Author: anthony Page 25 of 72

One of the programs we use for email lists at work keeps a log of error messages and activity. I needed to dig around in there to fix a problem, but ran into a problem with the date.

The program was developed in Europe and it was looking for a date range in the day/month/year format. And for the life of me I could not get those numbers turned around in my head. Even with a helpful example of 23/5/2016 – I mean, that’s clearly the 23rd day of the 5th month in the year 2016. We don’t have 23 months, obviously.  Duh.

And yet, I couldn’t turn the 3rd day of the 10th month around. A date is auto pilot, Month/Day/Year. Well, once I get into about March and stop having to guess what year it is, anyway.

And our format doesn’t make much sense. Unless it has something to do with the months being names after Roman gods or something.

Okay, yes they do. I just googled it. But the days of the week are named after Norse gods so you’d think they’d get priority.

I mean, do you really want to piss off the god of thunder?

Still, like the metric system, I don’t get why we’re such a freaking backward county when it comes to international standards of things that make sense.

I blame the entire country and the education system for the headache I got trying to switch the date around in my head to match the format we clearly should be using anyway.

I didn’t have to write it down – though it was close. And I got my logs, which didn’t solve the problem, but made me feel better anyway.

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I had dinner this week with the Younger of the Ladies Who Are Heading Back to New York. Not the city, fortunately, but near enough. Dinner was good, but she’s worried about her mom not being able to handle the stress of the move.

The weirdest bit was when I asked her what her son thought about the move. He – my former room-mate – doesn’t think it’s a good idea either. And the notion that all three of us actually agree on the same thing nearly destroyed the know universe in a terrible paradox. I mean, it didn’t, but it was close.

I’ll try to see them again before they leave. And I’m making them a wreath as a house-warming gift for their new place.  It’s not much, but it’s something.

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In random news… I invented a new sport. Cross-country shot-put. The further you throw the ball – and more accurately to avoid trees – the fewer times you have to stop and pick it up. I don’t know where I’m going with this, but it seemed interesting to play. But maybe kinda boring – but dangerous, depending on where you stand – to watch.

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Finally, the last of my tree got picked up today. I heard the chipper running a bit this morning when I woke up and by the time I looked out my window, the bundles of branches were gone. Sort of like Christmas. In reverse. With branches. And not presents.

I say the last, but it’s really not quite the last. I’ve still got a stump to deal with which – according to the directions on the Stump-B-Gone container – will be basically my career for the next 18 months. I mean, really?

And I saved one good sized branch that was in excellent shape. It’s just big enough to smite someone with. I mean, if I was the kind of person that considering smiting people.

Which I am.

I have a list.

My folks and my sister and brother-in-law volunteered to come up yesterday help me take down my tree.

I knew it needed to be done – it was rotted through – but it was still sad to see it go.

And go it did.  We got started right around 10 am and by 10:56 we had the tree down and the branches cleared away, logs piled up, and sidewalk swept.  By 11:05, we were ready to go out to eat.

My brother-in-law is a force of nature with a chainsaw and Dad stacked the wood while my sister and I cleared branches.  Oh, and my nieces helped with their pretend chain-saw before being relegated to the safety of the porch with Mom.

We had an entertaining lunch with my nieces  – who were adorable – and then hung out for a bit before everyone headed back.

[Side note:  While we were waiting for the food to arrive at the resturant, my youngest niece and I played tic tac toe on the placement.  The first game was tied and then we switched crayons.  During the second game, she switched from X’s to O’s in the middle of the game – and won, hands down.  Clever girl.  🙂  ]

This morning, I got an early start and got the branches trimmed and bundled up.  Took me all morning and while I was working on it one of my neighbors came over for the wood.  He borrowed a wheelbarrow and made several trips back and forth to his house – commenting more than once that his cardiologist would be happy with exercise he was getting, but wouldn’t have been happy with the cigarette breaks.

I wondered he was suggesting that maybe I could haul the wood over to his house as well.  I got him a bottle of water instead.  And was ready to call 911 if it came to that.

Hey, it was free firewood.

He also raised the specter of someone trying to break into my house by climbing a tree to get into the second story window.  I found that very doubtful – and it’s a moot point now anyway.

I got the kindling-size branches cut down to fit in the wheelbarrow and ended up with with 8 piles of branches bundled up and ready for the trash.

The front of my house looks a lot different now and there’s no shade.    I took pictures and I’ll post them after the branches are hauled off. A sort of Before and Way After

Jim brought me lunch and then I hit the shower and took a nap.  Which is weird for me, but I was exhausted.   I’ll maybe put some kind of planter where the tree was or get rid of the rest of the stump and plant grass.  But that’s a project for another day.

And… I already miss my tree.

My parents got me started reading at a very early age and I took to it like a duck does to a cliche.  And I got fast.

Over the years it became less like reading and more like absorbing the books.  I wasn’t intending to hurry, but I just got so much into the stories that they raced past me.

I roasted smores with vampires and blood mages.

I did sudoku puzzles with Mentats.

I bitched-slapped some elves  – they know what they did – and fired laser cannons at AIs.   They also know what they did.

