Son of Baltimore

I am, once again, on a plane back from Baltimore. My opinion of this lovely city has not changed. In fact it has deteriorated just a smidgen if that is possible.

It started like this. We, as the QA department, went to an Orioles game on Monday evening. I went because I wanted to see Camden Yard and it was lovely. I thik we were there with a few dozen other fans since the A’s and the Orioles are two of the worst teams in baseball. It was hot and muggy and the Orioles really suck large oysters. We arrived late because there was “weather” in the Midwest. I don’t really know what that means or why we were unable to fly around it but we were late because of this weather somewhere in the Midwest. So we get there in the third inning. By the sixth inning the wind starts to pick up and then there is garbage and papers flying all over the field. A thunderstorm of biblical proportions whips up and we can see that this game is not going to be completed. We all decide we should make a dash to the car (500 yards away) and we start a brisk walk towards the parking lots. Not 50 feet into our walk the heavens open and we are completely and utterly drenched. I had just rented a very nice Infiniti sports car and was thinking how lucky I was to have such a nice autocoach. When we all got to the car and jumped in, it was like jumping onto leather upholstery from a swimming pool. There was no where to dry off since outside the car was solid rain/water/moisture/Baltimore-ness. So we made out way to the hotel as three drowned rats and retired for the evening.

The next day is when the fun s tarts. Baltimore, being in the tropical part of North America, had a relative humidity of 1500% these last few days. In fact, it was 92%. So, as you might imaging, the seats never really dried out the three days Ii was in Baltimore-is-so-lame. So every day when we got to the conference and every night coming home, it looked like I had recently wet myself and not just slightly. Good times. Eh?

This is the last few weeks of my dual job situation. I am doing my QA job and getting an additional 30 emails a day from my new boss to keep me in the loop. Right now I would enjoy being outside the loop for these last two weeks but I doubt I will get that chance.

Kevin returns home tomorrow, or today depending on when you read this. I am typing as if he returns tomorrow so deal with it. We are excited for his return. It will be a different house with him here. I’m sure Sacrament meeting will be a different place when he is there as well. Many people in the ward comment on how they miss the randomness and excitement of a Kevin testimony. We, as his parents, are filled with emotions as well. Since he is now all grown up and an adult (at least legally) he can testify of whatever he wants or however he wants. Being in the singles ward we have heard the term “butt” from the pulpit so he is no longer the only person to have done it. I still think he is the only one who uttered the term “buttload.” So he still has that going for him. It will be an exciting few weeks until he goes back to school.

As I sit on the plane I am still amused at the number of people who can not seem to grasp the concept of not forming a line near the cockpit. The expression of unbelief on their face when the flight crew tells them to sit down is amazing. ‘What do you mean I can’t just stand here and wait?” It is only reinforced about 30 times during the flight. Oh well.

There you go. Puppy on the blog.
Good day to you all.

I just flew into town and boy are my neighbors naked...

So it is hot here. For Portland, when it gets near 100 degrees we don't handle it well. The tree huggers look for cooler trees. The birds burst into flames in mid-flight. Hummingbirds overheat and Nuns are openly cursing in the streets. Oh, and our neighbors don't wear clothes. This evening (Sunday - the Sabbath of our Lord) our neighbors were in the back yard watering thier plants and playing with their dogs. Now for those of you who have not been to our house (and you know who you are), my house is about 15 feet higher than my back-yard neighbors house. We are on a hill. There is a street between us but we have a rather unobstructed view of our neighbors back yard from the entire south side of our house. This includes our dining room, kitchen, family room and two upstairs bedrooms. The upstairs bedrooms provide a particularly nice birds-eye view. So this eveing we even commented to each other that our neighbors appeared to be relatived well clad , given the heat and the fact that they were in the back yard. I went upstairs to play guitar (upstairs bedroom facing south) and was just getting started when Mr. Happydangler walked out in the back yard sans clothes. His wife was slightly more discreet only because she was not dangling. She was equally unclad and they were having the time of their lives playing with the dogs and barbequing dinner. (For the men reading this I know what you are thinking - Does this not pose an unneccesarily dangerous risk for winky-burns? The hot splatter of barbeque sauce alone causes me to wince.) At any rate we had quite the show for about an hour. Thankfully they finally decided to spend the rest of their quality nude time, QNT, indoors and we have not seen them for the rest of the evening.

Now the question arises - what, if anything, is to be done about all of this? I don't really mind if my neighbors are nudists. Let them run around naked all they want. My kids are old enough and I could really care less. Now our other neighhbors have young kids but they can raise thier concerns if they want. The only thing I might object to is - what if I decide I need to sell my house anytime soon. I would like to talk to them and create some sort of signal that indicates we are showing the house and could you please cover your naughty bits until the signal changes. Possibly a flag that is noticeable from our house to theirs. Or maybe a light in the shape of naked older droopy people. It would be like the Bat Light except much worse. Perhaps just the flag.

So there you have it. Naked neighbors. Life is that exciting in Portland, They should sell tickets.

SO Long QA - Hello Portland Liability Manager

Well, it happened. As it does in life, sometimes you just have to be careful what you interview for. I interviewed for and was offered the position as the Liability Claims Manager (that's LCM for the acronymially challenged) and I am not sure when I officially start. I have a plane ticket to Baltimore on August 10 so I will likely return from that trip and begin my new life. At least I don't have to move to get the job I wanted. That is the good news. The bad news is now I have to get dressed every morning and actually go to an office to work. It has been so nice being able to roll out of bed looking like death on a Ritz and start working. No one need know how awful(comfortable) I look. Now I have to be presentable and enthusiastic when I am working. I will get used to it but I want you all to feel badly for me just for a moment. .... That was long enough.

Life is going to get very warm for us Portlanders in the next few days. I know many of you live in places that regularly see temperatures in the 100's but we Oregonians are not used to it and we like to complain when it gets hot. So I will now complain for the next three pages about how hot it is going to get and how much I hate it and blah blah blah. Actually, we have AC so it is not so awful. Some of our neighbors, in much nicer looking houses than ours, do nothave AC and I will relish looking out at thier swelterling bodies as I wave at them with my sweater-clad arm and mimic that I am really quite chilly inside my igloo-esque residence. The little joys I can squeeze from life are fabulous.

