De' fliengde Vuogtlänn'r

Observations, rants, etc. from a guy who really gets around.

31.7.05

"Where You From?"

One of the few down sides to all the travel I've done is that I'm forever running into the geography-impaired. Most of my real travel started while living in Albuquerque. I'd go to another state and one of the first things people ask is: "Where you from?"

"Albuquerque."

"New Mexico?"

("Is there another one?")

I even went and checked. Nope, there is no other Albuquerque. Finally, I took a cue from our good friend Bill Engvall.

"Where you from?"

"Albuquerque."

"New Mexico?"

"No... Albuqerque, Vermont. (Here's your sign.....)"

Then I moved to Chattanooga. (Don't bother; I checked.)

"Where you from?"

"Chattanooga."

"Tennessee?"

"No... Chattanooga, Wyoming. (Here's your sign.....)"

26.7.05

Another *&^# Quiz

Courtesy of Vox Day.

I scored a 138, which isn't bad. But then, I didn't go to gummint skools.

24.7.05

R.I.P. TSgt Craig A. Scott (USAF, Ret.)

Found out this morning from my sister that her husband died of a heart attack sometime Friday. His health hadn't been the greatest since before his retirement. His kidneys had failed and he was on dialysis three days a week. Last year around this time, he had a mild heart attack, but seemed to be doing OK.

We don't choose our families, and we certainly (in our culture) don't choose our in-laws. But I have to admit, I'd have a hard time finding a better brother-in-law. He was not only an honest and honorable man, but an all-around fun guy. For 20 years, he served in the Air Force as a firefighter, retiring only because of ill health.

One of the neatest memories I have was last summer when we drove to the store (I was doing all the heavy lifting, because neither one of them was allowed to lift anything heavier than a Pepsi can). Just as we came out of the store, a fire truck roared by on the main road, about a quarter-mile away. Scotty stopped and watched it go by. After it had gone, he turned to me and said "You can take the man out of the fire department, but you can't take the fire department out of the man".

14.7.05

Of Nice And Men

(No, that was no typo. Read on.)

Over the years, I've learned that there are certain words and phrases that should never be used when describing another human being. (There are also certain questions that should never be asked, but that's another matter entirely.)

In regards to men, no man should ever be referred to as a "nice guy". This is the social kiss of death. Not that it means anything negative -- quite the opposite. It's so devoid of any meaning as to almost be an insult. True, it's meant with the best of intentions, but what it really means is: "I know absolutely nothing about this guy, but he seems harmless enough".

By the same token, one should never refer to a woman as a "sweet spirit". Like cotton candy, that phrase consists of nothing more than a bit of sweetness and a lot of hot air.

To paraphrase the old saying: if you have nothing of substance to say about someone, why say anything at all?

10.7.05

Smokey And The Banditos

The Sterns' recent adventure with their dog Roxie got me to reminiscing about an incident with our cat when I was about four years old. There wasn't much time when I was growing up that we didn't have a cat. And most of that time, we had a dog. (But that's another story.)

It was a late winter morning, and I was out playing, as four-year-olds are wont to do. I came up into the yard, and here comes Smokey. Something just didn't seem quite right with her, and she seemed anxious about something. Even though I had a good rapport with her, it's still amazing what a four-year-old can figure out. She came over and rubbed up against me and fussed at me a bit, so I picked her up (I think she weighed almost as much as I did) and carried her up to the enclosed porch on the back of the house.

Looking around, I found an old burlap bag and made her comfortable on it. She probably gave me a kiss for my efforts, because that's the kind of cat she was. Being only four years old, I wandered off and kind of forgot about it. Kids are like that.

Later, when I came back from playing, I learned that Smokey had had a litter of kittens. Naturally, we kids were pretty excited about that, and Smokey was very tolerant of our attempts to play with her babies. At least, I don't remember anyone getting scratched. Smokey was like that.

Over time, we found homes for the little ones, but Smokey stayed with us. I don't remember what ultimately happened to her, but I do look forward to meeting up with her in The Great Beyond.

Cats rule; dogs drool.

But Can You Buy Fleas At The Flea Market?

OK, I think I've finally got this whole yard sale thing figured out. It's an obsession.

I don't think anyone ever actually gets rid of anything. It's a zero-sum game. People just to to yard sales to buy stuff to sell later at their own yard sale. EVen the people who participate in The World's Longest Yard Sale probably go home with as much stuff as they started out with.

I'll bet that somewhere, there's a Tupperware bowl that's been on sale every Saturday since 1963.

Down the street from where I lived in Albuquerque, there was a family who had a yard sale every weekend for 18 years. I don't think they ever really got rid of anything. I'll bet they still have the same volume of junk they had when they first started.

9.7.05

How To Land A Job Without Really Trying

OK, this is gonna be good.

Back in '93, I was looking for work and let all my on-line buddies know. Might even have forwarded my resume to a few. One afternoon, I get an e-mail from Judy, who owns a little shop that does a lot of business with Sandia National Labs. She wanted to know if I was still looking. Yup.

