Gather round my children and I shall tell you a tale... A tale of frustration, woe, victory, and triumph. A tale of a man and his quest to acquire the ultimate American dream: home ownership. God, how boring does that sound? Well, this one was a month in the making, but it runs kind of interesting and has a decent ending to it.
Optimus Prime, the geek who I work with at the computer job, has been looking to purchase his own home for the last few months, and has been looking around town for a good realtor and then a good house. He's actually been in the area for a couple years having moved from Missouri after losing / quitting his job there. That process was a drama in and of itself which involved him having to sell of his last house, losing his Mustang, etc., which made his wife rather unhappy with him.
They've been living in this apartment complex owned by Case and Associates. Remember the name. I've never heard anything good about these people. Optimus describes his apartment as a dungeon, even though it's on the second floor, because no natural light can make it into this apartment. The only window is the door to the balcony and there is a tree right there that blocks the sun. He has had problems with pretty much every faucet in the place, and no matter how many times their "maintenance staff" comes out to fix it, the problems remains. This is because they either can't fix it, or won't due to this next problem.
Cockroaches. Ew... You see, this complex used to have five more buildings than it does now, but due to a fire, those burned, and the cockroaches who were inhabiting these buildings all migrated into the remaining ones creating a veritable infestation that management doesn't seem to want to do anything about. He tells me they were going through a can of Raid about every day or day and a half, and the roaches were just laughing at them.
Recently, they had someone spray and he has complained much less about them, but the head maintenance guy refused to work on their sink once because there was (ew!) a roach under there. What a wuss...
Another thing that bugs them quite a bit is the laundry facilities. Apparently when they have time to do laundry, so does everyone else, especially this one Mexican lady who commandeers every single washer and dryer in the place for hours on end, not allowing anyone to get anything done. Imagine the deluge of people once she is finally done.
So they're ready to move, nevermind the obvious fact that there is not enough room in that little place for them. They can't keep anything out of the hands of the little one since the place is so small that he can get into everything and management won't allow locks on any of the doors.
Well, a little over a month ago, they found a place they loved. He raves about it daily...or rather, did rave about it daily until the offer letter was signed and accepted and the dreaded "process of buying a house" set in. Now, I remember some of these woes because when I bought mine, there were a few pains to deal with, and most of them...no, all of them...were the mortgage company. He had a couple of extra woes, which added to his drama.
The initial dickering was nothing extremely special. He wanted to make sure he got this one year warranty with the price of the house so that anything major that went wrong could be fixed for $50. Not a bad deal. We didn't have anything go bad in the first year, but that's a good thing to know about if we ever go for another house (no, we're not even remotely considering thinking about beginning to look; we're happy). So they gave in to his requests and offer done.
Then, his wife got into a car accident and totaled their one and only car. He asked his realtor about this predicament since they needed to get another car. They were told with their prior car loan in its good state of being nearly paid off, there would have been no problem, but a new loan would look bad on the credit in getting a house since they'd be at 100% debt. This means if he wanted the house, he was forbidden to get another car until the house closed.
Well, not completely forbidden, of course. He could have gone for a used car for less than the payoff he received, but he wanted the warranty, etc. of a new or nearly new purchase, not to mention the piece of mind that comes from getting a vehicle from a reputable dealer, so he was stuck renting a car on the weekends and hitching a ride with another guy here during the week, and he's been doing that faithfully this whole time.
This gave them the opportunity to try several different vehicles from the rental company and they actually like the Ford Focus, though it is the cool hi-tech features that appeal to him. I mean, built in MP3 player that responds to your voice? Yeah, geek paradise there.
So, with no car except rental action, they set up the inspection for a week where he could fork over the $800 to everyone to inspect the property, etc., and the house got a mostly clean bill of health except for one tiny hiccup. Apparently, the electrical wiring on the second floor was a weekend warrior kind of job, and it failed miserably. The list was so long of electrical problems that all they asked the previous owner to do was bring the electrical up to code. Seems fairly straight forward, right?
The previous owner spent a week getting estimates before they officially agreed to do it. During that week, Optimus was fretting daily over losing the money in the inspection, but finally said if he didn't hear back from them, he'd have to back out and start over since the first on the month was coming up, and he had to know whether he was giving notice or not. He wasn't interested in paying another month of rent if they were moving. He laid it all out for his realtor. They agreed the following day.
So things are back on, and he's getting excited. He could close any day, right? Heh. Well, the water heater wasn't 18 inches above the floor, and it had to be moved up. This was done fairly quickly, but now the loan company has to go back out there to visually confirm it. You'd think this would be a quick process...
Another week goes by, no firm closing date, and then the storm comes. If there were anything more to make them want to get the heck out of there, their bedroom ceiling bursting forth with its own indoor waterfall ruining everything in sight might do it.
Naturally, the complex got some people out to fix the roof the next day so it wouldn't leak again. Well, come the next storm, it was if nothing was done at all, and it leaked just as it had originally. So yesterday, the complex got some people to replace the carpet. That makes sense, right? These people are full of sense, but what kind of logic do you expect from a guy who's afraid of cockroaches?
They showed up with the carpet people without any warning at all, and only Prime's wife was there. They expected her to clear their bedroom so they could replace the carpet. Now this is a housewife taking care of a three year old being expected to move the bed frame, wet mattresses, a dresser, and everything else a typical bedroom has...and oh yes, you have fifteen minutes cause they're on the clock.
Needless to say this didn't fly. What finally happened there was (after Prime talked to her, he talked to me, and I threw out an idea or two) she told them off for that day, and to come back tomorrow after they had a chance to move stuff for them. They came back today and replaced the wet portion of the carpet without bothering with the dresser. I shake my head...
For today, Optimus is completely useless since he is distracted by an impending closing date, a week of vacation, and the prospect of getting out of that apartment "possessed by Satan." He said he'd had a priest come over to bless the place, but he was told that he was "too old" to be blessed fully and to walk it off when it was over. And he's been walking it off ever since...
Friday, April 11, 2008
Star Power
So I've decided to start scoring the songs on my iPod with the prescribed rating system of 1 to 5 stars, but I had to really think about how I would do this so I wasn't just slapping everything with 5 stars and not dissing a perfectly good song with 1 or no stars, so I came up with the following system:
***** - The epitome of a perfect song. Not only do I love to listen to it, but this is the way songs (or music) should be written. The model marriage of words and music where no part is less important than another. These don't always make the charts. I also would not stop this song until it was over unless I had to.
**** - This one is worth listening to over and over. It's really good and exemplifies it's genre and artist very well. I can see a lot of number one singles falling into this section.
*** - This would be music that sounds good, it's worth keeping in the mix, and I like to hear it when it plays. It won't wow you when you hear it, but it won't make you sick either.
** - Clearly this is supposed to be a song, and it fits all (or most of) the qualifications of one, but I don't like it.
* - WTF?! Who let Sassy Pants on the piano?!
I currently have over 4700 songs on my iPod so rating them all will take quite a bit of time. I've take to ripping (and re-ripping) a lot of my CDs finally so I can have a better mix of the music I've been collecting all these years as opposed to the handful of stuff I had in 32kbps format. I've gotten a lot of stuff that I haven't heard in ages in a random mix. It's like a dream come true.
I'm one of those people who would actually have wanted a 200 CD changer some time ago just to load it with a ton of disc and randomize them to hear all the music in no order at all. This iPod holds a ton more than any 200 disc changer and allows you to delete out of the mix entirely stuff you don't like or don't want to play in this mix, not to mention a ton of other features you just couldn't get when I was rabidly collecting music some years ago.
The mix on my iPod is so eclectic, it would make some people's heads explode. Imagine zipping from classical to metal to middle of the road to easy listening to praise & worship to hard rock in that many songs. Ah, sweet bliss.
Last night was a good night, I thought. We did end up at Bueno, and this time, it went a lot better, but part of that was because we ate in instead of taking it home. This means they did screw up the order even though the receipt clearly stated what we wanted. I pointed out the errors immediately, and they fixed it. If we'd taken that home, we'd've been pissed...again. They really need to pay attention out there. But like I said, it still went all right because they were willing to make the necessary corrections without question.
I had intended to get Twilight Princess for the Wii from Blockbuster, but they don't even carry it, so I went with a game we'd played for an hour one night with some friends called Rabid Rabbids 2. This is probably one of the best party games ever. Not only is it extremely interactive, but it's a lot of fun just to watch what happens on screen with the various mini games you play with your friends. Naturally, before the Queen and I got into that game, we played co-op Guitar Hero...for an hour and a half.
But it was a lot of fun, and made for a nice round-up to the evening before settling into bed.
Finally, an amusing second-hand story from the tornadic activity that occurred a couple days ago. Someone in our office did have family that was hit by a tornado that hit so close, it bvlew out all the windows in the rear of their home as well as whicking away a couch and barbeque grill that was on their back porch.
Now here's the amusing part of this. Also on that back porch were a tricycle and piece of chalk that didn't move. Tornados are funny this way, but this tornado was clearly a lazy bastard of a storm. It wants to lounge around and grill, but doesn't want any part of exercising.
***** - The epitome of a perfect song. Not only do I love to listen to it, but this is the way songs (or music) should be written. The model marriage of words and music where no part is less important than another. These don't always make the charts. I also would not stop this song until it was over unless I had to.
**** - This one is worth listening to over and over. It's really good and exemplifies it's genre and artist very well. I can see a lot of number one singles falling into this section.
*** - This would be music that sounds good, it's worth keeping in the mix, and I like to hear it when it plays. It won't wow you when you hear it, but it won't make you sick either.
** - Clearly this is supposed to be a song, and it fits all (or most of) the qualifications of one, but I don't like it.
* - WTF?! Who let Sassy Pants on the piano?!
I currently have over 4700 songs on my iPod so rating them all will take quite a bit of time. I've take to ripping (and re-ripping) a lot of my CDs finally so I can have a better mix of the music I've been collecting all these years as opposed to the handful of stuff I had in 32kbps format. I've gotten a lot of stuff that I haven't heard in ages in a random mix. It's like a dream come true.
I'm one of those people who would actually have wanted a 200 CD changer some time ago just to load it with a ton of disc and randomize them to hear all the music in no order at all. This iPod holds a ton more than any 200 disc changer and allows you to delete out of the mix entirely stuff you don't like or don't want to play in this mix, not to mention a ton of other features you just couldn't get when I was rabidly collecting music some years ago.
The mix on my iPod is so eclectic, it would make some people's heads explode. Imagine zipping from classical to metal to middle of the road to easy listening to praise & worship to hard rock in that many songs. Ah, sweet bliss.
Last night was a good night, I thought. We did end up at Bueno, and this time, it went a lot better, but part of that was because we ate in instead of taking it home. This means they did screw up the order even though the receipt clearly stated what we wanted. I pointed out the errors immediately, and they fixed it. If we'd taken that home, we'd've been pissed...again. They really need to pay attention out there. But like I said, it still went all right because they were willing to make the necessary corrections without question.
I had intended to get Twilight Princess for the Wii from Blockbuster, but they don't even carry it, so I went with a game we'd played for an hour one night with some friends called Rabid Rabbids 2. This is probably one of the best party games ever. Not only is it extremely interactive, but it's a lot of fun just to watch what happens on screen with the various mini games you play with your friends. Naturally, before the Queen and I got into that game, we played co-op Guitar Hero...for an hour and a half.
But it was a lot of fun, and made for a nice round-up to the evening before settling into bed.
Finally, an amusing second-hand story from the tornadic activity that occurred a couple days ago. Someone in our office did have family that was hit by a tornado that hit so close, it bvlew out all the windows in the rear of their home as well as whicking away a couch and barbeque grill that was on their back porch.
