the man with the glasses is not really the father of cheerleader girl who can heal herself of any hurt, she was given to him to raise - by the father of the chinese guy who can bend time. On lost, the curly haired guy had his own episode and they found a wrecked VW bus. They tried to get it running but no go. On American Idol Simon seems to be meaner than usual and a girl from Georgia is doing really well. And it turns out that Emmett Smith is a pretty good ballroom dancer and that Jerry Springer got a lot of sympathy votes 'cause he stayed on WAY too long. BTW, Joey Lawrence is married a woman that used to live here and worked with my wife. She went west looking for her big showbiz break and viola - she gets on TV as a member of the audience and in the meet the contestants video.) But let me bring up Mystery or American Experience and I am met with blank stares and an immediate reversion to Lost.

We are going Sunday to visit my folks. I have SHAMEFULLY not visited for about a month. There will be food, conversation, and computers. Dad has bought one of the new intel core duo Mac laptops. He has a G3 laptop and a G5 desktop. ?He also has an IBM laptop he bought in a pawn shop because his favorite mapping software only runs on the Windows OS. He and mom have a 5th wheel and he likes to map out their trip using the mapping software, and with a GPS unit it will update their current location on the map. He has built overlays that show all of the campgrounds he's a member of and all of the Flying J's (truck stops where he can get diesel for his truck). The new Macs have a dual-boot capacity so he can run the Mac OS or Windows - just for the mapping. (Dad has been a Mac addict since they came out. I still have his first Macintosh sitting in a closet here - one of the first, all-in-one black & white 9 inch screen) Anyway, he's been calling me this week for help porting his overlays from the IBM to the new Mac. So I am sure he and I will be spending time working on his new 'puter. Maybe he'll give me one of his castoffs!

Oh well, enough of the blah, blah - Eddy Izzard is on BBC. gotta go. Everyone have a good weekend. Cheers.

In My Life

I've posted several times recently about my past, about where and how I grew up. OTJ has also written several posts recently centered around her past. Sunday I was out driving and heard a Beatles tune that really spoke to me about this. Here is the first stanza of "In My Life":

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed,
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places had their moments,
With lovers and friends I still can recall,
Some are dead and some are living,
In my life I’ve loved them all.


I have such strong memories of certain things. My grandfather's store, his farm, etc. These are places I haven't been, except in my memories, for a long time. I go almost every year to a family reunion of my mother's family. It is held in a state park a few miles north of the little town south of which my grandfather lived. It wouldn't take but a 20 minute journey to get to his house, and a few more minutes to the store. But I am afraid to go. I am afraid of what it is like now, that it won't be the place I remember. All of this has passed out of family hands. I don't want to lose my memories of these places, to replace them with images of today and the disappointment that they are no longer as I loved them.

A few years ago I had to go to Reno, Nevada for business. I was there for two weeks. Instead of flying home for the weekend, Laura flew out and we drove over to Monterey, California. She and I met and were married there while we were students at the Defense Language Institute. We drove all over the Monterey peninsula that weekend, chasing down places we used to frequent. It had changed so much. At one point, I suggested we try to visit the Presidio itself and Laura refused. She explained later she wanted to keep her memories of where we met and lived.

For our 25th wedding anniversary we are planning a trip to Crete, Greece. We lived there for two years and both of our children were born there. We are both really looking forward to the trip, but I am a little anxious. This too was a special time for us. The base I was stationed at is closed and even though the local town has taken over part of it, many of the buildings have been gutted and are derelict. There's been a good bit of development in the area where we lived, and I am afraid that the little out of the way places we used to go to will be gone. It will, I think, be a bittersweet trip for me.

I don't want to be one of those people who live in the past, nor do I want to be one of those people who want to forget their past. It could be that my recent preoccupation with my past is, in part, because of the uncertainty in my present position - the changes of the past 2 - 3 years in the company I work for, the real possibility that it won't be in business or I won't be working for it in the next few years - that this uncertainty has me looking for better times. At the time we were living in these places there was much uncertainty too, but we were young and had so much ahead of us - and maybe in the arrogance or blindness of youth - to look ahead to.

That isn't to say that I don't have anything to look forward to now. But there has been so much change in the past few years. Our kids have grown up, and while they aren't quite out of the "nest", they are almost gone. We don't see either of them during the week - Kris is at school and Zack works swings. (He might or might not come to the house for supper). We are by ourselves for the first time since we were married. I am enjoying it, but I miss them.

Laura and I have a lifetime together to look forward to. We are not wealthy but we have reached a point where we aren't worried about paying the bills and we can afford - for instance - for Laura to go to England with her sisters. I am quietly excited about our life to come. If I've lost the enthusiasm of youth I've gained the ability to live in - and appreciate - the present. So, while I reminisce about my past, I live in the present and enjoy the memories I've made and anticipate those I am going to make.

Detritus

I have no theme, but feel an urge to post, so here's a few things going on right now.