And all of this at hundreds and hundreds of words per minute.

So there was no one more surprised than me when I got an email from the library warning me that my books were due soon.

There were only three of them – did it really take me two weeks to read?  Really?

Apparently, some things got in the way – namely work, video games, and DVD’s.    I had two days left and still had a book to go.

Now, I could have renewed it – obviously – but it seemed like admitting defeat.  When I got home from work I tore into the book  – and got through half of it.

So now I had one day and half a book to go .  I read a little at lunch and when I got home I dove into it again.    I ate dinner while I was reading and finished up early evening.

And it was good, though the ending was a little weak.  Eh.

The next day I headed to the library to return my books and check out some more.

But only two this time.

Just in case.

(with apologies to Kesha and Pitbull)

I was at work on Friday and happened to check my gmail. I saw that an amazon package had been delivered the day before, but I’d forgotten to check my mail that day. I was a little uncomfortable leaving it out on the porch two days in a row, so I decided to go home for lunch.

So, at my usual lunch hour, I headed home and went in the backdoor to my house. I popped lunch in the microwave and went out the front door.

To a tree.

Part of the tree in my front yard had come down and was covering the entire sidewalk and up on the porch. There didn’t seem to be any damage to the house, but there was a lot of tree down and it was just – you know – tree.

I retrieved my package from the fortunately unscathed mailbox and went back inside to eat my lunch. When I was done, I called my boss and told him I might be a little late coming back to work since I wanted to at least clear a path.

I tried shoving the biggest branch out of the way and got scraped up a bit. So, I went and got my handsaw from the garage and set to work.

My neighbor came home after I’d been working for a while and came over. He asked if this was on purpose and I shook my head and said it was very much not.

He offered to loan me an electric chainsaw and a pole saw and I graciously accepted. It took me about an hour to get the path cleared, but that was just moving things off to the side and working with the handsaw. Rather than fire up the chainsaw, I put a pin in that and changed my shirt before heading back to work.

On Saturday morning, I was back at it and used some clippers to cut the twigs into pieces that would fit in my garbage can. Then the handsaw on the medium sized pieces.

Then the chainsaw.

I was very careful and the only thing that got cut was the branches. While I was working on those, my neighbor came over and topped off the oil and said that another of my neighbors would take the wood.

I kept at until I had all the branches in a manageable pile. I returned the saw and called it a day. When I went outside later, I found that the neighbor had taken all the wood and the medium sized branches. The only clean up to do was to rake the grass and sweep.

Today, I tried to used the pole saw to clean up the tree a bit, but realized that it was cracked much further down. It’s not going to make it and I’m going to need to get it taken down.

Which is a bummer. This really pretty tree was one of the selling points to my house and I’m going to miss the shade.

And the green view outside my windows.

Just after I got out of college, I was living with a couple of room-mates. One of them was looking to help his mother and grandmother move from New York City to Ohio – and asked me to help. I had time, a reliable car, and I was generally agreeable to adventures.

And thus began my long friendship with the Ladies from New York – lasting long after my room-mate and I went our separate ways.

I visited the Ladies occasionally and helped with their electronics, put up plastic on the windows, or took them for errands when they needed transportation. I visited them in the hospital when the younger had a heart scare and tried to provide some counsel when they had problems with my former room-mate. And I dismissed the occasional jabs as them simply not having any filters.

I got a call the other day from the Younger – they were moving back to New York. She wasn’t happy about it, but her family was behind the move. The crime, the noise, and the challenges of just getting by in New York haven’t changed – and they are a lot older now – but I guess there’s a plan.

We agreed to meet up for dinner and spend some time before the move – and then she called again to ask if I would write up a character reference.

Now, it took a very quick burst of brain-power to not blurt out “do you want me to lie?”

Which isn’t fair. They are both abrupt, quick tempered, tact-exempt, and occasionally openly hostile. And they are both well armed. And I give them a pass because, well, they are still little old ladies from New York. And have always accepted and cared about me – even if they didn’t always know how to say it.

Then I realized that the Character Reference is going to people who already live in New York City. I’m guessing there’s a sliding scale.

So, I agreed and she was going to work on getting me an email address to send this to. I haven’t written it yet, but I’ve been working on it in the back of my head since then.

I’m going to miss them both and I worry about them. They are both tough old broads by Ohio standards, but I’m hoping they haven’t lost the edge they need for New York.

So, I’ll take them out for dinner and talk about old times. And worry when they move in November. I’ll do my best to keep in touch, but it won’t be a case where I can stop by after work and set up their phone or DVD player – or help keep that truly ancient VHS player going.

I’ll miss the orange soda. I’ll miss sharing pics of my nieces and marveling over their grand-kids. I’ll miss the stories and wry humor. I’ll even miss the blunt comments and sarcasm – but not the overly loud TV.

And I’ll miss them.

Left work a little early to go donate blood yesterday. I did the RapidPass beforehand – which was their term for the medical history portion, not some device that I could strap to myself that would drain out my blood as I walked through an arch in the library.

Though… no, that’s a terrible idea.