We are going to be driving up to Salt Lake on the Saturday before Labor Day to drop off Kevin so one of his syblings can drive him to Rexturd for school. We will also be dropping off (just a figure of speech - we are not actually going to drop it) a piano for Diane. It is the early paino that Faye had from before we were married. Of course, the post-marital piano is half mine due to community property laws in Oregon so she couldn't give that one away legally. Sure we are married but you always have to keep up to date on the legal stuff. And by the way, that community property thing does not apply to guitars. I checked it out. Trust me, I'm a claims manager. So we will be up in Salt Lake/Orem for the evening of that Saturday and then driving again that Sunday back to lovely Portland which should be much cooler by then. So there. It will be like our third trip tp Utah this year and we will have stayed a combined 4 days. Life is so stupid sometimes. Actually we are going to be in Utahr on Thanksgiving as well. We finally broke down and are travelling to where the family will be since we will have none left around Portland. We are flying in Thanksgiving afternoon and leaving Saturday eveing. Again we seem to have a hard time staying in Utah. Getting there doesn't seem to be an issue. We just can't seem to stick for any length of time. So get your card playing/game playing selfs ready and we should have a great albeit short time together.

So there. Another blog. It's hard to believe, ain't it.

Baltimore Part Dos

You all know how often I write in the consarned blog so this must be a record. I am sitting on a plane returning from Baltimore. My seat buddies are wondering just what it was this guy (me) ate to cause the noxious fumes that are emanating from my seat cushion. You all remember my discussion of crabs from yesterday. Well, I’m told they were Maryland Blue Crabs but I presume there was a few Chesapeake Farters in there as well because I am really feeling it at 39,000 feet. I blame the altitude.

Anyway, as I sit in my fragrant repose, I am watching this nice older (but not dottering) woman making her way to the front lavatory. She walked past me and went straight to the cockpit door and tried to open it with all her might. The door to the lavatory is marked as such. In fact she has had to watch a steady stream of passengers going into it for the past 45 minutes. Maybe we all had crabs yesterday. Yet she is really trying to get into the cockpit. Perhaps she has insight into a special toilet up there that will fulfill her needs better than the space-age technology in the coach lavatory. This notwithstanding there are many signs on the cockpit door:

Flight Deck
Restricted Area
Prohibido La Entrada
Ifa you enter I gonna shoot you face ( for our Italian passengers)
Hey you Lady – get the f--- out of here
Are you f-gerund stupid – this is not the toilet.
Most of these signs are in bold lettering and are even in red.

These are all actual signs on the cockpit door. If I am lying may we all be struck by lightning at this very minute. OK that was lucky.

Life if full of these sorts of people. Last month I was traveling and the nice people at Southwest Airlines announced that the TSA police would be monitoring this flight so they will be at the end of the jetway and may talk to you before you enter the plane. Now, as a certified non-terrorist, I had no problem with this. I understand the need for these spot checks and such. So I am like the 2nd person to go down the jetway. As I get there a nice man in a police-looking suit asks me for my boarding pass and my ID. Now those of you familiar with Southwest Airlines will understand just how stupid this request was. I looked at him for a few moments and responded that I would not be able to comply with his request in its entirety. For as he should know, SWA takes your boarding pass from you when you enter the jetway and I did not have it anymore. He looked at me for a few seconds and really had nothing more to say. This was our country’s response to heightened terror levels – to ask me for something they knew had just been taken from me not 20 seconds earlier. After reviewing my general demeanor he allowed me to board the plane as I appeared to pose no visible threat to him or any other person in the greater Phoenix airport. That guy has a gun. Unbelievable.

So there you go. I will try to remember to post this to the blog tomorrow morning since I had to change planes in Phoenix. Yes, I was on a flight from Baltimore through San Antonio through Phoenix to Portland. They announced just before Phoenix that they needed to put us all on a new piece of equipment (not sure why they can’t just say the plane has stopped working and we need to get you all on one that does.) So we got in the supposedly new plane and went on our way. Of course this took an hour or so. When I got in my seat there were McDonalds wrappers on the floor and in the seat pocket. They told us that this plane had been in a hangar all day and was in tip top shape. Apparently the workers in the hangar like to hang out in the plane and eat lunch. This did not inspire my confidence in SWA or in the plane. At any rate the plane seems to be working quite nicely (it has not plummeted from the sky) and I hope to make it in to Portland just about an hour late.

So there you have it. A second blog in as many days. Cherish it – it will never happen again.

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Baltimore, Eh?

I am in Baltimore for a few days and what is there really to do in Baltimore?
Well, I could go to an Orioles game. They're not in town.
I could go to a fancy restaurant and each crab like a cave man. I did that this evening with the Farmers guys and gals and I'm here to tell you - the smell does not go lightly into that still night. I have washed my hands numerous times and even rinsed them in lemon juice. It is the curse the crab leaves since I decided to eat him. Yes, I was told all of the crabs were men/males. I'm not sure if this is important to the crabs but I was told they were all male. I apologized to each of them as I cracked them with my crab hammer. My boss kept telling me it was a mallet but crab hammer sounded funnier. Also a good name for the band. Their first hit - I like my hot dogs hot.
The restaurant was in the worst neighborhood I have been in in a long time. It reminds me of Rochester but with more crack and whores. If Florida is America's dong, the Baltimore is the hemmorhoid on America's ass. It has a few blocks downtown that seem pretty cool but then you drive just a few blocks and you see the real Baltimore, hemmerhoidal warts and all. I would not like to live here.

I am excited to watch Harry Potter and the huge mega hit this Friday. I saw in USA Today that Harry is set to make $43 million for the last two movies. I wouldn't mind making $43 million. I would even loive in Baltimore for $43 million. Not for ever but for a little while. Everything has its price.

I applied for another job at Farmers. The guy who h ad m ore experience than me got it. I figured as much. I am now in line to get his old job which would be OK by me. I'll keep you informed. I figured it was time to stop working in my jammies. I need to remember what it is like to have a real job. Go to work and wear clothes and all. Otherwise I might find myself jammied and having a hard time going back to work.

Baltimore is hoit and humid as well. It also has mosquitos. And did I mention how ugly it is? Well let me mention it herre - Baltimore is ugly. It is old city grimy ugly at its core. I guess there might be nice suburbs but I haven't seen them.

