Brinkmann ProSeries 2200

Yesterday, you were all (with the exception of Courtney) too concerned with belittling my ant-eradication abilities to give me recommendations for outdoor grills, so I had to take matters into my own hands.

Today, I descended into that mind-numbing purgatory known as the Woodburn WAL*MART Superstore — just a rung above the Canby Fred Meyer on my moral ladder — and made do with my own judgment as a super-shopper.

(The last time I was at the Woodburn WAL*MART — or any WAL*MART — was in March of 1999, at which time Kris and I bought some Phantom Menace action figures for Paul Jolstead’s birthday gift — a belated happy birthday, Paul, by the way.)

I walked away with a $177 Brinkmann ProSeries 2200 heavy-duty gas grill featuring:

  • porcelain-coated hood and body!
  • one-touch electronic igniter!
  • BBQ tool/accessory rack on both ends!
  • porcelain-coated, cast-iron grates!
  • three cast-iron burners!
  • no tools required!
  • feeds up to ten people!
  • one year warranty!
  • propane tank not included�

I was sorely tempted by the $283 Brinkmann model, which weighed 192 pounds instead of 140, and included:

  • stainless steel construction!
  • bonus side burner!
  • under-grill storage compartments!
  • four cast-iron burners!

but it seemed silly to spend an extra $106 on those features. (Jeff, my assistant super-shopper declared side burners “worthless”.)

I’ve made do with a sub-$100 grill for a decade, so the Brinkmann ProSeries 2200 is going to be a quantum leap in grilling technology for the Roth-Gates household; I didn’t want to overdo it.


Work has begun on the foldedspace redesign. You can see the current progress here. The site is not yet fully operational. In fact, none of the links work at all, the search doesn’t work, and you cannot leave comments. All you can do is admire my handiwork.

The site features:

  • fully standards compliant table-less design!
  • a rotating pool of twelve rotating backgrounds!
  • a rotating pool of ten quotes and images!
  • quicker load times!
  • unimplemented hidden easter eggs!

I’d be pleased to take your comments and recommendations into consideration. The basic structure is fixed. I also like the border color and the background color for the text. Everything else is in constant flux (and even these two exceptions are open to change).

Is anything about the new site broken when you view it? Let me know. Is one background better than the others? Are they all terrible? Let me know. Do you agree with one reader’s comments:

I like the new banner at the top as well as the rotating pictures although more nudity would be ok with me!!!!

I’ll make a promise: I’ll give you all more nudity, but it’s going to be of the feline variety.

Comments


On 23 March 2004 (01:24 PM),
Tammy said:

I have one huge question. What happens to us peons?



On 23 March 2004 (01:28 PM),
J.D. said:

You eat off the old grill?

I don’t understand your question, Tammy.



On 23 March 2004 (01:51 PM),
Tammy said:

I am laughiing hysterically. Eating off the old grill?

You see, Jd, when I read this I scarecly read about our precious grill. I had eyes only for your remarks on your site redo. So my question was directed toward your last several paragraphs; What happens to us peons when you redesign? Do we keep the old templates or how is that effected?



On 23 March 2004 (01:51 PM),
Tammy said:

I am laughiing hysterically. Eating off the old grill?

You see, Jd, when I read this I scarecly read about your precious grill. I had eyes only for your remarks on your site redo. So my question was directed toward your last several paragraphs; What happens to us peons when you redesign? Do we keep the old templates or how is that effected?



On 23 March 2004 (01:54 PM),
Joel said:

Well, I had certainly assumed that the new grill was only for Special Occasions, like when the Pope comes over and stuff like that.
When I look at the redesign, there are thin dark lines running vertically and horizontally through the side columns (where the Flotch is kept), almost as if they were acting as a table in a word processing document. The text, however, overflows the boundary marked by the small lines.
Jesus, I feel like Maturin trying to describe a ship’s rigging.



On 23 March 2004 (02:39 PM),
tammy said:

Are you not carrying over your greatest hits column?



On 23 March 2004 (02:41 PM),
J.D. said:

I’ll incorporate the greatest hits into the archives and the “about this site” page. I think it’s helpful for new readers to have access to a selection of better/more popular entries, but there’s no real need to have them on the front page.



On 23 March 2004 (02:46 PM),
Drew said:

Every time I scroll up, I’m booted back to the bottom of the page. Bah!



On 23 March 2004 (03:09 PM),
Dana said:

Those of you having issues should post your browser flavor and version number at the same time. Mozilla Firefox displays it perfectly on both Windows (0.8) and Linux (whatever is in debian unstable).



On 23 March 2004 (03:10 PM),
mart said:

JD: my main gripe is with the typeface. the georgia used now is so much more readable. the new sans-serif is more trying on the eyes, especially over the course of the long-winded-type passages we’ll likely encounter here.

hate the blue bkgd too, like the orange one.



On 23 March 2004 (03:18 PM),
J.D. Roth said:

Mart said: my main gripe is with the typeface. the georgia used now is so much more readable. the new sans-serif is more trying on the eyes, especially over the course of the long-winded-type passages we’ll likely encounter here.

I agree. The sans-serif typeface is just temporary. I haven’t started working on the fonts yet. I don’t know if I’ll keep the Georgia, but I’ll have something serifed so that when we get full of hot air, it’s easier to keep track. I’ll probably keep the default font for the sidebars, etc.

I’ll try to get a new font up shortly.



On 23 March 2004 (05:01 PM),
Paul said:

Wal*Mart does not allow its employees to unionize, but at least Fred Meyers employees are unionized. Whether you support a union of your own or not shouldn’t affect your support of the right for others to collectively bargain. Walmart Sucks!!! Please reconsider your actions in regards to supporting that company.



On 23 March 2004 (05:06 PM),
Joel said:

I’m not sure that two purchases in five years totaling perhaps $200 can be properly described as “support.”



On 23 March 2004 (06:44 PM),
Tammy said:

I shop Wal*Mart all the time. I understand all the reasons for not shopping there but frankly I don’t have enough money to shop just anywhere. A quilt I bought for my son was 19.99 at their store. The same quilt was 59.99 at Fred Meyer. With that kind of savings, whether or not they’re unionized means little. I’m just trying to keep a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, quilts on our beds and food in our mouths. If Wal*mart is the only way I can do that then Wal*mart is where I will shop!



On 24 March 2004 (07:25 AM),
Nikchick said:

Walmart’s sins are far worse than merely not allowing their workers to unionize. Walmart’s low prices come at a cost far more offensive to my moral foundation: employing the worst kinds of foreign sweatshops, applying their massive purchasing power to force suppliers into unprofitable agreements, using their massive purchasing power to act as censors on books, music, movies and games, using contract workers, illegal immigrants and other powerless and desperate people in order to get away with paying outrageously low wages and no benefits.

Shopping at Walmart is not affordable, if you look past the price sticker and see what it’s costing you in the policies of foreign manufacturing, low benefits, high deductables, low wages, and all the other policies that Walmart has honed to a razor’s edge (and which other companies are desperate to adopt in the name of “fair competition”).



On 24 March 2004 (07:33 AM),
Jeff said:

Amen Nikchick!

I will go to a big box store (Walmart, Home Depot, etc) only if I can’t find something at my local hardware store (with the friendly old duffers who know everything about everything).

I don’t mind paying a little extra for something to support the local stores (and I get a little bit of customer service in the process).



On 24 March 2004 (11:01 PM),
Tammy said:

The newest addition to misc. flotch is really bad. I’m going to pretend it’s not there.



On 25 March 2004 (07:49 PM),
Lisa said:

The redesign is very cool. Love the background pattern, the color scheme of creme and red, the logo, and the nice thick dividers between sections. Not so fond of the blue text for the links.

Also, what has Fred Meyer done to rank it below WALL*MART? That’s a dubious accomplishment that I didn’t believe was possible.



On 25 March 2004 (08:03 PM),
J.D. said:

The Canby Fred Meyer. Only the Canby Fred Meyer, which destroyed perfectly good farmland and expanded this town in a way that was not necessary (and further hastened its descent into homogenous suburbia) and for which the city government bent over backwards to accommodate, and then to screw. I have a long history of hating the Canby Fred Meyer.

