Monday, January 29, 2001
Snow began to fall before dawn today, but not enough had fallen before I left for school to warrant canceling classes; however, by the time I arrived, the powers that be had changed their minds, and classes were canceled for the day. Several of my students had arrived for the noon class, so we held a quick review for the quiz they'll take later in the week, and then we were on our way.
On the way home, I stopped by some woods to shoot a disk of pictures with the digital camera (I am so pleased that it's back in service!), so I'll have some photos to play with for the next few days.
Before that, on the way out of the class, a student snapped one of me. It has been doctored a bit to make me presentable, and I added the little frame around it and linked it
here.
I'm so good looking that I fog up my own glasses...
4:00 PM CST (GMT -6)
Sunday, January 28, 2001
My trust in my digital camera isn't yet fully restored, but today I ended the ostrich behavior that I have been exhibiting since the camera's disk system first failed around the time of Christmas, a year and some days after I'd purchased it. This morning I overcame my fear that this already costly toy would cost me even more to maintain and enjoy. A five dollar cleaning disk seems to have taken care of the problem. This isn't much of a photo [Trust me: the photo's not worth the click, but I wanted to experiment with a pop-up window], but when I heard the disk drive record the first thing the little Mavica had seen properly in a month, my heart leapt. The camera � my camera � is an organic thing, you see, and it sees again and it remembers.
And just in time for what might be a very promising ice storm! Does life get better than this?
12:20 PM CST (GMT -6)
Saturday, January 27, 2001
Among the young girls who have started calling Owen after school and on weekends is one whose attention he finds particularly irksome, perhaps because she's the most persistent of the lot, sometimes calling several times an hour. He might sense danger there. His mother suggested that he tell her that he already has a girlfriend (he doesn't). He has tried that already, he says, but when he couldn't think of a girl's name to offer up as proof, he was busted.
Owen missed three days of school this week, staying home with the flu, but he returned to school on Friday.
7:00 AM CST (GMT -6)
The number eleven doesn't work for me as a temperature (Fahrenheit), but that's what the thermometer says. Eleven. Eleven works as one of a boy's perfect ages (ten is another, I think). But as a temperature? Hmmpf!
8:15 AM CST (GMT -6)
Found at FootNotes: Secra's recommendation of Not My Desk: Temporary Insanity, a journal new to me.
9:30 AM CST (GMT -6)
Friday, January 26, 2001
On Wednesday and Thursday, during most of my hours outside the classroom, I tried to catch up on the grading that I had postponed earlier in the week. Monday I lost a full evening of work to household plumbing problems. I arrived home that night to find the kitchen and laundry drains had backed up. I was relieved to discover that the problem was unrelated to the main line out to the sewer, where I first learned years ago that shit will flow uphill. Clearing these lesser drains did, however, require that I buy a new snake. I think we now own every diameter and length that the local hardware stores carry.
A light snow fell yesterday when I drove home from school. Williston Point Road is usually closed during snowfall, but the powers that be were running late, so I took my chances and followed an SUV down my favorite winding road. The only windows I had seen all day had been of the Microsoft variety, so I didn't know that a sheet of frozen rain lay beneath the snow. Although I drove cautiously at around 25-30 MPH, the Mighty Metro, newly shod, spun out twice, both times depositing me harmlessly on a grassy bank. When I told the made-for-TV version to the kids, the spins were 540's at least, but in fact they were only 180's, and no harm came to property, person or motor vehicle record.
4:30 PM CST (GMT -6)
Tonight I toted a book with me to Taylor's basketball practice, but I don't know why I bothered: I cannot take my eyes off him. His grace amazes me.
7:30 PM CST (GMT -6)
Wednesday, January 24, 2001
Critters were on the move in yesterday's warmth. In the morning, two red-tailed hawks hunted from the same cottonwood along the highway. Nearby, two kestrels hunted, one from a wire, the other in flight. Loping from one creek to another, a red fox crossed the road, no chicken in sight, just because he could.
