January 5, 1998
It's a new year and a new Project (that is, the Opie Project is destined for the 'net). I don't know how or when, but it seems like a worthy goal. I've got a buncha books on html, and Adobe PageMill, and ideas. I just hafta make 'em work all together. But I'm learning.
And to commemorate the Project's auspicious beginnings, the Christmas mouse turned himself in. We found him in the trap wondering what had happened. After more than three weeks of elusive gnawing and nibbling, there he was. The Wife wasn't home, and I couldn't leave him in the trap, and photographing him in the trap wasn't working. Yet I felt there should be some celebration of this moment. And that celebration is the Hall of Fame page, and he will be the first inductee.
Congratulations, Christmas mouse.
I turned him loose in the woods near the compost heap, and left a coupla handfuls of Tender Vittles as a going-away present. We will miss his constant gnawing at the infrastructure of our home, and his occasional appearance to drink from the cat's dish.
Hey, it's just a mouse.
January 11, 1998
I keep typing 1997. And I guess I will for a while. As long as I catch it before uploading, no one will ever know.
HTML 4.0. Simple, but still easy to screw up. I suppose my biggest dilemma where coding is concerned is that there's only so much you can do with it. It is not a design medium. Any design scheme comes from playing tricks with the code. This should be fun. Or tedious. Or both. :)
I've been playing with the Adobe PageMill tutorial. Basically dumb. More about what PageMill can do as opposed to what HTML can do. The tutorial is quite limited on "tricks."
I'm still in the reading stages. I don't want to do the tutorial; I want to do my own stuff and learn from it.
Walk before you run.
February 22, 1998
My time has not been my own the last few days. My sister called; her 16-year-old has a school project due this week (it was assigned 3 months ago) that involves producing a printed brochure detailing a research project of the student's choosing. The school has the necessary computers/scanners/printers for said project, but every other student also put it off 'til the week before, so the Computer Room is New Year's Eve in Times Square.
"Hey, Uncle Todd has all that junk!"
So they arrived this weekend with piles of library books, with stacks of notecards, without a clue. After scanning and formatting and compiling, it was just a matter of placing it in the layout.
"Got a layout?"
"Uh-uh"
"Got any ideas?"
"Uh-uh"
"What do you want on the cover?"
"Dunno"
We did get this all worked out. The nephew had good notes. I did the design and layout and printed two copies, and they left calmer and happier than when they arrived.
I hope I get an A on it.
March 1, 1998
Happy Birthday, Cynthia. And Janet.
My dentist says I need $8,000 worth of dental work. For four teeth. Three of those teeth have already had $3,000 spent on them. According to him, I have the bite of a bulldog, and the pressure is fracturing my teeth. If I do nothing, says he, it will cause more pressure on other teeth, causing them to break. Others will become loose and fall out, the jaw will become misaligned, causing pain at the temples, and world governments will topple. He should have been a life insurance salesman.
Question: What can you get for $8,000?
a.) A really monster computer system
b.) Lots of hot accessories and upgrades on your next car
c.) A three-week tour of the South Seas and Australia. For two.
d.) A Harley
e.) Four teeth
So I'm bummed. It ain't easy, and it's going
to be hounding me for months (years, counting the payments). Lest
this becomes an ongoing gripefest, this will be the final mention
of all things dental. Except to say the bloodletting begins Monday
the 16th.
March 14, 1998
Happy Birthday, Jean.
Jean was the first person that ever got me asking questions about religion and the meaning of life.
The life expectancy of every living thing is determined by the amount of time necessary to rear sufficient offspring to maintain the population level of the species. Then they begin to die.
For any living creature to survive, other creatures must die. Yet the will to live exists in every living thing. A cycle of life and death exists, seemingly to no end. Things are born, things die, the status quo remains. But through it all is pain.
Birth is painful; death is painful.
If life is so cheap, why is the will to live so strong?
Don't you think it's weird that animals inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, while plants do just the opposite? One can't survive without the by-product of the other. Or that a dead animal's decaying body is nourishment to vegetation? Your DNA can travel around for years after you die; absorbed by plants that are eaten by animals that are eaten by other animals that are absorbed by humans and passed on to their offspring. It may take thousands of years, but you could be part of a future human somewhere. Is this the immortal soul of the less-imaginative believers?
What about the life/death cycle that apparently achieves nothing. It's not 100% status quo. Over time, evolution improves the species' survivability. So is life one big lab experiment? Is God evolution (it was man who made God in his own image, not vice-versa). Is there any better proof of a greater intelligence than evolution?
Or is life just boot camp that prepares us for eternity?
It's all in how you look at it. Just do it with an open mind.
March 21, 1998
My recurring sinus infection had returned. I could tell, 'cuz it's always in the same place and if I touch a particular spot on my cheek it feels tender. So after very little sleep, I go to the doctor; he prescribes the antibiotic du jour; I picked that up on the way to the dentist.
Around three that afternoon I've got a face full of novacaine and I'm taking my mind elsewhere to avoid thinking about the instruments of torture passing in and out of my mouth. I've had four hours of sleep in the last 24, I'm on cold medication and I have a sinus infection. So while the dentist is carving up my gums to get at the remnants of a broken tooth, I fell asleep. Not too many people fall asleep in the middle of a surgical extraction.
He gives me a prescription for a pain killer (never a good sign) and says call if anything doesn't feel right (another not-good sign). I pick up the pain killer prescription and the bottle has so many warning labels plastered on it I can hardly read the instructions. The dentist said be sure to take one before the novacaine wears off. I do. Well, lemme tell ya ... the pain from the sinus infection evaporated. I'm not sure whether it killed off the pain or I just didn't care. I caught myself smiling for no apparent reason.
So I whipped out my favorite tool (the Internet) and looked up Vicodan. Seems the stuff is an alternative for methadone; it's used to treat heroine addicts. Yow.
Back to the sinus infection: It first appeared about four years ago in the sinus cavity just above the upper left teeth. I ignored it for two days when it suddenly flared up into major pain; it had snuck out of the cavity and into a nerve canal. It has reoccurred more than a dozen times since. It can be fixed surgically, but it ain't worth it (that's the doctor's opinion, not mine). So as soon as it shows up I hit the antibiotics to wipe it out and take decongestants to keep the pressure off it, and subsequently, the pain. That's the way it's worked for four years and it's never been a problem.
Of course, I'd never been on artificial heroine before.