In general, Fred Meyer is no more or less evil than other similar regional conglomerates. At least they’re local to Portland; that assuages my guilt to some extent, you know?

WAL*MART is most definitely evil, and I avoid them when possible, as evidenced by my two visits in five years. I think that Tammy needs to ask herself “What would Jesus do?” I can guarantee he would not shop at WAL*MART.

In other news: I used the grill for the first time tonight. The chicken looked great. Then, when I cut it open, it was undercooked.

Hmmm.

I need to work on my technique.



On 26 March 2004 (08:45 AM),
Jeff said:

JD said: In other news: I used the grill for the first time tonight. The chicken looked great. Then, when I cut it open, it was undercooked.

You need to crank that puppy up to high, man! Actually, if it was done outside and undercooked inside, you probably need to turn the heat down a little (or just give it a little more time with the lid closed).



On 29 April 2004 (11:29 PM),
tim said:

how do you like the brinkmann 2200 gas grill..i am looking at the same one.
thanks

Ants of Mystery

Our household’s ongoing struggle with the local ant population is the stuff of legends. I’ve mentioned it here ad nauseum, and I’m going to continue to mention it until we wipe the motherfuckers from the face of the earth.

Our latest futile effort involves those little plastic ant traps that we’ve tried again and again. They never work.

The packaging on the new ones proclaim “now with two foods that ants love”. Right. They may love the food, but the trick is to actually get the little bastards inside the traps. If they’d go in, then maybe they’d adhere to the dream procedure: carry the food (and the poison) back to the nest, wiping out all of the little buggers, including the queen.

So we got these new traps. We bought two packages of four, giving us eight traps. I placed them in strategic locations around the house (both inside and out). I’ve been checking them almost every hour, but none of them ever have ants in them. The ants just don’t seem to care. They’d rather be exploring the trash.

Yesterday, while lying on the lawn to take a photo of the cherry tree, I discovered an ant trail — no, an ant highway — running from the Secret Lair of the Motherfuckers, across the bald spot in our lawn, and then — get this — up the cherry tree: up the trunk, past the crown, up the limbs and out of sight.

What are these ants doing?

Why are they climbing the cherry tree? Are they after the cherry blossoms? If so, why not go after the blossoms lower on the tree? Why climb the tree to near the very top?

Or, is it somehow possible they have some secret plan for world domination. Maybe they have a little ant-sized rocket ship hidden in the upper reaches of the tree. Maybe they’re working feverishly to complete an ant bomb in retaliation for the hordes of ants we’ve killed over the past few years.

Whatever. I don’t care.

I gathered three of the new ant traps and placed them directly in the ant highway. “Aha, you little motherfuckers,” I thought. “I have you now!”

Of course, I didn’t have them now. Or ever.

When the ants came upon the large impediments in the middle of their highway, they simply walked around them. Grrrr.

I noticed that certain pieces of grass served as special ant conduits, parts of the highway that every ant was obligated to travel. I carefully bent a couple of these pieces of grass so that they ran into the openings of the traps. The ants would walk down the grass but, just as they reached the opening, they would turn around and go back in search of an alternate route.

I held out hope that one ant — a single ant — would overcome his slavish obedience to the Ant Will and, out of curiousity, wander inside a trap to feed on one of the “two foods that ants love”.

Hope was all I had.

Once, toward evening, I went out side and looked at the traps again. Look! Inside one was a single ant, crawling over the surfaces of both foods that ants love. Alas, he didn’t seem to be feeding so much as wandering lost. He couldn’t seem to find an exit. I went in the house to get Kris, to show her my single ant prize, but when we returned, it had escaped.

Damn.

Have these ant traps ever worked for anyone?


Sometimes I’m able to find a consistent morning rhythm. I’m out of bed at the same time every morning, in the bath at the same time every morning, out the door at the same time every morning, at my desk at the same time every morning. When this happens, it’s not unusual to pass the same cars and people every day on my drive to work.

One of those I’m passing now is a fellow on a motorcycle. Each day as I turn right from 13th to Ivy, he’s waiting at the red light. I need to take my camera with me one of these days, because he’s quite a sight.

Mostly, I guess he looks like any other biker except that his leather jacket is red. What really sets him apart, though, is his helmet. On top of his helmet, for no apparent reason, is a foot-tall metal spike.

I’m not kidding.

He looks like a frickin’ unicorn!

Comments


On 22 March 2004 (09:08 AM),
drew said:

Wallpaper your house in the same tileset as your website. That’ll scare the buggers off.



On 22 March 2004 (09:12 AM),
mart said:

bah. i like the color and depth for a change…



On 22 March 2004 (09:15 AM),
J.D. said:

Trust me: there’s worse to come.

I’m playing with design elements to see what I like. Today it’s an orange tiled background. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Fortunately, I have a clear idea of what I want in my re-design, so I don’t think much tinkering will be required. The real problem is that I’m borrowing heavily from another fellow’s layout. If the final product mutates, as I expect it to do, then that won’t be an issue. If, however, my final layout is too close to his, I’m going to ask him for permission to use his code-base :/



On 22 March 2004 (10:27 AM),
dowingba said:

I see you’ve been over to Squidfingers looking for background patterns. I like this one cause it looks like chain-mail to me.

In case you were wondering, it is entirely possible to have a three columned layout using only CSS (ie: no tables). I’ve never done it, personally, but I don’t envision what the problem would be.

I know a thing or two about ants, as well. You see, they send out “scouts” to find food. Those scouts leave a “chemical trail” that leads to the food they find. They leave a little puddles of chemicals periodically as little landmark nodes for their armies, like when you’re camping and you leave a trail of twigs so you don’t get lost. If you can find one of these chemical nodes, I’m sure there are some truly dastardly things you can do to the ants. Have you ever played the game “Lemmings”? You know how there’s some places where a big hydrolic thing periodcally crushes your line of lemmings as they walk under it? Just food for thought…



On 22 March 2004 (11:07 AM),
Dave said:

I’ve already told JD about the ant pheremones/scent trails, but he doesn’t ever want to do anything about it, just complain. A little bleach or ammonia in some water and you can wipe out their scent trails and they can’t find their way around.

As for the (poisoned) ant food, believe me there are things that you can feed them that they won’t ignore. The trick is apparently to get the right thing for the right type of ant. We had pavement ants in our basement at one point. The exterminator came out, sprayed the base of the house and the put out a bunch of bait. Within 5 minutes those pesky bastards were swarming the poison and carting it off. In order to get rid of them from the main nest, Karen found a couple of their main exit holes and used a small bottle of super duper poison on the top of the hole. Next day, no more ants.

Does JD want to follow my advice? Noooooo. He’d rather complain about the ants than actually get rid of them. I think that he really likes the ants. They’re his buddies, his play pals. What would he do without them? He’d have to post one of those other blog postings that he’s working on at the moment…



On 22 March 2004 (11:14 AM),
J.D. said:

Do you think we haven’t tried to get rid of these things? Wiping out their scent trails works for maybe a day or two. Then new scouts lay down new trails and you’re back to square one.

We’ve had the exterminator out a half-dozen times in the last eighteen months. They’ve laid down every conceivable type of poison. They cause a temporary decline in the ant population, but within weeks the ants are back.

I don’t think I’m just whining and not acting. Trust me, we’ve done plenty of acting.

There’s a reason I call these little motherfuckers motherfuckers…



On 22 March 2004 (11:28 AM),
Dave said:

1) Wiping out the scent trail will not work forever, you need to keep doing it.
2) Obviously they’re attracted to something otherwise they wouldn’t keep coming back
3) The fact that you wipe out the scent trail inside the house doesn’t effect the scent trail OUTside the house (which is leading them to the house itself). Therefore you need to wipe out the outside trail as well.
4) Find the main nest and poison the main nest, not just around the house.
5) Consider that you may limiting yourself to using weanie-boy toxic chemicals because you don’t want to harm your cats. If that’s the case, then move the cats somewhere for a short period of time and nuke the damn ants.
6) If all else fails, remember that ants are not resistant to fire. Find the nest, dig it up, liberally apply gasoline and set the damn thing on fire. (Without attracting the attention of the Canby fire department of course)
Remember that your object is to KILL the ants. All of them. The more the merrier. The object is not just to keep them out of the house. That would be a fine objective, but they’ve proven that they can’t follow orders and stay out of the house. Kill kill kill. You ain’t blood thirsty enough, druid boy!!