10:50 AM CST (GMT -6)
Tuesday, January 23, 2001
Evaporation is the journal to check for a slow walk through the "sedatin' land." I chuckled my way though the entry "Look," which offers this zinger:
Even more effective is an eye patch. Preferably black. Worn on the right eye, I think it means you're straight, on the left, I believe it means you're gay, and one on each eye means, of course, you're a critic.
The same entry also offers a link to an article about the work of Mexican photographer Graciela Iturbide.
11:20 AM CST (GMT -6)
Monday, January 22, 2001
When we were growing up, parents in the neighborhood said that Tommy spent too much time inside watching TV and not enough time outside playing. Now that his credit reads "Thomas" instead of "Tommy," I guess it's become evident that he has made those long days in front of the TV pay off. Last night Schlamme won a Golden Globe for his role as producer of The West Wing.
A simple list of the alumni of the neighborhood and the high school would probably make a pretty flashy entry. Somewhere I've already mentioned Brent Mintz (now Spiner) of Data fame. And then there's my own international renown as a writer of an on-line journal.
Wait, that could be a depressing entry.
7:35 AM CST (GMT -6)
Sunday, January 21, 2001
I might be blocking more light than I should be. When I sat down at the computer Saturday morning, the button on my khakis ricocheted off the monitor. After I had dug the button out of the wall with a Swiss army knife, I found that its plastic center had been blown out, leaving only the thick flange at the circumference. This is probably an inherent flaw in the button, a flaw unrelated to the increase in my girth this winter. But just in case, yesterday I added an extra mile to my daily two-mile waddle.
I am rereading John Mortimer's novel Summer's Lease, a bit of fluff that floats around a family's holiday in Tuscany. I'm reading it as an alternative to the armchair travel that I usually read in winter, but there's probably a longer entry due that would attempt to explain why so much of my recent reading has been rereading.
7:55 AM CST (GMT -6)
Saturday, January 20, 2001
While I futz with minor glitches on a personal computer, others learn to stop and start light.
7:00 AM CST (GMT -6)
Last night was game night at Taylor's school, so we all loaded into the suburban assault vehicle and headed out for an evening of hot dogs and dodgeball, a game so entrenched in American school culture that Merriam-Webster makes it one word while the noun form of the even more venerable hot dog remains two. My preoccupation with trifles like this might explain why I have merely blocked light rather than stopping it.
7:15 AM CST (GMT -6)
Thursday, January 18, 2001
The last few weeks in this household have been rough ones on the computer maintenance front. I cleaned the hard drive again last week to eliminate a problem that had arisen. I've become very proficient at reformatting the hard drive, but if I were more knowledgeable about Windows, I might have found a simpler solution. Although I'm adept at manipulating application software to produce a document, I'm incompetent in almost every other area of computer technology.
My computer knowledge is comparable to my expertise in television repair. I can program a VCR, operate the remote control, and find what I want in TV Guide; however, I have no idea what makes those lights travel through the air or the cable and appear on the screen, and I don't really care how they do, as long as they do.
Last night, however, the kids gave me another opportunity to learn more about Windows. I came downstairs to the computer, dialed up the Internet, and found that the Explorer content advisor had been password protected. Owen had tried unsuccessfully to download AOL pager and thought that changing the security settings might enable the download. I've also been unable to download new drivers for the modem, and I've been unable to connect to the public library's online catalog, and I am beginning to think that these three problems are related.
Anyway, while clicking and sliding around in the content advisor, he might have set a password either deliberately or accidentally, although he vehemently denies that he did so. Naturally, he didn't know what password had been entered, so without the password, I was unable to open any pages, including my web E-mail and any sites that might have recommended fixes for the problem. And the help indexes for both Windows98 and IE5 appear to offer no help on the subject.
I huffed and puffed, waved my arms, stomped my feet, and I might have spiced the night air with an expletive or two (maybe more), but still the browser would not fix itself. I tried to uninstall and reinstall Explorer, but it would not be uninstalled. I was about to dump the hard drive again when I decided to contact a good friend and great techno nerd who walked me through the registries to delete the password. That help returned the browser and my blood pressure to normal, where they will remain until somebody touches something again.