Now here's the amusing part of this. Also on that back porch were a tricycle and piece of chalk that didn't move. Tornados are funny this way, but this tornado was clearly a lazy bastard of a storm. It wants to lounge around and grill, but doesn't want any part of exercising.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Taco Malo
So last night it rained again. But this time, we didn't have any rude awakenings or anything and slept completely soundly thorughout the night. And it was just as well for the evening we had.
Now, the same could not be said for Optimus Prime and his dramatic problems since when his apartment complex contracted out the fix on the roof, they didn't do it well enough, and their bedroom was wet yet again. He said he was fortunate in that he went to bed as soon as he got home or he wouldn't have gotten any sleep.
On another note, because I don't recall whether this whole bit with him and his family has been mentioned or not, they are not just screwed in their flood. They are buying a house, closing fairly soon, and will likely be moving out within the next week anyway to a house that is dry and won't leak on their heads. That whole mess is another long dramatic story in and of itself.
But we had our own mess yesterday that just sucked. We decided to go out yesterday and get the princesses the movie Enchanted because when we watched it on our movie night, they just loved it. So we went to Wal-Mart (in a torrential downpour, no less) and got back to electronics where we picked up the movie. In what should have been a flourish of joy and triumph, it rang a bit anti-climactic. Did they not want it after all? Did they not "get" what was going on? Not sure what the deal was there.
Before we left, I had to get some replacement 97 cent headphones because the ones I keep at work are quite used up and falling apart (they lasted quite a while for 97 cents). I also needed some guitar strings because of (insert long story here -- blah, blah, blah), so we went to toys (I don't quite understand why these are in toys, but then, where else would Wal-Mart put them?) to pick them up for under 4 bucks. Now, I spent all night stretching these stupid strings out so there's a prayer of them holding their tuning come Sunday morning, but that's my problem.
It was in toys that something happened (drama two) that I guess we should have suspected: the children went crazy. They wanted a little bit of everything and wanted it all right now. Of course, we try and spoil them the best we can, but given that they were getting a movie, there weren't going to be any miscellaneous toys, and the Queen called them on this. Given the choice between a movie and a toy, they all chose the movie.
Well, it wasn't a toy, exactly, but five bucks to get a toy with, and this brought up drama number three for the evening. Rock Girl is very bright, and she has figured out that if she buys nothing with her money for long enough, she can get something bigger, such as a video game for her Game Boy Advance. She plans to take any money she gets from her birthday and pool it as well, and while this is admirable, her communication skills need some work.
She told the Queen that she was holding onto her money so the Queen couldn't spend it. Huh? If we check the scoresheet, the money the Queen spends is spent on them. Last time she tried to save a little money for herself, she ended up buying clothes for them with it, and it is likely one of those things that had there not been the other dramas already.
But the worst was yet to come... We figured we'd stop at Taco Bueno (that would be the South Taco Bueno in Broken Arrow, if you're keeping score) on the way home and grab some food. They generally like Taco Bueno, but apparently the princesses were in quite the take-it-for-granted mood last night because they were very non-chalant over the whole thing still. So we got our food, made sure we had everything along with our salsa and pico de gallo and went home.
The princesses got theirs, and I sorted out ours, and that when it all went to hell. First thing the Queen noticed was that the pico de gallo looked funny, and when she opened it and gave it a sniff, it went in the trash. It was bad. Then she opened her Beef Taco Salad and found old chips, bland meat, and almost no lettuce, tomato, or cheese, not to mention it being made incorrectly anyway. She made an effort to eat it, but it wasn't any good either. That straw broke the camel's back, and she needed some time alone.
Times like those are especially hard for me because I can't do anything to fix it, and fixing stuff is just a guy thing to do. She watched a movie in our room which left the TV wide open for some Wii action if I wanted it, but I had to fix yet another shaft she'd gotten: Blockbuster skipped her movies at the top of the queue and sent one of mine. I watched it so at least one thing is cleared up....
Once she got some time to herself, though, we were able to talk and I held her for quite some time to do what I could. You know I don't like her to be unhappy, so I was all about her once she was able to calm down. Naturally, we slept curled up together, and a very sound sleep it.
Now, the bonus to all this. All of the rain we've been getting caused a lot of flash flooding with actually caused some of the schools to be behind high water, so school was closed today due to the high water. This allowed the Queen and princesses to sleep in and have a day to themselves. I hope they enjoy their movie.
And now for a drop of cruel irony... I've mentioned, I think, that my family likes to get together on Thursdays with us for dinner. Any guesses as to the choice for tonight? Go on. Make a wild, random guess. The Queen hasn't decided whether she'll be sick or not.
So to drop something amusing in the end, let me read something off the paper lid of my cup o noodles. This is the food that comes in a styrofoam cup with a paper lid quasi-glued to the top of the cup for shipping. You peel back this lid and put hot water in it. Step 2 tells you to do the following: "Close lid securely and let stand for 3 minutes." I look at this piece of paper and wonder exactly how I'm supposed to "secure" this lid to the top of this styrofoam cup.
So I set it on my desk and put a pen on top of it. It stays closed now.
Now, the same could not be said for Optimus Prime and his dramatic problems since when his apartment complex contracted out the fix on the roof, they didn't do it well enough, and their bedroom was wet yet again. He said he was fortunate in that he went to bed as soon as he got home or he wouldn't have gotten any sleep.
On another note, because I don't recall whether this whole bit with him and his family has been mentioned or not, they are not just screwed in their flood. They are buying a house, closing fairly soon, and will likely be moving out within the next week anyway to a house that is dry and won't leak on their heads. That whole mess is another long dramatic story in and of itself.
But we had our own mess yesterday that just sucked. We decided to go out yesterday and get the princesses the movie Enchanted because when we watched it on our movie night, they just loved it. So we went to Wal-Mart (in a torrential downpour, no less) and got back to electronics where we picked up the movie. In what should have been a flourish of joy and triumph, it rang a bit anti-climactic. Did they not want it after all? Did they not "get" what was going on? Not sure what the deal was there.
Before we left, I had to get some replacement 97 cent headphones because the ones I keep at work are quite used up and falling apart (they lasted quite a while for 97 cents). I also needed some guitar strings because of (insert long story here -- blah, blah, blah), so we went to toys (I don't quite understand why these are in toys, but then, where else would Wal-Mart put them?) to pick them up for under 4 bucks. Now, I spent all night stretching these stupid strings out so there's a prayer of them holding their tuning come Sunday morning, but that's my problem.
It was in toys that something happened (drama two) that I guess we should have suspected: the children went crazy. They wanted a little bit of everything and wanted it all right now. Of course, we try and spoil them the best we can, but given that they were getting a movie, there weren't going to be any miscellaneous toys, and the Queen called them on this. Given the choice between a movie and a toy, they all chose the movie.
Well, it wasn't a toy, exactly, but five bucks to get a toy with, and this brought up drama number three for the evening. Rock Girl is very bright, and she has figured out that if she buys nothing with her money for long enough, she can get something bigger, such as a video game for her Game Boy Advance. She plans to take any money she gets from her birthday and pool it as well, and while this is admirable, her communication skills need some work.
She told the Queen that she was holding onto her money so the Queen couldn't spend it. Huh? If we check the scoresheet, the money the Queen spends is spent on them. Last time she tried to save a little money for herself, she ended up buying clothes for them with it, and it is likely one of those things that had there not been the other dramas already.
But the worst was yet to come... We figured we'd stop at Taco Bueno (that would be the South Taco Bueno in Broken Arrow, if you're keeping score) on the way home and grab some food. They generally like Taco Bueno, but apparently the princesses were in quite the take-it-for-granted mood last night because they were very non-chalant over the whole thing still. So we got our food, made sure we had everything along with our salsa and pico de gallo and went home.
The princesses got theirs, and I sorted out ours, and that when it all went to hell. First thing the Queen noticed was that the pico de gallo looked funny, and when she opened it and gave it a sniff, it went in the trash. It was bad. Then she opened her Beef Taco Salad and found old chips, bland meat, and almost no lettuce, tomato, or cheese, not to mention it being made incorrectly anyway. She made an effort to eat it, but it wasn't any good either. That straw broke the camel's back, and she needed some time alone.
Times like those are especially hard for me because I can't do anything to fix it, and fixing stuff is just a guy thing to do. She watched a movie in our room which left the TV wide open for some Wii action if I wanted it, but I had to fix yet another shaft she'd gotten: Blockbuster skipped her movies at the top of the queue and sent one of mine. I watched it so at least one thing is cleared up....
Once she got some time to herself, though, we were able to talk and I held her for quite some time to do what I could. You know I don't like her to be unhappy, so I was all about her once she was able to calm down. Naturally, we slept curled up together, and a very sound sleep it.
Now, the bonus to all this. All of the rain we've been getting caused a lot of flash flooding with actually caused some of the schools to be behind high water, so school was closed today due to the high water. This allowed the Queen and princesses to sleep in and have a day to themselves. I hope they enjoy their movie.
And now for a drop of cruel irony... I've mentioned, I think, that my family likes to get together on Thursdays with us for dinner. Any guesses as to the choice for tonight? Go on. Make a wild, random guess. The Queen hasn't decided whether she'll be sick or not.
So to drop something amusing in the end, let me read something off the paper lid of my cup o noodles. This is the food that comes in a styrofoam cup with a paper lid quasi-glued to the top of the cup for shipping. You peel back this lid and put hot water in it. Step 2 tells you to do the following: "Close lid securely and let stand for 3 minutes." I look at this piece of paper and wonder exactly how I'm supposed to "secure" this lid to the top of this styrofoam cup.
So I set it on my desk and put a pen on top of it. It stays closed now.
A Taste of the Other Side
So, not all of the stories about Customer Service involve being on the worker side of the issue. Sometimes, stuff happens when you deal with someone else on that end, and it ends up being just as good as some of the customers we talk to. I just have to wonder where some of these people come from. Well, actually, India is the typical response there.
Here's one situation that I just laughed at afterwards. I was minding my own business one afternoon waiting for the microwave to 'ping', when I got a call from a survey company. I was asked if I was the man of the house, and since the IRS seems to think so, I said yes. I thinking I did good that survery. Was that it? Nope, just the beginning.
It was concerning talk radio stations in my area here, and the very first question was "How often do you listen to talk radio? Always, sometimes, or never." Well, I have a radio for music, so I said never.
She asks me if I've heard of talk radio stations in my area. I mutter around a moment to see if I can think of anything and I remembered NPR. Someone I know listens to it, but it's apparently such a vital piece of info, I don't remember who.
The kicker was when she asked me which of the following talk radio programs I listened to in the last week! Apparently, "never" wasn't a good enough response to actually circumvent this question. She got to the first one before my shock wore off, and I reminded her that when I said never, I actually meant never. I said she can not bother with her little list of programs before I haven't listened to any of them.
After all, I seriously doubt my flipping back and forth between two Christian stations would come anywhere constituting a talk program I might have caught in between getting annoyed with all the chatter on my radio and looking for more music.
Now one might wonder if there was the clink of a bottle in the background, but I honestly wouldn't have been able to hear it over the sitar.
But more of a kicker to something like that is when you can tell the worker how to do their job. And while this is occasionally on common knowledge stuff, we had a time where we knew how to do something a little more rare just because we'd seen them mill back and forth on it before.
We were at a Wal-Mart once getting a gift for a baby shower. Well, it was the Queen getting the gift, and I was tagging along, since clearly the geek would not pick a good gift for a baby (apparently, there aren't a wealth of affordable baby laptops). Well, to make sure we and the recipient were covered, we asked the cashier for a gift receipt.
Surely you've gotten at least one of these little jewels before. It's a valid receipt for that store but doesn't display the price, so only when the gift's recipient decides to take it back, do they find out how little you really spent on them. But on the bright side, they can get back the full five bucks you forked over instead of the clearance price of two-fifty that got marked down to before the shower.
No, I'm kidding. We're not that cheap on gifts...usually.