On 22 March 2004 (11:39 AM),
Joel said:

It is times like these that I sit and ponder the question, “What would Wendell Berry do?”



On 22 March 2004 (11:52 AM),
Lisa said:

Oooh! The squidfingers patterns are extremely cool.



On 22 March 2004 (12:19 PM),
tammy said:

If nothing else works cut down that tree they live in!



On 22 March 2004 (12:25 PM),
Dana said:

Dave speaks much ant-related wisdom. Heed him. Consider getting different exterminators. Find the main nest (probably in your crawlspace, I assume).



On 22 March 2004 (12:31 PM),
Dana said:

Which reminds me — exactly which species of ant are we talking about? Do you know? And the trail that was making a ‘bee-line’ (ant-line?) for the tree — where was it coming from?



On 22 March 2004 (12:32 PM),
Emily said:

The pattern is fine, but the color is harsh.



On 22 March 2004 (01:14 PM),
dowingba said:

You could always build a moat between the ant hive and your house. Now, if you see the ants building little boats then it’s time to be afraid…

Am I the only one who think there might be a connection between this ant problem and J.D.’s apparent sugar addiction.



On 22 March 2004 (04:19 PM),
tammy said:

Ah, dowingba, me thinks thou art making fun of Jd’s little problem. Ants and boats? Tis easy to see thee does not grasp the seriousness of this situation!



On 22 March 2004 (08:46 PM),
Johnny Doe said:

Uh, Tammy, I think that should be:
“‘Tis easy to see thou graspeth not the seriousness of this situation.”

But then again, I never could keep straight the second person singular v. the first person singular for those archaic phrases, so perhaps it should be thou dost not grasp, or thou doest not grasp.

Where’s a handy Thor comic book when you need one?



On 22 March 2004 (10:50 PM),
kaibutsu said:

If you want to console yourself, you might try reading “The Argentine Ant,” by Italo Calvino.

Imagine if Kafka had written about pest problems…



On 23 March 2004 (09:49 AM),
Courtney said:

We have a very mild ant problem. I placed 4 of those plastic Raid ant traps and have only seen one ant in the last week. My parents had a serious ant problem. They have Orkin come out and spray every month and the problem seems to be under control. It’s an expensive solution but it seems to be working.

Back to your question about BBQ’s. I got Andrew a grill for his last birthday and we LOVE it. It’s a Weber Performer Grill – it uses charcoal but has a gas igniter. It also has a nice surface area. You can see one for yourself at www.webergrills.com.

Sunny Sunday

On a sunny Sunday afternoon in March, the world is both dulcet and abuzz with activity.

Simon, sprawled on the couch, represents the former:

[photo of Simon sprawled on the couch]

Outside, Nemo represents the latter. He darts hither and yon, pouncing on unsuspecting insects. No gnat is safe. It’s only through great perseverance that I can get him to pause even for a moment in order to snap this shot:

[photo of Nemo playing in the grass]

I’m sprawled on the warm grass. Kris is on the patio reading a book.

The world is quiet.

Or is it? There’s a constant low buzzing hum emanating from the cherry tree:

[photo of cherry tree in bloom]

It only takes a moment to realize that the tree is aswarm with honey bees busily collecting pollen:

[photo of a bee gathering pollen from a cherry blossom]

One of the bees mistakenly flies into the house, panicking Toto (who hates all things that buzz). Kris tries to coax it outside, but in the end she has to smush it.

We have book group here tonight. It’s tempting to cancel it on account of good weather…

Comments


On 21 March 2004 (04:15 PM),
stacy said:

Beautiful animals.

Self-Definition

How does one define oneself?

Does Jeremy define himself as a car salesman? When Mac thinks of himself, does he think of himself as a teacher? Does Pam think of herself as a doctor? Dave as a lawyer? Jenn as a mother? Craig as an architect?

Do we define ourselves only by what it is we do to make money?

I’m reading the Hitler book again. I need to have it finished for book group on Sunday, but I keep getting sidetracked by thought experiments.

For example, the author — Ron Rosenbaum — goes to great lengths to try to define Hitler, as if defining him would somehow explain what he did. Was Hitler a mountebank? Or was he utterly sincere in his evil? Was he natural or was he unnatural? Was he human or was he something else? Rosenbaum’s attempts to define Hitler made me wonder: how do I define myself?

We went over to Jeremy and Jennifer’s for dinner the other night. At some point, I said something (which I can no longer remember) that made Kris smile at my thought process. In my defense I said, “But I’m a writer.” As if that explained why I thought as I did. And that’s the first time I can recall actually defining myself as a writer.

Later, thinking about it, I realized that I do think of myself as a writer now. I’m not a boxmaker or a computer programmer or anything else.

I am a writer.

But what does that mean?

And what, then, is Dana? What is Andrew? What is Tammy? What is Joel?

Is dowingba a dishwasher? Or is he a musician?

Are we defined by the work we do? By the hobbies we keep? By our personalities? What is it that makes up the one-word (or few-word) definition of our lives?

How does one define oneself?

Comments


On 19 March 2004 (11:27 PM),
dowingba said:

I think it’s how we think of ourselves. I don’t think of myself as “a dishwasher”. I totally think of myself as “a musician” though, even though I make no money doing it. I don’t think of myself as “a writer”, even though I write almost every day, and have even produced a novel before.

It might be more clear cut for me than for you, though. I mean, I’m obsessed with music. There is nothing I like more than music. Not even close.



On 20 March 2004 (08:29 AM),
Dana said:

As you might imagine, I’ve thought a lot about this, too.

I’ll tell you how I define myself. I’m a person — a person who does various things, like programs computers, sees movies, plays RPGs, and stuff like that.

I define myself as a female person, even though my tackle currently says differently, and my chromosomes will always say differently.

Words like ‘writer’, ‘musician’, and ‘dishwasher’ are descriptions of activities that are undertaken by people. Saying ‘I’m a writer’ is saying ‘I’m a person who writes’. The ‘person’ is always there as an unstated assumption.

And I think it’s important to define oneself in terms of what one is as a person — what we think, feel, and believe — as opposed to what one does as a person — writing, playing music, washing dishes.

The activites are important, but the qualities are more important, I think.



On 20 March 2004 (09:45 AM),
Tammy said:

Defining oneself as a person is not defining oneself. To define oneself as a female or male person is not defining oneself. Nature defined that at birth.

In my opinion, (I insert that for Dana’s benefit)I think we define ourselves by our passions. Jd, I have had similar experiences where I have said something off the wall and everybody looks at me like I’m from Mars. My only explanation for my strange train of thought is because I’m a writer. I’ve had to explain that to people many times before. Writers think differently than others. They view the world differently. I had to explain this to my neighbor lady just yesterday and now I can’t remember what I said! But she gave me a funny look. I answered the same as you did, “I’m a writer.”

Unlike you, JD, I have thought of myself as a writer for years. Having my first story published at ten years old in a Sunday School paper has forever marked me as a writer, in my own little mind. I had a school teacher in the 4rth and fifth grade who saw great potential in me and really thought I would grow to publish a book someday. I saw that teacher again several years ago for the first time since 1969. One of the first things she asked me was if I had written any books yet. She had not forgotten.

I love to garden and bake but I don’t define myself by those things. I define myself first as a mother than as a writer. Hmmm, I mever really define myself as a wife. Not sure why that is. Maybe I need to look into that.