Our son Zack had two things he really wanted to do once he got his job. One of which was to get high-speed internet. We have had dial-up since we first got internet access, and for one reason or another it never gets any faster than 33Kb (the fastest any modem can transmit data is 56KB). With today's complex web pages this means s.......l......o.......w loading screens. Last week he came to me (again) and said that if we would order broadband he would pay for it. I had been resisting due to the sizable increase in our cable bill. But, if he were going to pay for it........I ordered it. I also got a wireless router. This means the kids can use their laptops from anywhere in the house, not just in the living room - with a phone cord stretched across the floor ready to trip the unwary (or naturally clumsy). Zack is happy now and I'm diggin' on it too. Laura is happy too because she can now do her research into what to do and see on her trip in May. Only one thing left to decide - since I've also wanted it and am liking it I now have to decide how much (if any) to make Zack pay. Sure is tempting......

Apropos of new internet connectivity, we have a tom cat that must have sensed it coming because the day I ordered it he sprayed the keyboard - rather thoroughly. I had to spend 3 hours taking it completely apart, cleaning the hundreds of parts and putting it back together without losing any of them. After that demanding task, I didn't feel up to configuring and installing the cable modem. I now have a gleamingly clean keyboard and a new cat-pelt rug.

Laura and I went to see Chick Corea and Bela Fleck last night. WHAT A GREAT CONCERT. I've been a fan of Bela Fleck's for some years. His talent is amazing. I haven't listened to a lot of Chick Corea, I think I will now. This was only their second performance as a duo. Listening to them you'd think they'd been together for years. The way they played off of each other, the entire performance seemed like improv. Ever since I learned to play an instrument I have come to really appreciate the skill it takes. Listening to a symphony or a band I am always aware of the virtuosity of the musicians. But there is a special talent that jazz players have, their ability to improvise, to hear a melody and then to instantaneously compose and play a variation on it, take it further....it amazes me. Last night was 2 hours of give and take, melodies handed back and forth, it was a performance I'll long remember. I would love to hear them again at the end of the tour, when they've played together for a while.

Tuesday was my daughter's birthday - she turned 20. We called and wished her a happy birthday, but had to postpone the celebration until this weekend when she will be home. Her birthday wasn't a total bust, some of her friends took her to dinner. There will be presents, cake & ice cream at our house Saturday night. Woot.

School Daze

(I had written this post THE FIRST TIME and blogger ate it. AARRGH)

I’ve read several posts recently that, directly or indirectly, referred to school. I’ve always thought my experiences to be unusual until lately. You can be the judge.

Kindergarten, 1^st & 2^nd grades – Kaiserslautern, Germany:

- I went a DoD school (department of defense) at Vogelweh Army base. (We lived on the economy.) We had a weekly class to learn german and the teacher used a felt board to put various characters and items on telling fairy tales (Cinderella, little red riding hood) in german. I was totally bored as I had learned german idiomatically playing with the kids in the neighborhood. I was our family’s translator. (just imagine being in a foreign country and having to rely on a 5 - 6 year old to translate everything for you.)

- I had to catch the school bus at the bottom of the hill, in front of a grocery store and across the street from a fruit stand. My bus driver was friends with the people who ran the grocery store. One day I was playing with the kids in the neighborhood, we were in the store’s basement. They went outside and I was sitting on a barstool reading a german comic book. I didn’t want to go out, so one of the kids spun the chair – and I fell out of it, landing on an empty bottle breaking it. I ran crying around to the front of the store, dripping blood. The lady running the store wrapped my hand and my bus driver took me home. I had to translate for the bus driver as he told my parents about my having a blood-soaked rag around my hand. I still have the scar on my palm.

- I once decided to go home from school with a friend because it was his birthday and he was having a party. My parents didn’t know where I was so my friend’s mother had to call them to come get me.

3^rd & 4^th grades – Biloxi, Mississippi:

- In 4^th grade I decided to use my middle name as there were two other kids in my class with my first name.

- one day I dropped my thermos running for the bus (breaking the glass liner). I asked the driver to wait a minute and I ran back (only 4 houses) where my mom met me at the front door with milk money. I was running back to the bus when he pulled away - just before I got to it. I ran down the street yelling for him to stop. (the bastard had to know I was running behind him, I could hear the kids on the bus yelling for him to stop). My mom was livid. She spent the morning giving the school all kinds of hell about it.

- My brother jumped off of some steps at school and broke something or another – all I remember is a cast on his lower leg and crutches.

- There were several bomb scares. (never any bombs). I remember being bored having to stand around outside, NOT being able to play, while the building was searched.

5^th grade – Blakely, Georgia:

- One of my teachers would tell us Jack tales – this boy named Jack who lived in the Appalachian mountains in NC and was always defeating giants by being smarter than they were.

- I remember a microwave oven being demonstrated – scrambled egg IN the shell. Another food related item – earthworm brownies.

- One of my teachers – Ms. Golden – was a distant cousin of some-sort. For years since, I was embarrassed at family reunions by her telling my mother and me how sweet and smart I was.

- We used to play kick-ball and dodge ball in P.E. – you could get back into the game if you would take a lick (a swat of the paddle) from the coach. You were jeered at if you didn’t have the courage to take the lick.

