Faith in humanity.

Hello all. Glad to be back in the blogger's seat. Had some bad things happen, and some great things happen. Here goes...

Madmom and I have dealt with Suburban issues of one form or another since we bought the beastie from our uncle-in-law. Not really his fault, nor ours, it just wasn't up to what we wanted to do with it. So finally, in a fit of exasperation, I took my little blue Topaz and traded it in on a 87 Suburban. Had lots of goodies, power door locks, 4 speed auto trans, a fuel injected 350, 4wd (which is important given the type of work that I do - during disasters, I must be available at a moments notice to go wherever I have to. It doesn't matter if it's raining, sleeting, snowing, or dropping giant frogs from space... I gotta go...) air conditioning, etc. And I got it at a good price.

So, off we set out, the day after buying it, with trailer in tow to go spend a week at the beach. Kids were off to summer camp, so it was just Madmom and the Doc. There is no better bliss than a week with one's spouse.... alone. We got 30 miles outside of town, and the transmission dies. So, we limp home, grateful that it came with a warranty. However, I should have read the warranty more closely. It covers 50% parts and labor, and then only at one specific garage. The garage of choice was 110% of taking it to a regular transmission shop and getting it repaired. In other words, it was simply cheaper for me to repair it myself.

This in mind, I had just taken all of my savings plus my good running beep beep, and used it to get the Suburban I just bought. Needless to say, we were in a pickle. We decided to pull the trailer with our mini-van, which it will do albeit under protest. We took the kids to camp, had 3 fun filled days at the coast, won 150 bucks playing bingo at the Indian run casino in Lincoln City, and came home yesterday to figure out what we are going to do next. It was galling at best to just look at my "new" car and know that I wouldn't have the money to fix it for a month.

So now to the title of my story... I was describing my problem to a mechanic friend of mine... and he said we'll figure something out. Well, what he figured out was that his uncle owns a transmission shop, so we took it today to get it fixed. I assumed it was on an account, and I'd have no problem making it up to him prior to his bill. I assumed wrong. He is going to just pay for it, and tells me we'll sort it out later. I was shocked ... remember we are talking a thousand bucks here. He ain't rich either. But he just said these things happen, and we'll sort it out.

As I'm typing this, I am almost in tears... but they are tears of joy, not sadness or anger. The fellow helping us is a good friend, but not one of long term... we've only known him a year or so. I guarantee we'll do something nice for him and his missus... on top of repaying him... out to dinner at Ruth's Criss or Morton's of Chicago comes to mind. I also re-learned faith... both in friends, family and my God. I can assure you that this guy would never think of himself as an "angel" at any level.

But he is, just the same. Thanks my friend.... and I am listening for the bells that tell me you got your wings.

Until our next.....

From all of us in the USA to Great Britain

You have stood beside us and have been staunch allies through thick and thin. This blogger and American remembers that. I have been on the line. And should it come to that - for us, US, or you... I will stand the line again. God bless you all.

The Doc.

The Answer was YES!!!!!

As some of you know, earlier this spring I got to meet a couple of very special people, Chase and Suzanne, both fellow bloggers and all around good people. We met in Savannah on the river, and had a wonderful couple of hours getting to know each other and enjoying some good Southern Cookin. (The fact that Chase is almost as big a geek as me don't hurt either!! )

Finally, Chase was able to ask THE QUESTION. And to my infinite happiness, here is what happened:

...The following was happily stolen from Chase's blog...

And the answer is... What ?

Many of you who know me understand that before I put myself into any kind of situation, I prepare myself mentaly by having the conversation over and over again in my head, preparing myself for any possible outcome or question. I would mentaly re-live the scanario a hundred different ways, so that no matter which way it went I would have a reply ready as second nature. I had a few family members there, most notably my Father. There were a few friends who were suppose to be there, but if you've ever tried to find someone on a beach that is packed with thousands of people , well... it's best if you come in the same car.

Our family sat in a semi-circle high in the sand, looking over the beach. We waited for it to get dark, and passed the time in a multitude of ways. We took pictures of each other. We watched the kids play in the sand, and change colors from pasty white to a very very black. My Father and I played "catch" with the baseball gloves and ball. It should be noted that I will be thirty next year, and this is the first game of catch I have ever played with him. While some of you might not feel as strongly about this as I do, I am glad it came late. I'll remember this one forever now. He throughs great. I through like a special olypmpian.

