Like A Ton Of Bricks

Hello World, Well, I don't mind saying that I did not have the world's best week of weather when I was camping, but it sure as heck beats the weather we've been having since I got back, and that is no jive. Two weeks ago, it was 95 degrees for 4 days in a row, and earlier this week, it was in the 50's. Honestly. This is like one of those old Cold War propaganda films where they try to convince us that the Communists are controlling the weather with their futuristic Sputnik satellite. (Which, come to think of it, was probably launched with less technology aboard than the chintziest digital watch of today, that they give away as freebies at tech shows.) Anyway, I can tell you that I'm glad to be at home now, where I can either crank up the A/C, or pile on the blankets, depending on which sort of ridiculous weather the Commies decide to fling upon us at any given moment, spasibo nyet. And for the KGB agents monitoring my email (whose name is Legion, heaven knows) I'd like to state for the record, "I love Mother Russia." Speaking of coming back from vacation, the nice people I work for managed to do their own typing while I was away, which I thought was admirable - but I found out later that they left out all of the other steps in the process, like adding orders to the log, or filing the copies, thanks not. This became flagrantly obvious when I was filing new proposals, and wondered why 11 numbers were simply missing from the sequence where they should have been. I found myself saying out loud, involuntarily (only to myself, since there was no one else in the building at the time) "Oh, bad bad bad! Heck, we have cats better than that!" Also more or less tangentially related to work, I have a new fire bucket that I take camping now, after many decades with my old tried-and-true, beat-up rusty bucket from ancient of days. The new bucket is a better fit for the specialty bonfire logs that I've been using recently, but it doesn't have the same kind of draw as the old one. I decided that what would help would be a couple of half-bricks that I could use to prop up the grate that the log sits on, and bring in more air through the bottom. I already have bricks that I bring with me, so I have a steady base to support the fire bucket off the ground, and not stuck scrounging around for loose rocks once I've gotten to the campsite. In face, I carry mine in the car year-round, for any brick-related emergencies that may crop up along the road. In an interesting aside (well, to me, anyway) when I was making a perambulation around the park one evening, I found an empty campsite where some other nut had apparently brought their own bricks and left about 6 of them behind after they pulled up stakes. and which I have to admit, really made me wonder. (And mind you, I say that as someone who already brings their own bricks camping as it is.) Meanwhile, back at home, the construction company was doing some brick work at a job, so I mentioned that if they came across any cracked or broken bricks that were up for grabs, to please save 2 half-bricks if they could. The owner happily invited me to help myself to the stack of bricks next to the building, but I explained that I already had my own bricks at home, but what I needed was half-bricks. He said if I already had bricks, I could just split them in half myself and be done with it. Oh no, I assured him, that might work with new bricks nowadays, but ours were hand-made by ancient Phoenicians about 2,500 years ago, and literally nothing short of Armageddon is going to split them in half at this point. That reminds me of a fruitless pre-vacation shopping trip to Home Depot, where we were trying to grab some of the specialty bonfire logs for my campfire, but to no avail. Not one to be thwarted, and with time running out, Bill hopped on the Internet and determined to get them directly from our friends at eco forest light 'n go bonfire jumbo logs, or know the reason why. For their part, the eco forest sales brigade seemed genuinely mystified at the whole idea of buying this product directly from them, when anybody could easily pick up all they could possibly want at Home Depot - in fact, they even come with a convenient handle built right in, for this very purpose. Apparently in the Utopian fantasy world of eco forest, big box stores don't run out of products that they're supposed to have on the shelves, and try as he might, Bill was unable to convince them that we had already tried that approach, and found it wanting. In the end, and through sheer dogged persistence, he got them to begrudgingly agree to send us four of the rare treasures, so my vacation could proceed with its campfires happily intact. In spite of the merchant's misgivings, the logs arrived promptly in 2 large cardboard boxes, and I popped them in the trunk of the car so they would be ready to go when the time arrived. It wasn't until I got to the park and was unpacking the boxes for the evening campfire, that I discovered that they had very carefully (one might say, lovingly) surrounded each bonfire log in several layers of bubble wrap before packing them up - as if they were some sort of fragile artistic masterpiece, rather than heavy and sturdy birch logs, which presumably need no one leaping to their defense, I shouldn't think. I thought that was so funny. And while we're on the subject of things that make no sense, alert readers might have noticed the following promotional tidbit on the AOL Welcome screen yesterday: ==================================== Agile LIVE Integrate Agile and DevOps with Version One Accelerate