On 20 March 2004 (12:33 PM),
Van said:

A difficult question. The amazing thing is sometimes how little we even know about ourselves. I remember on the wall of my 2nd grade classroom was a poster defining the essential question of personal identity:
“you are what you eat”

Although that lacks dazzling philosophical significance and could not appear on a doctoral thesis, it has a wonderful simple truth to it that transcends time. My answer then is:

“I am a Quizno’s sandwich” (Chicken Carbonara on Rosemary Parmesan Bread, to be more precise).



On 20 March 2004 (01:28 PM),
Dana said:

Tammy: Defining oneself as a person is not defining oneself.

But it is, Tammy.

When someone says they are a writer, a wife, or a mother, you are ‘subdividing’ the larger category of people. You are saying that you are a person that fits categories X, Y, and Z. But in the case you (and JD) are discussing, X, Y, and Z are all activities.

I prefer to define myself as a Person who has a set of Qualities — I believe X, I think Y, I feel Z — instead of a set of activities.

It’s just a different way to categorize things. I find it more useful.

I know lots of computer programmers. But they’re all very different from one another. So saying ‘I’m a programmer’ isn’t a very useful subdivision for me. Likewise, I know several people who define themselves as scientists, or writers. Again, lots of differences between them.

But I find a lot of similarity between all the kind people I know. So I find it more useful to talk about a person falling into the ‘Kind’ category than into the ‘Writing’ category.

Shrug.

This is just me, of course. Since I find those categories helpful, it’s how I also define myself.

I’m a person. I read a lot. I (think) I’m humble and diplomatic. I’m fairly technical. I try to be fair minded — I believe in fair mindedness and equality. I believe in kindness, compassion, and empathy. I think logic and science are useful and fun. I have a droll sense of humor.

I think those kinds of categories are more useful than ‘I’m a writer’. I’d rather know why you or JD write than know that you do.



On 20 March 2004 (01:51 PM),
Tammy said:

I’m a person is ridiculous. If you weren’t a person there would be nothing to define. There’s no point in mentioning it. No one ever doubts that some one is a person. How can that define you. The only way it defines is to seperate you from a plant or an animal.

And to say your humble? How do I say this as nicely as I can? Let’s just say that I don’t see humility as being a strong point of yours. In fact, I see it just the opposite. Have you ever heard the saying that when you start talking about how humble you are that it’s a sure sign you’re not? Now Dana, I like you and all and I know I’m always clashing with you but I just want to say that I mean no offense by what I just said. Kudos to all.



On 20 March 2004 (02:50 PM),
Dana said:

No one ever doubts that some one is a person.

I think we take it for granted, and I think it’s useful to acknowledge that, fundamentally, we’re all the same. All of us.

And to say your humble? How do I say this as nicely as I can? Let’s just say that I don’t see humility as being a strong point of yours. In fact, I see it just the opposite.

Well, to be fair, I said I think I’m humble. Not the same thing.

Am I humble? I don’t really know. I suppose a better way to put it is that I value and aspire to humility.

I am not a great person. I’m not sure I’m a particularly good or even ‘average’ person. I’m certainly not any better than anybody else I know.

I haven’t done anything significant, and I doubt I ever will. My impact on the grand scheme of things is likely to be minimal if not completely inconsequential. My skills and abilities are eclipsed by many other people’s. I’m not uniquely good at anything, nor even particularly expert. Frankly, I consider that I’ve failed at every thing of any consequence that I’ve ever tried. What success I’ve had I largely attribute to luck and the help of others.

The thing I’m most proud of in life is having helped a friend out of debt and depression.

I try to be as good as possible to my friends, and I try to be kind to people I don’t know, too. I try to stand up for principles that I believe in, and understand the principles of others that disagree with me. I try not to judge others harshly, and I try to treat them with respect and kindness whatever I feel towards them or their beliefs.

Am I humble? Probably not, but I try. Am I a miserable excuse for a human being? I certainly hope not, but it’s also entirely possible.



On 20 March 2004 (03:47 PM),
Tammy said:

Well I wasn’t trying to imply that you were a miserable excuse of a human being. Goodness no. And thats one thing about having kids; a persons impact goes on and on long after death, in fact it goes on till the end of time.



On 21 March 2004 (10:25 AM),
jenefer said:

Perhaps Dana’s point is that she spends time thinking about her humanity and all that implies, before thinking about labels for her activities. I think Dana is a much more philosophical person than most of us, just as I feel about jd. I love reading this site and expanding my thought processes almost every day. Too bad I type so slowly and don’t have hours and hours for discourse.

3

First, a bit of housekeeping:

  • For Saturday’s Chicken Noodle Fest, I made Texas sheetcake, a favorite family dessert. It was a disaster. I posted my story in the Ask Metafilter thread about favorite recipes. Kris, unaware that I’d already written this story, typed up her version, too, intending to goad me into posting it as a guest foldedspace entry. Instead, I created a weblog for her. You can find her story here. Kris protests that she doesn’t want a weblog of her own, but she wanted me to make sure you all read her story today. If you like her writing as much as I do, tell her so. Maybe she’ll write more!
  • The Foldedspace Fantasy Baseball League needs managers. We have seven owners, but I’d like at least three more. Our league is hosted by Yahoo!, uses a head-to-head format, and will implement an automatic draft (which will be held in a week or two). If you’re interested, please sign up. The league ID number is 165247, and the password is ichiro51. This is a low-pressure league.
  • I’ve made some changes around here in an effort to fight the growing nuisance of comment spam. The only noticeable change should be that on archived entries, you must hit preview before being allowed to post a comment. There’s a small chance that you may have a comment rejected by my comment filter. If this happens, let me know and I’ll fix it.

And now, on with the show�

On 16 March 2001 I stumbled upon a site called Blogger. I read a bit of the site’s propaganda, followed a few links, liked what I saw. Blogger was a tool to automate the process of maintaining a website. (Blogger is a content management system, though I didn’t know the phrase the time.)

I’d maintained a website since the fall of 1994, but had never been diligent about it. I posted occasional updates about my diet (1997, 1998), chess tournament reports, pictures of cats, and stories about our vacations, but that was it.

In 1998, after becoming addicted to the journals of Michael Rawdon and Karawynn Long, I tried to keep my own on-line journal. I enjoyed writing, but I hated having to manually code every page. My journal lasted only a few weeks.

Blogger, it seemed, would free me from this chore.

Three years ago today, this weblog was born. I had an audience of two: Kris and Dana. Mostly I wrote about random, geeky things. I didn’t have a focus. I told myself I was keeping a weblog to improve my writing skills, but I never really tried to improve my writing. I took days off at a time. After 9/11, I took off an entire month.

Eventually, it dawned on me that a weblog could be more than just a place for random thoughts. It really could be a place to practice writing. Hadn’t I always told myself I wanted to be a writer? Here was an opportunity to hone my skills. Through conversations with Mac and Pam, I realized that keeping a public journal was fraught with moral dilemmas. Still, I decided to become more serious about my weblog, to use it for extended entries, and especially for character sketches and writing fragments. I started by focusing on personal history.

On 22 January 2002, I moved from Blogger to Movable Type, and the current incarnation of Foldedspace was born.

For twenty-six months, I’ve been writing about my personal history, about my belief system, about my friends and family, about books (especially Proust) and movies and music I love, about my surgery, about clamdigging and clam chowder, and about all of my geeky pursuits. Through it all, I’ve attempted to relate the stories I encounter in daily life.

There have been times I’ve walked a fine line between what is and is not acceptable to write in a public forum; there have been times I’ve offended friends (most notably an instance in which I criticized Mac re: book group — sorry, Mackenzie!); there have been times I’ve struggled to find a voice. Sometimes I don’t feel like writing for days at a time. Sometimes I’m full to bursting, feel I could write a dozen consecutive entries, all new and exciting.

I’m glad to have this forum, and to have you here to share it. I know that sometimes — like today — I lapse into the tedious or the maudlin. I know that my entries are often filled with typos. I know I sometimes cross the line to ubergeekdom. I think it’s all worth it, though, for the days I’m able to actually write, to turn out something I’m proud of and that my audience enjoys reading, for the days we argue over whether everything here is true.

