2007

There were 200 posts published in 2007 (this is page 12 of 20).

U Has Sheep for Wheat?

The following image is one of the best products of internet geekdom so far, distilling three disparate geekinesses into one single hilarious image. Of the people that I know who read this blog, I can only think of three who might see all the connections: Will, Nikchick, and Michael Rawdon. Maybe more of you will — I don’t know. (Many of you will get two of three.)

Regardless, it’s hilarious.

Here are the three geek things taking place here, in order from most obvious to least obvious:

This image is actually just one from a larger LOLTrek series that retells the entire “The Trouble with Tribbles” episode in lolcat dialect. It’s funny stuff.

Tomato Planting Day

This is a guest-entry from Kris, the Tomato Queen.

Okay, call me crazy. I just took an afternoon of vacation to come home and dig in the dirt. My tomato plants, started from seed on February 24th, were begging to be put into the ground. J.D. tilled the vegetable plot yesterday, the sun is shining and the bees are buzzing! All is in readiness.


photo by Kris

This year’s crop includes(d) eleven varieties:

  • Aunt Ruby’s German Green — repeat from ’06, it’s green when ripe & actually tastes bacon-y to me
  • Bloody Butcher — early salad-sized tomato, repeat from ’06
  • Black from Tula — Russian “black” beefsteak, recommended by Amy Jo
  • Box Car Willie — fatal transplant accident! (More below.)
  • Dr. Wyche’s Yellow — huge orange-yellow beefsteak, repeat from ’06
  • Oregon Star — recommended by Craig
  • Raad Red — free tomato seed w/ purchase, relegated to the spot with least sun
  • Red Star — a pleated red cherry tomato
  • Rutgers Select — roma/paste-type
  • San Marzano — roma/paste-type
  • Sungold — golden cherry, from the Garden Show last weekend

Think I’ll have enough?

Alas, I handled the Box Car Willie too roughly and snapped its stem as I was attempting the transplant. In sheer desperation, I cut off the lowest tier of leaves, filled the hole with rich potting soil, and stuck in the stem six inches deep. Watered a lot. Misted. Watered. Misted. It probably will shrivel up. It’s too late in the season to start another one from seed but there’s always next year. Poor Willie!


photo by Kris

This past weekend was the annual Master Garden Show at the Canby Fairgrounds. I exhibited incredible restraint! I had a list and stuck to it (mostly), purchasing:

  • pickling cukes
  • anaheim pepper
  • aforementioned Sungold cherry tomato
  • butternut squash
  • acorn squash
  • pineapple sage
  • lemon-rose-scented geranium
  • basil
  • cilantro
  • lemon verbena
  • English thyme
  • ornamental currant “ribes brocklebankii”
  • evergreen “clematis armadii” Snowdrift

Everything’s planted except the pepper.

Of course, then on Sunday I coerced J.D. into facing the crowded Portland Nursery. I was craving a small evergreen for the spot by the garage where we removed a monster of a climbing rose. Found the perfect juniper communis “gold cone” and picked up a couple more peppers (jalapeño and cayenne) and some catnip for the cats (really for J.D., who thinks the cats need it).

Already up in the garden are: peas, yellow onions, rice, turnips, carrots (second planting — aliens took the first sprouts one night, en masse), and red and Yukon Gold potatoes. Oh, and asparagus, but not enough to really harvest, although I’ve cut a couple to nibble on. Beets are planted, and nasturtiums. Corn, green/wax beans, salad cucumbers, ornamental gourds, sunflowers, and dill to be planted soon, now that the spring has arrived.

I am eager to begin the harvest!

p.s. Not really growing rice — just checking if you’re awake.

Fitness Today

Ten years ago today I stepped on the bathroom scales and saw the big 200 staring back at me for the first time. I had been having sleep issues. I was short of breath. I was worried about my heart. I suddenly realized I had to do something about my health. I was 28, and I wasn’t getting any younger.

That summer I focused on eating healthfully, and on exercising. I attacked the problem as only I can when I’m intently focused on something. In six months, I lost 42 pounds and obtained the best health of my life: I was running five miles at a time (and loving it), biking for fifty miles, and even swimming. Dave and I were meeting to lift weights. I felt great.