So, I was ahead of the game when I got there and breezed right on through the health screening with no delay. Then – no waiting – right on over to the table for the donation.

Needle stick, squeeze every 5-7 seconds, and I was on my way.

And then I was done. I mean, it seemed to go really fast – much more so than usual. I commented to the technician and she said I finished up the donation in 6 minutes and 30 seconds.

The average time, I found out later, is around 8-10 minutes.

So, wow.

I felt fine, got my cookie and juice, and was on the road. I think that might have been the most efficient blood donation I’ve ever done.

Given that the human body has about 1.5 gallons of blood and this is around 12 pints, at that rate I could have auto-exsanguinated myself in 78 minutes. Provided, of course, that I didn’t die first.

Cool, and also creepy.

Today, I:

Tied my tie without looking – perfectly – on the first try. (+1 to Armor class)

Led a meeting with the president of the University of Akron and a committee of 18 of my peers.  (+2 to Charisma)

Helped a graduate student set up a survey for “Perceived Spiritual Competence” (+2 to Wisdom)

Harvested and canned some grapes from my backyard (+2 Dexterity, +4 to Crafting)

Read a Stephen King book. (-1 to Constitution)

My nieces – ages four and six – will occasionally call me Grandpa and my dad Uncle.

It’s not a big deal and sometimes we correct them – though we usually just let it go.

It seemed odd to me that they would make the mistake, until I got my haircut today.

Since my bald spot became a thing and the rest of my hair started to thin out, I usually have what’s left of my hair cut almost to the scalp. Throw in randomly changing white facial hair and an odd sense of humor – and, well, I guess I can see how that would be confusing.

Dad is stronger than I am and more of any outdoorsy person. He’s into history and I’m into Sci-fi. I’m weirder than he is – but not by much. I’m computers, and barefoot, and crafts. He’s sports and yardwork. He’s a runner and I’m a swimmer.  We both really appreciate a good hat.

But, to a little kid those distinctions are pretty subtle. My dad is a pretty good guy and while I might have bristled at the suggestion that we’re a lot alike a few years ago, I think I have a better appreciation for him. There’s still a lot we don’t agree on – but I’m okay with my nieces occasionally mixing us up.

I’m on a committee at work – in charge of it, in fact. Didn’t intend to be – I was perfectly fine with being the vice-chair. Which, roughly translated, means a nice title and no actual work. Other than running the yearly election and I was doing most of that anyway.  Anything to avoid taking minutes.  Ugh.

But then the chair suddenly resigned and I took over as Acting Chair – or so I tried to convince people.

And when the elections came back around for officers, I couldn’t manage to step all the way down and ended up as co-chair.

Ended up being kind of okay with that, somehow. I think I’m doing an okay job with running the meetings and keeping things on track – but still looking forward to gracefully setting the role aside.

And even more so now.

One of the sub-committees has gone off the rails on a project and is trying to push it forward – without getting the rest of the committee to agree to it. There were some ugly emails and an even uglier meeting – over what should have been a really positive project.

Heavy hangs the head, as they say, that wears the crown.

Most annoyingly is that we could just… stop, and very little would change. We’ve got little authority and even less influence. We do some good work, but it’s pretty small in the grand scheme of things.

On Thursday, we’ve got a meeting with the new president and somehow, we’ve got to have a united voice.

I think I have my work cut out for me.

I haven’t had a library card for a little while and when I mentioned this to Jim he was kind of astonished. I countered that I had a library in my house and he said that only emphasized it.

This conversation came about because I decided to get a card at the local library – which in turn came about from killing time at a library recently and reading a book that I might have liked to take with me and continue.

I think that was a run-on sentence, but you get the idea – I hope.

So, after work and a haircut, I headed to the local library to get a card and some books.

I went up to the front desk and got started with the process. There was a little form to fill out while they entered my information from my driver’s license. The form said (over) at the bottom and I turned it over and read it and signed.  I always look for “your immortal soul” – just in case.

I turned the form to the front and passed it back.  The clerk looked it over – then flipped it over and raised an eyebrow.

“You signed the back. No one ever knows to do that,”

I shrugged and made some comment about reading directions. This is also why I never have problems at the BMV.

I have my shit together.

Anyway, they gave me the provisional card good for 2 weeks and only letting me check out 5 items at a time. If everything is good at the end of the two weeks, then I can upgrade to a regular card.  I guess I looked shifty.

Card in hand, I got directions to Fiction and headed over.

And while I perused the books, I realized how – in some ways – I’m really old fashioned.

For me, a library (or even a bookstore), should be a place of quiet respect. In those pages on the shelves are countless stories and worlds without end. Adventures and epic sagas. The ancient past and the far distant future.

How could anyone be in a place with all that wonder – and be noisy?

And it was noisy. Loud conversations, music, and kids running around through the whole building. You expect that in the kids section – even appreciate that – but in Fiction?

I got my books and returned to the front desk to check out. Then home for some dinner and reading. I’ll be back – likely many times – but it doesn’t quite feel like a library to me.

Maybe I am old fashioned. Or maybe a book snob. But those books – all those wonderful books… Well, I’m quieted by them, even if that’s just me.