This morning I enjoyed reading James Lileks' thoughts in his Bleat of January 16th about the attachments we develop to a place and its artifacts.
1:50 PM CST (GMT -6)
Monday, January 15, 2001
I did nothing yesterday. Well, not altogether nothing.
I worked a bit on an entry to explain what I've done here, but was interrupted by kids competing for computer time.
I watched aghast as the Giants dismantled the Vikings in the NFL playoffs.
For the first time in history, I cheered for the Raiders. A cheap shot by a Ravens player on Oakland quarterback Rich Gannon changed my sympathies.
I began grading the first batch of papers turned in by the new crop of students.
I prepared for a small computer class of seniors (this MWF at the senior center).
I cooked little and cleaned less.
Because "we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past," I watched the A&E version of The Great Gatsby.
I slept.
12:05 PM CST (GMT -6)
Saturday, January 13, 2001
A friend pointed me to this page, which offers up a wav file and a transcript of the Abbot and Costello "Who's on First" routine.
Today we'll have Taylor's birthday party, but last night we had his family birthday dinner. His local grandmothers and an uncle joined us. He chose a yellow menu: mini corn dogs, corn, and macaroni & cheese.
His gifts included a new game and an accessory kit for his Game Boy, and a Craftsman cordless 3/8" drill. I have no idea what kind of screwing around he plans, but he spent much of the evening tightening hinges and door knobs, after which he blissed out watching it recharge.
This afternoon, he'll have a small group of buddies over for a party at the house.
7:15 AM CST (GMT -6)
The stews and soups of the season help take off winter's edge. There's comfort in their simplicity and in the casual busy-ness they encourage in the preparation of the ingredients. Slicing an onion is worth doing for its own sake; that an onion cooking with other foods keeps the house fragrant throughout the afternoon is a bonus. Today's concoction: hot polish sausage (turkey), bacon (turkey), chicken breasts (chicken), red and green bell peppers, onion, celery, a bay leaf for some bite, some fennel seed for me, a little chicken bouillon or broth, whatever is handy, and (if I dare defy the okra-impaired of this household) that can of okra that has been on the shelf for months. No roux today; I'll add rice to the pot before supper tonight.
1:00 PM CST (GMT -6)
Friday, January 12, 2001
While teaching a class at the senior center some time ago, I remarked that little kids approach computers fearlessly, and a grandmother in the class replied, "Well, sure! They can afford to be fearless. They know that if they botch something that someone else will have to fix it."
Last night I arrived home to find the boys had arranged a new adventure for me on the computer. Today I'll learn why Windows forces our computer to operate in safe mode and what to do to correct it. What joy! I spent part of last evening and this morning reloading drivers, but now I think I might be wise to back up files, bookmarks and addresses, lest my adventures lead to a computer crash like the one that resulted in the last reformatting.
A gibbous moon hung low and yellow in the eastern sky last night during my drive home. Ten years ago we were watching the night skies over Baghdad, and Taylor hit the planet. This week he turned ten before my very eyes.
8:00 AM CST (GMT -6)
Monday, January 8, 2001
Some days grind hard, but in grinding, polish; other days grind so hard they leave only dust. If I were to sneeze right now, I could block the sun with today's dust.
The best moments of this day occurred during Ken Burns' latest multimedia project for history class (and PBS), Jazz. That's not meant to disparage Burns' work. I just don't normally find the high point of the day on the television.
11:00 PM CST (GMT -6)
Sunday, January 7, 2001
The millennium changed yesterday at 5 PM. On Friday, December 29th, Dad ordered a new computer from Dell. Although he and Mom have been using a computer for years, they weren't connected. On Tuesday, their new computer arrived, and by Wednesday, they were hooked up with the free year of MSN that was bundled with it.
