Weather Report

We got the first measurable rainfall early this morning since July 7. (I don't care what the NWS says, my backyard is the only official measurement point that counts!) Sure, we've had traces and sprinkles on three or four occasions, but not enough to do anything but mess up newly-washed cars and tease the parched grass. So it was really nice to lay in bed and listen to the drops on the skylight.

Total precip in my gauge? 0.15", including the mosquito carcass. I guess we won't yet shelve our "please send rain" prayers just yet.

Abby Goes Geek

I don't usually read "Dear Abby" unless a headline like "Woman who loves two losers can't decide who to choose" catches my eye, but My Lovely Bride never misses the column, and she pointed out a letter in today's edition that hits me where I live:

I love the fact that our society has finally advanced to the point where we can begin to judge people based on the quality of their websites! We need much more of this kind of discernment and wisdom. "Oh, mother...I couldn't possibly marry him; he built his website with FrontPage!" "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn, as long as you insist on using animated GIFs instead of Flash." "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you that the defendant was entirely within her rights. No one with the slightest trace of humanity could expect her to put up with a website that uses the blink tag!"

The only nit I would pick with Abby's reply is that she didn't end her advice by giving "A Friend" my phone number and email address!

A Century of Hogs

A few random observations (hey, it's what we do!) on the 100th anniversary of Harley-Davidson:

• The HD V-Rod is arguably the best-looking production bike ever made. At just under 18 grand, it should be.


• This is also the 20th anniversary of the Big Government Bailout of HD. In 1983, in response to the whining of a nearly-bankrupt, mismanaged company making an inferior product, Congress imposed huge tariffs on Japanese motorcycles with engines larger than 700cc... in other words, those which competed directly with Harleys. Were the Japanese dumping bikes in the US, to the detriment of Harley? Probably. Were they dumping better bikes, by a factor of 10? Definitely.


• Regardless, HD made the most of this five-year window of opportunity, recognized that without a focus on quality they were toast, regardless of governmental interference, and got their act together.


• Would I ride a Harley? In a heartbeat, if I had the coins to afford it. But, unlike most people I talk to, I prefer the look of the Sportster to anything else in the line-up (with the exception of the V-Rod).


• Do I wish I had bought 10,000 shares of Harley Davidson stock a decade ago? Uh, yep. It was selling for $5/share back then. It closed today around $50. Not the stuff of tech-bubble legend, perhaps, but a pretty decent return for a company that actually makes stuff.

Bloom Where You're Planted

I found this periwinkle growing in a sidewalk crack a couple of blocks from my house. I'm tempted to start a new blog just so I can incorporate this photo as a metaphor for...something...

The flower has obviously been there a while, but I just noticed it even though it's on my regular dog-walking route, and I pass it twice a day almost every day. The reason for my lack of perception? It's on the other side of the road. The lesson? As with much in life, whole new worlds open up when we take the time to do something as simple as crossing the street.

Blogroll Re-reorg

I've done a pretty thorough cleanup and reorganization of my blogroll, and I'm quite pleased with the results. In fact, it makes me want to post about it. [As a public service, I offer a link to Day By Day for those of you who don't care to indulge in this navel-gazing activity. Can't say as I blame you.]

I have been mentally kicking the tires on several metaphorical vehicles, trying to come up with an organization for the blogroll that was meaningful to me, and helpful to any readers who might want to use it. As I've said before, my blogroll is primarily for my use, and, in a way, it also represents my blogging identity.

I've come to the conclusion that in a very real sense, a blogger is who s/he links to. Linking to another site implies acceptance, if not outright approval of that site's content, and therefore links should not be handed out willy-nilly. (I realize that this might fly in the face of the basic "open source for ideas" philosophy for blogging, but I don't care. Anyway, I'm pretty sure the regular readers of the Gazette [all three of them, bless their hearts!] aren't interested in following a link to, say, the Transgendered Hyperliberal Communist Doghaters Party site.)

Accordingly, I've dropped a bunch of links from the roll. Some of the de-linked blogs are considered cream-of-the-crop by many; others were on the same level of obscurity as the Gazette, and pretty much represented reciprocity at work. In every case, however, those sites had content or perspectives that I didn't want to be responsible for sending other people to. In some cases, I agreed with what was written, but grew weary of how it was expressed. I can only take so much righteous outrage in a day, and I need to save my energy for generating my own.