I guess all of this is to say: Thank You. It’s been a great three years keeping this weblog. I hope to keep it for three years more (or longer!).


This is the 674th entry in this weblog. There are 3651 comments.

The most popular entry here, both in terms of total comments and in terms of ongoing monthly visits, is my request for sexy songs. Two thousand people a month visit that entry, and it now has ~155 comments making 857 recommendations. The most recommended sexy song (ten suggestions) is Nine Inch Nails’ Closer (not sexy! not sexy! sheesh�). In second (with eight recommendations) is Paula Cole’s Feelin’ Love (very sexy).

There’s been an ongoing meta-discussion that helps define the composition of the Foldedspace community (such as it is). That discussion started (I think) with Dana’s coming out as transgendered (5/13/03). The discussion continued with Everything Here is True (9/8/03), Denied (2/8/04), and Amend This (2/25/04). These are the major threads in the discussion, though it continues from time-to-time in one-off comments here and there. (And in Tammy’s weblog.)

My own favorite entry is Independence Day, but that’s because it’s so intensely personal. (I’m also partial to my pseudo-philosophical musings.)

The numbers in the following table represent the average daily visits to the front page of the site. Visits are not the same as hits. One visit can create multiple hits if a person reloads a page.

2001   2002   2003   2004
Month V/D   Month V/D   Month V/D   Month V/D
            Jan 153   Jan 332
            Feb 160   Feb 457
Mar 1         Mar 190   Mar 507
Apr 1         Apr 219      
May 3         May 254      
            Jun 230      
            Jul 249      
      Aug 33   Aug 353      
      Sep 39   Sep 341      
      Oct 47   Oct 330      
      Nov 73   Nov 355      
      Dec 93   Dec 334      

I don’t know who all of you readers are. Many of my friends and family read this weblog, but so do many strangers. Don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself — contribute to the discussion.

Comments


On 16 March 2004 (11:42 AM),
Amanda said:

Happy Bloggiversary!

Glad to see that our paths must have crossed somehow through Karawynn. I was just wondering the other day how I happened to stumble across your site.



On 16 March 2004 (02:28 PM),
Joel said:

Foldedspace: first on my Favorites tab, first in my heart.
I’ve started using the term “foldedspaceland” (as elegant and facile as it is) to signify my friends around here and their activities. Certain movies and books are definitely from foldedspaceland, as well as ideas, moods, and brands of wine.
The Chickennoodle Fest was a great opportunity to add a little meat to an otherwise ethereal community, I was able to put a face to a lot of my fellow posters. I sort of wish I’d made more of an effort in that regard, but, then again, that wasn’t ostensibly what the party was about.



On 16 March 2004 (10:31 PM),
dowingba said:

There’s meatspace; there’s cyberspace; and then there’s foldedspace. What more can I say?



On 19 March 2004 (08:37 AM),
Peter said:

Hi J.D.,

I’ve been reading your blog for a while, I think I got here from WWDN but I can’t remember. I love your writing style, keep it up. I’ll be contributing more often in the future…

BTW, I really like the design of your site and the way comments and the “On this day at foldedspace.org” links work. Cool.



On 19 March 2004 (09:11 AM),
LAS said:

Short time reader, first time commenter, I found your site just after the new year, when I was researching the infamous Cinnamon Bear. I had found a site that contained MP3s of the episodes (public domain, luckily), which I am going to burn for my family. I was looking for the name of the store in Portland that hosted a Cinnamon Bear for kids to visit. Three months later, I now look forward to my Saturday mornings, which include net-surfing and catching up with your goings-on. Thanks.

Host Hunt

I’ve been researching web hosts over the past several days, preparing to move foldedspace.org to one offering more space and a lower price.

What is a web host?

Foldedspace.org, and every other web site, resides on computer called a webserver. This webserver is connected to the internet at all times, allowing you faithful readers to have instant access to this site’s content.

While it’s possible for a person to host a web site on their own personal computers (a la Matt and his family of sites), there are many reasons to pay another company to do this for you.

I’ve been paying Omnis Hosting to host my web site. In the four years I’ve been with them, they’ve not altered their service packages an iota. When I signed up, it cost $17/month for 100mb of disk space, 10gb of transfer, and 25 e-mail addresses. It still costs $17 for 100mb of disk space 10gb of transfer and 25 e-mail addresses.

The foldedspace.org family of web sites has grown so that it occupies about 95mb of disk space (more if I forget to clean out the stats files, or if Denise uploads a bunch of cute pictures of Ryan and I don’t remember to reduce their size). Combined, we generate about 2gb of traffic every month. Omnis’ plan is no longer acceptable.

Take a look at what other companies offer:

Company $/mo Disk Transfer E-mail Subd.
Powweb $8 1gb 150gb 650 unl.
Citizen Hosting $8 500mb 20gb 300 ???
iPowerWeb $8 800mb 40gb 400 ???
Total Choice(a) $9 850mb 12gb unl. yes
Dreamhost(a) $10 500mb 25gb 75 15
Surpass Hosting(a) $10 2gb 30gb unl. ???
Surpass Hosting(b) $15 4gb 35gb unl. ???
Total Choice(b) $15 1gb 18gb unl. yes
Omnis Hosting $17 100mb 10gb 25 no
Dreamhost(b) $20 1.6gb 40gb 375 75

Omnis Hosting provides the weakest package of the bunch. Whenever I’ve contacted them about adding a la carte features (in other words, adding more disk space at some set fee, say $5/100mb), they’ve refused to do it. They say I need to upgrade to the next plan. Even their top plan, at $27/month, only offers 200mb of storage. A change is in order.

I’m currently leaning toward Powweb. For $8/mo, they offer quite a bit of disk space and unlimited subdomains. I also like their great help forums.

Here’s my plea to you: if you have a web site (in particular, a weblog), please share your experiences with your hosting service. Who are you with? What do they offer? How much does it cost? Are you happy with them? I’m trying to make an informed decision, and the more info I can gather, the better.

Comments


On 15 March 2004 (09:56 AM),
Lisa said:

Matt H. and I both use 1&1 hosting. They ran a potentially too good to be true deal last year (3 years free). I don’t have time to figure out what their deal is now, but they’ve been reliable so far.

www.1and1.com



On 15 March 2004 (11:02 AM),
Cat said:

I’ve been with Cornerhost for a few years now, and I’ve never had a better experience. Admittedly, the online tools are not fully developed, but it’s run by a real person who understand the needs of bloggers.

The plan list is here:

http://www.cornerhost.com/plans/

Good luck on your switch–it’s always a litte nerve-wracking.



On 15 March 2004 (12:22 PM),
Jared said:

My site is hosted off of the ISP that I work for so I get it for free. However I have seen that ReadySetConnect.comhas pretty good rates.



On 15 March 2004 (12:22 PM),
dowingba said:

Something about DreamHost that does not show up in your chart is that they offer unlimited MySQL databases, even on their cheapest (500mb) plan. That means you could use a different database for each of your “family” of weblogs, if you wanted (which would speed up the dynamic loading of comment scripts and would speed up posting entries and comments as well, and so forth).

Don’t use 1and1. I used them for a while because of their 3 years free offer (which isn’t offered anymore) and, quite frankly, they suck. They’re SQL databases (each user gets 1) are embedded in other databases and so on and so on to the point that it’s ridiculously slow and unreliable. Also they don’t offer phpMyAdmin or anything to manually edit database tables and the like, and scripts such as cgi and php don’t even work properly. Their new deals aren’t good value anyway, for what they offer.

Of all those hosts in your list I’ve used (and use currently,as you know) DreamHost, and they’ve been great so far (about a week). I’ve used 3 different webhosts in the past 6 months, and I think I can sniff out a crappy host now from a mile away.

Again, I will recommend you go look at the DreamHost support forums to find out just what kind of a company they are. I think you’ll be pleased at the honest way they run a business. They’ve been around since 1997, too, which gives added stability (they won’t just go out of business all of a sudden, for instance).