And another thing - why do computers screw up for no reason. I returned from the cabin and my air card willnot function. I didn't use it in Idaho. It just decided to not work. Now I have to be on the phone with the help desk for the next thirteen days nonstop until someone can tell me that I need a new computer. That is my nickel bet. After they try to do a quintillion things to fix it they will say it is dead and I need a new one. Computers are great and all. They make my life easier when they work. When they hate me, as this one obviously does, they are a source of misery and woe. And woe is me. I will keep you informed on how the computer turns out. It might be four months but I will be back on line and let you all know.

Enough for now. I am in the hotel room and they are showing Batman for the 9th time on HBO and I feel I should watch it again and again and again.

The pup is out.

Utah - Salt Lake City Mission

Wooo Wee!! The call finally came. Faye and I can now sleep again knowing that our Matt is going to serve the Lord in Salt Lake City. I just hope the locals treata him nice and don't try to cook him in a stew. I know the local customs are odd and he will have to get used to not staring at the strange customs. I know the plane trip from Provo willbe long and arduous but I feel, with the Lord's help, he will be up to the challenge.

I am mostly happy that he is excited. Out local folks here, ever the ones to be retards, have reacted as if we would be upset he is "only" going to Salt Lake. We know many people who have served there and each and every one has told us how happy they were to serve there. Jesse Fox (yes I will single him out because he is a tool) asked us if," seriously, was Matt OK with the call?" What a cosmic dillhole! No Jesse, MAtt was upset the Lord chose him to be in that mission. I hope he has chronic crotch itch for the entire two years Matt is out. At any rate, we are excited and will be in Utah to drop him off which means we get to hang out with all of you folks (non-Utah folks excluded) for a few days. We will need to be picked up at the airport and stuff so watch your phones.

I posited the possibility of messing with Kevin in out weekly e-mail. I suggested we label our individual e-mails to say "Read this one first" etc. until he reads Matt's last. In each of the e-mails we mention how excited we all are about Matt's call to - enter a faux mission assignment - and see if Kevin reacts in any special way. It will only be five e-mails before he gets the real news and he can then relax. Or perhaps he will stil think it is a joke and wonder for another week. Oh well. I didn't have a brother who got a mission call when I was on my mission so I don't know how I would have reacted. We'll see how Kevin does.

Enough for now. The Blazers keep winning. Wahoo!

I am afraid of my new gadget

Ok - so I admit I can record in multiple tracks now and that is pretty cool. I just feel like I have purchased a device that can do 1257 things and I have figured out how to do three of them. I know there are only so many things my tiny brain can do and I am so happy to know how to do those three things I am caught up in my temporary euphoria. I know I need to keep learning so I can yell "I need more cowbell" someday and really mean it. I have my old Loop Station, which is still very cool, and I use it for the rhythm track now. I have a new machine that can customize drum solos and match tempos and I am using another devise to keep time on my recordings. I am comfortable with my ancient technology. It's like my rotary dial phone, 8-track and bell-bottom jeans. I love to get in my comfort zone and never get out. I promise I will learn. It may be in a few years but I will learn how to do this. What I need is a friend who knows how to record to come to my house and just show me. I do not like to read manuals and follow directions. That is why I still have a bag of spare pieces and doodads from when I assembled my barbeque. Every time I turn it on I still run away fearing my assemblage may be defective. At least I have insurance, eh?

So there. I just feel like a botard every time I turn on the device and try to learn a new task. I have bifocal glasses too so when I look at the instructions I have to lean my head back and look down my nose at the book. It makes me look like a botard. I don't mind being a botard, I just hate looking like one as well. I can't wait until I try to record vocals. That part of the book is really long and detailed. I fear it.

In response to Amelia's suggestion, I agree that having you, Lisa and Diane as my backup vocals is a positively bitchin' idea. Like I said, let me figure out how to record you all first, then we can act ike rock n' roll divas. I'll try to get better glasses in the meantime.

Puppies all around.

Old Dog - New recording studio

It turns out I can record stuff. I sat down on Sunday and figured out how to record different tracks and actuall recorded a 5 track ditty that was 39 seconds of recorded bliss. I am sending it to the Smithsonian - I hear they like stuff like this. Two rhtym tracks, two different overlaying guitar solos and a bass track. As soon as I learn how to work the drums I will be dangerous. I found myself yelling "More cowbell" to no one in particular. I am so hard to work with.

So next time you hear (blog) from me I will be a recording genius and can Ghandi really say that about himself? I think not.

Long time eh?

So I get an e-mail from Diane asking me to blog. I explain that I have been very busy. Her response was - "Was Ghandi too busy? How about Mr. Rogers?" So I really don't have any reason to delay any further. I am not that busy, I just think I am. I find muyself feeling overwhelmed and then at the end of the day, as I lay in bed reading Harry Potter, again, I realize I spent at least two hours that evening watching TV. And not even TV that is really all the interesting or elightening. It's like I feel Tom Bergeron will miss me if I don't purposefully watch every minute of an episode of America's Funnies Videos that I have already seen. I find myself not listening to Faye because I have to see if that kid gets his nuts whanged by the handrail as he tries to skateboard over it. Like they would she me the video if he successfully zipped right over it. My brain goes like this:
Me: "I wonder if he will get whanged this time?"
TV sound: "Whang!!!"
Me: Phew, that was a close one. I wonder if he was OK or if he found his nuts ever?"

And I do this night after night - yet I can't spend a few minutes to update my BLOG with interesting news like this.

Well, I was in Los Angeles last week, and it was for a management seminar called Managers Leadership Development. MLD for those of us at Farmers. It is essentially Farmers way of hazing suckers like me who have been chosen as leaders of the future for the company. Well, what it ended up being is an intense, sleep deprived week of craziness that had an observer the entire time. So when I was falling asleep during the last day of lecture he wrote:
"I notice that you closed your eyes for three minutes during the lecture on Coaching your Employees until they Cry. This could be construed as disrepectful for the speaker."
Now it takes a big man to take this sort of criticism in stride and just shake it off as the end of a stressful week. I am not a big man and wanted to say:
"I noticed that you sat in the back of the classroom all week making snippy remarks about the poor students in the class. In fact what I want to tell you is that you look like a penis with a hat on. " But of course I would never say that because it is rude and it would get back to my boss and I don't need the increased aggravation. However, at the end of it all we had to give a team presentation to a panel of twelve executives and I absoultely stole the show. I was witty and eloquent and I don't think I was disrespectful of anyone there. I'm sure my observer was making snotty remarks about me but, at that point, I couldn't give one hairy rip. It was a long week and I came back home and slept for two days. It is now over and they can't make me go back. At least I don't think they can.