Of course, I still don't agree with everything written on all the blogs I've linked to. Heck, I don't even agree with everything on this blog. I've made a judgment call that deems the linked sites worthy of careful consideration, in one respect or another. And, as they say, YMMV.

Having gotten the list pared down a bit, I then undertook to impose some semblance of organization. I came up with four categories, and put each link into one of the categories. Here's the general reasoning behind each:

• The Neighborhood - These are the folks with whom I am either on a first-name basis, or want to be, or know well enough to at least wave as I pass by their place. I read their stuff as soon as I can, and I find it consistently good. These are the folks who provide the social foundation for my blogging. I like these folks, at least as far as I can tell, based on their blogs or their comments on mine or their email to me. Is this weird, given the fact that I've actually met only one of these guys? Nah. Not to me, anyway.
• The Church - These are the folks who provide the spiritual foundation for my blogging. I wanted to come up with a title like "Mars Hill" or something connoting a free exchange of ideas, but then I realized that what I'm really interested in is Christianity. There's enough fodder for discussion there to last several lifetimes. Now, it's worth noting that this category was a tough call, because some (many?) of those in the Neighborhood also belong here. But in my blogworld, Neighborhood trumps Church. It doesn't in my offline life, but it does here, because it's easier to work with.
• The Office - These are the folks who provide the technical foundation for my blogging. Tech is the tie that binds. They are all much smarter than me in the areas where I work, so their blogs are invaluable resources in challenging me to get better at what I do. And, as in a "real" office environment, some of these folks aren't people I'd choose to hang out with after hours. But most of them I would, because I suspect they're not as geeky as they pretend to be.
• The World - These are the folks who provide the diversity for my blogging. There's a range of links here, but the fact that it's a catch-all category is no way a comment as to their quality. Again, I don't link lightly, and each of these sites has attracted my attention for one reason or another.

Well, that's the excrutiatingly detailed explanation of how we got to where we are today. I need to close by saying this is all subject to change. I'll still add sites to the roll (I just discovered the hilarious insights of Bryan McAnally, for example, and put him smack-dab in the middle of the Neighborhood, even though he doesn't know me from spit and I don't really know what to call his blog and it's on BlogSplat), and I'll still drop sites (Jen's on probation due to excessive use of the word "meme"). What I hope won't change is the fact that you'll be able to trust that the links I provide have some merit beyond reciprocity. That's not a bad thing, necessarily; it's just not my thing.

Cycling Musings

Interesting bike ride this morning. Thought I'd share some of it with you while I'm waiting for a @#$(*@ connection to a (#*&(Q#* Windoze webserver so I can upload a new website for a client. (Can anyone explain to me why FTP connections to these webservers inevitably slow to a crawl? I've been trying for more than 2 hours to upload a set of files that generally takes less than 10 minutes to upload via FTP to a Linux server running Apache.) Anyway, I digress.

I noticed a cloudbank to the south as I headed out, but it seemed to be moving away, so I thought nothing more of it. In fact, by the time I was a mile or so outside the city limits, the sky overhead was clear and the sun was shining brightly. And it was raining on me. Well.

It didn't rain hard nor long, and it was actually kinda neat. My folks always said that rain during sunshine was a sign that the devil was beating his wife (the raindrops being tears, I suppose). I was young enough to let it lay without prodding; that was a picture that I didn't want to see too clearly. But I always had nagging questions. If the devil lived down there, and, presumably, so did his wife, then how come the tears were falling from the sky? Did he catch her up there where she wasn't supposed to be ("Woman, get back down to Hell's Kitchen and whup me up some demon grits!")? And how did the devil find a wife, anyway? Who'd want to marry him? (Not to mention the difficulty in finding a preache...um, never mind. I suppose he had plenty of those to choose from. ;-)

Of course, later I realized that there was a sequel. When you heard thunder in broad daylight, that was the devil's wife going into the closet, pulling out a sawed-off 12 gauge, and blowing his sorry butt back back to hell.

By the way, you probably won't hear much of this in Sunday School.

But, I digress...again.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful, allowing me to ponder such issues as "if Colorado was flattened out, would it be bigger than Texas?" and "what if all the bloggers agreed that on 9/11/03, we'd post just one thing -- in memory of -- and then let the blogosphere go silent for a few hours?"