So Wednesday afternoon I'm lying in the ER hooked up to a heart monitor, while several people try to figure out why my heart rate is all over the place. I keep waving the bottle with all the labels, but they're checking everything.
It turns out the decongestants are the problem. The Vicodan was the catalyst, but the decongestants were screwing with my heart rate.
So they tell me to avoid decongestants. For the rest of my life. They might as well have said "avoid oxygen." Decongestants are my crutch during sinus season. So I have an appointment with an ENT (which I've been meaning to get since the infection first appeared) to discuss alternatives.
I returned to my regular doc Friday for a follow-up and everything was fine; no harm done. Except that I can't take decongestants any more.
God, I have a headache.
March 27, 1998
I had a stress test Friday. The most stressful part was the consent form that said there was an outside chance that I might have a heart attack during the test. They got my blood pressure up to 200/100 and my heartrate up to 175 and I didn't die, so I passed.
But the doc says the ticker is fine and I can forget all about the ER event; it was only an anomaly. But I still can't take decongestants. The sinuses have adopted a wait-and-see attitude, not being particularly painful at the moment.
The ENT refused to prescribe me any decongestants
or substitutes. There is a study going on at U of Penn that links
prolonged decongestant use with early strokes. He says take antihistamines
and Advil; it won't work as fast, but it's safer than the decongestants.
So far I haven't missed them, but my worst week is always the
first week of June. That'll be the real stress test.
March 31, 1998
Things have been pretty quiet on the Project front; it may technically be spring, but it's still a bit chilly for Opie to find wildlife wandering around freely.
I was lying in bed around one am, wide awake for no particular reason, when I heard a sound I couldn't identify. It wasn't one of those sounds that the house makes only at night, but it wasn't a sound that seemed out of place, either. I listened further. Nothing. Had Opie brought something home? If he had, the trap was out. Then I realized that it was the door of the trap springing shut. Further investigation confirmed it. A mouse awaited his freedom. I didn't figure he'd wanna wait 'til morning, so I went and got dressed, found the flashlight, confirmed that the batteries were dead, and so trudged back to the woods in the diminishing light from the house.
Now the humane traps use a simple saltine cracker to block one end, and when you remove the plastic cover, the mouse can gnaw through the cracker and escape. This gives the mouse a sense of accomplishment and less fear over not controlling his surroundings. So the humane trap not only saves his neck, it includes free therapy. It generally takes about two minutes for the "therapy session" (I help it along by breaking off a corner of the saltine so he knows where freedom actually is). On this particular chilly spring morning around one am, squatting at the edge of the woods, awaiting the mouse to gnaw his way out, I fell asleep. Not for long, I'm sure, but when I snapped to, the mouse was gone. I retrieved the trap and returned to bed.
April 6, 1998
This morning we had a rabbit visit. Rabbits are generally good company. They wait quietly, they don't fight, and they don't complain. Until you go near 'em.
There is a corner of the kitchen we call rabbit corner, 'cuz if there's a rabbit in the house, it's usually in that corner. There's a large ceramic cat there, and the rabbit tends to hide behind it. This morning was no exception. Neither was the retrieval. You can't imagine the racket a rabbit can make. And this one squawked all the way back to the woods. But they don't fight. I was petting this guy on the head the whole time he was cussin' me out.
The weather will soon be gettin' warmer and the critters will be gettin' more plentiful. The Project will soon be underway for another season.
April 19, 1998
Today the wife left for Colorado. I know 'cuz I took her to the airport. Not the closest airport, which had direct flights to Colorado, but to the Newark airport, five miles from Manhattan, where direct flights to Colorado are $200 cheaper. But it was Sunday, and traffic wasn't bad.
Last night was her sister's in-laws 50th wedding anniversary, and their kids threw 'em a huge party. Of course we only knew a few of the people there, but that was okay; the food was good.
Didja ever get the feeling that the real world was interfering with your internet life? Airports, wedding anniversaries? Cuts seriously into internet time. It was a three hour round trip to the airport; do you know how many sites you can surf in three hours? And I hafta get ready for my own flight to Colorado; more interference.
Geez.
April 20, 1998
I leave for Colorado Thursday morning and I’m totally not organized. Tonight I hafta call the woman who’ll be feeding Opie in our absence, just to make sure all is in order. This morning, before work, I went grocery shopping (I never go grocery shopping, but we were out of everything; even cat food). Then to the bank to deposit my paycheck (or I would end up panhandling the streets of Denver). All that before 9 am. Just to be polite, I should confirm the pickup time with my sister-in-law’s husband (who’s taking me to the airport -- the Newark airport, which is 40 miles farther than the Philadelphia airport, but it’s $200 cheaper). It’s also only 5 miles from Manhattan, which means god-awful traffic. Vacations are supposed to be for relaxing.
I'll be back Tuesday; I can relax then.
April 22, 1998
This is weird; at eight am tomorrow I leave for Colorado. So I'm sitting here tonight like I'm saying goodbye to the computer, asking it not to miss me.
It's only five days; I can do this. :)
The place we're staying ("Pike's Peak Paradise" - yeah, I know - weird) has its own website.
We're in the Peachtree room, with a canopy bed, if you wanna check out our lovely accommodations (they have a clothing optional hot tub).
God, five straight days with no internet.
We'll be back Monday night around midnight, and I can picture the scene: both of us dashing for the computer as soon as we walk in the door. She'll win though; it's her regularly scheduled time and she's been away from it for 9 days. I will be granted only sufficient time to verify that I have e-mail.
Okay, I gotta say good bye to the computer for a few days. This is weird. And this is where I came in.
Maybe I really need this time away from the machine.
The computer is in a tiny bedroom (8x9') with a sign on the door that says Computer Room. I said we should change the sign to Opium Den 'cuz the addiction is just wasting us away in there. It is mind expanding, though.
I'll know better on my return.
April 28, 1998
Happy birthday, Carol and Ellen
Trying to readjust to the east coast work-for-a-living mode.
We had a wonderful time, blah, blah, blah ...
I won't bore you with verbal slides of my vacation. We did the usual tourist stuff and bought overpriced souvenirs and I'm all rested up.
You can tell who the tourists are out there; they're the ones gasping for breath every time they climb stairs. The air is thin; wispy, almost. We were at a quaint Bed and Breakfast (all B&B's are required by law to be "quaint"), 9,000 feet up. The only access was a very steep, mile-long, winding dirt road. We had an under-powered Escort that protested every turn.