Anniversaries are important to me. Dates have meaning. Because this is the tenth anniversary of the fateful day I started my most successful fitness regimen, I’ve made up my mind to replicate the effort. Starting today, I’m going to focus on the fitness section of my goals. As a refresher, I want to:

Health and Fitness
14 goals
1. Give up sugar for a week
2. Eat only home-prepared food for one month
3. Eat vegetarian for one month
4. Get cholesterol to healthy levels
5. Have a colonoscopy
6. Complete a marathon
7. Complete a 100-mile bike ride
8. Play a team sport
9. Do 100 push-ups
10. Bench-press my body weight
11. Complete a one-mile swim
12. Maintain a weight of 170 or below for six months
13. Drink only water for one month
14. Give up alcohol for three months

Starting today, I am giving up alcohol for three months. (For those wondering: this shouldn’t be an issue. If it is an issue, I plan to give it up completely.)

Also starting today, I am drinking only water for one month. My definition of “only water” is perhaps broader than others might allow. After talking with Kris, we’ve decided that non-caffeinated tea qualifies as “only water”, as do my carbonated Talking Rain waters. (The objective here is to avoid calories and chemicals in my beverages — tea and Talking Rain should be fine.)

I’m also going to haul my road bike to Custom Box and begin the process of becoming re-acquainted with it. In 1997, I started exercising by hopping on a bike that was too small for me, and riding it a couple miles every day. (A couple of miles were all I could handle at first.) Gradually I build up to five miles, then ten, then 25. By the end of the summer, I had made two 50-mile rides. I want to do something similar again.

If these initial steps go well, I’ll try to tackle some other health and fitness goals!

[Bonus: Here’s my 1997 fitness journal, which was essentially my first blog. Also: 1998 version.]

Peace in Our Time

See this image?

Do you know what is absolutely remarkable about what you see here? I know some of you have already figured it out. No, it’s not the gross amount of fur you see clinging to the blanket in the foreground. No, it’s not the clothes draped all over the footboard.

What’s remarkable about this image is that Toto — the black cat — is curled up asleep next to Nemo (the Siamese, who is rolling to demonstrate how cute he is) and Max/Meatball (who is stretched long, trying to stay as far away from Toto as possible).

Nobody is growling in this scene. Nobody is hissing. In fact, these three had been asleep together for a couple hours before I thought to grab my camera.

I wish I could report that the truce held, but Toto returned to her surly self moments after I took this photo. “Why the hell am I sleeping on the bed with my brothers?” she asked as she hissed away…

Why I Won’t See Spider-Man 3

At first I didn’t plan to see Spider-Man 3 because the story doesn’t interest me. I don’t like Venom. The idea of three villains seems like overkill. The second film was so good, that there’s no need to see a third.

Then I didn’t want to see this because of the obscene amount of money plowed into it. Upwards of half a billion dollars? It almost begins to seem immoral to support that kind of excess. Why don’t we spend half a billion dollars to do something more productive, instead? Or maybe $450 million. Give me a $50 million Spider-Man movie with a good story, and use the rest to feed starving kids, or to support peace, or to stop global warming. I don’t care — pick your cause. Just don’t waste it like this.

This brings up another reason I might not like the film: it contains excessive CGI from all accounts. It’s no secret that I believe modern filmmakers use CGI as a crutch. They think that if they throw up some splashy, costly special effects, this will excuse their poor storytelling skills. (Peter Jackson and George Lucas are the most egregious offenders, in my book.) It doesn’t work that way. (At least not for me.) Your half-hour tear-filled farewell scene still sucks, no matter how many CGI elves you put on the screen. You can cram as many clone troopers as you want into a battle, but it’s not going to matter because you’ve done a poor job of making me care. From all reports, this film is a CGI lovefest. Ugh.