As I got to roughly the same point where it rained on me on the way out, I saw something wriggling across the road. It was obviously a little snake, but what kind? I pulled up next to it and realized immediately that it was a rattler...a little teenie one, probably less than a foot in length, although I didn't stretch it out and measure. He (she? That's another thing I didn't inspect for. We'll go with "he," just for discussion purposes.) had one little button on his tail, kinda cute in a viperous sort of way.

Snake sightings aren't exactly rare out here, but it is pretty unusual to spot a rattlesnake up close and personal. I rolled my bike around so that the front wheel blocked his path, and he coiled up in that clichéd menacing pose, his little button tail whirring silently (what's another word for "whirring" that doesn't imply sound?). But he didn't strike, deciding instead to check out the strange intruder.

Rattlesnakes, as you all know, are pit vipers, meaning that they use heat-sensors in their head to detect and recognize prey. I'm guessing that the friction of rubber against road had heated my front tire sufficiently to make it worth his investigation, but he flicked his tiny little forked tongue against the wheel and quickly decided that nothing else supported an eat-or-be-eaten reaction. "Gee," I'm sure he was thinking, "I'd love to tell my brothers and sisters about this strange encounter...too bad mama ate 'em all." (That's an occupational hazard of being of the snakely persuasion.) And then, "Gee, that cloud came up in a hurry..." as my cleated cycling shoe came down on his head, sending him to join his devil brother in a demon grit feast.

Gotcha! I would never do that. Snakes are good for keeping the rat and other varmint population under control. I've never been repulsed or frightened by them, and killing them is something I just can't get behind (spiders are another story entirely, however). So I watched him wriggle slowly into the bar ditch, in search of more interesting prey than a bicycle tire.

So, to recap. To the disinterested observer, this was just another routine ride through the semi-arid West Texas landscape...but the details paint a much, much richer picture. Some say the devil in the details (he's in this post a lot, isn't he?), but I say it's God revealing His hand, if we'll just pay attention.

Mars...or Barsoom?

I wonder what Edgar Rice Burroughs would have made of the news that Mars is now violating our personal space.

Burroughs, who died in 1950, is best known as the creator of "Tarzan," and, indeed, even his official domain name is tarzan.com. But this prolific author first captured my attention as a mere yout' with his sci-fi series set on the moon and on Mars, which its inhabitants called "Barsoom."

In fact, ERB achieved his first commercial success as a writer with a story published in 1911 entitled "Under the Moons of Mars," (later retitled to "A Princess of Mars") which he sold to a magazine for the huge sum of $400.

I still can't watch Noah Wylie's character on "E.R." without thinking about the swashbuckling hero of ERB's Martian adventures, the original John Carter.

And I can't help lamenting a bit how our advances in science and technology come at a price to our imagination and daydreams. After all, the excitement of finding an ice crystal or two on a dead planet pales next to the idea of racing across the desert landscape on an 8-legged thoat. I think ERB would agree.

Good news...

Fellow blogger and good guy Paul Carter came through bypass surgery with flying colors in Dallas, and was released from the hospital today.

Paul, we thank God for skilled surgeons, and wish you a complete and speedy recovery...and a quick return to regular blogging!

"Adventure Vacation"? You ain't seen nothin' yet...

I got some spam via the Jerusalem Post website today, offering me the chance to tour Israel in a rather unique way. In light of recent events, the following excerpt takes on a myriad of unintended meanings:

I think I'll pass, thank you very much.

Conflicting Signals?

I was doing a search in Google and the entry for this web page caught my eye. Looks innocent enough doesn't it? But, look at the page title (the one at the top of your browser window).

Now, my question is this: is the webmaster a confirmed bachelor? Or, even worse, a married guy? (Has to be a man, regardless, you know?)

Blogroll Reorg

I'm in the midst of a major reorganization of the Gazette's blogrolls. If you don't see your site listed in its usual spot, one of three things may have happened. It may have been shifted to a new BR category and just appears in a different place on the page. Or, it may have been shifted to a new BR category, and that category has not yet been placed into my template; be patient! Or, I've decided to drop your site from the blogroll. If you're reading this, it's unlikely that your site has been dropped. But, I'll explain more about that later.

Again, have patience. I should be finished with this sometime tomorrow. Or not.

Really Long Pixels

Does this guy have too much time on his hands, or too much creativity for his own good? You decide, after you visit Scott Blake's "Bar Code Art" site.