I purchased a new thing today. I have been waiting for months to either get more money or hope theprice went way down. In fact, I got a little bit of money for being one of the best in the MLD class so, even though it was on sale and still more than I should have spent, l bought it. It is a 64 track recording studio. It is totally cool and I can't wait until I understand how to use it. I sat down with it for a few hours and I now know how to play the demo songs and separate all the tracks on the recording. I hope to be able to actually record something on it by the end of the week. Of course it came with just about everything I needed to make it work. (Batteries were not included) I had to buy a stack of blank CDs. When I got home I realized I couldn't hear what I was playing any more because I needed a cable to hook up my amp to the studio monitor. As soon as I get these I will be able to hear what I am playing. Now I have to use my headphones which works but I like the live sound better. As soon as I make some killer recordings I will share with all of you. Until then I will just try to figure out how to turn it on withour blowing it up.

I have been riding my bike quite a bit for the past few months. There is a ride from Seattle to Portland ( a two day event) that I would like to do some day. I am now up to a 15 mile ride and am told that I need to be able to at least do 60 or so in a day before I try and do the big ride. Now I can do the 15 mile ride and not feel like barfing. So I've got that going for me. I like to think of it as baby steps. I don't want to be the one guy that all of the other riders have to avoid because of the flying barf up ahead of them. I would likely be far behind them anyway. It sounds like it would be a bloast to ride so I will keep trying and eventually try to ride 50 of 60 miles on a Saturday. Steve Doxey has done it before but he has a lot nucer bike than me. He is younger than me. I have more excuses if you want me to keep going. I'll keep you informed.

I am singing in a local chorale group that is made up of mormons and more mormons singing some fairly pretty music. We are hoping to do our performance in May at a local church downtown. And it's not a mormon church either. We are singing a song in french called Dirait-on. It is very pretty and I don't have to sing much of the actual french, just a lot of Dirait-on's and lots of OOOs. However, there is one extremely snotty, full-of-herself woman in the group who continually tells us all how we are mispronouncing the french, like anyone is actually going to understand us anyway. I would like to mispronounce some french in her general direction but, again, have taken the high road like at MLD. I believe her father smelt of elderberries though. I mention this to bring up my point that I generally have a hard time dealing with "music" people. These are the ones who openly criticize your singing and posture and parentage - then say "I'm sorry for being rude; it's just how I am. The music is so important to me." I again have to hold my "penis with a hat on" remark for later. So I am dealing with the music folks and singing some pretty cool music.

Anyway,this group is generally pretty proud of themselves and trade e-mails all day long. The two ladies that set it up have a website and we communicate through that. The issue is, the only way to respond to an e-mail is "respond to all". I get at least 15 e-mails a day that I am now just deleting without reading. I have them go to my business account and it is aggravating. A typical routine is:
Karen: I think we should change the name of the group to Cantico.
Paul: What does that mean. Don't you mean cantique?
Karen: No I like Cantico. It is spanish for song.
Gary: Cancion is spanish for song. I think you got it wrong.
Karen: I really, really like cantico and I've already changed the website with the name on it so can't we just keep it.
Holly: (who has not read the last few) I like cantique - it sounds cool. Kind of French-y.
Rob: Hi - is there practice tonight or not?
Karen: Rob, what do you think about cantico?
Rob: I like in on rice with a salad. Isn't that the chicken dish with salsa on it?
Rebecca: How come no one asked my opinion? I like Cantico - the Portland Chorale Singers

Of course every person in the group (15) gets all of these inane comments. It was humorous the first few days. Then it was just stupid. Then aggravating.

So there you have it. Maybe I shouldn't write much. There really isn't much here, eh?

Has it been that long?

I was just cleaning up my work e-mails and saw Diane's note to me - "This is my blog address" so I looked at her blog. I then thought I should look at my blog and see what's up. I guess I haven't been on for more than 3 weeks. That seems like a long time, even for a slacker like myself.

This is the time of year that seems to just drag on. There is no college football. The Superbowl is coming up but who cares, really. Then it is a month or so before March madness. I don't really get into college hoops until then. There are just too many teams to follow. And listening to ESPN analysts is as enjoyable as getting the prostate check from a large-fingered intern. So I just wait unntil the bracket comes out, put in my $5 and take a stab at the best sounding teams. I always assume a team like St. Bonaventure must have God on their side so they will likely beat a team with just initials like UNC. That is why I usually end up adding to the winner's pool rather than winning the pool. You just wait - one of these years Ione will play Canesius for the title and I will be the only one to collect it all.

So anyway, I just sit here, day after day, and work. We got the new Wii (it's not really new, it's just new to us) and Faye and I bowl like we are total geeks each and every night. I am proud to say I have made three diferent Miis pros. I usually bowl as Tamsen (she made her own Mii on our system) and she is pretty good. Faye and I are thinking about geting shirts and starting to smoke, we are that good. It is tough to keep up on the biking. Portland has decided to become a winter sity this year and it has snowed a lot. It is hard to seriously bike when there is snow and ice on the roads. Besides, it is way cold and I hate biking when it is so snowy outside. So I do the Wii sports. It is a way to act like I'm exercising when I'm really not doing that much. Although, it is fun to try and snowboard. I realize I would be dead or serioiusly injured if I tried this in real life. Really, I would endanger the lives of all on the slopes if I were to do this in real life. I can make it turn but not like the guys I see on TV. My style is more of a chaos on ice. It is humorous though. I crack myself up each and every time.

So there, I've blogged. Are you happy?

Missionay Schmissionary

We are now in the middle of trying to get Matt ready to go on his mission. In the old days, the days when I went on a mission, you just went in to the Bishop and he filled out your forms and sent them in to a big building in Salt Lake and the rest just magically happened. Well, not so any more. It is a big on-line conspiracy and we are just a tiny blip on the radar.

Well, after hours of trying to log on many different ways I called the missionary department. A very nice, yet condescending, lady got me to a nice, but condescending, man who told me that my bishop needed to initialize the process and then we could access the system just fine. He did insinuate, with the tone of his voice, that perhaps I was not paying a full tithe or maybe, just maybe, I was not worthy enough to access the Lord's website. I got over this and am now in the process of leaving voice messages at every phone my bishop has even used trying to get access to this system before Matt's scheduled physical tomorrow. I think there is a biblical precedent for this in Hezekiah. "Yea, the Priest of Baal shall not triumph over the hosts of the Israelites until he shall gain access to the website of the Moabites.." I am paraphrasing but I think you get the point. It was all about access and band width, even in ancient times.