DreamHost has the most advanced control panel I’ve ever seen, also. Every option you could ever want is available. You can run PHP as CGI, edit databases, create database hosts, edit .htaccess permissions. I’m just very impressed. But I’ve only been with them a week or two so…



On 15 March 2004 (12:29 PM),
mac said:

I use Ipowerweb…But unfortunately, I don’t have any idea about if they’re good or not. I’ve never had any problems with them and they seem fairly cost effective.



On 15 March 2004 (12:43 PM),
dowingba said:

PS: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Shared hosting is the equivelent of living in a dorm. It’s tolerable, but you’ve gotta get your own place if you want to ever be fully content.

My Husband, the Chef

text by Kris, links by J.D.

Jd loves Texas Sheet Cake, a sort of cake-like brownie topped by a rich chocolate glaze. Very sweet, very chocolate-y with a hint of cinnamon. I think this is something his mother fixed when he was growing up. Chocolate sheet cake is on Jd’s menu for Chicken Noodle Fest so I look for his recipe as I make a shopping list.

It’s Friday, so Jd’s working till noon and I’m home. When I can’t locate the recipe, I email him. He responds: “Hm. It may be loose, on a piece of paper, just floating in my recipe bin, or the favorite recipes book, or somewhere. I may have to find it when I get home.” This is déjà vu; the last time he wanted to make this dessert, he couldn’t find his previous recipe, so he purposely got it from his Mom. I’m hoping he can find it, and, after he searches fruitlessly around for a while and is on the verge of giving up in favor of using an alternative cake-like brownie recipe, he actually does. He spied the word “Texas” on a corner, peeking out of a stack of loose papers in a pile on the bookshelf where his cookbooks used to be. He feels victorious. I silently wonder if there isn’t a more efficient system.

When I look at the recipe, I notice it calls for a 10″ by 15″ sheet pan. Although I have more baking gadgets than I could possibly need, I don’t own a pan of this size. Don’t worry, Jd reassures me. He always uses one of our 12″ x 16″ cookie sheets instead. I am doubtful. Does he size-up the recipe? Does he adjust the baking time? Is he sure? He’s very sure, he has made this recipe with this pan, multiple times. Okay, fine—off to the store.

At Thriftway, things go pretty smoothly. A small glitch when he asks if we need peanut butter and I remind him we got a two-pack at Costco last week. He laughs that he could forget such a thing in only a week. But then he gets snippy when in the soup aisle I remind him that we also bought a “flat” of chicken noodle soup. “Why do you assume I would forget that?” he complains. Why indeed? While I am in the produce section, Jd also gets mildly admonished by the Pepsi Corp. stockperson who catches him cheating on the iTunes contest. She has watched him tilt the bottle to sneak a look at the cap to see if he has a winner. He feels no shame.

Home again—time for Jd to cook. I try to prepare myself for the impending combination of Jd in the kitchen with a pound of powdered sugar. I feel like I do a pretty good job of not hovering, but as I’m folding laundry he comes to me holding one of our cookie sheets. You saw it coming, I’m sure. He has realized that, in fact, he has in the past used the smaller size, which we no longer have. He makes store trip number two to get a pan as the batter sits ready on the counter.

As the cake bakes, he makes the glaze on the stovetop. The recipe says to glaze the cake as soon as it comes out of the oven, but when the timer beeps, Jd finds that the cake has risen alarmingly into a dome, rather than remaining flat. I tell him that it should fall as it cools. Be patient. However, wanting to follow the recipe exactly, Jd proceeds to pour hot chocolate glaze onto the convex surface of the hot cake. Gravity exerts its influence, of course, and soon Jd has a sheet pan surrounded by several inches of gooey icing-covered counter. He laughs. I need to leave the kitchen.

Finally, he is done. The remaining glaze has been spread onto the cake, which has flattened somewhat. Wanting to sample his creation, Jd cuts a small piece from the corner. “Hm. It’s not quite right,” he says, “I can’t serve that.” Optimistically, he tastes a piece from the opposite corner of the pan. Still, there is something not quite right. He surmises that what he tastes is the buttermilk. But he has made this recipe before, and it always has buttermilk in it. “The only thing that I could have possibly done wrong is put in a tablespoon of baking powder instead of a teaspoon.” A-ha! I ask if it’s bitter. “I think that’s the buttermilk,” he answers. I sample the cake myself. The strange dome-like phenomena is now explained; the cake tastes characteristically alkaline. Too much baking powder, alright. Jd makes store trip number three: more powdered sugar and buttermilk. Cake #1 goes into the trash. The ants will feast tonight.

While Cake #2 is happening, I go to work on this story. As I make my way to the computer, Jd asks me hopefully if perhaps the omission of the cinnamon could have caused the abnormal rising and taste—he’s not sure he added the cinnamon the first time. I assure him that the cinnamon is completely optional; cinnamon, or lack thereof, is not the cause of his problems.

All sounds like it’s going well from the kitchen, until Jd, obviously pleased with himself, comes in to tell me that he forgot to get more buttermilk at the store (trip #3). “But,” he crows, “there was just barely enough left from the first one!”

I hope you all enjoy the Texas Sheet Cake. It has been a labour of love.

The Best Uncle Ever

My brother, Tony, brought Alex — the youngest of his two sons — to work this morning. I entertained him for a while. Or, rather, he entertained me.


Alex comes into my office, wearing his Gap-brand child’s hoodie. I shake my head. He’s three-years-old and already a slave to fashion.

Alex: I’ve got a candy in my mouth and in my pocket
Me: You have two candies?
Alex: I have a blue one. In my mouth
Me: What flavor is it
Alex: It’s blue (Accidentally spits it onto the ground. It’s covered with dirt.)
Me: (Loudly, so Tony can hear.) Quick. You’ve only got five seconds. Pick it up and put it in your mouth.
Alex: It’s yicky.
Me: Nah, it’s okay. It was only on the floor for two seconds, tops.

Me: What are you doing here today?
Alex: (Pointing at the floor, which is bare plywood.) We just colored on that. (He and his brother, Michael, have colored on it many times in the past.)
Me: What are you doing here today, Alex?
Alex: Nothing.
Me: And what will you do later?
Alex: Dad said I can do mumble. (Grins.)
Me: Do what?
Alex: Nothing.
Me: Do what?
Alex: Nothing.

Alex: (Pointing at my breakfast bowl.) What’s this?
Me: It’s a bowl. What does it look like?
Alex: Frosting. (Pause.) There’s a bug in it. There’s an ant. There’s an ant at your house. There’s one right there.
Me: Let’s see. Oh, there is. Gross.
Alex: (Urgently.) You’ve got to get him. His touch is yicky. Yick. I’ve gotta tell Daddy. I’ve gotta tell daddy there’s an ant. (Runs from my office, shouting—) Dad, there’s an ant in his house!

Me: Are you going to come over to my house tomorrow?
Alex: Yeah.
Me: Are you?
Alex: Yeah.
Me: What are you going to do at my house?
Alex: Just play toys.
Me: Tony, are your kids coming over tomorrow?
Tony: For the chicken fest?
Me: (Indignant.) Chicken noodle fest.
Tony: Uh — hadn’t planned on it.
Me: Why not?
Tony: They’ll break your stuff, dude.
Me: Do you think they’ll be the only kids there?
Tony: The only destructive ones.
Alex: Only me here. I’m the only one.
Me: Come on. (Peer-pressure voice.) Everyone will be there.
Tony: Is Jeff going to be there?
Me: Yeah.
Tony: There you go. Alex’ll be pushing Noah down the stairs. Alex doesn’t like babies.
Me: Neither does Emma. They could team up. They’d beat up all the other kids.
Tony: Ha. There you go. Tell me what time you want people to leave, and I’ll bring my kids over then.
Alex: (Panicked, feeling inside his pocket) I don’t feel candy. (Relieved) Yes I do.

Alex: (Comes in, carrying a huge bottle of water that Nick has poured for him) Lookit! This is Big Water.
Me: Yes it is.
Alex: This is Big Water.
Me: I’ll give you a box of candy if you drink all that water.
Tony: Alex, can you sing that song?
Nick: There’s a Big Water song?
Alex: (Singing) Big big wahteh, big gibberish.