Sunday it snowed. Six and a half inches. Kinda put a damper on the hot tub activities. We were stuck there, hoping we could get out by Monday to catch our plane. We did.
One evening we were dining at a nice restaurant with a view of Pike's Peak, when the Wife says outa nowhere, "So this is what it was like before the Internet."
I adjusted well to the lack of 'net. I needed that lack. It's good to step back from all that computer time to get a fresh take on reality. Fortunately, there was lots to do to fill the void.
We got home at 1 am this morning. I was online at 1:15.
May 5, 1998
Happy birthday, Joseph. And Sarah. And Wayne. And Cathy. And Mexico.
I'm starting this over for the fourth time. I'm trying to explain why my weekend sucked.
The wife accidently trashed the Windows registry. The backup didn't restore the separate desktops available through the ie4 desktop upgrade, so we had to reinstall that. But the desktop configurations were gone.
There. I had previously written twelve paragraphs explaining the same thing, then trashed them because they were garbage. I am just not into this. It's like running to get a kite into the wind. Usually I start to click once I'm rolling. But tonight the kite just ain't flyin'.
I shall persevere.
It took the whole day (and into the night) to get the computer up and running again. We feared we would have to reinstall Windows (and thereby, everything else) from scratch. Fortunately, everything was salvaged except the desktops. But I didn't want to go near it after that. I was annoyed.
I desparately wanted to blame icq for the whole thing. It was screwing up all last evening. I'm ignoring icq for the time being. Can't take the abuse.
Sunday was Visit Mom at the Home Day. Never a pleasant event. I sat out on the deck the rest of the day. Even missed X-Files. The whole weekend sucked.
And yesterday I had to go back to the dentist so he could tweak my implant.
So three sucko days in a row.
But now I'm back at the computer, running with the kite, and I am going to be airborne, even if I have to start over four more times.
Okay, goin' airborne ...
My muse is AWOL.
I was at my wife's sister's twins first birthday party tonight; they were cute. But that's their job.
That's one of Darwin's Laws I think. Kids are cute so we don't kill 'em.
If I'm sounding stupid, please ignore it. I'm really just tired; I just spent an evening trying to videotape one-year-olds while dodging chocolate cake projectiles. It would make anyone stupid.
May 10, 1998
Happy Mom's Day, Moms.
How about a history of my vehicles?
57 Dodge Coronet 4-door sedan.
65 Honda 160cc motorcycle.
52 Willys 2-door sedan
66 Honda 305cc motorcycle.
62 Dodge convertible.
57 Harley XLH Sportster motorcycle
63 Valiant convertible.
71 Pinto.
59 Corvette.
73 Triumph TR-6.
73 Vega.
76 Plymouth Volare Coupe.
77 Pinto Wagon.
80 Pinto Wagon.
85 Ford Ranger.
88 Ford Ranger.
It gets better; how 'bout
Places I've vacationed?
Disney World (13 times)
Williamsburg VA
St. Croix, St. Thomas VI
Washington DC
Tampa/St. Petersburg FL
Key West FL
Bangor ME
Nova Scotia/New Brunswick Canada
Montreal
Niagra Falls NY
Knoxville TN (World's Fair)
Nashville TN
Lake Placid NY
Nags Head NC
Bermuda
Martha's Vineyard/Nantucket MA
Chicago
Seattle
Portland OR
Arizona
Colorado
San Antonio (next week)
Alaska (next year)
As you can see, desparation leads us down the less-trodden path. And into some pretty stupid hyperbole.
I guess that means I've used up my allotment of intelligent thought and must now babble my way out of this.
I did try connecting to icq last night, but I feel like all creativity gets backed up when I have to concentrate on things like typing and thinking ahead. But I will return one of these nights; gotta get back on that horse sometime.
May 11, 1998
The new PC arrived at work today. 333MHz, 128 Mb RAM, 8 gig HD, full-duplex 56K voice modem, 19" monitor, 4 Mb video card, sound, internal ZIP drive, 32x CD-ROM, Altec-Lansing speakers, network card, Windows NT. But I was so busy I didn't get a chance to open the box 'til after noon. Every so often I would peek in the box and drool. But for eight hours it sat there, mocking me.
Computer time at home is approaching crunch time. The Wife and I are getting more competitive since I began working on web pages. So we decided we need another computer -- a simple one that she would use just for the internet. Our current machine is a 200 MHz Dell, 32 Mb/3 Gb HD/17" monitor. We saw a Hewlett-Packard 233MHz HP with 32 Mb RAM, 4 Gb HD and a 56K modem and a color printer for $1100, and we decided to get it.
Except it doesn't have a 17" monitor.
Which would add several hundred dollars to our "2nd" computer's cost. I balked. You don't need a big monitor for internet chat. Then she decided why spend all that money for a computer that's almost outdated already; we should go for a 300 MHz model. With a 17" monitor.
That's where I bailed out. So now we're at a minor impasse. A minor $1300 impasse.
May 22, 1998
Happy birthday, Judy.
Texas was fun. Accompanied the Wife to a computer users convention in San Antonio.
How I spent my vacation:
Hacking, coughing, wheezing, sneezing, gasping, choking, gagging.
The smoke from the Central American fires completely ravaged my respiratory functions. There was a state-wide health warning: don't go outdoors if you have problems breathing. Right. I came 2000 miles to look out a window.
I've been living on Mexican food and Magaritas for six days, and all the Tums in the world can't correct that.
The Alamo is impressive, the Riverwalk is perfect (the Disney folks couldn't have done a better job), the tourist trolleys run continuously ...
Got the idea?
So now I'm back.
May 25, 1998
The computer wars, part II. We couldn't agree on what to get as a second computer, so the wife ended up buying a 300 MHz Gateway 64Mb RAM, 8 Gb HD, 56K modem, 17" monitor, DVD-ROM drive model herself. I agreed to pay for the monitor and modem. She ordered it before we left for Texas.
We got back from Texas about one am Friday morning. Around ten we got a call that Jackie's godmother had died in Pittsburgh (she was 84 and in ill health), so the Wife was busy reserving a flight to Pittsburgh when her boss called; her computer had arrived at work (we had taken Friday off), so we went and got it. We set it up in the dining room; it's a cool machine, but I made the mistake of asking where she was going to put it.