So now we wait. I hate waiting. When I am ready to get moving I think everyone should be available to get me the information I need. Immediately. No down time. I need answers and I need them now.

Other than that Christmas was bizarre. It was so cold and icy and snowy here that we were mostly homeound the week before Christmas. Of course, that was the week we were planning on getting much of our shopping and such done. The freeways were mostly clear but getting out of our neighborhood was a nightmare. So we sat and enjoyed each other's company. We enjoyed the tree. Then we broke down and opened Sam's present and played on the Wii until we were hurting. We figured the Wii is new and it wouldn't hurt if we made sure there were no bugs or glitches in it before he took it back to Provo. So when Sam and Tamsen finally made it here we wrapped up the Wii box and gave it to them. So who cares if there are already high scores and named players in the system, we were bored out of our noggins and had to do something. We actually purchased our own Wii system the next day and are enjoying the snot out of it as we speak.

So, after many days of not working I am back to work again. I have always felt the sine qua non of a decent vacation is if you can't remember your password when you get back. Unfortunately I was able to remember my passwords when I logged in this morning so, by definition, the vacation was not long enough. I also woke up to more snow on the roads this morning. I can't believe this. We moved to Portland to get away from the snow and now it is all over the place.

During the storm we had snow, then ice, then lots of snow. This caused all sorts of tree limbs to come crashing down all around us. We heard several large branches come down on our roof and hoped for the best. A few days ago I went up on the roof just to see the amount of foliage up there and found out that one of the crashes we heard actually penetrated the roof. Luckily the branch was still stuck in the roof so the hole was plugged quite snugly. I got someone out the same day and they patched the roof so when the remaining rain and snow came the next few days I am comfortable my roof is in no worse shape than it was before all of this happened. They joys of homeownership. We also visited out widow neighbor Eva and found that her back yard was a battleground of broken tree limbs. So a few days ago the entire famiy went back there and cleaned up her backyard. Even Diane and Matt got to enjoy this service for our neighbors. Matt got to use the power saw so that was fun. The rest of us just hauled stuff to different piles. Lots of fun. Eva thinks we are superheroes though. I think we are.

The sun is out. The snow is melting. I am out.

A Partial List

A Partial List

The following is a partial list of things that have or are currently irking me. Now, I know what you are saying, “Dave, you just need to get over this little snit you are having and get on with your life.” To you (and you know who you are) I say "Bite yourself, this is my blog and I am irked so read on, if you dare.

Texas toll roads – Good Lord. This state is huge and sprawling and all that. But do you have to make me stop every 7 miles and pay an additional $1.50. I like the idea of having outer-ring highways that avoid the inner-city traffic but why make me stop every 9 minutes to pay a little bit more. I would be happy to pay the full 5 dollars at the beginning of the trip and be done with it. But no, they designed it to have me stop every few miles and pay a little bit more. And I always seem to be in the lane with the lady looking for exact change. You’ve met her before – she has a combination of Euros, pesos and zlotys and is sure, with the current exchange rates she has exact change.

Airport delays – I am currently writing this aboard my flight from Austin to Las Vegas. It was delayed 20 minutes. Then it was delayed 30 minutes. It was finally delayed 45 minutes but the captain assures me that I will get to Las Vegas with 25 minutes to spare to make my connecting flight back home. Of course when we were boarding the plane the same woman with the exact European change brought on a bag that was clearly not the correct size and she was dead set she could make it fit in the overhead bin, I’m no scientist but a 19 inch deep bin will never hold a 23 inch bag. It just won’t happen no matter how hard you push. Her plan was to push on it, then stand back and say “Huh” and then push it again. Repeat this process 16 times and you have my evening. They eventually convinced her to check the bag and we all got out of the gate after another lengthy delay.

One day business trips – Two hour time differences, two interviews, one conference call and three flight delays. Add in an electronics convention and a lousy hotel bed with a lame TV and I was in rare form when the lady tried to shove the bag in. I thought of a nice place she could shove her bag but kept my mouth shut. "Hey, instead of shoving your oversized bag in the bin, why don't you just shove it right up your..." What an oversized bag, if you know what I mean.

The steward on my flight – he has now asked the people all around me if they want more soda or whatever they are drinking. He has not yet asked me if I would like another shot of diet Coke. The answer is “Yes – I would love another diet Coke.” But he hasn’t asked me that so we will never know if I would have enjoyed the second Coke because it doesn’t look like he is ever going to ask. Yes – I am pissed.

Other airline folks who just don’t get it – My favorite part of the airport experience is the security check. I love taking the computer out of the bag and placing it in a separate bin. I like taking off my shoes and emptying my pockets and my glasses and placing them all in another bin. My favorite is taking off my belt. I’m not sure what security risk a belt poses but I comply, I just do. I especially love it when a lady (you know the one I’m talking about) stops the line when she, no matter how many times she has flown before, runs her bag through the scanner with a full bottle of water. The combination of her looking perplexed and the security guy thinking he has just foiled the next 9/11 plot stops the line for what seems like hours. Of course I am holding my pants up (remember my belt is in a separate bin by now) and just hoping the rest of the day will get better. It rarely does.
Once I am on the flight there is an older lady, not really old but old enough that she surely doesn’t need to listen to the pre-flight instructions. As soon as she feels the urge, she just gets up and heads for the restroom. No matter that the plane is just starting to rev up the engines to take off. She stands up and starts toward the restroom. Well, the ever-vigilant stewardess is able to get her to sit down with a stern “Ma’am” and a look that could slice turnips at 10 paces. The lady sits down with a look of “Now that was out of place.” As soon as she can the stewardess asks the lady if her sojourn to the restroom is an emergency. It isn’t and she sits back down. I think the Darwin theory should just take over – a woman like that will just tumble backwards in the plane until she is unconscious and the rest of us will enjoy the flight that much more.

Enough for now. I’m sure I will come up with more in the future. Stay tuned.