Me: Do you wanna go for a walk?
Alex: Yeah, let’s go outside.
Me: Look, your Uncle Jeff is burning a fire. Do you wanna go see?
(We walk out to the burn pile.)
Jeff: Your mom and dad sure had a lot of stuff to burn. It made a lot of black smoke.
Alex: It’s really hot.
Me: Fire is like that.
Jeff: The black smoke was probably shoes. (No, I don’t get it either.)
(Alex asks to be taken inside the shop where the guys are making boxes.)
Me: Cristobal, do you want another niño?
Cristobal: Where’s Michael?
Alex: At school.
Cristobal: At school?
Me: Preschool.
José: (Shouting from outside) Hello, Alex.
Me: Come on, let’s get out of the way.
(As we move aside, there’s a loud thud behind me. I look back and Alex is flat against the floor, his Big Water rolling away. He’s tripped over a piece of wood.)
Me: Alex, are you okay?
Cristobal: (Behind Alex, holding his hands in the air, grinning.) I didn’t do it.
Me: Come on, big guy, you’re okay. Here’s your Big Water.

(We watch José drive the forklift for awhile until Alex gets fidgety.)
Me: Now where do you want to go?
Alex: (Pointing at warehouse) Let’s walk through there.
(We walk through the warehouse, looking at the big stacks of corrugated. The air compressor comes on and scares us. Outside I can see robins hopping along. One has a worm in its mouth.)
Me: Look, there’s some birds. They’re robins. (Alex runs at them.) No, don’t chase them! If you chase them, they fly away and then you can’t look at them anymore
Alex: There’s another one. (Runs at it.)

Alex: Let’s sit down.
Me: We can sit down when we get inside.
Alex: I want to sit down now. My head hurts.
Me: What, do you have a five minute pain delay?

(Time passes. Alex comes into my office again.)
Alex: I wanna show you something.
Me: What is it? (Alex takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to the kitchen.)
Alex: (Pointing.) I want some of that.
Me: Ding Dongs? (Pause.) That sounds like a great idea. (Cackles.) There you go.
Alex: Mmm. Mmmm. Mmm. Mmm.
Me: I’m the best uncle ever!

Comments


On 12 March 2004 (12:29 PM),
Lynn said:

So, if you’re really the best uncle ever, you should be taking your nephews, and other young friends, to the “Sing-a-long Wizard of Oz!” In the tradition of “Sing-a-long Sound of Music,” it’s coming to Cinema 21 on NW 21st in Portland from April 9 – 18. It’s great fun and costumes are not only encouraged, but rewarded!



On 12 March 2004 (01:51 PM),
nate said:

Jesus: (Behind Alex, holding his hands in the air, grinning.) I didn’t do it.”

This line is inadvertantly hilarious until you realize that you don’t mean the Jesus. ;) That Jesus; such a prankster! Even being God’s son can’t stop him from being wacky!



On 12 March 2004 (04:37 PM),
Nikchick said:

Nate’s right! That line totally gave me visions of a twisted sort of Family Circus strip. Jesus, as the invisible “Not Me”, standing over Billy’s prone body, shrugging.

Ha! That’s going to amuse me for some time.



On 12 March 2004 (04:48 PM),
J.D. Roth said:

Ha! Lynn, your Wizard of Oz comment is funny because one of my favorite parents has prohibited me from screening the film for her children (three and five). She and I have different opinions about what is age-appropriate for children, but I try to respect her wishes.

As for the Jesus thing, I’ve changed the name to Cristobal which, while not true is True enough. Know what I mean?



On 12 March 2004 (05:42 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:

This makes me want to see Alex soooo bad! But it’s nice that he is old enough for his dad to take him to the shop when he comes in on his day off. And it’s good that he get more firmly introduced to the world of his uncles. (I was going to say “wacky world” but somehow thought that wasn’t something a loving mother would say, especially since those uncles are such nice people.) -G- I would have loved to have him come here today but I was feeling pretty rotten late this morning and afternoon so it wouldn’t have worked. I will have to miss your fest tomorrow for the same reason, J.D.; also, because I don’t do chicken noodle soup. Since you have invited the whole Internet, have you been able to come up with a head count?



On 12 March 2004 (09:45 PM),
Virginia said:

Sounds like such a fun idea. (Chicken Noodle Soup)
Since I can’t be there I guess I’ll eat a can of Chicken Noodle Soup for lunch in memory of the box of Chicken Noodle Soup mom used to keep under the bench in the breakfast nook. I think it was just for Steve’s boys. Was it you JD or was it for Jeff?



On 13 March 2004 (09:53 AM),
Emily said:

haha. man i wish my uncle let me eat candy off the ground! i have to do it when no one is looking. hehe



On 13 March 2004 (10:10 AM),
Mom (Sue) said:

I think that all three of my boys loved Grandma and Grandpa’s chicken noodle soup, Virginia. It was always Campbell’s, too. I never have liked that soup — I guess I could be doing ads for Progresso. -G- The way I’m feeling, I probably ought to also be celebrating J.D.’s party by eating some of the Progresso chicken noodle soup I think I have on hand (I know I have some of their chicken and wild rice). I knew yesterday that I wouldn’t be feeling good enough to make it to J.D. and Kris’s soup fest because if I get to feeling crummy, it never lasts for just one day. Naturally, I am feeling worse today. Bummer, that. I will miss the opportunity to see my little grandson Noah as well as his parents and uncle and aunt. I hope that J.D. writes an entry about who all else was there and who I missed seeing.

On the Malleability of Time

We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance. — Marcel Proust

I was in a car crash a couple of years ago.

It took only five or ten seconds for the tractor trailer to sideswipe my Geo Storm; for my car to lurch into the air and then to veer to one side and slam headlong into the guard rail at fifty-five miles per hour; for the airbag to deploy (so quickly that I didn’t even realize it had happened until I came to my senses) and pop me in the nose; for the car to spin around and around; for me to gaze about the cabin, marveling at the surreal quality of the dusty air (the airbag is packed with a powdery substance); for the car to stall and come to a halt on the shoulder of the south Wilsonville overpass.

It took only five or ten seconds for all of this to occur, yet it seemed much longer. The moment the car lurched into the air, jarring me from my early morning stupor, Time altered.

Five or ten seconds seemed to take five or ten minutes.

When it was all finished, my memory seemed incomplete. I had the memories one might be expected to have of a five or ten second event, one in which the sensory overload made it impossible to grasp everything. Yet, my mind seemed to understand that five or ten minutes had elapsed. My inability to reconcile these two perceptions of Time caused me anxiety, and does to this day.


Writers understand the malleability of Time. They’re taught to use the notion to their advantage.

When something traumatic happens quickly — like a car crash — the writer focuses on the details. Seconds of action can take pages to describe.

Conversely, long and tedious events are shown only briefly. Days of waiting for a letter might be represented by a single sentence.


Some days Time seems to ooze.

I look at the clock and it’s 8:12. I spend what seems like hours on quotes and orders and surfing the net, and when I look up, it’s 8:32. Twenty minutes have passed. I could have sworn two hours had elapsed.

Other days Time seems to flow uncontrollably, gushing through holes in a dike.

I try to stop the holes, but to no avail. It’s 9:37. I do one quote. It’s 9:57. I do another quote. It’s 10:12. I enter orders. It’s 10:42. An hour has rushed through the dike, though it seems to have been only minutes.

What we are doing is making our way back to life, shattering with all our force the ice of the habitual and the rational which instantly congeals over reality and keeps us from ever seeing it, finding a passage back into the open sea. — Marcel Proust

When I was a boy, I was impatient. Each minute I did nothing seemed like an hour. It tore me up to sit still, idle, waiting. I fidgeted. I fussed.

Now that I am approaching mid-life, waiting doesn’t bother me. I can sit waiting for hours. My internal thought-world is rich, so that it is no imposition to be forced to pass the Time. To do so merely gives me an opportunity to examine some heretofore unexplored path of thought.