She assumed I would find a place for it; a place big enough for a desk and a chair. Well, there ain't no such place in this house (not after 14 years acquiring clutter), and I said so. So she suggested stuff like get rid of the couch in the family room or the bed in the spare bedroom. I finally said take the desk in the computer room and I'd move the present computer into the spare bedroom (the spare bedroom is piled so fulla crap that it's hard to find the bed). And that's how we spent Saturday.
Sunday I took her to the airport, and spent the rest of the day clearing junk outa the spare bedroom, finding a spot for the computer (it ended up on a small dresser and I had to make a plywood platform for the keyboard and mouse after buying a keyboard drawer that didn't fit, but I can now compute from bed with keyboard in lap and mouse at hand), running a phone line to said location, dashing out to buy another surge protector, etc. I got everything in place, but didn't do all the hook-ups.
I then located the wife's computer on the original computer desk and made sure that was working, and by then it was after midnight.
This morning I had to pick up the wife at the airport. I explained that her computer was in place and operating, but it was obvious that I was still in "perturbed" mode.
I returned to "my" computer and got everything hooked up and running, but now with both of us on line it ties up both phone lines. She wants a third phone line; I'm balking at that. On the other hand, I am agreeing to another dial-up account, 'cuz the other two accounts we have access to are work accounts, and other people may access them as well. And besides, neither of them connect at higher than 33.6.
Satisfied that I had completed all tasks, I took a nap.
June 4, 1998
Happy Birthday to me.
The wife took me out to dinner for my birthday. We actually sat across from each other, face to face, and talked for hours for the first time in months. And what did we talk about? Our individual internet experiences. Updating each other on our lives apart .
She also was trying to bring up the subject
of a third phone line (which I have been refusing to agree to).
She only wants to be sure her sisters can get through when we're
both on the net (which I insist is not that often).
Because it was my birthday, she was trying not to sound whiny,
and after watching her struggle through it, I gave in. Women.
June 6, 1998
D-Day.
We went to a wedding today that had a country-western theme. It was ... unique.
The bride wore a lovely gown of white lace with leather buckskin fringe and white leather boots with 3" spiked heels, and woven Stetson headpiece.
The groom wore a black tuxedo jacket with black denim jeans, a string tie and matching black Stetson, and a massive brass belt buckle.
The whole crowd was a reg'lar buncha line dancers; they had the precision of a Broadway production. I was duly impressed.
Four hours of "today's" country music was a bit much for me however.
But nobody did the Hokey-Pokey.
Got two more weddings to go this summer.
June 15, 1998
A company in Fayetteville, North Carolina wants to hire my wife. She said no. But she may do something for them on a consulting basis.
So I hafta get the wife to the airport at 5 am next Wednesday (and it's a 45-minute drive) to catch a flight to Charlotte, so she can catch the morning commuter flight from Charlotte to Pinehurst and drive from there to Fayetteville. Makes sense to me.
This is a two-day trip to see if she can do anything for them. If she decides she can, she'll return sometime in August or September for a week. I may tag along for that. They'll be paying her big bucks for that week. But still a small percentage of what the software manufacturer wanted to charge to send a consultant.
This weekend's wedding was the usual stuff,
except that I ended at a table with two extroverted smart-asses
(the clever type, not the obnoxious type) and they were trying
to out-do each other all evening. A buffet meal was served, and
we were called by table numbers. Both of them, while the other
tables were serving themselves, would casually stroll over to
the dessert table and see how many desserts they could steal.
We would all take a bite out of each dessert and pass it around
the table. The main course (Prime Rib) was so undercooked it was
raw. So SA #2 cut a spiral out of two pieces and intertwined them
and put them on one of the dessert plates. They looked like animal
innards. Then he put the plate on the dessert table. At one point,
a conga line was formed (weddings, geez) and SA #2 broke off from
the line and led the rest of the line across the hall to another
wedding reception and came back with the other bride in his line.
During all this, I was casually removing cigarettes from a girl's
pack, breaking off the filters, digging out bits of tobacco from
each end, and twisting the ends together. I had five suspicious
looking cigarettes on the table before anyone noticed. We left
them there. We were laughing the whole evening. Weddings.
June 17, 1998
Happy Birthday, Jessica
It's 7:30 am, and I've been to the Philadelphia airport and back already, and I wanna go back to bed really bad.
The wife should be landing in Charlotte about now, trying to make her way to Fayetteville. She talked to her contact last night, who tried once again to get her to take the job on a permanent basis. They would pay her more than we're both making now. They talked about her telecommuting, where she might only hafta go to Fayetteville every 6-8 weeks. She is thinking about it. Stay tuned for further developments.
I said I was gonna upload my site Tuesday, whether it was done or not. I did and it's not. The upload went fine, but I couldn't access it through the net. I musta misunderstood something. So I called the isp, did the voice mail dance, and finally talked to a 16-yr.-old. I explained my dilemma and asked if I misunderstood the instructions. He called it up on the screen and told me I didn't have download privileges; only upload privileges.
Huh?
You mean I can upload stuff, but nobody can look at it?
Uh, yeah.
Kinda defeats the purpose of personal web space doesn't it?
I could fix it but you don't have a shell account.
I hafta pay for a shell account?
I better turn this over to a webmaster (must mean an 18-yr.-old); they'll take care of it in the morning.
Thanx.
So it's morning (a little earlier than the kid had in mind, I'm sure), and I'm still the big four oh four.
June 20, 1998
So this week the website has actually made it to the web, where anyone with the URL can look at the last few months of keyboarding, editing, debugging, general disagreement and near-physical violence that it took for this mess to become reality.
As of this writing, it's still incomplete (and always will be, actually), but it's a start. The fun part is that we have no shortage of ideas, just a limitation of abilities. But we're overcoming that too.
Opie's been particularly busy this week too. Seems to be chipmunk season (they're actually ground squirrels he brings in. Chipmunks have stubby tails; ground squirrels sport the lengthier model). I believe Opie has qualified for the Most Captures of the Same Animal on the Same Day Award with the latest chipmunk (I'm still gonna call 'em chipmunks). Looks like a Hall of Famer.
Well, it's begun. Let's see where it goes.
July 18, 1998
Another side effect of our 'net addiction is laundry. Before, the Wife would always throw my stuff in when she did hers. In recent months, piles have reached the four-foot levels in my closet, so between hunting and pecking today, I will be doing sorting and washing.