delivery across your value stream ===================================== Excuse me??? Around our house, this is what we chalk up to the horoscope computer, where all of the words are in English, but put all together the way they are, the sentence utterly fails to convey any meaning. What I love about this notice is that you could easily re-arrange the words into any random order, with no increase OR decrease in comprehension along the way. Try this on for size: ===================================== Integrate value across your delivery stream Cross your delivery with accelerated value Deliver value across your agile stream Version One integrates with your DevOps Agile value accelerates your stream version ====================================== Heck, I could do this all day. And the amazing thing to me, considering how much it must have cost to have this 1/4 screen ad at AOL to start with, it still manages to give you not the slightest hint of an idea who Agile LIVE might be, or even what type of product they're pushing, and even less so, the very industry that they're apparently operating out of, for heaven's sake. In the heyday of Madison Avenue's commercial wizards, this kind of obtuse gobbledegook would have gotten its creator a quick one-way ticket back to Palookaville, and a lifetime ban from advertising in any format on the planet. Accelerate delivery across your value stream, indeed. In fact, you may as well just go right ahead and bundle it all up in bubble wrap while you're at it. Elle

I Wonder As I Wander

Good morning, campers! And so here I am once again, back safe and sound from Adventures in Vacation Land, and lived to tell the tale - not to mention, none the worse for wear, which is just about my favorite way to travel, I dare say. We had our ups and downs at the annual wander in the woods this time around, especially the weather, but the weather has been notoriously crappy all year so far, heaven knows, and no reason to expect it to be any different during my vacation week in July, so it can't be considered any sort of surprise that it wasn't. It rained half of the week, although mercifully without the kind of explosive thunder and lightning that generally sends me scurrying out of my tent and into the car for safety. But it has the unfortunate effect of making the usually clear and placid beach water turn dark, ugly, choppy, and full of seaweed for the duration, and a week's worth of that wears out its welcome pretty quickly, I can tell you that. If this was a beauty pageant, it would not have gotten my vote for anything, except possibly "Most in Need of Improvement," dearie. In any case, we started off the previous Saturday morning with high hopes, and actually made good time to the campground, compared to the usual construction and traffic delays that we routinely encounter. Both of our campsites were still listed as Occupied in the park computer, and we couldn't check in until they were cleared by the staff, who drive around and visually inspect who's still there or not. We decided to save them the trouble, by walking to the sites and making a video of their legitimately vacant state, which we then showed them at the Registration Building, so they would let us check in. The affable young man was happy to accept our digital corroboration, and we would have soon been good to go, except that he turned out to be the Office Manager, who obviously had no experience in checking anyone in, so it took 10 times longer than it should have. But he was a friendly fellow, and we had fun talking about the old days, and luckily one of the regular staff finally showed up to correct all of his mistakes, and send us on our merry way. We tossed up both tents in a hurry and headed to the beach for some sand and surf, and a beckoning basket of cheese fries to cap it all off. It's all too true that some years can be more challenging than others, but that first day back at the beach after 12 months, it never grows old, believe me. Over the course of time, our squatty little family motel in Coram was taken over by a larger chain, and while not much had changed there, it had become pricey enough (without any commensurate increase in quality) that I figured we may as well just stay in a regular hotel instead. So after putting up the clothesline and rain fly, we set out for Coram and made ourselves at home at the Comfort Inn - which is on the same street as our old dinky motel, but now offers a better value at about the same price. Dinner at Denny's was a welcome treat, and we took advantage of late hours at the nearby Wal*Mart to pick up some essentials while we were there. The hotel's hundreds of TV channels in no way prevented me from falling asleep almost instantly, and for a crowded place on a very busy road, it was a welcome respite of cool and quiet. Bill muttered something in the morning about the neighbors pounding on the walls all night complaining about loud snoring, but since Bill doesn't snore, I'm sure I have no idea what the problem could have been. Bill went back home late on Monday, and was lucky to have 3 beautiful days on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday before the weather became very changeable the rest of the week. I was in town shopping Wednesday before dinner when the skies opened up and the rain pelted down in sheets - to the extent that people pulled off the roads to wait it out rather than trying to drive through it. I was hoping that got it all out of its system, but not so - it poured again after dinner, and drowned my campfire so there was no rescuing it, alas. It made me wish for some