Anyway, we got to the register and asked for a gift receipt. The cashier was completely clueless, and immediately called over the CSM. While the CSM was coming, we mentioned tht they needed to hit the 'S' key (I think it was), but the cashier wasn't listening. The CSM arrived, heard the situation, and stared at the register. We commented again on that 'S' key, but they weren't hearing any of that nonsense.
They screwed it up a couple of times before they gave up and called yet someone else over. Next person arrives and also stares at the register. We mention again about this pesky 'S' key, and that third person shrugged and opted to try it. What do you know? It printed the regular receipt plus the gift receipt.
The cashier was pissed. I guess customers are NOT supposed to know more than the employees. Whoops.
And finally, another perennial favorite that is brought up quite often, especially when we hit the restaurant it happened at. The thing is there's a little backstory that must be told in order to fully "get" it.
The Queen Mother has a level of notoriety for cleaning up the dinner table. Now, this is a good thing, for the most part. She'll bus the plates and silverware and glasses and she can be very thorough with this. The down side is that she can be too thorough requiring you to guard your plate if she should be bussing the table to make sure she doesn't bus your plate full of food out from under you.
So we're at this Mexican restaurant called Arizona where our families variously eat on occasion. Well, on this occasion, the story of the Queen Mother and her obsessive table bussing came up, and we all had a good laugh over it. As we're laughing about this, who should show up, but the waitress, who spoke enough English to be able to take orders, and was clearly very new.
What does this girl do? She starts to take the Queen Mother's plate. The Queen Mother says she isn't finished yet.
This was too much to bear, and The Queen cracks up laughing. In moments, the whole table is busting with laughter over this very coincidental action on the part of the unsuspecting, but well meaning, waitress.
Well, unfortunately, the inside joke was completely lost on the waitress who began to cry as she rushed off. We never saw her again.
Here's one situation that I just laughed at afterwards. I was minding my own business one afternoon waiting for the microwave to 'ping', when I got a call from a survey company. I was asked if I was the man of the house, and since the IRS seems to think so, I said yes. I thinking I did good that survery. Was that it? Nope, just the beginning.
It was concerning talk radio stations in my area here, and the very first question was "How often do you listen to talk radio? Always, sometimes, or never." Well, I have a radio for music, so I said never.
She asks me if I've heard of talk radio stations in my area. I mutter around a moment to see if I can think of anything and I remembered NPR. Someone I know listens to it, but it's apparently such a vital piece of info, I don't remember who.
The kicker was when she asked me which of the following talk radio programs I listened to in the last week! Apparently, "never" wasn't a good enough response to actually circumvent this question. She got to the first one before my shock wore off, and I reminded her that when I said never, I actually meant never. I said she can not bother with her little list of programs before I haven't listened to any of them.
After all, I seriously doubt my flipping back and forth between two Christian stations would come anywhere constituting a talk program I might have caught in between getting annoyed with all the chatter on my radio and looking for more music.
Now one might wonder if there was the clink of a bottle in the background, but I honestly wouldn't have been able to hear it over the sitar.
But more of a kicker to something like that is when you can tell the worker how to do their job. And while this is occasionally on common knowledge stuff, we had a time where we knew how to do something a little more rare just because we'd seen them mill back and forth on it before.
We were at a Wal-Mart once getting a gift for a baby shower. Well, it was the Queen getting the gift, and I was tagging along, since clearly the geek would not pick a good gift for a baby (apparently, there aren't a wealth of affordable baby laptops). Well, to make sure we and the recipient were covered, we asked the cashier for a gift receipt.
Surely you've gotten at least one of these little jewels before. It's a valid receipt for that store but doesn't display the price, so only when the gift's recipient decides to take it back, do they find out how little you really spent on them. But on the bright side, they can get back the full five bucks you forked over instead of the clearance price of two-fifty that got marked down to before the shower.
No, I'm kidding. We're not that cheap on gifts...usually.
Anyway, we got to the register and asked for a gift receipt. The cashier was completely clueless, and immediately called over the CSM. While the CSM was coming, we mentioned tht they needed to hit the 'S' key (I think it was), but the cashier wasn't listening. The CSM arrived, heard the situation, and stared at the register. We commented again on that 'S' key, but they weren't hearing any of that nonsense.
They screwed it up a couple of times before they gave up and called yet someone else over. Next person arrives and also stares at the register. We mention again about this pesky 'S' key, and that third person shrugged and opted to try it. What do you know? It printed the regular receipt plus the gift receipt.
The cashier was pissed. I guess customers are NOT supposed to know more than the employees. Whoops.
And finally, another perennial favorite that is brought up quite often, especially when we hit the restaurant it happened at. The thing is there's a little backstory that must be told in order to fully "get" it.
The Queen Mother has a level of notoriety for cleaning up the dinner table. Now, this is a good thing, for the most part. She'll bus the plates and silverware and glasses and she can be very thorough with this. The down side is that she can be too thorough requiring you to guard your plate if she should be bussing the table to make sure she doesn't bus your plate full of food out from under you.
So we're at this Mexican restaurant called Arizona where our families variously eat on occasion. Well, on this occasion, the story of the Queen Mother and her obsessive table bussing came up, and we all had a good laugh over it. As we're laughing about this, who should show up, but the waitress, who spoke enough English to be able to take orders, and was clearly very new.
What does this girl do? She starts to take the Queen Mother's plate. The Queen Mother says she isn't finished yet.
This was too much to bear, and The Queen cracks up laughing. In moments, the whole table is busting with laughter over this very coincidental action on the part of the unsuspecting, but well meaning, waitress.
Well, unfortunately, the inside joke was completely lost on the waitress who began to cry as she rushed off. We never saw her again.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Teeth & The Storm
Well, the princesses got their teeth looked at, and they're all doing really good. We had two issues come up -- one bigger than the other. The simple one was that Rock Girl needs to brush her teeth better, and she was given some pointers on what she's missing. The other is something we suspected, but weren't sure how it would be dealt with.
The Socialite has a really small mouth because of her small size. Well, small mouth does not translate into small teeth, so when she lost her two bottom incisors, she started growing in those enormous adult teeth -- those adult teeth that are too large to fit in the tiny space between the outer baby incisors. With Rock Girl, the dentist shaved the sides of them to they fit, but with the Socialite, they are going to take a different approach -- remove the outer baby incisors.
I'm not sure how I feel about this, since they should fall out when they're ready, and pulling them early might be painful for her. Granted, I'm no expert at these things, and I doubt the dentist would cause her undue pain (despite the clear fact that dentists are sadists by nature -- you've seen Little Shop of Horrors, right?). Personally, I've never lost a tooth unnaturally, but I'm sure if they ever get a look at my mouth, they'll want one of my wisdom teeth gone since it's in there sideways, and I know that's something I wouldn't look forward to.
This one is so happy all of the time and has such a big heart to everyone that it kills me to think of her going through something like this just because she is so little. Man has survived for thousands of years through things like this, so it almost seems unfair to put her through it, but at the same time, this dentist hasn't steered us or anyone else we know who has gone there wrong, so there is a level of trust we can put in his opinions. And of course, we can clearly see that the adult teeth are too large for the space in her mouth. I just don't want it to go wrong.
That's two out of three, but what about Sassy Pants? Well, being three, she was skittish to begin with, so they tend to start very easily with that age group. She allowed them to count her teeth. Not even brush them. She opened her mouth and allowed them to count away, that's it.
The only other interesting news was the storm that we had on Tuesday morning around here. I have for your approval three stories from the storm that occurred at various times throughout the night. The storm itself was quite a gusher. It poured rain all night along with bouts of wind and hail to the point of there being tornado and flash flood warnings.
The earliest instance began at my parents' house where they have a dog we'll call Grumpy (ha!) and two cats: Pouncer and Calico. Now while I could go into interesting points about the cats (my own family got themselves up to 18 or so at one point through two simultaneous litters of kittens), I wouldn't want you to think we're the source of the Cat Woman, so we'll stick to the tales at hand.
It was near midnight when Grumpy caught some kind of movement underneath my parents' bed and started growling. My parents and The Engineer (who still lives there) were concerned over this since he is a good watchdog and wouldn't react unless there was actually something there to react to. Now, granted, he reacts to me, too, but in his defense, he doesn't see me that often (though I didn't appreciate being driven up a tree at one juncture, but I digress). As soon as he starts nosing under the bed, they hear a squeal and a scuffle. Yeah...something is under there.
They get off the bed and get the mattress up in time to see a fluffy brown tail disappear under head of their bed. By this time, Grumpy is going a bit nuts trying to chase this critter who found his way into the house somehow. Before they know it, there is a squirrel trying to get out of that room, but it quickly found itself trapped in my mother's (um...) collection of fabric.
Now, I never got out of the Engineer exactly how they got the thing out of the house, but he did tell me how it got in. They had suspected squirrels of being in the attic of the house already, and he discovered yesterday how they'd gotten in there, but from there, there really isn't a good entrance from the attic to the house that is open...well, normally.
After some digging, he discovered that there was a hole in the ceiling where the water heater pipes went up and through the roof to the outside. This squirrel had gotten himself into the house down this pipe opening, but since there was only the pipe running through that hole, there was no way for him to get back to the attic. He was trapped.
The second story isn't really a story, so much as it is an interlude to how uneventful my life can be at times. We woke up to the sound of rain followed by the sound of a thousand ice stones hitting the roof and the fireplace pipe and the windows. The hail was working over the construction of everything we had at 3:30 in the morning, so it wasn't long before Rock Girl needed to sleep with the Queen and I. We curled up with each other to give Rock Girl enough room on one side of the bed to sleep.
I did get up and check our fireplace for leaks, and I opted to see how things were looking outside given the amount of hail and rain we had with minimal leakage into our fireplace (it usually leaks like a sieve). But when I passed by the front door, I saw a dark shape on the front porch. To explain our front door, it is solid wood with amber-colored, textured glass. Kind of like the type of window you might find in a bathroom to allow you to see shapes and light, but no detail.
Well, I double check our porch light to make sure it was on, and it was, but the shape was not activating the motion sensor on the light. I did want to see if the car was doing all right out there, but I was concerned about this shape on our front porch as well. I waited behind our glass at the porch just watching it to see if it moved at all. The lights were all off inside the house, so if it could see in, it couldn't see me. If it were something, I figured it would have reacted to my turning on the living room light a moment earlier when I checked the fireplace and activated that sensor, but still no movement.
Finally, I decided it probably wasn't alive, so I took a chance and unlocked and opened the front door. It was our stroller. The Queen had gone walking earlier that day around our neighborhood and Sassy Pants had ridden in this stroller. She was in a hurry earlier and had just left it outside. Our neighborhood is ridiculously safe, so nothing would have happened to it (and as a matter of fact, it remained there for a good part of yesterday as well), but I didn't appreciate the willies it gave me at 3:30 in the morning...
But our final tale takes the cake as the one that sucks the most. In the household of my friend, Optimus Prime, the rules of time are a bit skewed as he is the only one with any kind of schedule. His wife and son tend to be up at any given hour and on that evening, their son woke up around 2am with more energy than your average nuclear reactor. Well, his wife was already up reading (she likes to read...a lot), so he played.
Around 3:30 (isn't that weird??), she went into the bedroom and heard water dripping. Optimus was sleeping on the bed, and she mentioned the water coming in the closet and rapidly soaking their clothes and laundry. She'd gotten a bucket and he sat up. Over their bed is a ceiling fan that was on at the time this was happening, and no sooner had he sat up than water began to flow in from the roof over this ceiling fan drenching the bed (and him) in nice, cold rain water.
Well, water flowing over an electrical object (especially one that uses a full 120v like a lit ceiling fan) is a very bad thing, so he told his wife to turn off the fan. I heard this story from both of them, and they both agreed her next move was not the smartest thing in the world, and she said it would have qualified her for a Darwin Award had things gone wrong. Instead of flipping the switch on the wall some distance from the fan, she reached up through the water and pulled the chain on the fan itself to turn it off. Fortunately, the potential "zzzzap!" didn't occur and she lived to tell the tale.