Things have been quiet on the Project front. Opie seems content with curling up in the air conditioning. This is typical of summer, I think. He has gone through long periods without captures (two months was the longest, I think), but I never paid attention to what times of the year these periods occured. Now I will.
But the really big news this week is the Wife's promotion. She's now responsible for every computer in the company. Got a few extra bucks outa the deal too. Not that it will trickle down to me. We keep our expenses separate, splitting stuff like mortgage and utilities. But she's got more debt than I do, so the extra income will undoubtedly move in that direction.
Although she's also been talkin' a lot about SUV's. Big ones.
Nah...y'think?
July 26, 1998
Alan Shepard died this week. He was America's first astronaut. He rode a rocket into space and returned to Earth fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds later, but it was a big boost to the space program, since the Soviets were way ahead at the time. I was in high school then, and we were herded into the auditorium to squint at the event on a black and white tv on the stage. I followed the space program as it developed thereafter, and I always remembered Alan Shepard's combined stoicism and elation regarding his "ride."
Every trip into space was a major tv event. And I don't think I missed any of it. Gemini 4, the first space walk. Gemini 6, the first space docking.. The Apollo 1 fire that killed three astronauts on the launch pad.
During the Apollo 13 crisis you couldn't get me away from a radio. I had dropped out of college at that time and was working at the Pepsi-Cola plant. When the module re-entered the atmosphere, we stopped production so we could hear the outcome.
When the movie came out, I was amazed at the number of people who were around then that didn't even remember that it had happened.
And of course Apollo 11, the first moon landing. I was transfixed for days. What a fun time to be alive.
I think I'm gonna go watch Apollo 13.
Again.
July 30, 1998
Things have been pretty quiet this week, mostly 'cuz the wife is down the shore with her sisters, and I'm home being a world-class slacker. Just check out my slacker credentials:
Dishes piled in the sink
Bags of trash in the kitchen
Light bulb out front burned out weeks ago
A month's worth of paychecks stuffed in a drawer, undeposited
Bills normally covered by paychecks unpaid
Lawn is brown and crunchy from lack of watering
Weeds profuse amongst cracks in driveway
But my e-mail is up to date. Priorities.
This is my busy time of year at work, and it's been even busier than usual. I spend tedious hours in front of a computer, then come home and spend tedious hours in front of a computer. Life is good.
Drive carefully.
August 12, 1998
Opie's active again. We caught his latest pet at 5 a.m. For some reason, I was up at the time (mainly because I'm insane and refuse to observe standard sleep conventions), chatting long distance on the 'net, when I heard the trap door snap shut. So I escorted the nervous little critter back to the woods and returned to my 'net duties.
Our fridge has a butter compartment in the door that has a plastic lift-up door covering it. When you drop the plastic door, it sounds just like the door on the humane trap snapping shut. I pointed this out to the Wife, and now, when things are quiet, she will purposely drop the butter door, just to see if I'm paying attention.
This is busy season where I work, which means long hours, intense concentration and inevitable mistakes. I hate making mistakes; it means I'm not perfect. This week I made a doozy (correctly spelled "Duesy," for Duesenberg, but that's a tale for another time). I approved a calendar for printing that had no dates for the month of April. The job was printed before anyone caught it. So now it has to be printed over, and the company loses money on this job. And two pressmen have to come in at 6 a.m. Sunday to do it. And I hafta be there to approve it again. What if I miss something else? I hate making mistakes.
And the busy season is usually winding down by now. Except this year it's not. It just keeps coming. Which is good, I suppose. And when it ends, we enter a traditional slow period for a month, when we sit around and stare at each other. Okay, we do computer maintenance (play solitaire), and organize files (trash everything) and plan ahead (take vacations).
And now I hafta go to work and not screw up.
August 14, 1998
Tonight is the night of the Perseid meteor showers (I'm into that kinda stuff). Thousands of meteors will be burning up in the Earth's atmosphere tonight between midnight and 2 am. It's a clear night, and I plan to spot a coupla big ones before sacking out (the really good ones will be closer to 2 am; I dunno if I'll make it that far).
Gotta go check for shooting stars; brb.
Still a lotta light pollution, but the skies are definitely clear. I may hafta go park my butt on the chaise on the deck. I'll probably fall asleep there for the night. Wake up covered with dew (I've done that before too).
I'm now gonna go marvel at the wonders of Mother Nature and the insignificance of human beings in the grand scheme of things. Or fall asleep on the deck.
Later, that same night . . .
I finally gave up on the meteors; the sky was clear but a 3/4 moon rose after midnight, and the light pollution on the horizon combined to make enough glare to give me a headache squinting for little meteor streaks.
They'll keep coming for about a week, so I
may try later, but the moon and the horizon will also be there,
so I may not. A coupla years ago I saw a huge fireball that I
swear made it to Earth. So that was my high point with the Perseid
meteor showers.
August 23, 1998
We all must face the fact that life sucks to varying degrees. Some days it sucks minimally and you don't even notice. Other days it sucks royally, and you just can't get outa the way.
For the last five days, the sucking has been anything but minimal. I was screwing up at work because I wasn't able to concentrate on my job because I was inundated with an unmanageable workload. I covered my butt in all cases, but it's kinda put me behind schedule.
Thursday, I released a calendar to be printed, but failed to include any dates on the April page. It was delivered to the customer who was less than pleased (amazing how noticeable mistakes are once they're printed). So we had to reprint it by Monday, which meant a pressman has to come in on his day off to do it, and we lose money on the job. And I had to be there to double check everything. At 7 am this morning (Sunday).
Yes, Virginia, life does suck. Sometimes you don't notice, but, yes, it does.
So I went into work this morning to check on the calendar job that I botched up. Turns out two pressman had to come in on their day off to reprint it. They didn't care; they were getting time-and-a-half. I musta looked that job over thirty times before okaying it; I had this huge mental block that said there is something horribly wrong with this job that I'm just not seeing, and they're gonna print it and it's going to be wrong again and I'm gonna be in deep doodoo. I finally decided there couldn't possibly be anything wrong with it and went home. But I'm still nervous.
I spent the whole day (except for a two hour nap necessary from the 6 am awakening) doing work I brought home, to try to get caught up. I scanned 100 pages of typed copy into a PageMaker file; that'll save me a day at work. I figure I'm now only about one day behind.
Did you ever stand on the beach and marvel at the size of the ocean?
August 29, 1998
Okay, the workload on the job has diminished to manageable proportions. Just some tidying up to do, which I can do within a normal 8-hour day.