6^th grade – Biloxi, Mississippi:

- I had a friend named Francis, who had black curly hair. I remember thinking it was a bit weird that a boy had a girl’s name. Another friend was a girl nicknamed JackRabbit because she could outrun everyone in class. There was another kid, a bit of a jerk, who had a pet gerbil that he brought to class one day and it bit him. (his name might have been Larry……)

- My parents sent me to a child psychologist during this time. They had a hell of a time with me, they think it was because the previous year Dad had been gone overseas and I didn’t like his authority being reestablished over me when he came back. (I don’t remember why I was so unhappy – just me being me I guess.) I begged and begged to be allowed to go back to Georgia and live with my grandparents. They acquiesced and let me move back the following year. That had to have broken my mother’s heart. I still look back on that and wonder what the hell was going on in my 11-12 year old mind.

- I started playing trumpet – which I picked because I LOVED Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass Band. Still do.

7^th, 8^th & 9^th grades: Blakely, Georgia:

- I was put into the high school band because the middle school didn’t have a band program. The two schools were on opposite sides of the main street into town and there was a creepy tunnel under the street I had to use to get to band class. Seems like it was always wet down there.

- At that time, there was generally one high school per county, so football games were a few hours trip away. There was a mad scramble to sign up for bus seats in the back of the bus. The cool kids sat back there, as did the couples – so they could make-out during the long ride home.

- My band director at the time nicknamed me Porky. NOT because I did cartoon impressions. (You figure it out). I didn’t mind too much, I was 12 years old in a crowd of high school kids and I was happy to belong. But - it didn’t stop me from being in a kissing contest once out back of the band room one night after we got back from a game.

- In the 9^th grade I was nominated to join the Beta Club (kinda like the National Honor Society). We put on an air-band concert (with unplayed instruments, though) and I was a lead guitarist for Boston.

10^th grade – Austin, Texas:

- This was a huge change for me. The high school I attended had 3000 kids and was one of eight in the city. You signed up for classes just like it was college. You had a catalog of classes and a form to fill out with which to build your schedule. This happened 3 times a year.

- The band was equally huge – around 200 kids in the varsity band and over 100 in the junior varsity band. The varsity band played for varsity sports and competed with other bands/other schools. The JV band played for the JV teams – no competitions. There were regular tryouts for chair that required you to make a tape of some selected piece and the results were printed and put up on a bulletin board. I just wasn’t used to this kind of organization. I was used to small bands where you knew everyone. I don’t think I met most of the band. We practiced in small groups, the band director in a 3-story tower with a bullhorn to watch over a football field full of practicing kids.

- I couldn’t get into the school’s drivers ed course. Texas required the class to get your driver’s license at 16, so I took a commercial course in downtown Austin. I would take a city bus after school and return back to the school campus afterward where my folks would pick me up. One day I had a school band concert the same day as my drivers ed class, so when I got back I changed into my uniform and played in the concert. When I called my parents for a ride home, I found out they didn’t know where I was and had called the cops. I thought that they knew about it especially as my mom had specially taken me to school that morning WITH my band uniform.

11^th & 12^th grades – Columbus, Georgia:

- I was in all of the band classes offered – symphonic band, marching band, & jazz band. Our band director hated marching band, but since he had to do it, we were damned well going to do it right. We marched our asses off. Band camp start 2 weeks before school and was 10 hours a day. We always made 1’s in the contests we were in. We worked equally hard in the other band classes. I played trumpet, French horn and flugelhorn my senior year.

- It was an open-plan school. There were teaching teams for the major courses. There were 3 – 4 classes in one big room (in their own corners) and the teachers would rotate among them teaching the same lesson to each class. It could be distracting when the other class(es) were watching a film or had discussion and we were trying to listen to a lecture. Friday’s were test day. The room could be sectioned off using sliding dividers if needs be.

- At the end of my junior year I was selected (one of 4 from Georgia) to attend the Summer Scientific Seminar at the Air Force Academy. I had to get permission to miss all of my finals that year. The academy campus is gorgeous – on top of a mountain in Colorado. (I tried to run track while I was there and couldn’t breathe – lower oxygen concentration). It was a week of barely veiled recruiting for the academy, which I had no intention of attending. I enjoyed it though, and confirmed academy life was not for me. Despite getting to start and run a jet engine.

- When I was a senior I went to my first frat party and stayed out all night, getting in at 6 AM. My parents had called the cops and my dad was out looking for me. I was grounded for over a month. No dates, no nothing except school and work. (as you can see, me going my own way was a theme that goes back to my earliest days).

This has gotten long enough, so I’ll wrap it up now. My experience of going to many different schools was unusual – to the kids I went to school with. Maybe today it is different.

happy corporate greed day

My wife and I were talking this morning about valentine's day. My gift to her this year is to go home during lunch and bring in the citrus trees as the temperature is dropping. Actually, the way she put it is that my gift to her is that I'm doing her bidding. (I do that every day anyway.)