The rest of their evening consisted of swapping buckets and bowls to catch the in-flowing water and eventually, he got their trashcan and placed it accordingly to catch the flow. As for their energy-induced son? Well, while he has been known to be quite rambunctious at times, on this occasion, he had the good sense to recognize when he was better off out of the way. By the time they realized he was no where to be found, they discovered him curled up on the couch...fast asleep.
The only upside (and possible irony) to this tale is that they are moving next week at the latest into a house they've been working to purchase, and like all good house purchases, that's a drama in and of itself that might be worth telling at another time.
But we all survived the storm and the next day was perfect once it cleared up. Today is supposed to yield another similar storm, so we'll see how much drama comes out of that. Until then, however, life goes on.
The Socialite has a really small mouth because of her small size. Well, small mouth does not translate into small teeth, so when she lost her two bottom incisors, she started growing in those enormous adult teeth -- those adult teeth that are too large to fit in the tiny space between the outer baby incisors. With Rock Girl, the dentist shaved the sides of them to they fit, but with the Socialite, they are going to take a different approach -- remove the outer baby incisors.
I'm not sure how I feel about this, since they should fall out when they're ready, and pulling them early might be painful for her. Granted, I'm no expert at these things, and I doubt the dentist would cause her undue pain (despite the clear fact that dentists are sadists by nature -- you've seen Little Shop of Horrors, right?). Personally, I've never lost a tooth unnaturally, but I'm sure if they ever get a look at my mouth, they'll want one of my wisdom teeth gone since it's in there sideways, and I know that's something I wouldn't look forward to.
This one is so happy all of the time and has such a big heart to everyone that it kills me to think of her going through something like this just because she is so little. Man has survived for thousands of years through things like this, so it almost seems unfair to put her through it, but at the same time, this dentist hasn't steered us or anyone else we know who has gone there wrong, so there is a level of trust we can put in his opinions. And of course, we can clearly see that the adult teeth are too large for the space in her mouth. I just don't want it to go wrong.
That's two out of three, but what about Sassy Pants? Well, being three, she was skittish to begin with, so they tend to start very easily with that age group. She allowed them to count her teeth. Not even brush them. She opened her mouth and allowed them to count away, that's it.
The only other interesting news was the storm that we had on Tuesday morning around here. I have for your approval three stories from the storm that occurred at various times throughout the night. The storm itself was quite a gusher. It poured rain all night along with bouts of wind and hail to the point of there being tornado and flash flood warnings.
The earliest instance began at my parents' house where they have a dog we'll call Grumpy (ha!) and two cats: Pouncer and Calico. Now while I could go into interesting points about the cats (my own family got themselves up to 18 or so at one point through two simultaneous litters of kittens), I wouldn't want you to think we're the source of the Cat Woman, so we'll stick to the tales at hand.
It was near midnight when Grumpy caught some kind of movement underneath my parents' bed and started growling. My parents and The Engineer (who still lives there) were concerned over this since he is a good watchdog and wouldn't react unless there was actually something there to react to. Now, granted, he reacts to me, too, but in his defense, he doesn't see me that often (though I didn't appreciate being driven up a tree at one juncture, but I digress). As soon as he starts nosing under the bed, they hear a squeal and a scuffle. Yeah...something is under there.
They get off the bed and get the mattress up in time to see a fluffy brown tail disappear under head of their bed. By this time, Grumpy is going a bit nuts trying to chase this critter who found his way into the house somehow. Before they know it, there is a squirrel trying to get out of that room, but it quickly found itself trapped in my mother's (um...) collection of fabric.
Now, I never got out of the Engineer exactly how they got the thing out of the house, but he did tell me how it got in. They had suspected squirrels of being in the attic of the house already, and he discovered yesterday how they'd gotten in there, but from there, there really isn't a good entrance from the attic to the house that is open...well, normally.
After some digging, he discovered that there was a hole in the ceiling where the water heater pipes went up and through the roof to the outside. This squirrel had gotten himself into the house down this pipe opening, but since there was only the pipe running through that hole, there was no way for him to get back to the attic. He was trapped.
The second story isn't really a story, so much as it is an interlude to how uneventful my life can be at times. We woke up to the sound of rain followed by the sound of a thousand ice stones hitting the roof and the fireplace pipe and the windows. The hail was working over the construction of everything we had at 3:30 in the morning, so it wasn't long before Rock Girl needed to sleep with the Queen and I. We curled up with each other to give Rock Girl enough room on one side of the bed to sleep.
I did get up and check our fireplace for leaks, and I opted to see how things were looking outside given the amount of hail and rain we had with minimal leakage into our fireplace (it usually leaks like a sieve). But when I passed by the front door, I saw a dark shape on the front porch. To explain our front door, it is solid wood with amber-colored, textured glass. Kind of like the type of window you might find in a bathroom to allow you to see shapes and light, but no detail.
Well, I double check our porch light to make sure it was on, and it was, but the shape was not activating the motion sensor on the light. I did want to see if the car was doing all right out there, but I was concerned about this shape on our front porch as well. I waited behind our glass at the porch just watching it to see if it moved at all. The lights were all off inside the house, so if it could see in, it couldn't see me. If it were something, I figured it would have reacted to my turning on the living room light a moment earlier when I checked the fireplace and activated that sensor, but still no movement.
Finally, I decided it probably wasn't alive, so I took a chance and unlocked and opened the front door. It was our stroller. The Queen had gone walking earlier that day around our neighborhood and Sassy Pants had ridden in this stroller. She was in a hurry earlier and had just left it outside. Our neighborhood is ridiculously safe, so nothing would have happened to it (and as a matter of fact, it remained there for a good part of yesterday as well), but I didn't appreciate the willies it gave me at 3:30 in the morning...
But our final tale takes the cake as the one that sucks the most. In the household of my friend, Optimus Prime, the rules of time are a bit skewed as he is the only one with any kind of schedule. His wife and son tend to be up at any given hour and on that evening, their son woke up around 2am with more energy than your average nuclear reactor. Well, his wife was already up reading (she likes to read...a lot), so he played.
Around 3:30 (isn't that weird??), she went into the bedroom and heard water dripping. Optimus was sleeping on the bed, and she mentioned the water coming in the closet and rapidly soaking their clothes and laundry. She'd gotten a bucket and he sat up. Over their bed is a ceiling fan that was on at the time this was happening, and no sooner had he sat up than water began to flow in from the roof over this ceiling fan drenching the bed (and him) in nice, cold rain water.
Well, water flowing over an electrical object (especially one that uses a full 120v like a lit ceiling fan) is a very bad thing, so he told his wife to turn off the fan. I heard this story from both of them, and they both agreed her next move was not the smartest thing in the world, and she said it would have qualified her for a Darwin Award had things gone wrong. Instead of flipping the switch on the wall some distance from the fan, she reached up through the water and pulled the chain on the fan itself to turn it off. Fortunately, the potential "zzzzap!" didn't occur and she lived to tell the tale.
The rest of their evening consisted of swapping buckets and bowls to catch the in-flowing water and eventually, he got their trashcan and placed it accordingly to catch the flow. As for their energy-induced son? Well, while he has been known to be quite rambunctious at times, on this occasion, he had the good sense to recognize when he was better off out of the way. By the time they realized he was no where to be found, they discovered him curled up on the couch...fast asleep.
The only upside (and possible irony) to this tale is that they are moving next week at the latest into a house they've been working to purchase, and like all good house purchases, that's a drama in and of itself that might be worth telling at another time.
But we all survived the storm and the next day was perfect once it cleared up. Today is supposed to yield another similar storm, so we'll see how much drama comes out of that. Until then, however, life goes on.
A Philosophical Discussion About Change
You have weird conversations at work. Some topics come out of no where and for the life of you, you don't know where it comes from, but the discussion just continues. Here is one such discussion that was so interesting, I opted to keep it. I'll keep it anonymous as usual, and if the other person does ever stumble onto this blog, I'll have to let them know that, indeed, I performed a cut-and-paste of our IM client.
This runs a bit long, so I'll be sure and throw something else out there to balance it.
Geek: Hey, on ticket {number}... It's been around the world once. Is it supposed to go back to {who cares}?
Colleague: We don't have a choice - {long explanation that means yes}.
Geek: That's cool. Just making sure. Thanks.
Colleague: I totally understand. Thanks for checking
Colleague: Am I chatting like a Valley Girl? That's so 90's.
Geek: I don't mind. It adds character.
Colleague: So does beer. LOL
Geek: I would say it more or less detracts from character, though it certainly does present the type of character one has should too much be imbibed.
Colleague: Being drunk--yes. Just a little tends to relax a person a bit and people often become more interesting then. Inebriated people aren't generally appealing though, I do agree.
Geek: In that case, it would be more accurate to say that the slight intoxication reveals one's character. After all, building character requires trial. I suppose being drunk could create some trials, but the only character that would build is the decreased likelihood of being drunk again...
Colleague: Mild intoxication, while lessening normal social restraints--allows for the possibility of interaction with others in a manner that could facilitate more meaningful interaction with others. Trials are not the only means to building character--there is also being open to others and learning from discourse with them. People tend to be less fearful of alienation when drinking, and can actually accomplish a deeper interaction while mildly imbibing. Complete drunkenness of course would not do so.
Geek: I use the term very broadly. A trial is anything that forces you to accomplish something, usually pushing you in some way. It could be absolutely anything, not necessarily anything stressful or physical. Mere interaction, while essential for building relationships of any kind, does not usually force one into a trial-like situation (unless one is introverted and trying to mingle at a party). That deeper interaction, however, would certainly reveal much about another person that normal interaction would likely keep concealed. That discussion could be insightful for the listener, and has the potential to allow some level of personal growth on the listener's part, but the speaker is unlikely to grow in that situation.
Colleague: That is a valid point. If nothing else, character is established--and maintained from habit and past experiences. Few ever seek to truly change any of their characteristics--the effort is too great. But revelation of those characteristics already present can be revealed in trials, yes. Before anything can be changed--it must first be honestly recognized. Trials would establish that more readily than any usual series of events. But in some cases--an individual becomes resigned to such circumstances, until it becomes clear that there are previously unknown opportunities to change. In meeting another who possesses characteristics one desires, change within that person's character may occur. Gandhi was such an influential figure--and inspired change in others.
Geek: It is one thing to inspire the change within others. It is another for the inspired to put into their habits the change they want to make. As you said, character comes from habit and experience; hearing what you want to become is merely a catalyst to change.
Colleague: It will always be a cause/effect relationship in relation to change--or even to maintaining the status quo. It requires action to maintain circumstances or behavior and it requires action to willingly change one's character. So regardless of change--or the lack of it--effort is required. Initially, change requires greater effort. But once the habit is established, the effort to maintain it becomes easier. All of it is essentially a focus of one's thoughts & perceptions. Some have argued it is harder to suffer than it is to change, but change may still appear to be more difficult. Would the catalyst always be between suffering and inspiration? Of course--why would anyone ever want to change things when they are already content?
Geek: The dissatisfaction that generally precedes change could be the trial in question. There is usually something out there that creates the need to change, and some kind of benefit the individual will gain from bothering to make that change. Though Gandhi may well have been able to inspire change, the receiver of his message would not be likely to do anything if they never recognized a shortcoming in their life. People who are content rarely have that need to do anything, because they do not feel they need to do anything. The natural effort of surviving the world is required to maintain their situation, but that effort is is usually considered minimal, or "what I would do anyway."
Colleague: Yet there is always change. The environment changes, people change as they age, as some are born and others die. Trials are always present and change is what creates the trials as much as how they are influenced. In this, they are so fundamentally related that to cease to change is to essentially die. So whether inspired or influenced by whatever means--change will occur within a person whether or not they wish it. Choosing to change, however--is of course often a result of inspiration and discontent, but can also stem from understanding the inevitability of change.