sort of recreation center at the park, where soggy campers could go to play board games, read magazines, or maybe tackle a jigsaw puzzle until the weather improved. Luckily they built the spacious new family restroom which almost serves the same purpose, and I was not the only person who came up with the idea of going there to hang out for the duration, where it is nice and dry, with plenty of lights, and lots of congenial company, charging up their devices, chatting among themselves, updating their social media, or just watching the world go by. It's true that it's not the same as a real recreation center, but it still beats sitting alone in my car, by golly. Speaking of the car, alert readers may remember a previous vacation when the park pass blew out the window in town, resulting in my chasing it up and down Route 25A through traffic, thanks not, so I could get back into the park. Even more alert readers may recall last year after vacation, when I had the car washed and detailed, so they could vacuum out all of the sand and stones, leaves and twigs, and they also sprayed the interior surfaces with some sort of polish that made the steering wheel so slick that I needed rubber garden gloves to keep hold of it, and once again, thanks so very much not. Anyone could see the storm clouds gathering on the horizon of this scenario, as these story-lines converged when I came up with the idea of taping the park pass to the dashboard to prevent a repeat of its surprise window escape - only to find that the tape flatly refused to stick because the dashboard was way too slippery for that. I finally had to tape it to the inside of the windshield instead, and lucky for me that energetic minions at the car wash didn't spray that too. And finally, speaking of too much of a good thing, it will come as a surprise to nobody that I made a special trip to the Sunoco Quick Mart to pick up beach snacks for my vacation, and naturally left them at home on the floor of the den, and never packed them to start with. But since they were only Cheez-Its and potato chips, I realized that I could easily pick up replacements while I was out there - and that was how I came to discover that our friends at Deep River Snacks make an aged cheddar and horseradish chip that is not the for faint-hearted, believe me. It will simultaneously clear out your sinuses and put hair on your chest, whether you want it or not - and suffice to say, you are not going to fall asleep in the middle of eating one of them, that's for sure. Anyway, so there you have it, camping fans, straight from the wandering words of the woods, like it or lump it, and as they say in the age-old song, "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home," and I ought to know. In any event, that's my story, and I'm sticking with it, or my name isn't - The Merry Wanderer

The Big Noise

Hello World, And so here we find ourselves already past the halfway point of the year, perched atop that slippery slope, and staring down both barrels of 2017 second half, which will be skittering past us even faster than the first half, I shouldn't wonder. From this point, the rest of the year can be summed up pretty succinctly as: Back-to-school, Hallo-Thanks-Chanu-Christmas, so long and farewell 2017, see ya! It doesn't take long, and if you blink, you'll miss it, so get prepared to strap in and ride it out, no matter what. Of course, out in the real world, it's still July, for better or worse, and while we've long since lost the cream of our spring flowers, what's left is out there plugging away. The sunny yellow primrose popped open right on schedule, in spite of needing sturdy teams of Sherpas to chop through the dense vegetation on all sides. Bill says he always knows that school is out when the hedge, honeysuckle, and pachysandra all bloom at the same time, like a heady summer cocktail with the sweet fragrance of sunshine and freedom. Our daylilies have been busting out all over the yard, while in the back, the colossal yellow tiger lilies were such a runaway success that I couldn't take a picture of them from the ground, but had to go climb up on the porch instead. Hidebound traditionalists will be relieved to hear that my grandmother's venerable persimmon-colored mini floribunda rose (which has been dug up and transplanted from half a dozen properties over the last 100 years of this family) is still going strong in the flower bed, and shows no sign of slowing down yet. It's obviously planning on outlasting all of us, and at this point, you wouldn't catch me betting against it. Speaking of family ties, anyone who knows my sister Diane can tell you that she has always been a beacon of financial rectitude, often carrying a dogged sense of frugality to what the rest of us wastrels might consider a ludicrous extreme. I frequently describe her as living a 17th century lifestyle - riding her bicycle everywhere in all weather, happily living without a home phone or electronic devices, using just enough heat to keep the water pipes from freezing, and just enough electricity to power her only appliance, the refrigerator. She eschews such frivolities as movies, restaurants, or vacations, and I'm pretty sure she takes her clothes down to the river and beats them with rocks. On the other hand, with what she has saved up over the course of time, living so far below her means, in contrast to the debt-ridden victims of conspicuous consumption all around her, I have no doubt that she could probably buy the New York Yankees at this point, and pay cash for the club, besides. In any case, on a recent visit, she looked very