The last gift I recall buying her for valentine's day (we don't exchange valentine's gifts anymore) was an anatomically correct, life-size & weight chocolate heart. Occasionally when she is told of some piece of jewelry or bouquet of flowers so-and-so got she'll tell them of this. At minimum it causes a pause in the conversation, and not a few raised eyebrows. She reminded me of it last night with a chuckle and suggested that I share this "expression of my love".

Every kiss does NOT start with Kaye. or De Beers. or Hallmark.

Ole'

I was listening to NPR this morning and it was reported that some official of the government of Spain had the gall to suggest that the bull in a bullfight be allowed to leave the arena alive. (Apparently this is what is done in South America.) An end to bullfighting was NOT suggested, despite a poll that indicates that over 70% of Spaniards have no interest at all in bullfighting. However, there is a huge uproar in Spain – who has the audacity to suggest a change to this cultural rite? One young lady – a bullfighter in training – commented to the effect that it had been wrong of Spain to impose its cultural values on the new world during its colonization, so it is wrong for the world to impose its cultural values on Spain.

Now I expect that my reaction to this story was probably the same as most people – that bullfighting is a barbaric custom that is an affront to modern cultural values, is cruel to the bulls and it is about time that bullfighting is stopped. Another of the people interviewed in Spain made the observation that these bulls are treated better than cattle are here and have a relatively quick and painless death at the hands of an expert toreador. I have not been to a bullfight and cannot speak from any direct knowledge, but how can a bull’s death be relatively quick and painless when it is continually stabbed and bled, it is run until it is too tired to escape and the toreador can deliver the coup de gras. Seems to me that it would be painful to be continually stabbed by the picadors and the toreador.

Aside from ending bullfighting I also have an aversion to hunting. In this country, at least, there is no reason for people to go out to kill game to put food on the table. It is more expensive to hunt, factoring in the cost of a gun (or bow), ammunition, and the hunting license, than to buy meat in the supermarket. Ditto for fishing. This appears to be a growing sentiment as the state of Georgia felt it had to amend it's constitution to protect the right to hunt and fish. My aversion to hunting comes from the viewpoint that since it isn’t necessary, that we are killing animals for sport. Even if they are eaten – which is mostly the case – it isn’t necessary, Kroger down the road has reasonably priced meat. Hunters argue that they perform a service, thinning out the game population to the point where the game can continue to flourish. I.e. – there is an overpopulation of the game being hunted. And that is probably true, as we are continually destroying their habitat to build more subdivisions and malls, forcing the game to concentrate in smaller and smaller areas. They also argue that it is in the nature of things that we eat other (lower) animals. After all, don't lions eat gazelles, cats eat rodents, wolves eat sheep, etc? Natural.

I really LOVE a good steak. I enjoy chicken cooked in a variety of ways. In other words, I eat meat. So, how can I object to people who hunt (or bullfight) if I have no problems eating animals? In fact, I eat animals whose sole purpose in life is to be eaten by me. Hunters can argue that they are eating animals whose purpose was to live, to be part of the ecosystem, and that only a few of them wind up as food (or as heads on a wall). Which is a valid point. I mean, it is unmentionable what is done to put veal on the table, or to produce goose liver pate. With the amount of chemicals that are pumped into cows to get them to market I am surprised we haven’t grown extra limbs. Beaks of chickens are clipped and they are forced to live crammed into small cages beak-to-beak until processed for our tables.

I can’t say that I have thoroughly thought out the relationship between humans and the other animals on this planet. I tend to believe that they have as much right to survive on this planet as we do, so what gives humans the right to use animals to our benefit? We are sufficiently advanced as to be able to derive our protein from non-animal sources, so they aren’t necessary as a source of sustenance. Why is it wrong to experiment on chimpanzees if those experiments save human lives? Why is it wrong to test cosmetics on animals if it prevents harm to humans? Why is it okay for me to eat a cow who’s entire existence is dedicated to providing me with gustatory pleasure?

I can’t decide. If I follow through with the majority of my feelings regarding animals, then I should be a vegetarian. Or vegan. Why don’t I have the strength of my convictions?

How say you?

uhhhh....

I have had the worst time lately getting motivated at work. I can't concentrate for any length of time and am only sporadically productive. While this has given me time to be distracted by you-all (blogging) it is certainly not what I am being paid to do.

I am not excited about my work anymore. Not even my impending trips to the middle-east (which could be because they are being pushed back and pushed back) are lighting my fire. I am not sure why - but maybe we'll discover this together.

I have had a tough year. My mother-in-law went into hospice last March and died last December. Laura was gone for 3 months during that time, which had its own consequences. I missed her terribly. I also missed her paycheck. Our finances took a hit as she wasn't paid for the time she was gone. The constant background hum of her mother's condition, when was the end going to be, etc. was there and wore on us both.