Geek: But there is a difference between the natural order of change and change because you feel the need to. It would be the difference between taking another route to work because you have to and changing the route you take because you find it more beneficial to do so. Each is technically a change, but the former happens because you need to and the latter happens because you want to. If you are in a state of discontent before the former change and in a state of discontent after, then the new route is like an external change you have to adjust to, but it doesn't change you. The latter version is a change you initiate that may or may not have stemmed from the former, and where you may have been in a state of discontent before the change, after the change, you find that the new route leaves you happier (possibly because it happens to run by the donut shop) thereby enacting an internal change.
Colleague: Ah, but the need to change is not always from discontent nor even always from environmental necessity. Sometimes the influence is from the desire to continue a perceived positive influence or circumstance which has occurred. For instance, if a friend gets a dog and when you visit you find that you really loved the interaction with the animal--and even though you already have a happy family at home--you decide you'd like a dog too and get one. Was it really because something was missing? Or perhaps a desire to change the environment at home even though you are happy there already? Even if our environment remains the same, at some point we MUST introduce change, or our contentment becomes less over time, even if our needs and general desires are consistently met.
Geek: But those who choose not to get a dog and don't have environmental restrictions will say that they are happy the way they are. Hence, while they may admit the dog is nice, they do not have any desire for one, so the benefit is never perceived. What this reminds me of (to introduce a personal example) is my opinion of the game Guitar Hero. I'd seen this game here and there, and even seen it in action, but never had any interest in it. Then, I had the opportunity to play it and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Will the game in any way enhance my character? Probably not, but it did fill a niche where I love to play music and video games, and this game does both. The only game I enjoyed more was Rock Band, which is essentially the same thing, but it adds other peripherals to the mix. Do I feel I grow from playing it? No. It's a game. Will it improve my character? No. Do I have an inherent need for it? No. In every logical way, there is nothing that I would gain from this game except the enjoyment of playing it. Do I gain enjoyment from playing it? Oh yes. So from a philosophical perspective, it's actually a very shallow addition to my world. So why would I even want it? It provides a challenge, and I have fun. The Sims have several bars related to their well being, and one of them is fun. The game fills my fun bar, but psychologically does nothing else. While a dog in the Sims does also effect the social bar, the idea of it is similar. It is something that you found you wanted after experiencing it, and so you did what it took to add it to your world, if for no other reason than to provide that little bit of fun that you needed.
Colleague: In the realm of survival skills, no--such games would not improve your circumstances any more than owning a small dog but it could be argued that there is a degree of personal growth - for the game, you are no doubt faster hitting the right keys than you were previously and you have become more familiar with the songs' nuances than before. Whether or not it's a survival skill does not fully denote it's importance. It's been scientifically proven that video games enhance certain skills, such as hand coordination, response time, etc. For owning a dog, one would see changes such as responsibility for another besides self, possibly being around a new social group of fellow dog-lovers, maybe more time exercising outdoors when you take FIDO for a walk. My argument is more that all choices have positive or negative connotations but even when they do not seem significant when compared to bigger events, they still often make measurable differences to one's life.
Geek: To this, you make a valid point. To an extent, also, working to master a video game takes a certain level of discipline to push past the parts of the game that present a great deal of frustration in order to conquer it. In addition, you can satisfy a measure of social satisfaction through the cooperative play mode since it forces you to work together with another person to complete the songs. Caring for an animal does force one to achieve a higher level of responsibility than one had before since it takes a certain amount of work to keep the pet happy and healthy. But these aspects are the effects of getting these things and are usually unanticipated when the initial decision is made. With a dog, you know you have to feed and water and walk it, but do you ponder the elevated responsibility you will learn or the social groups you might interact with? Probably not until you've had the dog for some time and something else happens that reveals that to you. You might have the opportunity to share that knowledge of responsibility with another; you might react differently to an animal in need than you used to; or you just want to talk to other people who have dogs. With the game, you buy it because you understood it was fun, but only later do you realize the level of perseverance required to master it on the highest levels (not to mention the patience to not smash the guitar controller against the wall) and the social aspect of the cooperative play that you couldn't experience while playing the demo. This is to say you do not enter into either of these ventures to build any character traits, but by experiencing and enduring each of them do you gain the traits required to be successful at both of them.
Colleague: True--but it remains a choice of whether or not to rise to the occasion. With Guitar Hero, you can invest the money in the game, find that although it appeals to you, the effort to play it well and master levels isn't worth the effort and choose to sell the game or simply not play it. If you get a dog and find it's a greater responsibility than you originally expected, you could choose to give the dog away, or sadly--abandon it (some #(@*##!! idiots do) and not meet the responsibility you initially accepted. As people choose one choice, so they could choose another. It is in the persistence and the choice to continue with the decision or commitment that becomes in and of itself a choice to change.
Geek: That's the case with any trial, though. The game and the dog are trials that you elected to get yourself into, and like so many trials, there's usually an "out" you can take if you choose not to endure. Those are the ones you basically get yourself into, and you can either grow by sticking with it, or you can remain as you are by backing out. Growing will usually build your character by creating or advancing a character trait. Backing out will demonstrate the kind of character you have, while, granted, it means a whole lot less in a video game. With a dog, if you back out, people might look down on you. With the game, if you back out, people shrug and move on. The true character builders are the situations you cannot back out of. These are the ones that you may have created yourself, but more likely some other external force was the catalyst that acted with you to create the situation. My first inclination was to say "marriage," because I hold to the belief that you can't just back out of it, but society at large would disagree. My best example then is the situation with my eye. When I rammed it with a screwdriver, that was a situation I could not, under any circumstance, back out of. I had no choice but to endure it and choose to either grow from it or sink into oblivion from it. There was no status quo to back out of it into, but I still had the choice as to whether the outcome would be good or bad. I shrugged it off as "one of those things," was happy I didn't fall off that 3 story roof, and while I lost my binocular vision, I still had one good eye to go on with. Everyone was impressed with my attitude in how I handled it, and that situation earned me more universal respect than pretty much anything else I'd done. But it boiled down to the choice of how to handle it, since very good or very bad were the only outcomes available.
Colleague: In many cases, the trials you get yourself into are the ones you most need to learn from--so it will often result in a reoccurring trial (always paying bills late, losing car keys, whatever) until the needed lesson is learned. Therefore it could be argued that trials that are created by oneself are lessons we subconsciously or consciously know we need to learn from. Technically though your eye could be counted as self-inflicted, without knowing the details--I would still be inclined to categorize it as an accident because unless you were doing wantonly risky behavior while wielding it, the chances surrounding that injury were likely unique and more circumstantial than predictable. Your choice of determining the outcome of your behavior in losing sight in that eye showed to others the character you already possessed that enabled you to deal well with the change in your life and likely strengthened those characteristics. If you had started out with depression, anger or developed some sort of bad habit afterwards and then later changed your perspective to a positive outcome--then that would have shown a change in character. Still makes you very cool though. I know too many that have trouble dealing with far less impact. Strong character is never a result of circumstances or choice though; rather, it is always a result of persistence in a positive and productive attitude to chose to act instead of react. Choice and circumstances reveal who you already are--and give you an opportunity to either change that or continue in that same vein. Ever heard of James Allen? It's kind of like that.
Geek: No, I don't know who James Allen is. My eye was the result of an oversight (haha). I was working at the time and doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. There was no wanton risky behavior (unless you count failure to wear safety glasses). I knew that the way I handled the situation itself demonstrated the kind of character I had. I also know that I gathered a thing or two from the experience that gave me some measure of growth, but it was more related to the events leading up to the accident than the aftermath of the accident. Circumstances and choice are only a piece of the puzzle, so while it is true that strong character doesn't result from them directly, they contribute to the outcome, as circumstances do lead to the experience through which character is built. It is in the experience that you make the choice to either act or react, gain the subsequent experience of that choice, and consciously or subconsciously evaluate what just happened. In a vein like that, though, it would be easy to confuse character with simple experience.
Colleague: Character does have a direct relationship to quality of existence at the very least. But each choice or action, each circumstance or unforeseen event still leads to a personal decision for each of us. What you said about the events leading up to the accident helping you to grow sounds intriguing--but it also supports what I'm saying. Because of your character, growth is inevitable to you regardless of circumstance--you seek it out, whether it is through environment, opportunities, whatever. James Allen is an author of a few books...I've only read one--"As a Man Thinketh". Essentially, his perspective is that whatever is in your thoughts, your environment reflects. Thoughts, whether positive or negative, build up or tear down a person's character. Circumstances reveal what you already are--and the thoughts you choose directly affect the choices you perceive--and their effectiveness in your actions. Circumstances and choice might be pieces of the puzzle--but character is the substance in all the pieces because it determines how everything else fits together.
Geek: That leans towards perception more than anything else, but it is said that perception is 90% of reality. It boils down to the truth being only a small part of the equation and the perception of that truth being the lion's share of the reality of the person. While growth is important, there is also something to be said for the stability of the status quo. It is equally important to take moments of stability to evaluate yourself and discover the things you've learned from the experiences that you've had. It can be said that the quiet moments of reflection are as important to growth as the experiences themselves. It is well known in the world of musicians that while practicing an instrument for an hour or two a day is important, the time spent in not practicing is equally important because it allows your muscles to adjust to what they learned, and allows your mind to adjust to the experiences you've given it in the practice time. I forget who said it, but one musician said the time he spent sleeping was as important to his practice time as the time he spent on his instrument. In addition to the reflection on the experience, though, having some time where no growth is experienced allows the mind time to relax and learn about who it had become. Through this time, one can discover what one's own shortcoming, be it character or some other facet of personality.
That's where the conversation ended. Mind you, this conversation began at 8:30 in the morning and lasted all the way till around 4:45 when I posted the last reply. It was an interesting way to back the background of the day.
This runs a bit long, so I'll be sure and throw something else out there to balance it.
Geek: Hey, on ticket {number}... It's been around the world once. Is it supposed to go back to {who cares}?
Colleague: We don't have a choice - {long explanation that means yes}.
Geek: That's cool. Just making sure. Thanks.
Colleague: I totally understand. Thanks for checking
Colleague: Am I chatting like a Valley Girl? That's so 90's.
Geek: I don't mind. It adds character.
Colleague: So does beer. LOL
Geek: I would say it more or less detracts from character, though it certainly does present the type of character one has should too much be imbibed.
Colleague: Being drunk--yes. Just a little tends to relax a person a bit and people often become more interesting then. Inebriated people aren't generally appealing though, I do agree.
Geek: In that case, it would be more accurate to say that the slight intoxication reveals one's character. After all, building character requires trial. I suppose being drunk could create some trials, but the only character that would build is the decreased likelihood of being drunk again...
Colleague: Mild intoxication, while lessening normal social restraints--allows for the possibility of interaction with others in a manner that could facilitate more meaningful interaction with others. Trials are not the only means to building character--there is also being open to others and learning from discourse with them. People tend to be less fearful of alienation when drinking, and can actually accomplish a deeper interaction while mildly imbibing. Complete drunkenness of course would not do so.
Geek: I use the term very broadly. A trial is anything that forces you to accomplish something, usually pushing you in some way. It could be absolutely anything, not necessarily anything stressful or physical. Mere interaction, while essential for building relationships of any kind, does not usually force one into a trial-like situation (unless one is introverted and trying to mingle at a party). That deeper interaction, however, would certainly reveal much about another person that normal interaction would likely keep concealed. That discussion could be insightful for the listener, and has the potential to allow some level of personal growth on the listener's part, but the speaker is unlikely to grow in that situation.
Colleague: That is a valid point. If nothing else, character is established--and maintained from habit and past experiences. Few ever seek to truly change any of their characteristics--the effort is too great. But revelation of those characteristics already present can be revealed in trials, yes. Before anything can be changed--it must first be honestly recognized. Trials would establish that more readily than any usual series of events. But in some cases--an individual becomes resigned to such circumstances, until it becomes clear that there are previously unknown opportunities to change. In meeting another who possesses characteristics one desires, change within that person's character may occur. Gandhi was such an influential figure--and inspired change in others.