By Saturday at 5 PM they were on the phone complaining that I had been slow to reply to an E-mail that they had sent on Wednesday announcing their Internet presence. I told them that the address they had used was for a POP3 account for the household, an account that no one here checks regularly. They aren't particularly troublesome (particularly at a remove of over 700 miles) but I can see that they might regard a reply to their E-mail that doesn't arrive within an hour of sending as a behavior typical of a neglectful child. Retirees have a different sense of time and my parents tend to watch their pots.
After we cleared up the matter of the best E-mail address to use, we then got into a discussion of the proper form for the word E-mail. Merriam-Webster uses E-mail for a noun, but drops the capitalization for the verb. American Heritage drops the capitalization altogether but keeps the hyphen. I think I recall that the New York Times prefers E-Mail, capitalizing both the E and the M. MS Word permits any of these variants except the NY Times version, and also allows email. I think the day will soon come when it becomes email, and eventually simply mail.
9:30 AM CST (GMT -6)
I bought two new tires for the Metro yesterday. The rear end of the little sucker is so light that the rear tires wear irregularly (cupping, I think it's called), so I went to the usual Goodyear place yesterday morning, and I was reminded once again why I appreciate small cars.
The kid at the counter had one of those local faces that I probably should know, but his name wasn't familiar to me. Maybe I saw his father or mother in his face. When I told him I needed two tires for 13-inch rims to go on a Metro, he checked the computer for available stock.
"I've got a pair of Kelly tires I can let you have for $34 apiece."
"Don't you have something a little pricier? Something to make me feel I am someone? Or are you making fun of my car?"
He quickly recognized my good humor, smiled broadly, and said, "I've got the Kellys," so the deal was struck.
Of course, all the extra charges (valve stems, a disposal charge, taxes, etc.) drove the price to just over $100 for the pair, but I still felt I'd gotten out of there cheap. He rotated the good front tires to the rear and put the new tires on the front drive-wheels, so the Mighty Metro rolls smoothly again, ready to hum more Louis Armstrong to me.
1:30 PM CST (GMT -6)
Saturday, January 6, 2001
It's been a good millennium so far: new classes, no grading on the horizon for another ten days, another holiday (the M.L. King observance) next weekend, clear skies, rising temperatures, longer hours of sunlight.
And I have had time to read serendipitously. After reading the three Durrell books, I returned to the public library earlier in the week to pick up some translations of the Tao Te Ching. With a few different versions of the Tao in hand, I was headed for the circulation desk when I noticed a book out of place in the religion section. I had read two other books by John Janovy years ago (Keith County Journal and Yellowlegs), and here beckoned Back in Keith County. A Zen moment? Nahhh.
I thought the Janovy might provide a good concrete counterweight to all the flights of erotic, historical and philosophic fancy in the Durrell nonfiction I've read lately, so I added this mislaid book to my short stack and began reading it last night.
A parasitologist working at the University of Nebraska, Janovy writes engagingly on matters environmental and philosophical, and his chosen locales are often the prairies of the West and Midwest. And now that I think of it, the book might not have been misplaced. As a parasitologist, Janovy has spent time divining the order of the universe by examining the entrails of roadkill (in Yellowlegs, for instance). He would, no doubt, say that differently, but in a sense that's what he does in his books. I enjoyed the earlier books, I'm enjoying this one, and I'll probably have more to say about it, but right now the young'uns are rising and shining, so I must go.
8:00 AM CST (GMT -6)
Friday, January 5, 2001
The meals over the holidays were far richer than I am accustomed to, so I went to Dillon's (Kroger's) Tuesday to try to correct the effects of my overly carnivorous holidays. I picked up fixings for salads, a package of turkey bacon (a first for me), and a few bags of brown rice. The brown rice might sit in the cupboard for months, but I feel better for having purchased it. I suppose I could also stand to move my carcass away from the TV, which I'll do now that the bowl games have ended. The rich diet and my assiduous attention to televised football has me feeling logy, so it's time to take some deep, cleansing bites and to exercise more.