Later on that night, it got dark. Very dark. There were two storms in the distance. One to our left, and one to our right. God brought his own fireworks to each side of the beach. I was certain he had it in for me. Our skies stayed very clear, and now I have a perfect understanding of how Moses felt when he had a towering ocean to his left and right as he crossed. The beach and only the beach, had beautiful weather.

Many of you are dying to know the "answer". This is how it went:

As the sky lit up with the first fireworks, I leaned over and whispered in here ear: "You know what would make this even better?" She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and said "what ?" I moved over next to her and got down on one knee and held up her ring... "If you would marry me..."

"What ?" This ladies and Gentlemen, was the answer.

"I want you to marry me..." and I pushed the ring closer...

"What ?" This was the third what. I was getting nervous. And then I noticed she wasn't speaking, or breathing. She was crying a lot though. We stood up and she hugged me and we kissed, under the fireworks. Our faces were lit up, and that was great to me. Although I didn't get the immeadiate "yes" I was looking for, It was there. (later on I did make sure she actualy said yes...

I had prepared for a lot of ways that could have went. "What" caught me off guard a little.

In the end, we held each other, lit up with the night sky. It was the best fireworks I'll ever see. The best part is that every year that we re-live it, there will always be fireworks.

Thanks for all of your well whishes.

-Chase

Additional note from the ol Doc -

First - it couldn't happen to a more devoted and wonderful pair of friends. All the best from mine to yours!

Second - I personally couldn't have picked a better day. Here's why - Tomorrow - the 6th, is my birthday. It makes it easy to keep track of your "anniversary" so to speak!

Lastly - and to me the most important - thanks to you, as I hit 42, I feel - YOUNG. It's a good thing!

Love from us in the Pacific Northwest -

Doc & Family

What the heck is a "meme" ???

Ok, so I know what I think it is - and now I know what it is thanks to "Wikipedia". By the way, ignore the links. They don't work. I couldn't get them to die happily, so here they reside. Forgive me, gentle reader.

Meme

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

The term and concept of meme (pronounced [miːm] in IPA; from the Greek word μνήμη for 'memory') first appeared in the 1976 book by Richard Dawkins, The Selfish Gene. Though Dawkins defined the meme as "a unit of cultural transmission, or a unit of imitation," memeticists vary in their definitions of meme. The lack of a consistent, rigorous and precise definition of a meme remains one of the principal criticisms leveled at memetics, the study of memes.

Different definitions of the meme generally agree, very roughly, that a meme consists of some sort of a self-propagating unit of cultural evolution having a resemblance to the gene (the unit of genetics). Dawkins introduced the term after writing that evolution depended not on the particular chemical basis of genetics, but only on the existence of a self-replicating unit of transmission—in the case of evolution, the gene. For Dawkins, the meme exemplifies another self-replicating unit, and most importantly, one which he thought would prove useful in explaining human behavior and cultural evolution.

The smiley exemplifies what some might consider a visual meme. Anyone who has seen a smiley can copy, reproduce, or modify it and then show it to others.

In casual use, the term meme often refers to any piece of information passed from one mind to another. This usage more closely resembles the analogy of "language as a virus" than Dawkins' analogy of memes as replicating units. This definition has come into popular use on the Internet to refer to phenomena such as Obey Giant, "All your base are belong to us", Blogebrity and Icy Hot Stuntaz.

a quiz??

I stole this from Suzanne. And Sharon. Give it a try?? Cut and paste into a comment.

1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me? If no….why the hell not?
5. Do you read my blog regularily?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Do you feel like your back in high school now?
16. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?

Thank God it's Wednesday.

Well gentle readers, we made it through another week, and are on the downhill slide. I'm thinking this is a good thing. Relatively uneventful even.

Spent the weekend on the Oregon coast. My older brother came down with us, and had a good time. I'm glad - he has had some loneliness and depressive issues recently too. I do need to be careful and set some limits though ... else we will all get tired of each other and wind up where we started... distant.

We went to the Oregon coast aquarium. That's pretty cool! You can see more of it here. The kids had a blast. We also went fishing and crabbing. Caught two red rock crabs that were keepers, but they tasted funny to my wife. Just a bit to "fishy" I guess. If it was easy, they'd call it "catching" ... but all had fun.

And me? I don't like to fish - for the simple reason that I don't eat fish, and if you don't eat it, I say don't catch it. I enjoyed Father's day though, managed to sleep in a bit, and the trailer is starting to come around now. Fixed all the leaks, working on all the lights that don't work. Got the water pump up and running - woohoo! Now I can feel better about "dry" camping.