Geek: It is one thing to inspire the change within others. It is another for the inspired to put into their habits the change they want to make. As you said, character comes from habit and experience; hearing what you want to become is merely a catalyst to change.
Colleague: It will always be a cause/effect relationship in relation to change--or even to maintaining the status quo. It requires action to maintain circumstances or behavior and it requires action to willingly change one's character. So regardless of change--or the lack of it--effort is required. Initially, change requires greater effort. But once the habit is established, the effort to maintain it becomes easier. All of it is essentially a focus of one's thoughts & perceptions. Some have argued it is harder to suffer than it is to change, but change may still appear to be more difficult. Would the catalyst always be between suffering and inspiration? Of course--why would anyone ever want to change things when they are already content?
Geek: The dissatisfaction that generally precedes change could be the trial in question. There is usually something out there that creates the need to change, and some kind of benefit the individual will gain from bothering to make that change. Though Gandhi may well have been able to inspire change, the receiver of his message would not be likely to do anything if they never recognized a shortcoming in their life. People who are content rarely have that need to do anything, because they do not feel they need to do anything. The natural effort of surviving the world is required to maintain their situation, but that effort is is usually considered minimal, or "what I would do anyway."
Colleague: Yet there is always change. The environment changes, people change as they age, as some are born and others die. Trials are always present and change is what creates the trials as much as how they are influenced. In this, they are so fundamentally related that to cease to change is to essentially die. So whether inspired or influenced by whatever means--change will occur within a person whether or not they wish it. Choosing to change, however--is of course often a result of inspiration and discontent, but can also stem from understanding the inevitability of change.
Geek: But there is a difference between the natural order of change and change because you feel the need to. It would be the difference between taking another route to work because you have to and changing the route you take because you find it more beneficial to do so. Each is technically a change, but the former happens because you need to and the latter happens because you want to. If you are in a state of discontent before the former change and in a state of discontent after, then the new route is like an external change you have to adjust to, but it doesn't change you. The latter version is a change you initiate that may or may not have stemmed from the former, and where you may have been in a state of discontent before the change, after the change, you find that the new route leaves you happier (possibly because it happens to run by the donut shop) thereby enacting an internal change.
Colleague: Ah, but the need to change is not always from discontent nor even always from environmental necessity. Sometimes the influence is from the desire to continue a perceived positive influence or circumstance which has occurred. For instance, if a friend gets a dog and when you visit you find that you really loved the interaction with the animal--and even though you already have a happy family at home--you decide you'd like a dog too and get one. Was it really because something was missing? Or perhaps a desire to change the environment at home even though you are happy there already? Even if our environment remains the same, at some point we MUST introduce change, or our contentment becomes less over time, even if our needs and general desires are consistently met.
Geek: But those who choose not to get a dog and don't have environmental restrictions will say that they are happy the way they are. Hence, while they may admit the dog is nice, they do not have any desire for one, so the benefit is never perceived. What this reminds me of (to introduce a personal example) is my opinion of the game Guitar Hero. I'd seen this game here and there, and even seen it in action, but never had any interest in it. Then, I had the opportunity to play it and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Will the game in any way enhance my character? Probably not, but it did fill a niche where I love to play music and video games, and this game does both. The only game I enjoyed more was Rock Band, which is essentially the same thing, but it adds other peripherals to the mix. Do I feel I grow from playing it? No. It's a game. Will it improve my character? No. Do I have an inherent need for it? No. In every logical way, there is nothing that I would gain from this game except the enjoyment of playing it. Do I gain enjoyment from playing it? Oh yes. So from a philosophical perspective, it's actually a very shallow addition to my world. So why would I even want it? It provides a challenge, and I have fun. The Sims have several bars related to their well being, and one of them is fun. The game fills my fun bar, but psychologically does nothing else. While a dog in the Sims does also effect the social bar, the idea of it is similar. It is something that you found you wanted after experiencing it, and so you did what it took to add it to your world, if for no other reason than to provide that little bit of fun that you needed.
Colleague: In the realm of survival skills, no--such games would not improve your circumstances any more than owning a small dog but it could be argued that there is a degree of personal growth - for the game, you are no doubt faster hitting the right keys than you were previously and you have become more familiar with the songs' nuances than before. Whether or not it's a survival skill does not fully denote it's importance. It's been scientifically proven that video games enhance certain skills, such as hand coordination, response time, etc. For owning a dog, one would see changes such as responsibility for another besides self, possibly being around a new social group of fellow dog-lovers, maybe more time exercising outdoors when you take FIDO for a walk. My argument is more that all choices have positive or negative connotations but even when they do not seem significant when compared to bigger events, they still often make measurable differences to one's life.
Geek: To this, you make a valid point. To an extent, also, working to master a video game takes a certain level of discipline to push past the parts of the game that present a great deal of frustration in order to conquer it. In addition, you can satisfy a measure of social satisfaction through the cooperative play mode since it forces you to work together with another person to complete the songs. Caring for an animal does force one to achieve a higher level of responsibility than one had before since it takes a certain amount of work to keep the pet happy and healthy. But these aspects are the effects of getting these things and are usually unanticipated when the initial decision is made. With a dog, you know you have to feed and water and walk it, but do you ponder the elevated responsibility you will learn or the social groups you might interact with? Probably not until you've had the dog for some time and something else happens that reveals that to you. You might have the opportunity to share that knowledge of responsibility with another; you might react differently to an animal in need than you used to; or you just want to talk to other people who have dogs. With the game, you buy it because you understood it was fun, but only later do you realize the level of perseverance required to master it on the highest levels (not to mention the patience to not smash the guitar controller against the wall) and the social aspect of the cooperative play that you couldn't experience while playing the demo. This is to say you do not enter into either of these ventures to build any character traits, but by experiencing and enduring each of them do you gain the traits required to be successful at both of them.
Colleague: True--but it remains a choice of whether or not to rise to the occasion. With Guitar Hero, you can invest the money in the game, find that although it appeals to you, the effort to play it well and master levels isn't worth the effort and choose to sell the game or simply not play it. If you get a dog and find it's a greater responsibility than you originally expected, you could choose to give the dog away, or sadly--abandon it (some #(@*##!! idiots do) and not meet the responsibility you initially accepted. As people choose one choice, so they could choose another. It is in the persistence and the choice to continue with the decision or commitment that becomes in and of itself a choice to change.
Geek: That's the case with any trial, though. The game and the dog are trials that you elected to get yourself into, and like so many trials, there's usually an "out" you can take if you choose not to endure. Those are the ones you basically get yourself into, and you can either grow by sticking with it, or you can remain as you are by backing out. Growing will usually build your character by creating or advancing a character trait. Backing out will demonstrate the kind of character you have, while, granted, it means a whole lot less in a video game. With a dog, if you back out, people might look down on you. With the game, if you back out, people shrug and move on. The true character builders are the situations you cannot back out of. These are the ones that you may have created yourself, but more likely some other external force was the catalyst that acted with you to create the situation. My first inclination was to say "marriage," because I hold to the belief that you can't just back out of it, but society at large would disagree. My best example then is the situation with my eye. When I rammed it with a screwdriver, that was a situation I could not, under any circumstance, back out of. I had no choice but to endure it and choose to either grow from it or sink into oblivion from it. There was no status quo to back out of it into, but I still had the choice as to whether the outcome would be good or bad. I shrugged it off as "one of those things," was happy I didn't fall off that 3 story roof, and while I lost my binocular vision, I still had one good eye to go on with. Everyone was impressed with my attitude in how I handled it, and that situation earned me more universal respect than pretty much anything else I'd done. But it boiled down to the choice of how to handle it, since very good or very bad were the only outcomes available.
Colleague: In many cases, the trials you get yourself into are the ones you most need to learn from--so it will often result in a reoccurring trial (always paying bills late, losing car keys, whatever) until the needed lesson is learned. Therefore it could be argued that trials that are created by oneself are lessons we subconsciously or consciously know we need to learn from. Technically though your eye could be counted as self-inflicted, without knowing the details--I would still be inclined to categorize it as an accident because unless you were doing wantonly risky behavior while wielding it, the chances surrounding that injury were likely unique and more circumstantial than predictable. Your choice of determining the outcome of your behavior in losing sight in that eye showed to others the character you already possessed that enabled you to deal well with the change in your life and likely strengthened those characteristics. If you had started out with depression, anger or developed some sort of bad habit afterwards and then later changed your perspective to a positive outcome--then that would have shown a change in character. Still makes you very cool though. I know too many that have trouble dealing with far less impact. Strong character is never a result of circumstances or choice though; rather, it is always a result of persistence in a positive and productive attitude to chose to act instead of react. Choice and circumstances reveal who you already are--and give you an opportunity to either change that or continue in that same vein. Ever heard of James Allen? It's kind of like that.
Geek: No, I don't know who James Allen is. My eye was the result of an oversight (haha). I was working at the time and doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. There was no wanton risky behavior (unless you count failure to wear safety glasses). I knew that the way I handled the situation itself demonstrated the kind of character I had. I also know that I gathered a thing or two from the experience that gave me some measure of growth, but it was more related to the events leading up to the accident than the aftermath of the accident. Circumstances and choice are only a piece of the puzzle, so while it is true that strong character doesn't result from them directly, they contribute to the outcome, as circumstances do lead to the experience through which character is built. It is in the experience that you make the choice to either act or react, gain the subsequent experience of that choice, and consciously or subconsciously evaluate what just happened. In a vein like that, though, it would be easy to confuse character with simple experience.
Colleague: Character does have a direct relationship to quality of existence at the very least. But each choice or action, each circumstance or unforeseen event still leads to a personal decision for each of us. What you said about the events leading up to the accident helping you to grow sounds intriguing--but it also supports what I'm saying. Because of your character, growth is inevitable to you regardless of circumstance--you seek it out, whether it is through environment, opportunities, whatever. James Allen is an author of a few books...I've only read one--"As a Man Thinketh". Essentially, his perspective is that whatever is in your thoughts, your environment reflects. Thoughts, whether positive or negative, build up or tear down a person's character. Circumstances reveal what you already are--and the thoughts you choose directly affect the choices you perceive--and their effectiveness in your actions. Circumstances and choice might be pieces of the puzzle--but character is the substance in all the pieces because it determines how everything else fits together.
Geek: That leans towards perception more than anything else, but it is said that perception is 90% of reality. It boils down to the truth being only a small part of the equation and the perception of that truth being the lion's share of the reality of the person. While growth is important, there is also something to be said for the stability of the status quo. It is equally important to take moments of stability to evaluate yourself and discover the things you've learned from the experiences that you've had. It can be said that the quiet moments of reflection are as important to growth as the experiences themselves. It is well known in the world of musicians that while practicing an instrument for an hour or two a day is important, the time spent in not practicing is equally important because it allows your muscles to adjust to what they learned, and allows your mind to adjust to the experiences you've given it in the practice time. I forget who said it, but one musician said the time he spent sleeping was as important to his practice time as the time he spent on his instrument. In addition to the reflection on the experience, though, having some time where no growth is experienced allows the mind time to relax and learn about who it had become. Through this time, one can discover what one's own shortcoming, be it character or some other facet of personality.
That's where the conversation ended. Mind you, this conversation began at 8:30 in the morning and lasted all the way till around 4:45 when I posted the last reply. It was an interesting way to back the background of the day.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Holy B & B Info!
So being the geek I am, I was easily roped into working the website at my church. I say roped, but it's more like I easily roped myself into doing it once I heard the person who was supposed to be doing it really wasn't that much, and I actually went to the church and could keep it up so much more easily, not to mention interacting with them more closely. This, naturally lead to my also upkeeping our pastor's website for his bed & breakfast, since he knew I did this sort of thing once I took over the church site.