[Link courtesy of Dooce.]

Macs in the Corporate World

[Editor's note: Natalie, you can just skip this post.]

John Comeaux, who sent me the tip about the NYC Blackout photo spoof, also pointed me in the direction of Damien Barrett's blog, where I found this post of his observations regarding Apple's inroads into the enterprise market. Those observations are more credible than most of the hand-waving exaggerations thrown about by folks on both sides of the argument (and I've never really figured out why there is an argument to begin with, but that's a whole other mound of ants), because he's "on the ground," so to speak.

I don't know Apple's XServe from Serena's tennis serve, but I'm reading more and more comments like Damien's and getting more and more confused about why it doesn't make sound business sense for a small or, now, even an large business to at least make an effort to study Apple's offerings as an alternative.

Incidentally, John tells me that Damien served some time in Midland, back when he was in the awl bidness. Now, I can see the wisdom of his career change, but his geographic predilections are puzzling.

NYC Blackout - The Last Word..um Photo

I can't resist linking to this, even though it's probably making a wide email-forwarding circle.

[Courtesy of my pal, John Comeaux, lost in the swamps around Lafayette, LA]

Update: If you don't have QuickTime (shame on you!), you can view it in PowerPoint.

BLOG Update

Jared over at The Thinklings has posted five resolutions designed to bring perfection to his life. Resolution #1 is to lose some weight through better nutrition and #2 is to start working out again.

Sound familiar?

Have I got a deal for Jared -- and the rest of you motivation-seeking wannabe-hard-body bloggers: the BLOG fitness group, organized under the oh-ffical auspices of the President's Challenge.

I won't repeat the VERY SIMPLE sign-up instructions here; they're well documented here. But I will repeat the invitation: this group is open to any blogger, regardless of race, creed, religion, BMI, cholesterol reading or couch potatocity.

Don't put it off...do it today! You'll be glad you did, and I wouldn't be surprised if you become famous and wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.

Practical Examples of Holiness

I've been thinking a lot lately about the holiness of God, particularly in light of ongoing calls by some Christians for tolerance and open-mindedness for homosexual lifestyles. Their arguments typically end up referring to the love and grace of God as the standard by which we should measure our own attitudes toward others.

The question that keeps coming to my mind is this: "Which describes God more completely and accurately -- His love or His holiness?" [Let's set aside the fact that it's pretty presumptuous of me to think for a minute that I can describe even a smidgen of an iota of the Creator and Sovereign Ruler of the universe with my pitiful mind and correspondingly inadequate vocabulary.]

Reams have been written on this subject by better thinkers than me, but I still believe that this is an important question that each of us should explore for ourselves. Because however darkly we see through that glass, our understanding of Who God is colors everything we are and do and say, not only with respect to Him but to other people.

I'm not going to attempt to justify my answer to the question here, but I will say that I believe that everything I need to know about God has root in and acquires substance from His holiness, including His love. Maybe I'll try to expound on that further some day, when I'm feeling really full of myself.

Anyway, I'm always impressed, humbled and challenged when I see men and women who take public stands on the side of holiness, because that gets harder and harder to do nowadays. That's why I think it's worth your time to visit this post on The Thinklings' blog, and this one on Bryan McAnally's site. The former post deals with a minister's views on who he's willing to marry...um, for whom he'll conduct a marriage ceremony, that is...and it's not what you think. The latter post is about sex, teens, spam, and dads (of course, since it's on BlogSpot the permalink may or may not work; just scroll to find "Quick, my parents are coming!").

In fact, I'll be so bold as to suggest that both of these blogs need to find a place on your blogroll, if you keep such a critter and if you're interested in reading intelligent, humorous and [generally] gentle musings about spiritual and not-so-spiritual issues. I've been a fan of The Thinklings for some time, but I'm just discovering Bryan's blog, and I'm moving him into the "Daily" section of my blogroll.

To blog or not to blog

I just typed a semi-lengthy post about a local development which hasn't gotten much publicity. I learned some details about it at lunch today, from someone who I consider to be very credible. The details are fascinating, and would represent something of a scoop to most local readers of this humble blog.

Yet I can't bring myself to hit the "publish" button.

The gentleman who filled me in didn't tell me to keep it a secret, but he also didn't tell me it was for public consumption. He doesn't know about The Gazette (AFAIK) and therefore had no reason to think I might be able to give his comments rather wide distribution. And, of course, I didn't think to ask for permission to blog about it.