So, she makes me an offer I couldn't refuse. She's looking for a technician to work in her shop, and invited me over to work the afternoon on Monday, for which I'd get paid, and she'd have the opportunity to check me out. Fine by me. I go over Monday afternoon, do some work, run some errands, and at the end of the day, she tells me she's got a couple of other candidates and would be making a decision by the end of the week. Cool.

Along the way, during the afternoon, she sent me over to another place to pick up some parts. Ten widgets or something to put in new systems they're building. No problem. I drive over to the store to pick up the order and the guy tells me they're having a special on them and I can get 12 for less than the price of 10. Now I have a decision to make. Judy only wanted 10, but I can save her money by buying 12. My gut tells me to go with the 12, so I buy the 12 and return to the shop with the parts and some unexpected change. Just before quitting time, one of the other guys there tells me "Judy likes you. She was pretty impressed by how you thought on your feet when you went to pick up those parts." So, I go home with a half-day's pay and a warm fuzzy.

Unfortunately, one of the other candidates had way more hardware experience than I did (I'm a software kind of guy), so I didn't get the job. No harm, no foul. He beat me fair and square.

Fast forward 12 years. There's a little computer shop in the old Target building across the street, where the flea market now is. One day, I go wandering in there while the flea market was open and had a look around. Got talking to the woman who owns the place. Tried to buy a new ethernet adapter for my laptop. We went thru about half a dozen; no luck. Along the way, we get chatting about this, that, and the other. She's a real no-nonsense type, just like me. Over the next couple of weeks, I keep going back trying to find an ethernet card that works, as well as another laptop.

During our conversations, Martha learned that I was retiring from the Air Force Reserve and making Chattanooga my home. The subject of work came up, but only in a peripheral sort of way. Today, I went back over to return a diskette she had given me with some drivers on it (that didn't work). OK, the disk is probably only worth a dime or so, but it's her disk. Also, I had put a recipe on it that I had told her about. Also took her a bottle of "Switched" that I had made. (Long story. I'll be posting the recipe for that and some other things later.)

Once again, we got talking and she asked me what I was looking for in the way of work. I had a gut feeling about what was coming, so I said probably something to do with computers. She casually mentioned that she was looking for a tech. So, I quoted the Godfather ("Gonna make you an offer you can't refuse") and told her about the experience with Judy. Then I said "You pick one day during the week; I'll come over and work the afternoon for free and you can make a decision whether to hire me. One way or the other, you get a free afternoon's labor out of it." That was agreeable, so we spent some time talking about her operation and how I might fit it. I left the number to my handy with her and left.

Now I'm all a-twitter to see how this is going to play out. I'll post updates as they occur. Tuesday afternoon will be about the earliest.

Meantime, I'm still looking for another laptop and an ethernet card.

In Case of Emergency....

Got this from a friend's blog and thought it was well worth passing on. Thanks to Stacer and whoever she got it from.

In view of yesterday's events in London, East Anglian Ambulance Service have launched a national "In Case of Emergency (ICE)" campaign with the support of Falklands war hero Simon Weston and in association with Vodafone's annual life savers award.

The idea is that you store the word "I C E" in your mobile phone address book, and against it enter the number of the person you would want to be contacted "In Case of Emergency".

In an emergency situation, ambulance and hospital staff will then be able to quickly find out who your next of kin are and be able to contact them. It's so simple that everyone can do it.

Please will you also forward this to everybody in your address book, it won't take too many 'forwards' before everybody will know about this. It really could save your life.

For more than one contact name ICE1, ICE2, ICE3 etc.

Stacer's comment was that "Emergency Contact" might work better.

Now, if I could just figure out how to program this stupid phone....

5.7.05

Fitness Update -- July 2005

"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing." -- Obi-Wan Kenobi

OK, I figure I should chart my progress, just so I don't cheat. And knowing that eveyone else can see how I'm doing gives me an incentive to keep going. Since I do my workouts on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I should post the results on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings.

02 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights)
Push-ups: 100
Sit-ups: 150
This morning's weight: 213

05 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights)
Push-ups: 100
Sit-ups: 150
This morning's weight: 213

07 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights)
Push-ups: 100
Sit-ups: 150
This morning's weight: 213

Really hoping to be down to 212 by Saturday morning. Also hoping to increase push-ups to 150 on Monday.

09 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and 10-pound weight vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
This morning's weight: 213

12 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Started doing a few isometrics, too.
This morning's weight: 213

14 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the same isometrics as Monday.
This morning's weight: 213

17 July
(Stupid ISP was down all day yesterday and most of today. *fists of fury*)
Friday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the same isometrics as Monday.
This morning's weight: 212 (Woo hoo! I lost a pound! Yay me!)

19 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the same isometrics as before.
This morning's weight: 212 (might have been 211, but I'm not gonna jinx it)

21 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the same isometrics as before.
This morning's weight: 212

23 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the same isometrics as before.
This morning's weight: 211 (Woo hoo! Might've been 210, but...)
Planning on increasing the weight vest to 20# on Monday.