Seems we picked up a lotta business from folks who were disgruntled with their previous printers. So we crammed in all this extra work, did a crappy job, paid out so much overtime that profits were nil, and delivered jobs late. So all those new folks who were disgruntled with their previous printers can now be disgruntled with us. What a waste. Yeah, you're right, most customers won't realize they're getting a less-than-adequate piece of work. But as more and more of the work got pushed closer and closer to deadlines, everything came due at once, and it was chaos.
I can take my OT as comp time, which gives me extra vacation, or as cash, which gets me a digital camera. Although I do have teeth to pay for. I dunno.
I just realized how exhausted I am. I'm wired but pooped. And I don't have any work to do this weekend.
I'm gonna take a nap.
September 7, 1998
Happy birthday Diane. And happy Labor Day to all others. And to Diane.
A recent storm pulled the antenna cable partially away from the antenna. I have procrastinated climbing up to fix it, but the new tv season is upon us, and I always try to sample the worst shows before they're cancelled. What a waste of money. Formula tv shows. Any script can be interchanged with any show of the genre. The novelty disappears after the first show. The non-formula shows are exceptions. They take a chance and are rewarded (e.g. Ally McBeal). But I digress. TV sucks and it's no secret. And yet millions have nothing better to do with their lives.
I could rant about the immense waste that is commercial television, but I won't. Not today. Not when I hafta climb up on the roof and reconnect the cable so we can have access to the aforementioned Vast Wasteland.
And no, we don't have cable tv. Putting up with the "free" crap is bad enough. Paying hundreds of dollars a year for additional crap requires brain damage as a prerequisite. For less than half the cost of cable tv, I have unlimited Internet access, which is far more rewarding, enlightening, interesting, entertaining and educational.
Fortunately, it's not too hot today. I know 'cuz Opie's been out most of the morning. But I do have some serious rearranging to do in the garage to get the ladder to get on the roof to attach the cable to watch the tv that I don't care to watch. Orsomething.
Turn off your tv.
September 14, 1998
Happy Birthday Aleda.
For those old enough to remember, when the draft lottery was first instituted to pick unfortunates for the Viet Nam war, those born on September 14th were the first to go. Unless they had an acceptable deferment
My number wasn't much better. I was 20th out of 365. But I also had uncorrected vision, pollen allergies and high blood pressure. So I was 1-Y; in the event of war, I was declared a hostage. They took women and children before 1-Y's. Actually, 1-Y's were only draft meat if war was declared and they ran outa 1-A's. And since Viet Nam wasn't a declared war, I sat it out.
But that was then. Saturday Opie brought home a mouse that played dead. Convincingly too. An Oscar-winning performance in the dead mouse category. I was about to scoop it up when it darted out of the kitchen and down the stairs to the front door. I opened the door and coaxed him out.
Y'know what's been cheering me up lately? The McGwire/Sosa home run derby. It's an upbeat, positive thing involving a couple of the good guys. People are saying nice things about baseball again. I'm almost starting to care again. They're neck and neck with the record 62 with two weeks to go. This is gonna be fun. I'm actually gonna grab a beer and start watching the games again.
Play ball!
September 17, 1998
Happy birthday Nancy. And Patrick.
Yesterday I was working on another calendar for a customer (we do a lot of the things) which included the year 2000, and I seemed to remember something about there not being a Feb 29 in years ending in double zeros. But this calendar had a Feb 29. So I voiced my concern to semi-attentive ears (they'd never heard about February 29 not occuring in a year ending in double zeros). We checked other calendars we had around (desk calendars, checkbook calendars, etc.) and they all had Feb 29. I even changed the computer’s built-in calendar to Feb 29 2000 and it worked. And I was sure they were all wrong.
We tried looking it up on the internet, but we kept getting an error message when we tried to connect. I finally called the wife, and she looked it up. So here it is officially:
February 29 occurs every four years when that year is divisible by four, except in the last year of a century (a year ending in double zeros), unless that year is divisible by 400 (1600, 2000, 2400, etc.). Got it? So 2000 does have a Feb 29, but it’s the exception. Keep that in mind when 2100 rolls around; you won’t have a February 29 to kick around.
So that settled that, as far as the calendar was concerned. Wrong (I was being difficult in my boredom). On December 31, 1999, the calendar proclaimed "Millenium Eve."
I had to bring up the fact that 2000 is the last year of the old millenium, not the first year of the new millenium. People just don’t seem to grasp that either. The first millenium was from 1 to 1000, the second millenium runs from 1001 to 2000, and millenium 3 is from 2001 to 3000. I was told to ignore it and I did, ‘cuz I knew no matter how much you try to enlighten the masses, they’re gonna celebrate the new millenium in 2000, just because the first digit is different. Neanderthals.
If you think back to the beginning of this millenium (1000,1001, who cares), it was the Dark Ages when ignorance and superstition reigned. How different things have become at the end of this millenium (debateable, I know). Skip ahead 1000 years. Are folks gonna snort at our primitive way of life and wonder how we managed to keep the world together with our miserably inadequate computers? Is there gonna be a Y3K bug? Screw ‘em. They’re still gonna celebrate the new millenium with the coming of 3000 instead of 3001, and they’re gonna print calendars with Feb 29 3000 (3000 is not divisible by 400, so no Feb 29 this time!).
I will be repeating this on December 31, 1999,
I know it.
September 25, 1998
Happy birthday Bob.
This week I found myself in limbo. The Wife left Sunday night for North Carolina as part of her lucrative consulting business (the only part at the moment). Which left Opie and I to our own devices.
Monday:
National Slack-Off Day. Surfed the 'net. Watched tv. Slept.
Tuesday:
Fabricated wooden framework for convertible top (for my Ford Ranger,
of which I cut the roof off last summer, then clamped the same
metal roof back in place until I could design a folding top),
but couldn't manage to remove the metal top on my own (heavy and
bulky), so I postponed further development.
Wednesday:
It rained. See Monday
Thursday:
I was going back to the convertible top design, but could only
get so far without removing the existing roof to measure for fit.
Planned around it as best I could. Developed a cough and mild
sore throat.
Friday (today):
Woke up with a full-fledged cold, hacking cough, aching joints,
felt like crap, stayed in bed, watched tv, slept. Do you think
lying under a truck on wet concrete had anything to do with it?
I forced myself up after one, took the standard otc medications,
slept some more. And here I am.