Getting outside to exercise should be easier now that the freeze has broken. On Wednesday the temperature finally rose above freezing, and snow that has lain here since mid-December has started to melt. By Thursday a light windbreaker was enough to keep out the chill, and the thaw continued, so I have resumed walking outside. I don't recall a time when temperatures here stayed so low for so long, and I certainly don't remember a time when snow loitered on the ground for so long here. If it happens again soon, I might have to join the AARP crowd and become a mall walker, a recreation I have resisted so far. On the other hand if I continue to focus on the woes of weather and diet, I might as well acknowledge that I have already become one of them.
6:30 AM CST (GMT -6)
Taylor is home from school again today. We kept him home Thursday, and he lounged on the sofa as he had done Wednesday. He is feeling much better today, but we've held him out of school as a precaution. He's already in slug mode, lounging on the couch with a supply of videotapes at the ready.
He enjoys school, so there's little concern here that he might malinger. A neighbor and classmate brought him his school work last night and he got to work on it immediately, finishing it in less than an hour.
7:40 AM CST (GMT -6)
Wednesday, January 3, 2001
I love the first day of classes, no matter the season. And today is the day. Two classes begin today. Two more will begin next week.
I left the boys at home this morning and came in early to handle some administrative garbasczh before class begins at noon. Josh was still sleeping, Owen had just gone to sleep after spending a night at Alex's house for a sleepover (the kind where no sleep happens apparently), and Taylor was stretched out on a sofa enjoying a Keanu Reeves retrospective (Speed and The Matrix) while he recoups his strength. He's claiming illness on this, the last day before his school resumes, so he's snuggled down in his sleeping bag wearing jammies with feet, his trusty (and new) Maglight by his side in its candle configuration, a stash of batteries at this side. He can't resist a gadget, and his grandmother (whom he finagled yesterday to buy said gadget for him) can't resist her grandkids.
The household has endured another holiday, another college football game peeks at me from the horizon of the evening, and life is good today.
11:30 AM CST (GMT -6)
Tuesday, January 2, 2001
Yesterday I watched football and then I watched more football. KSU defeated a young Tennessee team 35-21 in the only game I watched in its entirety (minus the moments in the third quarter when Mom called to see if I knew the game was televised).
For the rest of the day, I kept the upstairs TV tuned to ABC, the network broadcasting the BCS bowl games, and I drifted in and out of the room. Keith Jackson, who after forty-eight years of calling college football games is still among the best, called the Rose Bowl game between Washington and Purdue. I appreciate Jackson not only because his equanimity indicates that he might recognize the difference between a football game and Greek tragedy, but also because I associate his voice so strongly with college football in my lifetime of watching the games. I imagine his voice when I recall the sound of football broadcasts drifting from open windows across back yards in October. His voice might not be a national treasure, but I'll certainly notice his absence when he retires.
Taylor monopolized the kitchen VCR yesterday, clearing his video palate of holiday fare with several viewings of that timeless classic, Tremors. My football viewing and T's movie viewing gave Owen nearly unhindered access to the computer. He should be suitably glazed from gaming by the time he returns to school on Thursday. Josh spent most of the day down in his basement cave, imagining what life might be like when he finally has one.
8:00 AM CST (GMT -6)
Since May, when I moved the journal pages to GeoCities, I have continued to back them up at the old Tripod site. A few folks continued to use links that led them to the Tripod site, which I often updated late or not at all. Yesterday I finally put a notice on the index page at Tripod to direct the few visitors there to the GeoCities site. I'll continue to back up the journal and log files there, but I'll probably remain lackadaisical about it, and it will remain impractical for a visitor's use because of the lack of a directory-style index page.
11:30 AM CST (GMT -6)
Monday, January 1, 2001
010101, a binary date, maybe even a transcendental number. What's going on here? I should explain, but I don't see that happening today, not with the football schedule being what it is today. But with a date like 010101, I had to post something here.
8:00 AM CST (GMT -6)
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Copyright � 2001 by R.C. Patterson. All rights reserved. Act like it matters.
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