26 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and 20# vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the same isometrics as before.
This morning's weight: 211

28 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and 20# vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Skipped the isometrics, 'cause I was too worn out; I'll do 'em today to make up for it.
This morning's weight: 210(!) (Whoo hoo! Lost another pound! I'm such a loser!)

30 July
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 4.4 miles (with leg weights and 20# vest)
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Did the usual isometrics
This morning's weight: 210

4.7.05

Happy Independence Day

No picnic.

No parade. (Does anyone have parades anymore?)

No fireworks (it's raining).

No sale at the mall.

Spent some time reading other people's blogs. T. F. Stern brought back some childhood memories of picnics, parades, fireworks, etc.

Just pondering what this day is really all about. Wondering if anyone else thinks much about it.

Apparently, some people still do.

I can only hope that enough people remember the real meaning of this day to rescue us from the disaster looming on the horizon.

Moby & Me

Back in '96, I moved back in with my friend Steve and discovered that the nice little old lady next door had passed away and the house had been sold to a young couple with a son and four cats. There were two white Persians (Puff Daddy and Rat Boy) and two orange Tabbies (Buddy and Moby). Puff Daddy was the only one that had not been neutered, and he was pretty much king of the hill. Moby was the littlest one and pretty much "runt of the litter".

One thing I've learned about cats over the years is that they have a very good sense of what you're all about. They also respond very well to people who treat them nicely. Over time, Moby overcame his shyness and allowed me to approach him. For the first couple of years, he would let me pick him up, but he wanted down right away. It took five years before he'd accept food or water from me. But he loved to hang out.

Many's the time he'd come over and simply walk right into the house and into my bedroom, hop up on the bed and curl up for a nap while listening to whatever music was playing on my stereo. Enya was his favorite, but he also liked Herb Alpert, Fleetwood Mac and the Moody Blues. Didn't much care for the Eagles, though. Go figure.

His routine was pretty regular. Every morning, he'd come over to say hello before wandering around the neighborhood doing whatever he did. He'd sit under the bush in the front yard and wait for me to come out. As soon as he saw me, he'd get up, raise his tail, and head across the yard to the front door. I'd sit down and let him rub up against me, purring. We'd go thru the whole standard greeting routine and then I'd take off. In the late afternoon, he'd be back, waiting for me.

In the warm weather, I'd leave the back of the bus open and he'd climb in and take a nap. When he wanted to leave, he'd just leave. In the colder weather, I'd often notice him hanging around and go bring him in. When he wanted to leave then, he'd have to let me know, which he usually did by either standing on my chair with his paws up on the back, looking out the window, or by sitting directly in front of the door, staring at it. About the only time he'd ever vocalize was when I didn't notice him in time. Then he'd let out a soft meow just to get my attention.

After I moved away in '99, I only came back a few times to visit, but Moby remembered me each time. I left in late August of '99 and didn't return until June of 2001. But he remembered me right away. During the two months I was there, he'd often come over in the evening and I'd wind up camping out in the bus with him overnight. Early in the morning, he'd wake me by rubbing up against me and purring, and I'd let him out.

One of our biggest adventures occurred that summer. It was late evening, and I was on the phone with a friend of mine up in Utah. The light was growing dim, and I didn't see Moby as he came up on the porch. As I opened the door, Moby slipped inside. Big mistake.

One of Steve's dogs was underneath the end table, as was her custom. She was getting too old to be chasing cats anyway. But the other was lying on the floor and he spotted Moby. With the door closed behind him, Moby had nowhere to go but forward. Down the hall he went, like greased lightning, with the dog hot on his heels. When it registered on me what happened, I extricated myself from the phone call with "I'll call you back". Then I ran down the hallway to check on things.

Steve had the dog by the collar, Moby was hunkered down inside my bedroom, not even blinking. Steve said "You take care of him; I'll get the dogs". I stepped inside and closed the door and stood there looking at Moby. He didn't really seem scared, just very, very alert. Very slowly and carefully, I walked over and sat down near him, speaking softly the whole time. After a moment, he let me pick him up. At first, I tried to let him out the window, but I couldn't get the screen off. Then I decided to see if he'd let me pick him up and carry him out to the front door. Amazingly enough, he trusted me to do that. But as soon as I got the front door open, he jumped down and took off.

I told Steve it'd probably be a good idea if I camped out that night, on the off chance that Moby would come back. Then I could spend some time with him and he'd get over his scare. Just as I was putting my pillow and blanket in the bus and getting ready to get in, Moby came trotting around the front and hopped up inside. The next morning, everything was back to normal. But I never forgot how much he trusted me.

When I went out to Albuquerque last October, I found out that Moby's family had moved to Tucson. But they had farmed the cats out to various families. I spent a couple of weeks trying to find out what had happened to Moby, but the new tenants had no idea, and the realtor was no help in contacting Moby's family. I can only hope he went to a good home.