Too Much Church - A Definition

So what really is "too" much church? My definition is - any microsecond more than the three hour block is way too much church. The exception to this definition is if there is pie involved with the additional nanoseconds of church. Today, for instance, was too much church. Faye and I had a 10:00 AM meeting with the other "I-am-so-important-so-listen-to-me" couples. That hour was "Too Much Church - hereinafter referred as TMC. The three hours of church today qualified as TMC becuase we had not one but two high council speakers. So, be definition, it was TMC per se. However, the time after church today was pie-ful so that alone did not qualify as TMC. The other parts of the sabbath did, however, make this a relatively rough Sunday.

Now you will note that I referred to the other couples as "I-am-so-important-so-listen-to-me" couples and we have a lot of them. It makes our job a lit easier. When the other IASISLTM couples talk first, when it comes time to ask the Ormes what they have been doing, any short and succinct response is greatly appreciated. So we look good by comparison. Less pedantic = nice people. An equation to live by.

That is all. Have a wonderful week. I will be in Austin Texas (as opposed to Austin, Hawaii) so there.

Way too much church

It started at 12:30 PM - a missionary farewell at our ward. A young man named Grant going to Houston East in a week or so. A lovely talk and we then left to attend out Young Singles ward(Editors note: I am neither young nor single) So we listened to talk and ward choir numbers (6) - not six numbers, just the number 6) and I fell asleep so doing two Sac Meetings has its silver lining. Then on to Sunday School. There are two classes each being vcery large because there is no Primary or young anything, just Sunday School. So neither of the teachers showed up today. TO me this was perfect. We just don't have Sunday School. BONUS!!! But it was not to be. One gentleman got up after a few minutes and said he would teach our class. Now we are in the middle of the Book of Mormon group of lessons and he could have just started tight where we left off last week but that was not to be as well. He announced he was going to lead a lively discussion on DATING. It was quite the Sunday School. Nows it would have been best to not have it. Better was having the dating discussion. Worst would have been the real lesson so I guess it was a fairly good draw.

Now the lesson was a true window into the collective soul of the Singles Ward. First, we started with a list of gripes, from the male perspective, showing what the boys (yes boys) felt were issues that the women had. Then the real venom, the women's perspective. Some of the comments were quite insightful. Some hilarious. And others just sad, the real reasons so many of these people are still single. I particularly liked the comments I labeled "From the Snippy Bitch" comments. There were many and from various parties. Snippy Bitch comments, they name is Legion. There were plenty of stupid male comments as well. His name is Legion as well. My favorite comment from the male was "If I call and offer to go on a date, my offer of date should supercede any girl's-night you may have already planned." No date for him!

Oh well.

Please unlock Dave

First, Kudos to Isaac for naming the one piece of hardware I have yet to purchase, the double gertered bavarian cold dipped snaus screw. I checked at my local Ace hardward emporium and they come in various lengths and either hot-dipped, cold-dipped or stainless. It goes without saying they are bugle tipped. I bought matching earrings made from them for Faye for Christmas so don't tell her.
And Kudos to Diane for renaming the porch the porck. I will christen it as such when the champagne arrives.

So, I am in a new job with high expectations. I kind of lied my rear end off in the interview, (I invented cheese and the computer) and I am trying my best to figure things out on my own instead of calling every 9 minutes with another "how do I" type question. So this morning my boss asks for a specific document by the end of the day with very specific information. He had even provided the slides from a powerpoint presentation on how to access the database to get the information. Well, this seems like a no-brainer for me. I should be able to review the slides, access the database and send out a memo the likes of which have rarely been seen in all the land. I shall succeed - I just knew it.

Well, you have all tried to gain access to websites and databases when the password and the filename contain numerous letters, numbers and symbols, some of which have to be capitalized or lower cased or whatever. Well, I went through every possible combination of these trying to get into the damned database and I couldn't do it. Before I go on, a note about my boss. He is a British man and can be very finicky , especially when he says he wants something by a certain date. They are refered to as Hardfiles at Farmers and I was recently(just hours before this) called on the carpet because I had missed one of his Hardfiles. So I was not about to miss this one. Anyway, like I said he is a Brit from Kennsington Smythefield Widget Pickleworthe Fudgemonkey-on-Avon, a suburb of Plankmeat Farthington Specialsaucelettucepickle Onasesameseedbun Pencilneck Danglersbotton. He is very particular about everything. So, after literally hours of trying every other avenue to get into this database (I called the helpdesk and HR and people I didn't even know) I finally sent him an e-mail admitting my failure and asked for his help with the database. Minutes later I get the e-mail chain from him - He sent my e-mail to the IT guy and it stated "Please unlock Dave." I spent the better part of my morning trying to get into a database and give him some F-gerund memo and he had me locked out of the database. There is still spit on my computer screen from all the cursing and venom I spewed, yes spewed, when I saw that e-mail.

That was how my morning started.
How was yours.

Nearly a porch

After another weekend (Saturday for you non-mormons) I still have not completed the porch. It has 2/3 of a railing now and is only marginally dangerous for those who venture the risks of actually approaching my door. I approximate that only one in five would actually hurt themsemves on the deck and of those, likely only one in three would take to time to sue me. I can live with those odds.

We started the day at 8:00 AM because deckers are not allowed to sleep in on the weekends. My poor neighbors have heard the whine/scream of a chop saw at 8 AM for the past three weekends. It's like the cock-a-doodle-doo from the Orme's house. Luckily most do not own handguns or I would be a dead duck. We went to the store shortly thereafter because the hardware and wood that I purchased for the remainder of the project were woefully understated. Can you believe it - I didn't even know they made stainless steel deck bolts in 3, 4 and 5 inch lengths. I thought hot dipped was all I had to do. I think not.

We also had to buy very nice cedar for the railing. I understood that, since people would be running their hands on this railing, it had to be the nicest cedar out there, the nicest cedar available to humankind. Cedar so nice each individual piece had to submit a business plan with graphs before it could even be cut down and considered for the position of my railing. Well, we went to the cedar botique and purused the cedar. It was a nice place. A man in a tuxedo brought us both a glass of champagne and had the cedar brought in to the office one at a time. All right, it wasn't quite that outrageous but it was close. Of course we looked at every piece of wood in the store and then chose the must humble 2x4 in the emporium. I should have been scared when there was no price marked near the wood bin. Well, after all was said and paid for I paid almost $22 for a 4 ft piece of wood. So if you come to my house and walk on my porch, plelase feel free to run your grubby little hands all over the railing because it contains part of my soul and some of my 401K. It does look nice though. However, the deck/porch is not done yet. We only got the main part of the railing done. At the top where it makes to two quick turns is still open and dangerous. I can't wait for halloween.