Work hasn't been a fun place to be either. We exited a 2 year bankruptcy in August of 2005 being bought by another company. We have (before, during, and after the period of bankruptcy) closed @ 30 plants. That's approximately 13,000 people that have lost jobs. 5 of those plants are (were) in this small town I live in. This company manufactures textiles - sheets, towels, blankets & pillows. In 2000 (before any of these plant closings) we had almost 2 billion dollars in sales. I think last year we had @800,000 - 900,000 in sales. The Corporate offices have been moved from here to New York. 90% of what I do now is in support of sourcing already-manufactured goods from overseas (China, Pakistan, Turkey, etc.). My current project is to get ready for converting a plant we bought in Bahrain over to our systems. We are also installing systems in a plant in Pakistan - this is a joint-venture, not an outright purchase. Within a year or two we will be selling more sourced goods than manufactured goods.

It doesn't help either that the company that bought us has not been in manufacturing before. The man chosen to be our new CEO hates this town, has said aloud that he will never come back to this hick town (hence the move of the corporate function to New York). Almost all of upper management has been replaced with their people and I really think that the new management think we don't know what we're doing and are of no relative value to the company. I was told in no uncertain terms that when I reviewed those reporting to me that there WILL NOT BE anyone rated above meets-requirements. Nor will there be any promotions. "No one working for a company who lost $90 million last year is an above-average performer" and I guess then no one deserves a raise either.

I used to be proud of the company I work for. Everywhere I go, everywhere I shop I looked to see if our sheets/towels are being sold (or used - in hotels). If I saw them, I would point it out to people. I no longer do this. I am trying to be happy to still have a job after all of those who no longer do, but it doesn't do much for me. But, I can't leave in the middle of this huge months-long project either. The man I work for has been my boss (directly and indirectly) since I came to work here and I wouldn't do that to him.

I don't want to start a pity party here, I guess I'm using this to explore my feelings. I like where I'm living, it's a great little town and it's growing (we are getting a car manufacturing plant, it's currently under construction). But, I've often felt bad about not being closer to my wife's family. Her dad is in his 80's (but will probably outlive me) and all of her sisters live in KC (except one who lives 3 hours south in Springfield). The IT market up there isn't the greatest, though and the cost of living is a good bit higher. However - I love living in the south. My mom is from a few hours south of here and my most vivid memories growing up are from when we were here. I love the people, the accent!, the manners (which are disappearing), business with a handshake (when my daughter had her flat tire, I sent her to the place where I buy my tires at and they fixed her up immediately - I went by after work to pay the bill. This same business did me a big favor, I was in Louisiana and my wife called me upset - she had 2 flat tires. I called the tire place, they drove over, pulled her tires, fixed them and took them back to put them on. When I returned to town a week later I went by to pay them. They didn't charge me for all of the extra work they did to go get them and take them back - all based on a phone call from me 1000 miles away.) I see the proprietor around town (as I do for the other places I do business) at lunch or shopping after work and often arrange for things to get done. I have lived in a lot of places and haven't had that experience before living here.

What I really need to do is to find a way to deal with it. If I'm not ready to leave here, then I need to get motivated - they deserve to get 100% of my attention and work while I am accepting their salary. I can reevaluate whether to stay or go after this year when I'm finished with the current projects. Even though I love it here, I've always moved and I enjoy new places and new experiences. Who knows, maybe I will have made peace with the new company and will want to stay. Or maybe we will have gone under and I will be forced to change. Either way, that's the future and now is now.

gotta do what'cha gotta do.

Resolution

For those waiting with bated breath on the big camera project, it has reached a project milestone. The camera was selected and ordered. I decided on the Canon A710 IS. It was $45 more than my original choice - the Canon A630 - but even though the 710 has a 7.1 mega pixel image sensor (smaller that the 8 mega pixel sensor in the A630) it has image stabilization and a few more features. So, the camera is on it's way. I got a free Canon printer with it, and I bought a 1 gig memory card and a case too. They are due to be delivered next week.

(although this was originally intended as a birthday gift, my lack of fore-planning, imagination, whatever, combined with an unanticipated ailment makes this an out-of-the-blue gift. I don't know if it counts.)

In other news, last night my daughter Kris was coming home along a country road and had a blow-out. It was raining and she was worried about changing the tire, it being on the road-side of the car. I told her to pull the car into the next driveway so she could change it safely. I taught each of our children how to change a tire (along with other basic car maintenance) when they got their vehicles. I made each practice in our driveway. So - I was more worried about her having to change it in the cold rain more that anything else. My wife was getting off work at the same time so she rode out to meet her and to make sure everything was going okay. When my wife got there, a gentleman (in the full sense of the word) had stopped to help my daughter and was just finishing up with the tire. I have his card and am trying to come up with a small gift, some way of showing my (our) appreciation at his stopping in the rain and helping my daughter. Maybe a card with a gift certificate. I dunno, I don't want to insult the guy - I know he didn't do it for renumeration. Maybe just the card.


Chivalry is NOT dead!

off we go, into the wild blue yonder....

It was recently "gently" pointed out to me that I had pompously (my interpretation) suggested that I don't post here about inconsequential things, such as bronchitis and buying a camera. It brought me up short, reminding me that I should practice what I preach. While the following may be actually considered even more self-indulgent, as it is about me, my mea culpa is that it is in response to a request.