The Suburban's mileage pulling it though is abominable. My mini-van (a Ford Aerostar) pulls it - ok - and gets about 11 miles to the gallon. My 'Burb pulls it fine, and gets about 5 or 6. Something fishy here... will have to investigate. With the 30 gallon tank on the 'burb, it's at least 65 bucks to fill it. Sheesh. Maybe it's time to try to find a new truck.

Now, a special note for a special person to my wife and I. Thank you. You know why. I hope that someday I can return the kindness. My best to you and yours.

Until our next..........

Another long pause

Well, it has been another long pause in the Blogger world. My apologies, gentle reader. It appears, that sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel is actually a freight train headed for you. Sometimes it misses. This time was too close.

We headed out to Coos Bay for our "Sabbatical"... but on the way had to stop at the ER. It turns out that my beloved wife had been sleeping about an hour or two a night --- for the last three weeks. So, she had been dealing with unbelievable anxiety, and was damn near delusional. It was frightening for me. I think what was the most frightening, is that she was able to disguise it from me.

With trailer in tow, we head off to the house with hopes of her getting a good nights sleep, and start in the morning. Which she does, and we do. The trip was nice, and uneventful, but upon her return the anxiety cranked back up to full steam, and not even the sleep aid was working.

On Tuesday morning we return to the ER. This time, she is admitted, and put in a room that looked faintly (from my Corrections days as an employee thank you very much) like a holding cell. She is sedated, and then after a LONG discussion between Dr, nurse, and Good ole PCDoc we get her the meds she really should have gotten in the first place, and head home. I took the week off, and stayed here keeping the rugrats at bay whilst she tries to regain herself.

She improves dramatically over the next week. She was used to 10 hrs sleep a night (I'm lucky if I get 5) and had been so deprived that her body was going ballistic. Now, all is mostly back to normal, her meds changed to a much lighter critter that doesn't make her drool so badly (grin - shades of some movie I saw once) and now only takes a light dose to help sleep. The doc says that this will dissipate over the next several weeks, and hopefully will return to the proper "diurnal rhythm".. which I suspect means life back to normal.

That done, I head back to work. One uneventful week passes by, with hopes for another. Lo and behold, on the way to the in-laws, I have a wheel bearing go out on my little putt putt car. She handles it well, but now I'm ready for the booby hatch. Or at least, a strong drink and another vacation.

Bear with me as this passes, and I become more verbose.

Oh and one more "nail in the coffin" - near the 4th of July I become 21 for the 21st time. Tell me that don't suck rocks :)

Until our next....

I hate SPAM.

Not the ham in a can type, I actually like that. However, I am talking about the myriad of chain letters, hoaxes, and potporri that tend to waft my way.

Often, I get both ads for cialis and viagra, as well as ads to increase my breast size. In my case, they are missing their target audience.

I am getting mad about the chain letters. If I am told one more time that I will go to Hell if I stop this letter, I am going to find their email server, hack it, and then let them know what hell really is. Well, certainly hell for them. (Ed. note, never piss off an OLD time hacker. I was fiddling about with systems back when modems required you to put the phone handset in the cradle of the modem. Nuff said.)

I also get a veritable blizzard of emails from my mother, a devotee of AOL. Invariably, Snopes gives me the straight skinny, and I send her a link to the appropriate site. This, however, is a double edged sword. My loving wife checks everything out with Snopes. This can ruin something funny - case in point - sent her an email with a picture of a mouse caught in a toner cartridge. My comment was that I'd hate to get called out on that ticket. Mouse apparently survived its tussle with an HP laserjet, and was released. She checked it out, and found it "Unconfirmed." Knowing mice and HP's, I'd call it Plausible.

Sorry so long inbetween blogging, don't give up on me. I have discovered that work tends to take more and more of my time, and with that on top of cub scouts, various husbandly chores, and misc bull puckey, I have had little time to put my thoughts on here. Stay tuned though, I promise to write more tonight.

Until our next.....

I guess I'm normal... ish.

Found this on Patty-Jo's site. Here's me:

You Are 65% Normal (Really Normal)

Otherwise known as the normal amount of normal You're like most people most of the time But you've got those quirks that make you endearing You're unique, yes... but not frighteningly so!

How Normal Are You?

I have no idea what that means. Oh well :)

A question I have ALWAYS wanted to know the answer to....

First and foremost... I am not the author of the following article. I wish I was... but I ain't. I found it at Discovery. With that said, here we go. I wanted to know why Asparagus makes your pee stink. (OK, so I need a life worse than most....)