I've been up for a while and I'm actually feeling better (still crappy, but better). I found yesterday's Catch of the Day (a mouse) in the trap and escorted him to the compost heap. I opened the trap and awaited his egress, but he would stick his nose out, sniff, then duck back in. He did this three times, and I left to take a shower; I have to pick up the Wife at the airport tonight. I returned after showering and the trap was empty, and all the bait (Tender Vittles) was gone.
I should be over this cold in time to return to work Monday. But the Wife will be home to take care of me. She'll be thrilled about that.
Stay well.
September 30, 1998
James Dean died in his Porsche 43 years ago today.
Didja ever feel like you had the most horrible cold of your life? And then it got worse? I can't speak 'cuz my throat is so sore, and every movement hurts. So I suffer, thinking "this'll be over soon." But it's not.
And aren't you inclined to label people who call in sick after a week's vacation as total jerks? So I dragged my sickly butt into work Monday, where things were that much worse 'cuz there was no useful work to be done. So I sucked cough drops and played Freecell with a Force 8 headache and a throat like Mt. St. Helen's.
As of the previous entry, I was leaving to pick up the Wife up at the airport. When I got there, I inadvertently parked in the wrong garage (the airport has 5 identical parking garages, side by side, and I always park in garage B. For some reason I parked in A that night). I realized my mistake when I used the bridge from the garage to the terminal and ended up in unfamiliar territory.
I made it to the gate in time, but I took so many turns getting there that I had no idea how to get back to the car. We collected our baggage and I said we had to go out the opposite way 'cuz I had parked in the wrong garage, but we ended up opposite of the opposite direction and arrived at garage C (and these are not small garages). So we had to lug luggage back through three terminals to get to the correct parking garage.
I had parked up one level from the bridge level, but I remembered it was near the stairwell. So when we arrived at the stairwell I announced "one flight up." But the wife wanted to take the elevator (which was 100 feet away). "Okay," said I and dragged the luggage up the stairs while she walked down to the elevator. I threw the luggage in the car and waited. And waited. I walked down to the elevator, but no one was there. So I figured she was still waiting for an elevator car to arrive, so I ran down the one flight of stairs but there was no one there either.
I last saw her walking toward the elevator where a man was waiting. I imagined that he had mugged her for her laptop and stuffed her lifeless body under the stairwell, or over the side of the parking garage. After several minutes of snooping around I went back to the car, in case we had somehow missed each other, but she wasn't there. I felt like I was in a Hitchcock movie.
I grabbed my cell phone and called her cell phone. "Where the *#%& are you?" she asked lovingly.
It was like this:
The parking garage has six levels -- Ground, 1,2,3,4,5. We entered
crossing the bridge from the terminal on level 1 (one level above
ground). The wife assumed that the level above the ground was
level 2, and one level up was level 3. So she pushed 3 in the
elevator and ended up waiting for me to show up.
To summarize:
It took one hour to get from the plane to the car, and I was hauling
30 lbs. of luggage the whole time.
Thanks to Friday night traffic, it took another half-hour to get
from the parking garage to the highway.
Then forty-five more minutes to get home.
No wonder I feel crappy.
November 15, 1998
The web is once again keeping me away from my only real life. I spend way too much time here.
I have to get all the furniture back in place before the Wife gets home (the painters finished up this weekend and the wife is visiting relatives in Pittsburgh). I will accomplish all that, but I feel like my life has been assigned to me, rather than having any free choice.
I'm allowed to feel this way occasionally; it's in my eccentricity contract.
I sometimes confuse being in a rut with being in control. When things are so boringly routine that you know exactly what's going to happen, you may assume you're in control of the situation. Then when the routine is disrupted (the painters upend your house, furniture and everyday items are not where you expect them to be, the Wife is outa town), then the control factor is gone. I know how to cope with this stuff, I just don't like it. I'm not in control.
So Thursday night the Wife rode out to Pittsburgh with her sister and brother-in-law and their kids (a 3-year-old and one-year-old twins). The wife got to spend six hours in a mini-van with her nieces and nephews. Only she would be looking forward to that. I spoke to her once Saturday, and they seemed to be having a good time.
She'll be home tonight, and I hafta get all the furniture moved back and the light fixtures and wall plates secured, and the house generally looking nice. Or else.
I just tried to upload this mess but I can't get on the server. This has happened before, and it probably happened right after everyone went home Friday, and no one's gonna fix it 'til Monday morning. So I'll just wait 'til Monday to upload and take it all in stride. Until my contract is up. Heh. Maybe it's time for my own domain. That would solve a lotta problems. But it has to be a cool name. I'll hafta work on that.
Only 39 shopping days 'til Christmas. Joy.
November 21, 1998
Tori Amos is a very esoteric, cryptic, emotional, sensual, singer/songwriter
who writes from the heart and sings from the gut. She has a song
called "In the Springtime of his Voodoo." After the
scat singing, the opening line (Standin' on a corner in Winslow,
Arizona) is from "Take It Easy" by the Eagles (or Jackson
Browne; they both recorded it). I just noticed it one morning
while I was listening to the cd. I was in Winslow about 4 years
ago and, because of the Eagles song, I had my picture taken standing
on a corner. Whenever I heard "Take It Easy" since then
I remember doing that. Imagine my surprise when that line popped
out of a Tori Amos song.
As a gimmick, a local radio station had been playing every recording they had in alphabetical order for a coupla weeks. As a result, they played both versions of "Take It Easy," (Eagles, Jackson Browne) back to back, while I was driving to the local convenience store for milk. So I heard that line three times in three different recordings, all before noon.
We got our new furniture cushions today, completing our new look. But I don't think the Wife is too happy with them. The foam in them is hard and dense, making the cushions look boxy, rather than soft and inviting. But we're hoping they eventually will settle into the furniture with use. They will, won't they?
November 27, 1998
Help!
I've been sucked into the undertow and can't get back to shore. I'm being pulled headlong into Christmas and I haven't even digested Thanksgiving dinner yet.
My truck flunked inspection this week (excess hydrocarbons polluting the fresh Jersey air), so I'm gonna have to spend more bucks getting it roadworthy (and legal) again.
I finally told the dentist I can't afford the stuff he wants to do (implants). I've been going to the dentist every coupla weeks since March, and I've had a broken bridge repaired, two root canals, one implant and numerous small repairs. That's cost more than four thousand dollars so far, and he wants to do another eight thousand in implants. I can't afford to have teeth any more. I still have a couple damaged fillings and three broken teeth that have to be yanked. The never-ending dentist visit.