I spent 6 years in the Air Force as a cryptologic linguist. This is how the USAF describes this job:

Operates and manages operation of communications equipment. Operates radio receivers, recording equipment, typewriters, keyboards, computer consoles, and related equipment. Tunes receivers to prescribed frequencies or performs frequency search missions, or both, over specified portions of radio spectrums to locate and monitor stations and frequency use. Monitors and records communications, adding appropriate comments to assist in transcription and analysis. Performs preventive maintenance on mission equipment.

Transcribes and processes communications. Transcribes, translates, analyzes, and reports on assigned communications.

Translates spoken or written material from one language to another. Uses wording aids, and references. Recognizes essential elements of information for reporting activity. Assists analysts in identifying, analyzing, and reporting activities.

Maintains technical aids, logs, and records. Compiles and maintains operation records and statistics. Ensures logs, forms, and correspondence are properly completed, annotated, and distributed. Monitors and maintains handbooks, working aids, and analytical references to ensure applicability and currency. Reviews, updates, and compiles data for operational use.

Paraphrased, I listened to arabic communications, recorded and typed what I heard, translated it, analyzed and reported it.

I included the official job description because that is about all of the detail I can get into without disclosing potentially classified information. This job requires a top secret/sensitive compartmented information security clearance.

I joined the Air Force in March of 1983 because I didn't know what else to do. I was in college and was burned out - I tried to work full time and go to school full time and I just couldn't hack it anymore. I had had some idea that joining the military would give me a full-time job that would also help pay for college. I took the military entrance exam and scored well enough that I could request any job they had an opening for. Somehow or another I ran across the description for airborne cryptologic linguist - that really caught my eye as I've always been interested in flying. The job requires a facility for foreign languages, so I took the language aptitude battery and qualified for language school. So off I go to basic training. (The less said about basic, the better.) While there, I had to take 2 days worth of tests to determine which language type I had a propensity for (slavic, romance, inflected, etc). Once again, I scored well enough to be allowed to choose. I had no idea which I was interested in. We saw a film that described the locations the different languages were taught. At that time there were 4 (I think) - San Antonio, San Francisco, San Diego, and Monterey. Monterey sounded the most interesting place to be (I still don't know why San Francisco didn't top my list - although I remember pictures of Monterey including palm trees and the ocean) so I asked which languages were taught there. Arabic was among those that had current openings. So, come April, off I go to Monterey - to the Defense Language Institute, Foreign Language Center at the Presidio of Monterey, California. I spent the next year there 6 hours a day, 5 days a week learning arabic. This included written as well as oral training, with some cultural lessons too. Here is where I met Laura. She was a student at DLI too, learning chinese. We decided to marry. (Laura decided to leave the military.) Due to the "dangers" inherent in the airborne portion of the job, I opted for a ground slot instead - new wife, kid on the way, etc. In April of 1984 I graduated from DLI and in May we moved to San Angelo, Texas, for my next school - this time technical training. For the first time I was introduced to the fundamentals of being a cryptologic linguist. (see job description above) We were there for 3 months - during the middle of the summer. In September we moved to the island of Crete. Now began another 3 months of OJT to learn mission-specific skills (new equipment, targets, etc.) For the next 2 years there I worked a cycle of 4 swings (2:30PM to 10:30PM), 4 mids (10:30PM to 6:30AM), 4 days (6:30AM to 2:30PM) and 3 days off. Believe it or not, you get used to it. Anyway, in September of 1987 we moved back to the states, to Maryland. I worked at NSA (the National Security Agency) for the next two years doing primarily analytical work.

In late 1989 I had some choices to make. I was due to re-enlist in early 1990. I liked my job but it meant the distinct possibility of transferring to Crete every 2 years then back to Maryland. As much as we liked Crete, the biggest problem was that there weren't schools there for kids beyond elementary school - which they would reach during the next enlistment. If we were stationed on Crete when the kids were old enough for jr. high or high school they would have had to attend a DoD boarding school in Spain. That wasn't going to happen. So, my choices were to:

a) stay in, and when the kids were old enough, hope for an assignment to somewhere other than Crete,
b) stay in and go to Crete unaccompanied - Laura and the kids stay state-side,
c) change career fields giving me other assignment options
d) get out of the military.

Neither a nor b appealed to us. I tried option c but wasn't able to get a slot in the career field I wanted - computers. I could have re-enlisted and continued to try option c, but I was on the cusp of my next rotation to Crete and didn't feel confident that I would be allowed to transfer. So, I chose option d. My dad told me about this company whose computers he repaired that had a programming staff and I submitted a resume. They called me down for an interview and within a week I was offered a job. The next week I took terminal leave and we moved in with my parents here and I took this job.