Why Asparagus Makes Your Pee Stink

by Hannah Holmes

"This is of no practical importance," the urologist tells me. "It wasn't part of my training. It's something we contemplated over pizza and beer." When I admit that I have actually timed the arrival of the distinctive odor in my pee after eating asparagus (about 15 minutes), the good doctor suggests, facetiously, that my groundbreaking research might lead to a tenure-track position at a fine university.

It is a sadly neglected field. But I'm not the first to ask.

In 1891 a scientist named "Nencki" had so very little to do that he convinced four guys to eat seven kilograms of asparagus (that's about three and a half pounds each). He collected the pertinent pee, worked some medieval magic on it, and concluded that the smell was due to a metabolite called methanethiol.

So there you go. Nencki claimed that as your body metabolizes asparagus, it produces this smelly chemical, which your discriminating kidneys see fit to dump into the bladder.

This probably doesn't qualify as red-hot science, but it's warm enough to spark differing opinions.

In 1975 a chemist from California claimed in Science that gas chromatography had fingered a different culprit: S-Methyl Thioesters, to be precise. No methanethiol.

Then there's the 1980 reference in the British Medical Journal that simply refers to "metabolites." Another asparagus scholar favors "six sulfur-containing compounds."

I'm voting for methanethiol, partly because the guy who did the gas chromatography left no forwarding address, and partly because the methanethiol entry in my aging Merck Index of chemicals is so interesting.

Methanethiol is composed mostly of sulfur with a splash of hydrogen, plus some carbon, a brew famous for its effect in rotten eggs, cabbages and paper mills. Convincing, no? Merck also notes the asparagus connection and, most intriguing, warns that methanethiol may be a narcotic in high concentrations.

Now if you're scowling at your screen and muttering, "My pee doesn't smell like asparagus," first ask yourself if you eat asparagus.

Even if you do but lack the smell, you're still OK. In fact the fabulously funny book, The ReSearch Guide to Body Fluids (by Paul Spinrad, Juno Books, N.Y., 1994), says just 22 percent of survey respondents experience asparagus pee.

Early investigators thought genetics had divided the world into stinkers and nonstinkers. That was until 1980, when three researchers had the presence of mind to wave pee from the nonstinkers under the noses of the stinkers.

Lo and behold, the problem proved to be one not of producing the stinky pee but of being able to sniff it out.

If you've been deprived of this gift, don't give up hope. To increase the concentration of methanethiol molecules available to your snoot, you could either intentionally dehydrate yourself before you dine (this is unhealthful); or pee into a cup and sniff that. Or eat three and a half pounds of asparagus for lunch.

And if you experience a narcotic effect, you could be looking at a tenure-track position at a fine university.

Hannah Holmes sniffs out answers to life's oddities in Portland, Maine. She's a regular contributor to Discovery Channel Online and also writes for Escape, Outside, Sierra, Backpacker, Eco Traveler and Women's Sports and Fitness. Write her at skinny@online.discovery.com.

Not to be outdone by MissPatriot

Saw this on her blog, and had to try it.

Take the quiz at dicepool.com

Which apparently means:

You are the large, round, friendly d20! (You probably didn't know this, but the shape of the twenty-sided die is called an Icosahedron.) You are the friendly, outgoing, outspoken, leader of friends. You are often looked up to, even though you don't normally deserve it. Most other types secretly wish they were you, and you'd give them tips on how, if only you had a clue yourself. Your charisma is often all you need, but you have your occasional moments of brilliance as well--just never when it's actually needed. You are the all-around good guy, a dependable chum, a respectable foe, and an inspiration to those who need one. Who says you can't get by on a smile and good looks alone?

Another Nifty test.

Not sure how I feel about this one ... but here you are....

Your Inner European is Russian!

Mysterious and exotic. You've got a great balance of danger and allure.

Who's Your Inner European?

Chase and Suzanne 

Chase, Suzanne and Me in Savannah, GA 

Pictures from Savannah

I got these two pictures when I visited Savannah, they are of Chase and Suzanne of the blog Contemblogging and me. They were quite gracious, and I truely enjoyed our beautiful Sunday afternoon. More later...

My test results.

Here are my test results, as noted on Sharon's blog.

Bacardi 151 Congratulations! You're 139 proof, with specific scores in beer (80) , wine (100), and liquor (113).

All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 74% on proof You scored higher than 89% on beer index You scored higher than 93% on wine index You scored higher than 98% on liquor index

Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid

I think I am supposed to be either depressed, or totally inebrieated. I think I spelled that right.