So tell me. Am I being overly-scrupulous? I don't have a background in journalism, so I don't know the rules...or even if there are rules, at least where blogging is concerned.

The only rule I know to apply, in this case, is that I don't think I'd want my comments published, if they were made in a situation where I had no inkling of that possibility. When in doubt, the Golden Rule kicks in.

Don't go getting the big head...

Before you bloggers get all puffed up over the word "blog" being added to the latest edition of the Oxford Dictionary of English, consider this other new addition: bootylicious.

Food Chain Realities

The death of Deborah Franzman, the California woman apparently killed in a shark attack while swimming amongst seals, is truly sad. No one should die in that fashion.

But...

As a scuba diver, the hundred or so entries in my logbook don't make me Jacques Cousteau, but I've dived with enough sharks to know this: when you're in the water with them, you're at the top of the food pyramid, not the food chain. I don't mean to be callous or flippant, but this death had a pretty high inevitability factor (if that's not oxymoronic).

Personally, I'd no sooner swim with wild seals in the ocean than cut in front of Ruben Studdard in a buffet line. To a shark, a swimmer amongst seals is basically just a big appetizer, or garnish. That fact can only deepen the sadness of her family's loss.

And I never have understood the implied comfort of a comment like, "well, at least she/he died doing something they loved." If the sentiment makes grieving family and friends feel better, then it's valid. But I doubt that my first thought as, say, a parachutist whose backup chute just failed to deploy would be, "well, dang... this reeks, but, you know, I really loved doing this!"

If I'm going to die doing something I love, I want it to be during my coveted Sunday afternoon nap.

French Consistency

You gotta hand it to France. At least it's consistent. It shafts everyone.

I figured this story in yesterday's Wall Street Journal would attract more attention, but perhaps we're just getting inured to yet another account of French arrogance.

The story describes a $3 billion bailout by the French government of a large ship-building and manufacturing firm, Alstom.

The French? Not trying very hard to adhere to the rules? Mon dieu! What's this world coming to?

Enjoy the EU, boys! It's all uphill from here.

[Counterpoint: This article could also serve to point out the inherent and significant problems with EU regulations. Just because a group of politicians got together and wrote rules governing things like deficits and other economic indicators doesn't mean that the "economy" will obey them. The real world doesn't work that way. That France wants to have its cake and eat it too is not surprising.]

Ha! Told you so...

I finally heard from the doc this afternoon, and while they aren't exactly sure what it is, my little lung-dwelling friend is not cancer or even a tumor. We'll do another CAT scan in six months to make sure it's not changing, but I've basically been given a clean bill of health.

Listen, folks...you don't know how much I appreciate those of you who sent expressions of encouragement, prayers (and even jokes). [Kum-bah-ya plays softly in the background] Despite my bravado, this was still an unsettling episode, and the fact that people who basically don't know me from Adam cared what happened is quite humbling and wonderful. Muchas gracias, amigos!

The only downside is that I have to file away the Pecos River Viking funeral arrangements for another day. And that was going to be so cool!

Bigger screens, more room for trash?

Websurfers are using increasingly higher screen resolutions, according to this report from StatMarket:

While I applaud the move to higher screen resolutions, I'm not so quick to jump to the conclusion that it automatically leads to better websites. Cramming more content onto a page is not a step in the right direction, if you ask me. If anything, the higher resolution should be used to provide more "white space" in layouts, making sites less intimidating to visitors and easier to figure out.

And, pity the poor fool whose budget or hardware won't let him step up from his ancient 640x480 monitor. If he's tired of horizontal scrolling now...well, just wait!

Waiting for the Report: Faith & Works

Yesterday came and went without a report from last week's PET scan. Big surprise, huh? I know my GP has the report, because the cancer center told me they sent it to him late yesterday afternoon.

So, here it is, almost mid-morning, and the phone hasn't yet rung. I'm contemplating a bike ride. But what if I miss The Call?

We've been studying the book of James in Sunday School. It's a tough read for us Baptists, who constantly totter back and forth on the line we've drawn between faith and works. I mean, we know that salvation comes through faith and faith alone, but there's always our inner Puritan whispering, "yeah...but..."