I know that this doesn't tell you really anything about being a cryptologic linguist. The only other thing I feel I can mention is that there is (or was when I was in) a "crypto" portion of the job that involved codes & cyphers. What can I say, I like puzzles. If you are interested, there have been a few books written about NSA that might give a little more insight to their overall mission and imply a little more about what I did. For those that hung on all the way to here, you deserve a prize (that I don't have to give) and I hope it wasn't too boring. I am planning on a multi-installment post about our experience living on Crete and our kids being born there. Maybe that will prove to me more interesting.

cough, cough, hack, hack, *splat* - so that's what it looks like.

I think I am back in the world of the living. I won't commit myself until I make it the rest of the day. Except for Tuesday morning and another attempt Thursday morning, I have been either in bed or on the couch. I doubt I have any lungs left as I have been coughing them out for the past 10 days. The *official* diagnosis is viral bronchitis with a prognosis of "wait it out". (This is from a man with 12-14 years of training, x years of practice and a 6 or 7 figure income - an expert in the field. go figure.) I am still waiting, albeit from my desk now instead of the couch.

Laura is almost over hers, as she didn't have nearly as bad a case as I do. She only missed 1.5 days of work. She is back to planning for her trip. She's talking to her sisters about the pros & cons of buying a 14 day rail pass (@$330 per person) or renting a car (@$700) while they are there. They are beginning to talk about what they want to see, about Scotland vs. Paris for the weekend, etc.

I am back to shopping for cameras and hope to wrap it up soon. Thanks for all of your suggestions & advice - I still haven't quite made up my mind, though. Also, thanks for all of your well-wishes regarding my on-going cheating of death - I hope to continue to do so, but it is difficult with most of my lungs strewn about the house. Wish me luck.

T-minus 1 and holding

I have spent the last 3 days in bed with bronchitis. (well - I did go to work for a few hours this morning, but that was because I had to write my yearly eval and turn it in to my boss. My yearly eval of myself. I might find the strength later to go into this interesting management philosophy.)

Laura's birthday is tomorrow and NO PRESENT. ARGH.

I really appreciate the input on which camera. I had about settled on the Canon SD700 IS when the malady struck. The last time I had bronchitis it lasted for 3 months and I lost 25 pounds. I don't think I'll be able to sell anyone on this diet, efficient as it may be.

Anyway, just a quick update - I know everyone was on tenterhooks about the big decision. which hasn't been decided.

I might be up to catching up on all of you tomorrow.

Cheers.

smile and say "CHEESE"

Laura's birthday is coming up next week. I want to give her a digital camera to take with her to England. We have a 35mm Canon AE1 - it was given to Laura 25 years ago. It still works, but we have film from 10 years ago that hasn't been developed yet. Time to move into the modern age.

This request is a bit late, but I'm looking for advice on which camera to purchase. I'm leaning towards another Canon but there are so many out there I can't really differentiate between them and have no feel for which is better. (I love, but cannot afford, the Canon digital Rebel SLR.)

So - any last minute advice for this last minute request?

Over There, over there......

My wife has an irritating habit of starting conversations like "my sister called me today", or "My sister pissed off dad again." Laura has 4 sisters. So, which sister this time? Like I'm supposed to read her mind, or play 20 questions? argh.

Anyway, Jackie's (The sister in question here) husband Tony's sister is working in England, has a large house, and has invited Jackie & Tony over for a visit. The problem is that Tony is all "nope, ain't gonna do it. don't wanna. can't make me." So while we were up in Kansas City last December Laura and her sisters were talking and they decided that if Tony didn't want to go, he didn't have to go, his loss, we do - so let's go. They tossed around dates and 3 of the 5 - Jackie, Laura, and heretofore unmentioned Annie, are going.

Annie told Laura that she had researched flights and they (Annie & Jackie) were flying out of KC on the 5th of May arriving on the 6th at Gatwick. So I cashed in my frequent-flyer points and immediately found out that all of the frequent-flyer seats out of Atlanta direct to Gatwick were gone. Dammit. BUT the frequent-flyer lady, through 45 minutes of herculean flight-table mumbo jumbo found some non-Delta flights getting Laura there only 2 hours before her sisters - so we booked Laura's tickets. We then found out that Annie & Jackie HADN'T really bought tickets and confusion ensued. They, not being encumbered by frequent-flyer restrictions - paying actual money for theirs, got tickets fairly easily and wound up arriving just about the same time as originally stated. AND wonder of wonders, wound up on the same flight leaving Gatwick as Laura coming home on the 19th.

So, long story short, Laura and her sisters are going to England for 2 weeks in May. If there are any anglophiles out there cognizant of the south of England (Bramley, Hampshire) and environs please feel free to suggest any "can't miss" attractions providing, of course, they fit within a moderate budget.

I am sooooo jealous. I've always wanted to go to England. But - I have to travel occasionally on business and get to go to some neat places (this year will be Bahrain and Pakistan) so I'm not complaining by any means. She'll have a blast with her sisters - she's really excited about going. (Last night she stopped in the middle of being excited to tell me she wished it were me she were going with - and then continued being excited.) I'm excited for her. She's had such a rough time recently - 2006 was a bitch - she deserves this. And although I will have to work some big-time magic on our budget, I'll make it work.

drawing a null......

as it is almost a week's silence here, and nature (and bob) abhors a vacuum, and I can't think of anything noteworthy, I'm stealing a meme for blogfodder from MOI.