Until our next.........

It's Good Friday.

There is an oxymoron somewhere in the above. I mean, it's good because it's Friday, and it's good because of what happened about this date 2005 years ago... but to realize we are celebrating the death of (in my belief) the Messiah is heartbreaking. Every year I have difficulty with this... but to paraphrase something that makes it tolerable...

Jesus lived a good and faithful life in a wicked world. He did this because that is the kind of person he was, and to show us it could be done. He was one to always lead by example.

On Easter Sunday, he rose again from the dead. He did this to show we could do that, too.


All I can say to that is .... Amen.

God bless, and until our next........

Wow. It's been a while.

I am sorry it has been so long since I typed anything. I have to admit, a part was being so sick (I was off a whole week - I haven't missed more than one day from work in years.) Part was being burnt out from work around the house. Part was just work. And part was simple exhaustion. So forgive me, and if you all have left me, I understand :) Homecoming soon I hope.

I now know what Sharon has to deal with. My wife, who now stays at home to deal with just this kind of thing, went to my daughter's parent/teacher conference. What an UPLIFTING experience. NOT.

It turns out that my daughter, who is ADHD, has still had problems getting the work she does turned in. I have issues with this, but that isn't the point. If she turns in ANYTHING late, even by minutes, it instantly goes into a black hole. This is known as the "Late Paper Bin". My guess is that it is little more than a recycle bin. Anything turned in late, regardless of it's merit and correctness is instantly transformed to a "D" (or a 60%).

I have to be honest. On the one hand, I do understand the teacher's attempt to push students to get papers in on time. I really do. On the other hand, however, I do have issues with an instant 40% degredation of work done. And the fact that he goes through his bin once every month or so makes it even harder. So papers can, and do, get misplaced. Even if she does the work, and gets it in late, it may or may not even get credited to her. This is an ongoing issue.

Secondly, my daughter was hoping to attend "Outdoor School" - which is a summer program for 6th graders. It costs money, for which there are innumerable fund raisers throughout the year. We have participated in all of them, and were ready and willing to make up the difference.

Here comes the other shoe... it appears that there are "behavioral guidelines" that up until now, were not known to us. She has to have three weeks of perfect homework turning in, and must meet another nebulous behavior constrictions. If she doesn't, then she can't go, and the money she (read me and her mom) raised goes into the kitty for other students, thereby cutting THEIR costs for attendance.

My issue is not that the money goes into the kitty. It's that way for a LOT of things. However, my issue IS with their not telling us these guidelines until it is virtually too late to do anything about. There are no exceptions made for LD kids, and we also found out that ADHD is not really a LD issue but a behavioral issue. HMMMM.

SO that's my rant today. God bless everyone, (we all could use it anyway,) and go to Sharon's blog and wish her happy birthday.

Until our next.........

I scared myself today.

Woke up last night with a bit of a fever, so I called in this morning. And things proceeded to go downhill. Called the doctor, got an appointment for this afternoon.

When I checked in at the doctors, my temp was 104.1 . They double checked it. 103.8 the second time. I was NOT a happy camper.

So I was the lucky recipient of some IV antibiotics, and some new goodies to tear me up for a week or two, and a note from my doctor saying I can go back to work on Monday. Well, at least I have time to catch up on my blogging. :)

Until our next.........

Do you want to go Home??

I want to go home. You know, where I came from. I live now in the Pacific Northwest. It rains a LOT. I'm a Southern boy - born and raised in Virginia, went to High School in southern Texas.

When I go home to visit, I can smell the marshes, with their sulfurous odor of decaying seashores, exposed sea mud... and I know intrinsically that the very smell flows through my veins. The smell of the wind over the ocean hitting my face. The way the sun looks right at sunset. It's like the wavelength of the rays are different... Beckoning me home.

I can deny my heritage no more than I could deny being Caucasian or red headed. Well, it used to be red :)... My mouth yearns for the taste of pulled pork barbecue, brisket done Texas style, shrimp boiled fresh from the boat, knowing they were swimming happily in the ocean only hours before.

I remember the sounds .... the splash of mullet in the channels, the lap of water on the shoreline. The look of the moon as it rose over the water. In Virginia, the rustling of trees getting ready to drop their leaves, the crunch of the ice covered puddles as I go to the bus in October/November.

Sometimes I wonder if the strength of these yearnings are not the pull of home but the wish to return to simpler times. I don't know.

What do you think?

Until our next ........