If I am experiencing something rare and pleasurable — a delicious meal, a fascinating conversation, an encounter with a beautiful woman, an instance of intense intellectual stimulation — and I have the presence to realize I am experiencing something rare and pleasurable, I make an effort to force myself to consciously elongate Time.

I don’t mean that I try to prolong the experience in an objective sense, stretching actual seconds into minutes — though sometimes this is true — I mean that I try to force myself into a heightened state of awareness, one in which I note every detail of my environment, I savor every nuance, so that the subjective passage of Time seems greater. Then, when reliving those moments, they seem longer than they were.

In theory one is aware that the earth revolves, but in practice one does not perceive it, the ground upon which one treads seems not to move, and one can live undisturbed. So it is with Time in one’s life. — Marcel Proust

Proust makes the study of Time the central theme in his seven-volume Remembrance of Things Past. The final volume of his novel is actually called Time Regained (or, in some translations, The Past Recaptured).

Proust’s meditation on Time, filled as it is with a sea of dependent clauses, proves too daunting for most people, which is unfortunate because it contains so many sharp insights not only on the passage of Time, but also on truth, beauty, freedom, and love.


I am convinced that I have “absolute Time sense”. As long as I’m at least vaguely aware of the passage of Time, I can usually tell you the actual Time (or something close to it).


Despite my learned ability to alter the subjective shape of Time, there are instances in which I cannot alter its flow in my favor. These are those excruciating moments of embarrassment, or of oppression in the face of a boor, or of anxious panic. During these moments, Time seems incorrigible, beyond my grasp, a cruel and capricious tyrant. A half hour trapped in a car with a person I find offensive seems to take hours, or days. In these instances, when Time has shaken itself from my grasp, I feel helpless.


Sometimes when I’m programming, or playing a computer game, I lose my sense of Time. I may begin playing a game at ten in the morning, and the next time I’m aware of my surroundings, night has fallen. Kris has gone to bed. I’ve squandered hours on world conquest or on redesigning a web site. For some reason, when programming or playing computer games, my mind has a tendency to enter a sort of fugue state in which all that exists is the program or the game. Everything else is peripheral. Time no longer exists. I don’t eat. I don’t go the bathroom. I don’t hear the phone (or my wife). Only the computer world exists.

I’m not sure I like this state.


It is cliché to speak of a man’s life flashing before his eyes as he lays dying. Yet, I hope this will be the case with me.

I hope to have the presence of mind, the ability, the strength to force myself to relive my life, in real-time if possible, as my body fails in those waning seconds. Better still would be a recursive loop, one in which at the end of this relived life, as my viewed self lies upon his death bed, he forces himself to relive his life.

In this way it might be possible to live forever.

Comments

On 11 March 2004 (09:36 AM),
Dana said:

JD: Only the computer world exists.

I experience this state, but not when you do. I experience it when I’m buried in an engrossing book, or when I’m programming, or when I’m drawing, or when I’m working on math problems.

I don’t do that last one very often anymore.

I really quite like the sensation of being that deep inside my own mind, but unfortunately it seems to require a lot of time to truly experience, and subjectively it always seems like a short period of time has elapsed.

On 11 March 2004 (10:12 AM),
Tammy said:

There’s something odd about the computer. Nowhere does time slide by quicker than when I’m on the internet. And… there is no single pursuit of mine that makes me feel worse than when I’ve lost time by being on the computer. I don’t know why but I always have a vague feeling of not really experiencing life if I’ve spent too much time on this machine. I get done with my day an there’s no feeling of accomplishment and pride in my days acheivements. I can’t say why this is I only know that it is.

On 11 March 2004 (11:11 AM),
Amanda said:

Great entry today.

On 11 March 2004 (11:33 AM),
J.D. said:

Tammy, I, too, feel dirty when I spend too much time at the computer. Yet, like an addict, I find it difficult to tear myself away. I’ve tried to do so in the past, but I cannot. I’m hooked. And the computer world is not wholly bad, to be sure. If I were more prone to moderation, it might be something I could overlook. I am not prone to moderation. I am prone to excess, and to addiction, and so I spend too much time on the computer in various endeavors. It makes me feel dirty.

Thanks, Amanda. I should share the source of inspiration for today’s entry. I’m currently reading the science fiction novel Hyperion by Dan Simmons. One of its central themes is Time, and the way in which we perceive it. Simmons plays with this concept in several ways.

First of all, there are the mysterious Time Tombs, ancient artifacts which emanate a “temporal tide”. They disrupt the flow of Time around them, and the extent of this disruption varies in its radius, ebbing and flowing like a tide.

Around these tombs roams a creature called The Shrike. Among other qualities, The Shrike is unbound by Time. It seems to move freely through Time. In particular, it has the ability to remove itself from Time, performing any number of things in a fraction of a second. Simmons takes care not to represent this as superhuman speed or as the ability to stop Time; instead, he portrays it as some third option, as if The Shrike were somehow immune to Time.

Hyperion borrows its structure from The Cantebury Tales. In the novel, a group of pilgrims is traveling to The Time Tombs. As they travel, they tell their stories. These stories are amazing, sometimes poignant. My favorite, so far, is all about Time:

Sol and his wife have a daughter, Rachel. She is an angelic child. She grows up to be an angelic young woman, an archaeologist. She goes to Hyperion to study the Time Tombs. In a freak accident, she suffers “temporal poisoning” — she is infected by Time. This poisoning has a strange effect. She begins to live her life in reverse. She goes to bed today as a twenty-five year old woman, and she wakes tomorrow a day younger in every way. Her body is a day younger. Her memories are a day younger. Everything about her is a day younger. If she met you today, she won’t remember you tomorrow, because for her it is now the day before and you haven’t come into her life. For twenty-five years, Rachel ages backward, one day at a time, losing memories, losing friends, losing knowledge, losing abilities.

It’s a poignant story, utterly fascinating, and the kind of thing that makes me stop to think about Time for ten minutes, or twenty.

Mostly, though, it causes my mind to percolate until I’m sitting at the computer, entering invoices, and all of a sudden I’m stuck in a reverie about Time, a reverie I have to write down to share.

I’m a geek.

On 11 March 2004 (12:36 PM),
Lisa said:

A few years ago, I read a book called _Finding Flow_ by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. I’m not sure that I can do it justice in a short explanation, but the gist is that when you’re unaware of time passing (and of yourself in general), that’s flow. It’s basically being “at one” with your task. And if you do things where you find flow and appreciate the experience, you’re getting more out of your life. (That said, I don’t think that every task where you lose yourself is a good one–the computer being an excellent example.)

Anyway, it’s another look on the idea of time passing. If you’re interested, I can loan the book to you…

On 11 March 2004 (08:26 PM),
Aurora said:

You probably won’t read this, but there is a mathematical theory that proposes a reason for why time seems to move more quickly as we age. When we were young we had only been alive for a small fraction of our life, so a minute seems like forever in relation to the short time that we have been alive; however, as we age the passage of time in reference to the amount of time we spend on earth is shorter, so time seems to pass more quickly. There were equations and stuff along with this but I certainly don’t remember them.

On 11 March 2004 (10:17 PM),
nate said:

Is all this time philosophizing brought on by Donnie Darko? Or did you just finish reading The Philosophy of Time Travel by Roberta Sparrow? ;)

On 24 May 2005 (04:41 PM),
lewstermax said:

Time does not exist.
I have proven this, since I live backward right now, like that Merlin guy.
I was really near death when I was 20. Now I’m 48, and life is bran new! Yeah, I like that kind of cereal.
Hen way, time is an illusion, and merely a convention used to make clocks tick, or vibrate, or lose time; batteries wear out too.
Oh, and its good for clock makers too.
Anyway, if there is time, its one breath to the next. Any Zen master will tell you that. The one hand clapping koan, that was just to get you to snap out of your dazed and confused mind set, and wake up to the brazen fact that without breathing, nothing else will keep you alive! Nothing.
Try breathing deep space some time—I know I did.