So, those were all the reasons I didn’t plan to see Spider-Man 3. But now, after reading some reviews, I don’t plan to see it because it’s not any good. From the SF Gate:

“Spider-Man 2” was a textbook example of how to make a sequel: Deepen it, make it funnier, give it more heart and come up with a strong villain and a good story. “Spider Man 3,” by contrast, shows how not to make a sequel. The film takes three bad stories and tries to fashion a narrative out of them. It can’t be done. It also takes established and warmly regarded characters and has them behave in ways that make no sense in terms of what we know about them. And, perhaps to give the movie the illusion of scale, it contains many empty conversations — scenes in which characters dither and nothing happens. Word to the wise: Whenever Rosemary Harris shows up as Peter Parker’s beloved old aunt, it’s safe to run out and get popcorn.

From Anthony Lane of The New Yorker:

If “Spider-Man 3” is a shambles, that’s because it makes the rules up as it goes along. By the end, for instance, Sandman has become the size of an office block, each swinging fist as big as a truck, his personality reduced to brutishness. I half expected him to come after Spider-Man and Mary Jane carrying a gigantic bucket and spade. By what criterion did he grow so mountainous? Is he like a Transformer, or more like a genie? The fact is that if the fantastical is to flourish it must lay down the conditions of its magic and abide by them; otherwise, we feel cheated. (Tolkien knew this better than anyone.) Some viewers will take the New Goblin, whose name sounds like a small-circulation poetry magazine, to be a vessel of unnatural forces, while others will see him, when he fires up his rocket-powered skateboard, as a rich kid with too many toys. That’s the problem with this third installment of the franchise: not that it’s running out of ideas, or lifting them too slavishly from the original comic, but that it lunges at them with an infantile lack of grace, throwing money at one special effect after another and praying—or calculating—that some of them will fly.

I’ll save my money, thanks.

p.s. I recently watched Superman Returns. I was disappointed. B-O-R-I-N-G!

Video Clips of the 1920s

I keep finding things that would be perfect for Vintage Pop, if that site were actually a going concern at the moment. Anthony Lane has an overview of Barbara Stanwyck’s career in the current issue of The New Yorker. I discovered a new CD compilation series featuring music from 1890-1920. And, most of all, I’ve been overwhelmed by the quantity of good material on YouTube.

For example, here’s a handful of videos I found this morning through casual browsing. The first few simply show scenes of 1920s recreational life (primarily dancing) while set to some jazzy tune or other. The last couple focus more on the Charleston (a popular dance step) and on a couple of my favorite songs from that era. (“Caldonia” is actually a big-band song from the mid-1930s, but so what?”)


The Jazz Age 1920s


The Roaring Twenties


To live in the 1920s


The 1920s – The Charleston


1920s Charleston compilation


Fascinating Rhythm sing-along


Louis Jordan – Caldonia

Though I’d love to be sharing clips like these, and writing about them, I guess I’ll have to be patient, to just wait until I have time to focus on more than just a few sites.

When Cats Dream, They Dream of This

Imagine you’re a cat. What’s the most exciting thing you can think of?

Today when I got home, Toto and Meatball, as they are wont to do, told me that they didn’t have enough food. They begged and begged and meowed and meowed, but I ignored them. “Wait until your mom gets home. She’s the one who feeds you. She always feeds you.”

Instead, I came up to my office to practice podcasting. (Holy cats! I have a lisp! Why didn’t anyone ever tell me I have a lisp? How do I get rid of my lisp?) While I was fiddling with things, recording various old foldedspace entries, I heard a ruckus in the other room. I ignored it. There are always ruckuses in other rooms. Meatball is always wrestling with somebody (or something).

I continued working.

But then the ruckus came again, and louder than before, as if it weren’t cats wrestling, but dogs. We don’t have any dogs. “What is going on?” I wondered, and I went to look.

There, in the spare room, I found three cats — Meatball, Toto, and Nemo — flailing about in a flurry of paws and tails, hurtling themselves madly at a bird, which was desperately trying to dodge their pointy ends. Somehow a pigeon had found its way upstairs, down the hall, and into the spare room. (Or, more likely, it been carried there in a cat’s mouth.) The poor thing was flapping its wings, lurching around the room, trying to avoid the maelstrom of cats below.