fetching in a pretty flowered top and a pair of matching yoga pants, which she explained that she had gotten on sale at Marshall's. In fact, she elaborated, there were two sets of yoga pants that would pair nicely with her new top, and she couldn't make up her mind between the two, so she bought both of them - wrapping up with this clincher, "After all, it's only money." I stared at her full in the face for a minute, and then demanded, "Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?" She laughed. And speaking of the 17th century lifestyle, of course Tuesday was Independence Day, celebrating the bold spirit of our forebears in throwing off the shackles of a tyrannical government, for the benefits of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. With the holiday falling on a Tuesday this year, many businesses were encouraged to make an extra long 4-day weekend out of it, and closing up shop on Monday as well as Tuesday - which is an idea I think we can all rally around, I dare say. The Flag Brigade was on its toes bright and early, putting out the flags on such a beautiful day, and even better, remembering to bring them back in again after dinner, which is no mean feat, I can tell you that. Whoever was responsible for the local fireworks did an admirable job of setting them off so we could see them from our house, thank you very much, although it must be said that the cats certainly didn't care all that much for the noise, and weren't a bit shy about making their feelings known on the subject, believe me. It reminds me that I recently saw a post on Facebook about what they described as "silent fireworks," and which I am convinced were invented by a task force of dogs and cats. Our friends at www.theodysseyonline.com have this to say about it: ================================ A town in Italy is taking big steps to reduce anxiety in animals due to firework explosions. The local government of Collecchio has introduced legislation that requires fireworks in their town to be silent, to reduce stress that loud noises can cause to animals. This can benefit all types of animals, ranging from house pets to wildlife. A company named Setti Fireworks, located in Genova, Italy, specializes in producing these types of silent explosives and can customize them for any event. Most dogs are terrified of fireworks, and they have the right to be. Fireworks wreak havoc on animals, and many veterinarians have confirmed that July 5th is the day that they experience the greatest amount of visits during the year. Dogs, with their sensitive hearing, are especially vulnerable, and may hurt themselves trying to escape or hide. ================================== Well, now, that's exactly the kind of scientific innovation that would make anybody want to stand up and shout, "HOORAY!!!" Or, perhaps (whisper) "hooray" might be more appropriate under the circumstances. Shhhhhh! Meanwhile, in what I would consider unexpected sports news, I admit that I have always regarded The Boys of Summer as the only game in town during those infamous lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer, with only NFL mini camps showing up recently as a late addition to provide any alternative to America's Pastime and plenty of it. Not so fast! Apparently there is such a thing as NBA summer league basketball, for clamoring fans of all things hoops - which in spite of the fact that it sounds like a terrible idea on the face of it (and even still after giving it some careful thought on the matter) is an actual going concern, and not just a publicity stunt or wishful thinking. In fact, it's viable enough that they are showing it on television, for heaven's sake, and I actually saw the results from the Dallas-Indiana game on the ESPN ticker, so that tells you something right there. By golly, the dinosaurs and I can remember a time when professional sports had the good manners to stick to an actual season - that started at a certain point and also ended at a certain point - and the remaining period was identified as exactly what it was supposed to be: the off-season. Nowadays, they play at all sorts of strange times and places, so that you don't know if they're coming or going, and they just about finish with handing out the rings and trophies, not to mention parades and trips to Disneyland and the White House, and suddenly here they are back, all over again. It reminds me of the age-old vaudeville wisecrack, "How can I miss you if you won't go away?" (Rim shot, please!) And finally, on the topic of going away, that's just what I'll be doing tomorrow, for my annual wander in the woods, and don't spare the toasted marshmallows, my good man! As I was leaving work today, I declared extravagantly, "To paraphrase the notorious Richard Nixon, 'You won't have me to kick around any more'!" However, since the business is owned by a family of Albanians who "are being in this country short distance," as they say, I have the feeling that the joke was lost on them, however pertinent it might have been. In any event, this is all by way of saying that my usual contribution to Internet clutter will not be taking up space in everybody's Inbox next week, and people should not be alarmed by its absence. (Or conversely, reacting with howls of derisive laughter like our old ill-mannered friends the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery, thanks not.) We've already packed both cars with all of the camping essentials - for sand and surf, town and tent - except for food, because as anyone can tell you, in the (almost) immortal words of Richard Nixon, "I am not a cook." Elle