James doesn't help things. He writes "What use it it, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but he has no works? Can that faith save him?" [Ch. 2, v. 14, NASB] Then, in verse 17..."Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself."

Don't get me wrong. I don't believe that James is saying that we get into heaven by our works, but he is pointing out that our faith is of no earthly use to others, to ourselves or even to God if we don't back it up with actions that are pleasing to Him.

OK, you're thinking...so what does this have to do with waiting on a medical report? Well, this, again from Brother James, in verse 18 of chapter 2: "But someone may well say, "You have faith and I have works; show me your faith without the works, and I will show you my faith by my works." [Emphasis is mine.]

I've believed -- had faith -- from the beginning that the thing in my chest is nothing of concern. But it occurs to me that that faith is "dead" if all I can do is sit around and wait for a phone call to confirm it.

I'm going for a bike ride!

"Touch it and you die!"

Great interview on The Today Show a few minutes ago. Ann Curry was discussing the California gubernatorial scene with Sherry Bebitch-Jeffe, who is with the USC School of Policy Planning and Development. Ms. Bebitch-Jeffe was quite articulate and had some good insights about Ahnold's campaign, and what he needs to do (and not do) to maximize his chances for success.

Her best line came in regard to Prop. 13, the 1978 initiative that rolled back property taxes in the state. She said that Prop. 13 is "the third rail of California politics: touch it and you die."

In a world ruled by nuance and attention to esoteric detail, the truth of that statement stands pretty tall.

Blogging Responsibility

Blogging's a hobby for me; I can quit anytime I want. No, really. I'm sure I can, even though I failed miserably the last time I tried. But that's neither here nor there.

I don't obsess over things like hit count or Ecosystem ranking, although I do check both on a fairly regular basis. I don't think I've ever posted about hitting a particular visitor count milestone, or being at a certain point on the blogvolutionary scale, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't even if my standing with respect to those things was actually impressive. ("Only losers don't give their scores," you say. To which I reply, "oh...oh...YEAH?")

I do enjoy looking at the referral list via my SiteMeter account, to see how people stumbled onto The Gazette. Traffic here is small enough that I can stay on top of that without much problem, and I often see some fascinating referrals.

But last night, I found one that set me back on my heels a bit. It was a Google search, and the term was "temporary+blindness+in+one+eye." Yikes.

I know which post scored the Google hit. It was this one, where I announced rather lightheartedly the discovery of the chest-dwelling alien whose identity is still unknown. I used the search phrase in what I thought was a humorous fashion, to show just how brave I am.

But...dang!...who actually goes looking for that phrase? Who, other than someone who is experiencing the symptom (which, by the way, is a big-time serious indicator of big-time serious problems), or knows someone who is? And it made me a little sad to think that my comment is at least one that popped up in Google's search results, when what that person needed was some real and serious advice.

OK, I'm making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. But, for me, it's a reminder of the power of words...the power of written words...the power of written words that get memorialized by mindless webcrawlers for a really long time.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I hope the person who was seeking information found his or her way to some good advice, and has followed it, and has the problem under control. I also hope that his or her stop here was at worst only a very short delay, and at best, an edifying respite from a scary situation. I'm beginning to better understand scary situations.

ReligionWriters.com Focuses on Blogs

In today's ReligionLink section, ReligionWriters.com points reporters toward the blogosphere. They even provide reporters with a list of questions that will presumably help them flesh out a story about blogging as it relates to spiritual issues.

The article also identifies national and regional resources for those interested in contacting individual bloggers. The Gazette is one of three such blogs listed for the Southwest Region. Happy as I am to be in the company of the excellent "The Thinklings," it's obvious that there hasn't been a lot of in-depth research devoted to this potentially-useful resource. Even a quick cruise through the Gazette's blogroll will reveal a number of insightful and well-written spiritually-oriented blogs which would be great sources of information for any reporter contemplating a story on blogs.

School and Dads

Today was the first day of the new school year in Midland (Odessa, too, I guess). My morning dog-walking route takes me past an elementary school, and it was abuzz with activity, in vivid contrast to the deserted feel it's had for the past 10 weeks.

No one walks to elementary school on the first day. Parents want to escort the kids -- especially the first graders -- to make sure they know the way to go. I was especially happy to see how many dads were taking part in this ritual. I don't remember my dad taking me to school my first day, but then we lived three miles out of town and I rode the bus... and when we moved into town, I lived across the alley from school; I didn't even have to cross a street to get there. But, really, the gesture has nothing to do with the physical distance you've traveled to reach the first grade. It's the temporal and emotional distance that makes it a milestone, and parents should be there to mark it.