It clung to the picture rail. Then it clung to a framed photo. It clung to whatever it could find. And the whole time, the cats were in pursuit. I joined them. I managed to grab the pigeon a couple times, but each time I did, it flew away. Finally I did what any sensible person would do: I went to get my camera.

The cats had calmed down by this time, which allowed me to formulate a plan. Fortunately the spare room has a door to the roof. I pulled everything aside, opened the door, and then coaxed the bird outside.

The cats were not pleased. “Dad, you refused to feed us, so we took matters into our own paws. We did very well, too. There was enough meat on that bird for all three of us. But now you’ve set it free. You’d damn well better feed us.” But I didn’t. I went back to work on my podcasting.

I’m a bad dad.

Sunriver Weekend 2007

The MNF group made its annual pilgrimage to Central Oregon last weekend. Kris and I joined:

  • Kim and Sabino Arredondo
  • Ron and Kara Kropf (Ron is Kim’s brother)
  • Kristin and Roger Oakes
  • Jeremy and Jennifer Gingerich
  • Jeff and Stephanie Roth (Jeff is my brother)

I think this is the tenth year that Kris and I have joined the group, though some of them have been making trip since the early nineties. We always rent a house and then spend the weekend sleeping, cooking, chatting, playing, and laughing.

In recent years, Kris and I have felt the trip was almost more trouble than it was worth. We were surprised to hear several other people express the same opinion this weekend. Fortunately, this year was relaxing — it was a wonderful trip.

On Friday evening, those of us who arrived early went out for Italian food. I ordered mussels and clams, but was unimpressed. They were cool. They hadn’t much flavor. There was very little broth.

Saturday morning, we were all up surprisingly early. It used to be that most of us slept in, but we were all up by 7:30, and were finished with breakfast an hour later. Kris and I then drove in to Bend to watch our nephew, Michael, play soccer. Michael’s an athletic kid — he’s muscular and wiry at the same time. He scored his team’s two goals. After the game, Kris and I helped Tony work on Michael’s pitching. (He had a baseball game in the afternoon.) Mostly he was too unfocused to pitch like he ought, but when he put his mind to it, he did a good job. Considering he’s only eight years old, I think he’s going to do well.

In the evening, the group assembled at The Blacksmith restaurant. This place is fantastic. I ordered mussels again; they were creamy and delicious. For dinner, I was adventurous: I tried the swordfish, and was pleased to find it a thick, meaty fish. Very good. But dessert was best of all. Kris and I ordered a chocolate sampler plate for two.

“Oh my God,” she moaned at the first taste of chocolate fondue.

“You don’t believe in God,” Sabino teased.

“I do now,” she said. “And it’s in this cup.”

Kim and Sabino rode home with us. We spent the entire twenty minutes rehashing old episodes of The Office, recalling funniest moments and favorite lines. Back at the house, we watched one of our favorite recent episodes, in which the employees are subjected to safety training because Michael, the boss, caused an accident in the warehouse. When Michael decides that office workers don’t get enough respect for how dangerous their jobs are, he decides to feign suicide. Meanwhile, the staff has begun to bet on various things. The funniest bet involves Kelly’s litany about how Netflix works.

Then we all went to bed early.

On Sunday morning, Kris and I went horseback riding. We did this several years ago at Diamond Lake, and we loved it. It’s expensive, and you don’t really get to do much besides sit on the back of a horse for an hour as it wanders well-worn trails, but it’s totally worth it. My horse, Doodle, was belligerent. He kept stopping to eat the new grass. No amount of tugging or kicking could convince him this was a bad idea. Kris’ horse, Warrior, was well-behaved, but a dawdler, always lagging behind the group. On our ride, we got to see a bald eagle perched high in a pine. We were also startled by a herd of deer. Doodle was surprised by them, and started to bolt, which scared the living daylights out of me. Fortunately, he stopped after just a few feet.

In the afternoon, we lounged around in the warm spring air. Most of the men soaked in the hot tub. The women drank mojitos and ate bean dip.

In the evening, Tony came by to see the gang. He stayed for dinner, and we all recounted old stories. Then, again, we went to bed early.