And let's not forget the joys of Christmas shopping. Some people actually enjoy it (the Wife being one). I'd like to do all my shopping on the 'net this year, but I'm too much of a procrastinator. What I'd really like is to do this year's and next year's Christmas shopping simultaneously. No, what I'd really like is to have done last year's and this year's Christmas shopping last year.
Next time: Mouse-A-Day
November 30, 1998
Mouse-A-Day. Every morning for the last ten days we've found a
mouse in the humane trap; sometimes pacing back and forth, sometimes
just huddled. And every morning I take the critter out to the
compost heap to join his buddies from the previous days.
I thought we would be outa mice by now, but the saga goes on. Ten and counting. I will keep you advised.
----------------
Bah. Humbug.
I do like Christmas. Christmas day, i.e., when it's all over but the unwrapping. There's always so much to do that it takes all the fun out of anticipating it. And on top of everything, we have to make an appointment for Opie's annual physical and shots.
----------------
The wife and I went out to dinner last night to a little 50's diner we like, and they have a juke box full of old 45's. I was browsing through the selections that were typed on card strips next to the numbers and found "Only Love Can Break a Heart" by Gene Pitney. Except his name was spelled "Jean." Then I found Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode," only it was spelled "Johnny Be Good." So I envisioned the old couple that owns the place with the husband reading off the names and the wife typing the little card strips. He says "Gene," she types "Jean." A mental exercise to do 'til the food comes.
----------------
Stay tuned for further reports on frustration, annoyances and the Christmas season. :)
December 14, 1998
The Mouse-A-Day Marathon is over, though there are a few stragglers
bringing up the rear. It's been twenty two days and nineteen mice
have found there way into the trap and from there to the compost
heap.
On this day in history; from my diary of December 14, 1968; I had dropped out of college and was employed with a print shop as a background for my intended advertising career. My car was a '62 Dodge convertible with no heat that got 8 mpg. I was making slightly above minimum wage at the time and living in an apartment I couldn't afford:
"I awoke around noon and had a bowl of cereal and listened to records for a couple hours. I called Janet to see what she was doing. Same thing I was. I drove up to see her and we did some Christmas shopping, had dinner at the diner and talked all evening. I left around one (a.m.) and drove home in an icy snow storm. About two miles from my parents' house, I skidded off the road and into the mud in the median strip. Hopelessly stuck at 3 a.m., I hiked to my parents and let myself in quietly and slept on the couch.
"The next morning Dad
took me to get the car, but it had been towed. We went to the
police, who sent us out to the Turnpike to get a voucher to release
the car, then back to a garage. We drove back to my parents, and
I decided to stay for dinner. I hadn't been in the house for ten
minutes when a very large and heavy Oldsmobile came skidding down
the icy street and plowed into my car, crumpling the right front
fender all around the front wheel and breaking the shock mount."
And I thought this Christmas was crappy. Have yourself a merry little one.
December 19, 1998
Today I started my Christmas shopping. I'm never this late. The warm weather this year and the extra load at work combined to delay the usual Christmas spirit. But time is rapidly running out.
I treated today like any other workday. I had goals and deadlines. I hit the first store at 9 am (okay, a little late, as usual), and went right ahead with my assigned task.
The travelling was not a usual part of my work day, and the traffic was nuts. The malls were mobbed, which I expected. But I had no trouble finding what I needed (for the most part).
Lunch was a chili dog and root beer float.
By five o'clock I'd had enough; there's still a few things I need, but I know what they are and where to find them. Most stores are open 'til eleven pm tonight, and I considered going back out and getting it over with, but chose to post a website entry instead.
Besides, that's what tomorrow is for, and I will prevail, 'cuz by the time I park myself in front of the X-Files tomorrow night, it's all gonna be over but the wrapping.
I feel the slightest tinge of Christmas spirit occasionally. We'll see how that progresses after tomorrow.
December 25, 1998
It's just past midnight on Christmas day. The packages are wrapped
and under the tree, and the stockings are stuffed, as are my sinuses.
Four inches of snow grace the lawns for a white Christmas, but
the roads are clear enough to allow family visitations.
The cat that inspired a website is curled up next to me, and I should select a Christmas cd to fill the background, but the silence is more soothing. The tree and the electric candles in the windows are the only light in the living room. Not a creature is stirring ....
I love Christmas. It's the 24 days preceding it that drive me nuts. But now it's all over for another year. And with the dawn (okay, a few hours after that), the Wife and I will exchange the objects of our credit card debt over hot but ineffective cups of coffee. Another quiet Christmas morning.
Then chaos rules; shortly thereafter we are expected at the Wife's sister's place for breakfast (serving more food than your average restaurant), served to the din of several three-and-unders extolling the virtues of Santa's generosity. From there it's over the river and up the Interstate to my sister's house, where my side of the family will be extolling the virtues of their spouses' generosity (the youngest at this gathering will be driving next year. Yow). I don't see my family as often as my in-laws because they all live out-of-state. This and Thanksgiving are usually it.
Anyway, then it's back to the Wife's sister's (different sister) for dinner. We will stagger home around ten.
Just the thought tires me out. Merry Christmas everyone; I gotta rest up for this.
P.S. No new mice.
December 31, 1998
Time to party like it's 1999.
That phrase is turning up everywhere; in commercials, in newscasts, in DJ banter. But I have yet to hear the Prince song that it's from. Just as well.
I also keep hearing that '99 is the last year of the millenium. It's not, y'know. But I've covered that before, so I won't bore you with it now. But one year from now, when everyone is counting down the minutes to the new millenium, most won't realize what a long count that actually would be.
I have a cold, so my partying will be kept to a cacaphonous murmur, and will take place at my sister-in-law's in a matter of hours. They're having Chinese, and I don't like Chinese, so I'll order from the special menu.
Christmas: I got a 10 Gig hard drive, a 10-disc CD changer for the truck, and the Pearl Jam CD "Ten." I guess you could say my Christmas was a 10.
I also got the requisite socks, jeans, underwear and shirts (all of which were needed and appreciated, thank you very much). And other stuff. I did good.
So '98 will shortly cease to exist, and '99 is on the horizon. Enjoy the new year to its fullest, 'cuz then it's Y2K.
Cheers.