Well, a year or so ago, I asked if they wanted to put some stuff out there on the net, and at the time, it was a video presentation of our announcements. I also brought up the idea of putting our pastor's sermons out there, but the idea quickly foundered because there didn't appear to be any interest in doing this.
A few weeks ago, one of the church's board approached me asking about doing this, but also asked if would be possible to turn it into a podcast. I was intrigued by the idea and said I'd see how possible that would be, but one thing I would want to know is the kind of limitations we have, so I asked for the bytespace their web hosting company is allocating to them as well as the bandwidth they have available.
There are some very good reasons for knowing this ahead of time. The bytespace is more basically the disk space and would tell me how big the files could be, and how many could be uploaded at any given time. We might get away with 5 or 6, or there might only be room for 2. Who knew? The bandwidth lets me know how much can be transferred out per month, so I could figure out how many times each file could be transferred. It seems minor, but if you only have enough bandwidth to transfer, say, 3 files 10 times, then that wouldn't work well for a podcast, since that would mean only 3 people would get the messages.
Well, this board member said he'd find out. A couple weeks later, he brought it up again, and by then I'd researched it, and knew exactly how it would work, so I said I'd just need a file of the sermon and I would work with it to get it going. I was shown that the file was saved weekly as it was recorded so it was as simple as trasnferring it. Well, that was easy, but I would need my flash drive to get it, and I didn't have it that week. I asked about the bytespace and bandwidth, and he hadn't found that out. I said I needed to know that.
Over the next week, the Queen took my flash drive up there to save the file, and it wasn't until that Sunday till I got to it. No bytespace or bandwidth yet, but I worked with the file anyway. Turns out their server blocks rss files, which is the feed file used by iTunes to file the podcast, so I ended up sticking that file on my own site. That worked, so it's still there. I sent an email to the pastor, the secretary, and the board member who asked about it asking them to have a look and that I was still testing it to make sure it behaved. I also threw out that I still wanted that info I'd been asking for so the site doesn't crash as a result of what we're doing.
Well, it wasn't two days before we got a letter informing us of the state of the church, etc., and he blurbed at the end that "we are now podcasting the sermons." As flattered as I was that they had that level of confidence, I also shook my head hoping and praying that the server would not get overwhelmed. I went ahead and submitted the link to iTunes, and was pleased to find it searchable by Sunday. It worked like a charm.
On Sunday, I told our pastor about it being out there for general consumption as well as throwing some geek-speak his way that he didn't understand. And for our first week podcasting the sermons, they had technical difficulties in the booth and didn't record this week's sermons. Fabulous.
I asked pastor if he had maybe a one week sermon, and he offered his 5 week series to post out there. I shrugged. It's his church and podcast, so I'll do what he wants. Part 1 of that 5 part series is out there now. And can you guess what else I asked for? Yup, he said he'd check on it.
So on Monday, the secretary called the Queen and asked if the work we'd been doing on the website would cause her email to not work. My heart sank. "Oh, crap," thought I, "We overshot the bandwidth." I tried to get onto the site via the Internet, and on my first try, I couldn't. "This page cannot be displayed."
Not looking good, I thought. I refreshed. It came up. I breathed a sigh of relief and said they may have been having some sort of server problem that caused the issue and the secretary should call them. Oh and while she's talking to them...
What answer did I get? The company will call when they go over, andthe secretary said they'll just buy more bandwidth when/if that happens. Cue rolling of the eyes. All right. Again, it's their site. I'll just keep doing what they tell me.
Well, a year or so ago, I asked if they wanted to put some stuff out there on the net, and at the time, it was a video presentation of our announcements. I also brought up the idea of putting our pastor's sermons out there, but the idea quickly foundered because there didn't appear to be any interest in doing this.
A few weeks ago, one of the church's board approached me asking about doing this, but also asked if would be possible to turn it into a podcast. I was intrigued by the idea and said I'd see how possible that would be, but one thing I would want to know is the kind of limitations we have, so I asked for the bytespace their web hosting company is allocating to them as well as the bandwidth they have available.
There are some very good reasons for knowing this ahead of time. The bytespace is more basically the disk space and would tell me how big the files could be, and how many could be uploaded at any given time. We might get away with 5 or 6, or there might only be room for 2. Who knew? The bandwidth lets me know how much can be transferred out per month, so I could figure out how many times each file could be transferred. It seems minor, but if you only have enough bandwidth to transfer, say, 3 files 10 times, then that wouldn't work well for a podcast, since that would mean only 3 people would get the messages.
Well, this board member said he'd find out. A couple weeks later, he brought it up again, and by then I'd researched it, and knew exactly how it would work, so I said I'd just need a file of the sermon and I would work with it to get it going. I was shown that the file was saved weekly as it was recorded so it was as simple as trasnferring it. Well, that was easy, but I would need my flash drive to get it, and I didn't have it that week. I asked about the bytespace and bandwidth, and he hadn't found that out. I said I needed to know that.
Over the next week, the Queen took my flash drive up there to save the file, and it wasn't until that Sunday till I got to it. No bytespace or bandwidth yet, but I worked with the file anyway. Turns out their server blocks rss files, which is the feed file used by iTunes to file the podcast, so I ended up sticking that file on my own site. That worked, so it's still there. I sent an email to the pastor, the secretary, and the board member who asked about it asking them to have a look and that I was still testing it to make sure it behaved. I also threw out that I still wanted that info I'd been asking for so the site doesn't crash as a result of what we're doing.
Well, it wasn't two days before we got a letter informing us of the state of the church, etc., and he blurbed at the end that "we are now podcasting the sermons." As flattered as I was that they had that level of confidence, I also shook my head hoping and praying that the server would not get overwhelmed. I went ahead and submitted the link to iTunes, and was pleased to find it searchable by Sunday. It worked like a charm.
On Sunday, I told our pastor about it being out there for general consumption as well as throwing some geek-speak his way that he didn't understand. And for our first week podcasting the sermons, they had technical difficulties in the booth and didn't record this week's sermons. Fabulous.
I asked pastor if he had maybe a one week sermon, and he offered his 5 week series to post out there. I shrugged. It's his church and podcast, so I'll do what he wants. Part 1 of that 5 part series is out there now. And can you guess what else I asked for? Yup, he said he'd check on it.
So on Monday, the secretary called the Queen and asked if the work we'd been doing on the website would cause her email to not work. My heart sank. "Oh, crap," thought I, "We overshot the bandwidth." I tried to get onto the site via the Internet, and on my first try, I couldn't. "This page cannot be displayed."
Not looking good, I thought. I refreshed. It came up. I breathed a sigh of relief and said they may have been having some sort of server problem that caused the issue and the secretary should call them. Oh and while she's talking to them...
What answer did I get? The company will call when they go over, andthe secretary said they'll just buy more bandwidth when/if that happens. Cue rolling of the eyes. All right. Again, it's their site. I'll just keep doing what they tell me.
Monday, April 7, 2008
A Rock Girl Is Born
So we returned from Colorado after our blissful first week of marriage to get down to real life. We had our apartment. We both had jobs. We were actually doing real well, though we didn't know it at the time. The Queen worked in the dungeon at a bank counting money. I worked at the Fireplace job that cost me an eye.
I would say it was a nice and quiet life that allowed us plenty of time to get to know each other, but the thing is that that particualr period of time was so short, that I barely remember it. You see, things were about to change, and while we couldn't really decipher at the time whether the change was positive or negative, suffice to say, it was one big huge change that rocked not only our world, but came as very little surprise to several people.
The Queen complained a few weeks after the wedding about her stomach feeling very hard, and she didn't know why. It had been going on for several days, so we made a doctor's appointment for her and went in for her to be checked out. I went with her to drive just in case any kind of tests were done that might affect her drivability. She was examined and the doctor set us down to give us the results of the tests. The reason her stomach was getting hard was...
...she's pregnant. Not just a little pregnant; eight months pregnant! You'd never guess from the wedding pictures -- she looked good.
We were in shock. The doctor caught from our reactions that this was not in the plans, and given how far along she was and that we hadn't seen a doctor yet, he called the OB/GYN and setup an appointment ASAP to have her checked out. He added that we were not expecting this and to be gentle. Heh. We're expecting it now, aren't we?
So now comes the even funner task -- we've got to tell our families that we did, indeed, fool around prior to the wedding and produce a little something. Now, don't misunderstand me. One thing about the Queen and I is that we are somehow so darn fertile that it only takes once. All three children were produced without "trying", per se. Remove birth control, and bam! Insert child here.
So we went to her parents. We went in with something to tell and sat on the couch for a while. Finally, The Queen Mother says, "out with it, child." So we laid it out there, and there was silence for what felt like a week and a day. I got the lecture of a lifetime from her father, and he was right. You see, both of us are from traditional backgrounds, and this incident amounted to a dishonor upon him, so he was quite understandably upset.
My parents, by contrast were momentarily silent, and my father was more silent on the matter than my mother. She was cheerful right away about the prospect...and then we mentioned the whole "eight months" thing. That's when my dad did the "exhale." I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of this non-verbalization of upsettedness, but basically, the lips are pursed and air flows through them producing a solid wind sound.
For both of us, that was probably the hardest day of our entire marriage. We've had all kinds of disagreements since, but as a couple, there was not much that could top revealing our indiscretion to our parents. It was not a fun day, but had to be done and once it was done, we could set our sights on dealing with this little surprise coming up.
A visit to the OB/GYN got her a battery of tests to make sure everything was going the way it sure. They were making up for missing the other seven months that they would normally be observing her, and she was already in the time frame where the women go in weekly. We got the works and after the ultrasound (which was not the first appointment, but fairly soon), a due date was determined.
I'd heard before that to figure a due date, you take the date of conception and add nine months plus a week. My due date was three weeks prior to the doctor's. Since I'm no surgeon, mine basically stayed in my mind, and the official one was passed around to the (still somewhat upset) relatives.
Family being family, though, the incident was placed behind us, and they also began to look forward to the impending delivery. We got lots of help from everyone including baby furniture from her parents to get us started with this little surprise. Only Darth Vader held out for a little bit as angry until he was reminded that family is always family and no matter what, we stand by each other.
We are in no way an Italian Mafia, but family is very important to us. We are very lucky to have a strong support structure around us that is willing to help at the drop of a hat, and they've been invaluable to our survival. On the one hand, it's been good, but on the other, it also spoils me quite a bit because I know in the back of my head I don't have to be fully self-sufficient. It's a habit I'm working to break since I actually do need to be self-sufficient, since it isn't fair to anyone else to depend on them very heavily for more than just moral support.
By the time my birthday rolled around, The Queen was looking very pregnant. She had gotten some maternity clothes and the baby gratefully took the additional room to grow. Our lives had settled down a little bit, though the fun of a pregnancy before we'd gotten a chance to really get to know each other living together presented a bump here and there. I supported her as well as I knew how, though, and we got on fairly well still.
One Saturday night, we decided to go out to a movie, and the Engineer was with us for reasons I don't remember. We started with a healthy dinner at none other than Arby's. The Queen generally did not like Arby's at the time, and it's a wonder we ended up there at all. She's better with it now that they've expanded their menu quite a bit, but at the time, she wasn't too hot on it.
I know when we were driving around, we ended up having to turn around on the expressway, and at the junction of Hwy 51 and 169 in Tulsa, there is a cloverleaf that allows you to take several of the leaves and circle around to whatever direction you want to go. This little action made the very pregnant Queen ill. From there, we went to see The Matrix, which was just awesome. It had a great plot, some downright clever cinematography and special effects, and lots of action.
We weren't going out with The Engineer regularly at that point, and we also really didn't have much to do at home, so after the movie, we parted company and went home.