We have the platinum-grade cedar for the top railing and have it properly dove-tailed/mitred and waiting to be placed. When we were ready to do this my lumber-mentor commented that we really needed to use his "oval machine" to do the job properly. Now I confess I've been on the other end of these before. I've sent new scouts on snipe hunts and it was fun. I thought he was kidding but the look in his eyes told me otherwise. He was not about to let me half-ass my way through this last critical step of the porch process. (In fact, I am the king of half-ass. I have special chairs so I can sit down. I even walk a bit funny because of it. I think I am a protected class now.) He would have no confidence in that edge joint unless it was properly ovaled into place. I don't quite understand the process of the oval machine but it sounds like, if the Iraquis had used them previously, it would be an entirely different war over there. I think this should become a campaign issue, seriously. I don't need an economic stimulus check if I can't even afford an oval machine. And another thing - what else in my house needs ovaling? I bet the Japanese have ovalers, and spare ones to boot. I bet Japanese kids are learning ovaling in elementary school while my kids are learning how to save the princess in Mario Brothers. I blame the democrats.

I will let you know how it goes, assuming it is ever finished.

E-mails? Who needs e-mails!!!

I have this recurring nightmare. Not the one with the duck. This is a real one. Where I am happily working and I have tins of information I need to do my job but I know I don't have to remember it all because I have these e-mail files with it all in there. Loads and loads of current information that I can access because I know where it is, it's in my e-mail archives. It's like knowing the answer to final Jeopardy. Comforting. Ahhh!

Well, in my dream I accidentally hit a key, it's a mystery key and I have no idea what it is or how I hit it, but all of the sudden my e-mail files are all gone. They actually disappear before my eyes and I scream the most foul venom at my computer screen. Well guess what happened this afternoon at about 3:35 PM. You guessed it. I had a very similar experience except that I didn't lose all my e-mail archives, I dropped a piece of toast face down in the kitchen. It was awful.

Actually something like that did happen, the e-mails, not the toast. But instead of losing all of my e-mails, they just all got scrambled and dropped into on big mess of a file. So now I have my information but it's all messed up and it takes me forever to locate it. I have a three-day task facing me to re-arrange all of my lovely tasty e-mails into a cogent order again. I'm sure this would not have happend if I was working on a Mac. (Shout out to captain Dad there)

So otherwise, I am now working upstairs in Kevin's old room and it just might work. I want to you all to know I actually changed out of my jammies today when I was at work. I did wait until 2:30 PM to do it but that is not the point. I did change. We had a conference call where we discussed two audit files for almost three hours. I was laying on the bed with my clip board farting too beat the band and no one was the wiser. Except me of course - I was cracking myself up. Some of them were truly masterpieces of flatulent art. I kill me. My butt is the funniest thing on the planet. No joke there.

Anyway, I must now rest up for another jammied day at work.

Deck this!

It is mostly done. The deck, that is. This Saturday we (mostly him) finished the deck proper. The raziling was saved for another day. We want to draw out the pleasure as long as we can. It looks like a deck. It smells like and deck. And people walk on it without fearing for thier lives. At least they do not comment that they fdear for their lives. Before it was a regular occurrence.
I actually look forward to getting the newspaper now.

Faye and I went to the singles ward today and , Woof, what an experience. It is so quiet. If they ever ask me to talk I an going to my other ward, my true ward, the week before and I will tape record the sacrament time and then play it back during my talk. No kids screaming and that means I have to be quiet as well. We can't play games like we used to. You know the one - you lean over to your spouse and pick out another person and whisper it to your spouse. That is the person he has to marry if you suddenly die. When the dry heaves wear off it is your turn. YOu get to choose your husband's next wife. We have done this and have been able to not really hear any of the talks. It's great fun unless one of you actually hurls in the pew (insert your own joke here.) The real talking starts when the speakers get going. I knows young people talk alot but this was almost embarrassing to listen to. One of the speakers started espousing how dating was like your relationship with the Savior. I didn't get it either. But, as soon as he mentioned dating, it was carte blanche to all kibbitz about how everything was about dating and marriage, as if going to the singles ward wasn't about dating and marriage. It was kind of humorous. Also, it was kind of funny - Faye and I thought we were coming in to this ward as the new couple, it turns out that all of us are new couples so no one knows hwat the heck we are doing. All I know is they had little donut holes and cider in the cultural hall after church so I stuck around and fellowshipped a few of them nuggets, if you know what I mean. What a crazy church.

These two auditors are out golfing. The first one tees off and hits a hole-in-one. He is ecstatic. The second one says, "Not according to my R3 Secondary you didn't." They both fall down laughing. That one even makes me laugh. Just kidding.

Kansas City, Eh?

Two nights in Kansas City seems like enough. I like the people I work with and I think they like me. I just don’t need to spend 48 hours together. I wouldn’t mind 48 hours together, just not all at once. A few hours here, then a week off, a few more hours, then a month away. That is how I would like to spend 48 hours with these people.

And here’s another thing. By way of explanation, the first paragraph was the first thing. Otherwise this could not be “another” thing, it would just be a thing. So anyway, if you get up early at a hotel and are forced to shower and get dressed and be forced to wear one of the three shirts you have that say “Farmers” on it, and have to eat breakfast with these same people starting at 7:15 AM. And then after a rigorous discussion during the morning, you have to eat a “working lunch” with them again. And then another grueling discussion where we rehash the same things over and over and over and over again because, if you go to a meeting, even though someone else has just said the very thought in your brain, you still have to say it anyway,otherwise yo have no worth the the company - after 5 more hours of that, they then announce “We have reservations at J. Pierpont Wondershorts for dinner at 6PM.” I mean, really? Huh? After 10 consecutive hours with the same 15 people you really want me to go out to dinner with them as well? What sort of bonding do you think I need to do with these people? I see them in the elevators. (“Hey” is what you say when you see them. That is sufficient.) You see them in the restrooms. (Can I at least pee without you?) You then have to see them every time you eat. And then, as if you now are going to declare them as your dependent, they all want to go to the bar and get drinks afterwards.