We were all up early again this morning, and it made us realize that we are getting old. “In a few years we’ll all be getting up at 4:30,” somebody said. On our drive home, Kris and I stopped to see Tony and Kamie at the horse cookie factory in Redmond.

We came home to a couple of mysteries. The kitchen chair was placed — seemingly at random — underneath our pot-rack. The basement light was on. A lamp in the living room was knocked over. The cold water in the bathtub was on full-blast and, from the looks of it, had been on for several hours (and likely a couple of days). When we checked the basement, water was coming from somewhere, but we could not find the source. (Naturally we assume that the fact the tub was running for so long had something to do with it.)

We’ve only solved one of these mysteries. Tiffany came over on Saturday to take a bath. She moved the chair so that Max could sit with her. However, she turned off the bathwater before she left. It is my suspicion that Max was playing in the tub (which he does often), and managed to turn on the faucet. This then caused the water in the basement. I also suspect he’s responsible for the broken lamp in the parlor.

In all, it was a great weekend. I did a little writing, but not much. Now I find that I’m behind. I have nothing to post at GRS in the morning!

The Future, Today

Here’s an eye-opening presentation that Dave forwarded to me the other day. I considered posting this at Get Rich Slowly, but couldn’t figure out a way to really make it “stick”. Still, it’s excellent stuff, and I want somebody to see it:

This presentation was originally developed by Karl Fisch, a grade school teacher. Here’s what he writes at his blog:

My administration asked me if I wanted to speak at one of our beginning of the year faculty meetings. I often provide updates on what’s new and different with technology in our building and what teachers need to know to get the year started. But this year I’m really focused on staff development and the “vision” of where we should be headed, so I wanted to do something different.

[…]

I put together a PowerPoint presentation with some (hopefully) thought-provoking ideas. I was hoping by telling some of these “stories” to our faculty, I could get them thinking about — and discussing with each other — the world our students are entering. To get them to really think about what our students are going to need to be successful in the 21st century, and then how that might impact what they do in their classrooms.

Mind-blowing stuff, this. It makes you think about where we’ll be in a hundred years. Speaking of which, over in the Get Rich Slowly forums, kgazeette posted a fun article from 1900 predicting what the world of 2000 would be like. The author actually did a fairly good job (except that he completely missed the advent of airplanes — but then how could he know?).

Here’s a sample:

Automobiles will be cheaper than horses are today. Farmers will own automobile hay-wagons, automobile truck-wagons, plows, harrows and hay-rakes. A one-pound motor in one of these vehicles will do the work of a pair of horses or more. Children will ride in automobile sleighs in winter. Automobiles will have been substituted for every horse vehicle now known. There will be, as already exist today, automobile hearses, automobile police patrols, automobile ambulances, automobile street sweepers. The horse in harness will be as scarce, if, indeed, not even scarcer, then as the yoked ox is today.

In the forum thread, I made my own predictions for one hundred years from now:

A lot of science fiction arbitrarily constructs technology without any regard as to its plausibility. However, I’m a fan of Kim Stanley Robinson’s series about colonizing Mars: Red Mars, Green Mars, and Blue Mars. I think he does an excellent job of extrapolating current technological trends and looking at where things might head in the future.

Here’s one prediction I feel pretty comfortable with: In 2100, the internal combustion engine will be a thing of the past. Oil reserves will be essentially depleted, so that only certain uses will exist for modern vehicles as we know them. (I don’t know what those uses will be.) Depending on whether you are an optimist or a pessimist, you might believe that we will have developed a replacement technology, or you may think we’ll revert to a more agrarian way-of-life.

I happen to be an optimist, so I think that some other form of fuel will be developed. I don’t know if it’ll be sufficient to power the sort of transportation system we have now, though. Maybe everything will be mass-transit. Maybe we’ll have some strange hybrid of atomic-powered trains moving thousands of people at a time, while individual transportation is horse-based once more.

I do believe humans will be living on Mars by the end of the century. I just don’t know which country will be the first to reach it and to set up a base.

I don’t think the U.S. will be the dominant world power.

What do you think life will be like one hundred years from now?