She woke up around 2 the next morning with some odd feelings in her abdominal area. She said it felt like a pain moving from her back to her front. She said she'd walked around already, but they didn't subside. We got out the documentation they'd given us to see what labor pains were supposed to feel like and one of the descriptions matched what she was feeling, so we leisurely got everything together and drove to the hospital.
That's right, it was a leisurely drive. We didn't speed or otherwise break any traffic rules. Now, we weren't just putting along either; I mean, we were going the speed limit, but the nonsense you see in movies where they rush as fast as possible because "the baby is coming" is complete nonsense.
Now, on the way in, we did have an important thing to discuss that had never been settled. You may be wondering what could be so darn important to chat about during such an important drive. Well, we never decided on a name. Several were thrown around, but we never sat down and said "here it is." We did this with the other two, but for the first, we hadn't yet picked a name. I had one that I really liked, and The Queen had some that she was fond of. We each got a piece of the name and it was settled. We knew from the ultrasound that it was most likely a girl, so that's what we fixed on was a girl name.
We got to the hospital and got checked in. We had signed up for some class through the OB/GYN office, and got so far as the hospital tour the day before. That was lucky because it was fresh in our minds exactly where to go and what to do. We weren't prepared by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time, we didn't have a prayer of being prepared. Let's face it; we had no idea what we were getting into.
Another discussion we had was when to call everyone. It was early in the morning and a Sunday, so we knew everyone would be resting or going to church, and we didn't want to bother them. Yeah, we got in so much trouble for that. Apparently, people want to be contacted at any hour for something like the birth of a child. Who knew?
Inside the delivery room, The Queen was in pain, and had previously asked for an epidural to ease it. They waited and waited and waited and by the time they planned on doing it, she was very dialated, so they tried to talk her out of it. Well, if you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing a pregnant woman in pain, you might know what an impossible task that is, so yeah, she got her drugs and she was much more pleasant after that.
Me? Oh, I'm not the important one in this story. My job was to be a rock of encouragement to the Queen who was enduring the experience of a lifetime. I held her hand and provided kind words. Isn't that nice? Well, the dad doesn't do anything in the delivery room but stand there. Again, unlike the movies, we don't run around like idiots performing crazy antics with the attending physician.
At one point, the baby's heart rate elevated, and mommy's went with it. I laid my hand on the Queen's tummy (on top of the baby) and spoke softly to her. Like a magic touch, both heart rates went down, so I guess it was stress.
This wasn't the first time I had interacted with the baby. I had read that the baby can hear you and your voice and the reason they get attached to mommy is recognizing the voice. Well, I spoke to her in the womb as well as playing music for her through a tape recorder. She was actually the only one I did this with for some reason; she's also currently the only one interested to any extent in music. Interesting. The Socialite, by contrast, is on the verge of being Art Girl.
Anyway, the time came for the doctor to come in and prepare to catch the baby. The room got very busy very quickly and preparations were made with their magic table of birthing goodies. And then it died down again. It was actually a very leisurely process where there was plenty of time for the doctor to talk to the Queen and I about what was going to happen. Some time later, dialation was checked and declared ready, the doctor got into position, so it was time to push.
But it wasn't long until the precious load dropped and we got ourselves one Rock Girl. We didn't know anything. As I looked into that face, I didn't understand the kind of attachment I'd have to that little person. I didn't know the level of commitment she would require. I didn't know how much I would want to give to her. I had no idea the level of unconditional love I would have for her.
At that moment, I was a father, and I quickly found that that position was something that could only be experienced. No one can begin to teach it. No one can tell you how it all works. The only thing you need to start is the commitment to follow through with it. You've got to want it bad enough, because God knows, if you don't want it, you won't make it.
At that time, I was so clueless, all I had was the devotion to try, and you know...that was good enough for the moment.
I would say it was a nice and quiet life that allowed us plenty of time to get to know each other, but the thing is that that particualr period of time was so short, that I barely remember it. You see, things were about to change, and while we couldn't really decipher at the time whether the change was positive or negative, suffice to say, it was one big huge change that rocked not only our world, but came as very little surprise to several people.
The Queen complained a few weeks after the wedding about her stomach feeling very hard, and she didn't know why. It had been going on for several days, so we made a doctor's appointment for her and went in for her to be checked out. I went with her to drive just in case any kind of tests were done that might affect her drivability. She was examined and the doctor set us down to give us the results of the tests. The reason her stomach was getting hard was...
...she's pregnant. Not just a little pregnant; eight months pregnant! You'd never guess from the wedding pictures -- she looked good.
We were in shock. The doctor caught from our reactions that this was not in the plans, and given how far along she was and that we hadn't seen a doctor yet, he called the OB/GYN and setup an appointment ASAP to have her checked out. He added that we were not expecting this and to be gentle. Heh. We're expecting it now, aren't we?
So now comes the even funner task -- we've got to tell our families that we did, indeed, fool around prior to the wedding and produce a little something. Now, don't misunderstand me. One thing about the Queen and I is that we are somehow so darn fertile that it only takes once. All three children were produced without "trying", per se. Remove birth control, and bam! Insert child here.
So we went to her parents. We went in with something to tell and sat on the couch for a while. Finally, The Queen Mother says, "out with it, child." So we laid it out there, and there was silence for what felt like a week and a day. I got the lecture of a lifetime from her father, and he was right. You see, both of us are from traditional backgrounds, and this incident amounted to a dishonor upon him, so he was quite understandably upset.
My parents, by contrast were momentarily silent, and my father was more silent on the matter than my mother. She was cheerful right away about the prospect...and then we mentioned the whole "eight months" thing. That's when my dad did the "exhale." I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of this non-verbalization of upsettedness, but basically, the lips are pursed and air flows through them producing a solid wind sound.
For both of us, that was probably the hardest day of our entire marriage. We've had all kinds of disagreements since, but as a couple, there was not much that could top revealing our indiscretion to our parents. It was not a fun day, but had to be done and once it was done, we could set our sights on dealing with this little surprise coming up.
A visit to the OB/GYN got her a battery of tests to make sure everything was going the way it sure. They were making up for missing the other seven months that they would normally be observing her, and she was already in the time frame where the women go in weekly. We got the works and after the ultrasound (which was not the first appointment, but fairly soon), a due date was determined.
I'd heard before that to figure a due date, you take the date of conception and add nine months plus a week. My due date was three weeks prior to the doctor's. Since I'm no surgeon, mine basically stayed in my mind, and the official one was passed around to the (still somewhat upset) relatives.
Family being family, though, the incident was placed behind us, and they also began to look forward to the impending delivery. We got lots of help from everyone including baby furniture from her parents to get us started with this little surprise. Only Darth Vader held out for a little bit as angry until he was reminded that family is always family and no matter what, we stand by each other.
We are in no way an Italian Mafia, but family is very important to us. We are very lucky to have a strong support structure around us that is willing to help at the drop of a hat, and they've been invaluable to our survival. On the one hand, it's been good, but on the other, it also spoils me quite a bit because I know in the back of my head I don't have to be fully self-sufficient. It's a habit I'm working to break since I actually do need to be self-sufficient, since it isn't fair to anyone else to depend on them very heavily for more than just moral support.
By the time my birthday rolled around, The Queen was looking very pregnant. She had gotten some maternity clothes and the baby gratefully took the additional room to grow. Our lives had settled down a little bit, though the fun of a pregnancy before we'd gotten a chance to really get to know each other living together presented a bump here and there. I supported her as well as I knew how, though, and we got on fairly well still.
One Saturday night, we decided to go out to a movie, and the Engineer was with us for reasons I don't remember. We started with a healthy dinner at none other than Arby's. The Queen generally did not like Arby's at the time, and it's a wonder we ended up there at all. She's better with it now that they've expanded their menu quite a bit, but at the time, she wasn't too hot on it.
I know when we were driving around, we ended up having to turn around on the expressway, and at the junction of Hwy 51 and 169 in Tulsa, there is a cloverleaf that allows you to take several of the leaves and circle around to whatever direction you want to go. This little action made the very pregnant Queen ill. From there, we went to see The Matrix, which was just awesome. It had a great plot, some downright clever cinematography and special effects, and lots of action.
We weren't going out with The Engineer regularly at that point, and we also really didn't have much to do at home, so after the movie, we parted company and went home.
She woke up around 2 the next morning with some odd feelings in her abdominal area. She said it felt like a pain moving from her back to her front. She said she'd walked around already, but they didn't subside. We got out the documentation they'd given us to see what labor pains were supposed to feel like and one of the descriptions matched what she was feeling, so we leisurely got everything together and drove to the hospital.
That's right, it was a leisurely drive. We didn't speed or otherwise break any traffic rules. Now, we weren't just putting along either; I mean, we were going the speed limit, but the nonsense you see in movies where they rush as fast as possible because "the baby is coming" is complete nonsense.
Now, on the way in, we did have an important thing to discuss that had never been settled. You may be wondering what could be so darn important to chat about during such an important drive. Well, we never decided on a name. Several were thrown around, but we never sat down and said "here it is." We did this with the other two, but for the first, we hadn't yet picked a name. I had one that I really liked, and The Queen had some that she was fond of. We each got a piece of the name and it was settled. We knew from the ultrasound that it was most likely a girl, so that's what we fixed on was a girl name.
We got to the hospital and got checked in. We had signed up for some class through the OB/GYN office, and got so far as the hospital tour the day before. That was lucky because it was fresh in our minds exactly where to go and what to do. We weren't prepared by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time, we didn't have a prayer of being prepared. Let's face it; we had no idea what we were getting into.
Another discussion we had was when to call everyone. It was early in the morning and a Sunday, so we knew everyone would be resting or going to church, and we didn't want to bother them. Yeah, we got in so much trouble for that. Apparently, people want to be contacted at any hour for something like the birth of a child. Who knew?
Inside the delivery room, The Queen was in pain, and had previously asked for an epidural to ease it. They waited and waited and waited and by the time they planned on doing it, she was very dialated, so they tried to talk her out of it. Well, if you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing a pregnant woman in pain, you might know what an impossible task that is, so yeah, she got her drugs and she was much more pleasant after that.
Me? Oh, I'm not the important one in this story. My job was to be a rock of encouragement to the Queen who was enduring the experience of a lifetime. I held her hand and provided kind words. Isn't that nice? Well, the dad doesn't do anything in the delivery room but stand there. Again, unlike the movies, we don't run around like idiots performing crazy antics with the attending physician.
At one point, the baby's heart rate elevated, and mommy's went with it. I laid my hand on the Queen's tummy (on top of the baby) and spoke softly to her. Like a magic touch, both heart rates went down, so I guess it was stress.
This wasn't the first time I had interacted with the baby. I had read that the baby can hear you and your voice and the reason they get attached to mommy is recognizing the voice. Well, I spoke to her in the womb as well as playing music for her through a tape recorder. She was actually the only one I did this with for some reason; she's also currently the only one interested to any extent in music. Interesting. The Socialite, by contrast, is on the verge of being Art Girl.
Anyway, the time came for the doctor to come in and prepare to catch the baby. The room got very busy very quickly and preparations were made with their magic table of birthing goodies. And then it died down again. It was actually a very leisurely process where there was plenty of time for the doctor to talk to the Queen and I about what was going to happen. Some time later, dialation was checked and declared ready, the doctor got into position, so it was time to push.
But it wasn't long until the precious load dropped and we got ourselves one Rock Girl. We didn't know anything. As I looked into that face, I didn't understand the kind of attachment I'd have to that little person. I didn't know the level of commitment she would require. I didn't know how much I would want to give to her. I had no idea the level of unconditional love I would have for her.
At that moment, I was a father, and I quickly found that that position was something that could only be experienced. No one can begin to teach it. No one can tell you how it all works. The only thing you need to start is the commitment to follow through with it. You've got to want it bad enough, because God knows, if you don't want it, you won't make it.
At that time, I was so clueless, all I had was the devotion to try, and you know...that was good enough for the moment.
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