Ay carumba. I mean, do you people not have other things to do in their life? I just can’t take these people after that much time together. For heavens sake, these people like to talk about audits, even after work. (These two auditors walk into a bar. The first one says, “Hey, what is your variance?” The second one responds, “TFQ or CR?” They both laugh till the pee themselves. Seriously)

So I am now in the airport waiting for the airline gods to determine if my flight will be on time or I will be forced to make friends with the nice garbage lady again. I went through the security check this afternoon and thought I was OK. No lights or buzzers went off. Then a nice young man with an evil streak and a badge asked me to move to the right and he frisked me with extreme prejudice for, what I thought, was way too long. I asked him at one point when I was going to meet his parents. Then, without explanation, he said I was just fine and asked me to move on so he could target his next hapless victim. I asked what it was that prompted him to treat me with such distain. He looked at me and just pointed to my trays of clothes and shoes and said thank you. I really would like to know what I did so that I could avoid doing it next time. I really didn’t enjoy the rubdown notwithstanding the noises I was making. (I am a little ticklish.)

So there, I’ve been to KC and I am now coming home.

The Porch from Hell

As some of you may know, I am replacing the front porch to my small imitation home in Tualatin. A nice man from our ward came to the house and told Faye multiple times that the front steps to our porch were a death trap and he would love to help me replace it. I finally relented and called him to discuss the possibility of his helping me replace my porch. Well, he had computer drawings and three options before I could say "incomptetent" (and I am referring to myself here.) When I say he helped me, he did all the work and I watched and handed him tools.

Well, he and I reviewed the drawings and finally agreed on option three (remember this because it is a key part of the story later.) He gave me a list of lumber and hardware to purchase and assured me he would come over the Saturday after conference and we would put the porch together before the HP social at 4:30 PM. (Note the omminous music starting to build in the background)

Well, he arrived and the house at 7:30 AM last Saturday and got all of his tools out of his car and set up shop. We tore apart the old porch - that was a lot of fun. I love taking stuff apart. It was done in just a few minutes. He has great tools. I have boy tools - his tools are big-boy man tools and have genitals of their own. It was fast. Then he took a look at the lumber I had purchased. Those of you familiar with foreshadowing will knoe what happens next. I had the wrong wood. It was like it didn't even come from trees. How could a person who went to school and could drive a car pick wood like this. I could hear his eyes rolling back in his head. This wood would not do and we needed to replace it immediately. People who know me know I own two cars, neither of them is a lumber-toting vehicle. I don't think either of my cars could pack anything larger than lincoln logs. So I had to call a friend in the ward who owns a pickup truck. After dialing the wrong number - twice (remember this is before 8AM)- I was able to get ahold of Steve Beikman and I borriwed his truck-like vehicle. I know I don't even have a truck and havce to covet his truck, but this vehicle was a pile of it. It was an eventful trip to Home depot and back. But the good news is, we had the right type of wood. It was beautiful wood, it was the right size, it was very expensive. Oh, option three was not the right option, it was option 1 - I just didn't realize until we were purchasing all new wood.

So, meanwhile, back at the house, there was a large space where my porch used to be and I was wondering which of the many neighborhood kids was trying to knock on my door becoming seriously injured and planning the lawsuit. We got back home and were able to finally start on the porch. Hahahahahah you are such a dope. Of course we could not start on the deck. The joists and nails I purchased were not hot dipped. Apparently, in the old days when our pioneer forefathers were small, people made porches and decks with galvanized nails. In our modern times, it appears that galvanized nails are only used to nail old dog turds to the fence. It was not an option to construct my porch with galvanized nails, thay had to be hot dipped. And don't get me started on the joists. So this time we sent Faye back to Home Depot to get the hot dipped stuff and he went back to his house under the guise of getting some additional tools and stuff. I'm sure he went back home, called all of his friends, and told them all what a baloney-for-brains I was. They all got a huge kick out of the galvanized nails story, I'm sure. HE called then on a hot-dipped phone.

An hour or so later we were back at the house, hot-dipped nails in hand and the right joists in the other - ready to start making a porch. Remember, this story is about building a porch. It is now 11Am and we are ready to start putting a porch where the big porch hole is now. We actually started cutting the very nice wood and made a rough frame for the porch. We hung joists (insert your own joke here) and it was quite sturdy. Well, I was feeling kind of manly all the sudden and felt like we just might build a porch. We stopped for lunch. We had sandwiches. It was great.

Then we started to cut out the risers, the actual steps for the porch. He cut the first one and it was wrong. Luckily it was cut out of the 2x12x12 ft boards, the most expensive and hardest to transport. Well, I ran to the store to get another expensive board. Keep count at home - this was trip number three. So we eventually got all five risers cut out and I was thinking maybe we could really get going on the porch. Well, by this time he was tired and it was time to go socialize with the high priests. So what I had left was an outline/frame where my porch used to be. It did keep the deacons from coming to collect fast offerings on Sunday, so we had that going for us.

Fast forward to this evening, Monday. He came by the house and he asked what the concrete bolts looked like. Go figure, I had the wrong ones. One more trip to Home Depot and I purchased more bolts and a drill bit. After that was purchased we started to connect the risers and after a long time we were actually ready to put the decking on and make the porch look like a porch. He took a look at the decking screws I had purchased. He had actually looked at the box if screws on Saturday and mentioned that we had more than enough to get the job done. Apparently he was just commenting on the quantity of screws, not the quality of them. Well, tonight he actually opened the box o' screws and advised me I have a brain made of anal lunchmeat because these screws were for composite deck material, not wood. We needed bugle head deck screws. He actually said that. He is probably telling his friends now "I told him to get bugle head deck screws, and he bought it.This guy is a maroon." We actually tried one and, to the untrained eye, I thought the deck screws were just fine. Well, I am a botard because he would not have any part of it. So my deck now has risers and nothing else. He said we needed stainless steel screws because - and at this point he said something about the type of wood and some other things but I didn't hear because I just wanted the damned porch to be done. So he is going to purchase some stainless steel screws at a cost just lower than white diamonds and he will put the final decking on when I am out of town the next few days.

So, what did I learn from this. I did not really purchase anything at all that we ended up using on the porch. I had the wrong nails, the wrong wood and the wrong bolts. I clearly have no idea what I am doing when it comes to building a porch. I mean, I would have put the decking on with the lame screws and there would have been little dimples in it. I also learned that anal lunch meat would be a good punk rock band name.

I will be going to Kansas City tomorrow and return Thursday evening late. I might have a new porch when I return. I might have a new house. I really don't know what to expect.
I'll let you know.