A) Four jobs I have had:

1. short order/pizza/dining hall cook
2. library assistant
3. cryptologic linguist
4. driver-helper for UPS

B ) Four movies I could watch over and over:

1) Mon Oncle
2) Blazing Saddles
3) McLintock
4) Wallace & Grommit - A Close Shave

C) Four places I have lived other than where you live now:

1. Biloxi, Mississippi
2. Gournes, Crete, Greece
3. Hilton, Georgia
4. Austin, Texas

D) Four T.V. Shows I like/liked to watch:

1. My Name is Earl
2. CSI
3. M*A*S*H
4. The Last of the Summer Wine

E) Four places I have been on vacation:

1.Perdido Key, Florida
2. Niagara Falls, NY (& Canada)
3. Santorini, Greece
4. San Francisco, California

F) Four Web sites I visit daily:

1. Daily Oliver
2. Joe Mathlete explains Marmaduke
3. Woot one day, one deal
4. The Onion

G) Four of my favorite foods:

1. Prime Rib
2. Barbecue from Arthur Bryant's in Kansas City
3. my wife's pot roast
4. everything on the table at our family reunions

H) Four places I would rather be right now:

1. on the beach
2. on a train crossing the northern rockies
3. in the meditation room in the B&B just up from the corner of Haight & Ashbury
4. helping my best friend in his furniture shop

Wishing

Last night as I tossed and turned I found myself once again wishing I could still sleep on my stomach. For years this is the way I lay down to go to sleep. But a combination of an old bed and my old back forces me to lay on my side. (For some weird reason, I cannot fall asleep on my back.) Anyway, as I tossed and turned I started thinking of other things I missed from the past.

• my kids when they were toddlers. Despite the day to day frustrations of raising two at one time, I sometimes really miss them sitting in my lap, smelling their hair as they nestled in my arms. the way all of their problems could be solved with a hug and a kiss.
• first kisses. We've been married 22 years so I have to reach WAY back, but I still remember the feeling I would get when kissing a girl for the first time. I can't describe it other than it was like a high current flowing through me looking for a ground. The nervousness, anticipation, not knowing if it would be returned or spurned. And the giddiness of knowing there would be a second kiss.
• my great-grandmother. Her house was right beside my grandfather's (of Hilton Grocery fame). Mama Smith always had time for us young-uns. There was always a cake or pie in the safe. She made the best biscuits - she kept a wooden bowl with flour in it, she would scoop a hollow and add buttermilk and oil and stir in flour with her hand until a dough was formed. She'd pinch off bits of dough and put them on a baking sheet and put them in the oven. no recipe, no measuring - I can't remember her ever having a cookbook out. I would sit on her back porch in a rocker helping her shell peas or butter beans, gather the eggs from the hen house, or get her a jar of pickles from the smoke house. She had fluffy white hair, wore simple dresses, her support hose rolled just below her knees, the blue veins in her strong hands stood out (missing the end of one of her fingers). And a cackle for a laugh - which she did often.
• my grandfather's barn. That barn was in turn a fort, a playhouse, a sanctuary. It had a hay loft and a tin roof. There was a lean-to on one side that sheltered his tractor and a bench full of old rusting tools and plow blades. He kept hogs in a pen around part of the barn and a trailer of corn to feed them. I loved to climb in the hayloft when it was raining for the sound of it on the tin roof. There was a corn crib which sometimes had corn, and always had spiders.
• Monterey California. I spent a year there learning arabic. I and a buddy would catch a bus Saturday mornings and ride over the hill to Carmel to go to the beach. We would stop at a shop, pick up some beer, bread & butter & cheese and stay the day catching the last bus back that evening. I met and married Laura while there. Our first apartment was one room with a divider that could be drawn across to close off the bed from the rest of the room. There was a little grocery store that made the BEST sandwiches, Laura and I would split one and bake a potato to go with it. There was a little bakery called Fifi's and the Dream Theater that down front instead of seats were pads on the floor with seat backs wide enough for two, you could stretch your legs out, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show there for the first time with Laura. I guess she and I had a lot of firsts in Monterey.
• my van. I have owned two VW vans (buses to be correct) - a '69 and a '71. I taught Laura to drive a stick shift in one. I rebuilt the engine of the other in our living room. ( I almost didn't get it out of the house, it wouldn't fit through the front door once reassembled.) Our first vehicle was the '69 and we drove it from Texas to Missouri, then to Georgia, then to New Jersey to send it to Crete. On my days off there we would often ride up into the hills and when we got hungry we would pull over, open the side door and have our picnic in the back of the van with the view of the valley in front of us. If the babies wouldn't sleep we could put them in the back of the van and ride them around - they'd be asleep in 10 minutes. I still can hear the unique sound of it's engine.

As you can see, I was awake for quite a while last night. I'm off to get another cup of coffee. Cheers.