By way of contrast, our niece and nephew entered the 9th grade today. They don't get to actually enter high school; Midland has separate campuses just for freshman. But don't try to tell them they aren't in high school! Anyway, at this stage it's a serious mistake for parents to deliver their kids on the first day of school. Talk about receiving the Nerd Mark for eternity. There's simply no way to ever live down the ignominy of having dad drive up in his Accord and let you out in front of what otherwise would have been your peers, but who are now your judges.

Anyway, I'm thrilled for those kids who have dads who know when to show up... and when to back off. And, with any luck, those same kids will understand and appreciate their fortune before too many decades pass.

Handyman Hell

[Note: As you read the following, consider this question: what is the worst household chore that you refuse to hire someone else to do?]

I spent five hours this afternoon replacing the valve diaphragms on my lawn sprinkler system. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being take-out-the-trash easy, this job rates a 12 in my book. It's not a task that has to be done very frequently -- even with Midland's hard water, diaphragms last 5-8 years -- but that's also part of the problem. More on that in a moment.

If you're fortunate enough not to need a sprinkler system to keep your lawn alive, you may not have any idea what I'm talking about. The valve diaphragm is a flat rubber disc, about 3 inches in diameter. It moves up and down to allow or stop water flow to the sprinkler head. You can tell when the diaphragm needs to be replaced when the sprinkler heads don't pop up properly, or when they continue to leak after the watering cycle is over.

In my system, the valves are located in underground boxes, about 2 feet deep. There are three such boxes in my yard; two of them have three valves each and the third has one valve. In order to replace the diaphragms, I have to (a) locate and uncover the boxes, (b) dig out the valves from the years of accumulated silt, dead bugs and other gunk, (c) disassemble the valve, replace the diaphragm and reassemble, (d) put the valve box and lawn back into pre-excavation condition.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? In actuality, it's a horrible job, partly because of inherent installation difficulties and partly because of inevitable operator incompetency. The act of working in a tight space, 2 feet below ground level, complicates things. Plus there are creepy bugs to deal with (I'm not ashamed to say I'd rather commune with a rattlesnake than be in the same county with a black widow spider). Also, the valves have six screws that have to be removed, and there are many opportunities for scraped knuckles due to the lack of adequate working space.

Then there's the fact that I can't remember from time-to-time exactly how to do the job. Eight years is a long time between practice sessions. Inevitably, I disassemble the first valve incorrectly, costing time, energy and patience. Fortunately, this mistake is rarely serious enough to derail the whole process (as in, "I gotta run to the store and buy a new valve, dear; this one seems to be, um, worn out."

But what really complicates the job is the fact that my 20-year old system has a master shut-off valve that doesn't...shut-off completely, that is. I could shut off the water supply to the entire house, but there are some things I fear even more than spiders. 'Nuf said, I think. Anyway, what this means is that once I removed the valve cover, I have mere seconds to take out the old diaphragm, install the new one and re-attach the cover before the valve box floods.

I get better at this as I go through each valve, but it's still a big problem in the box with only one valve, as there isn't enough volume in the box to keep the rising water level at bay. Interpretation: I installed the last valve completely under water, working by feel (and trusting that spiders don't have access to tiny little scuba outfits).

Now, the real point of this post is not to bore you with sprinkler system trivia (too late, you say?). I just wonder if others are like me in this regard: there's a pretty clear demarcation line between "handyman" tasks that I will take on, and those which I'll contract out. The valve job here is on the bleeding edge of that line.

I consider myself to be fairly proficient at household chores, including some things requiring a bit of skill (or, at least, patience). I install garbage disposers, kitchen sinks, toilet valves, garage door openers, etc. I installed my own satellite TV dish, and I welded together a very functional sailboard rack, starting with nothing more than a picture in my mind and 60 feet of square tubing.

But, as they said in "Cool Hand Luke," a man's got to know his own limitations, and there are some jobs I refuse to take on. I don't do any projects for which the use of a voltmeter is mandatory equipment, and I don't work on anything that requires me to close the valve at the gas meter. I would be extremely embarassed to kill myself and blow up the neighborhood while attempting to install a new water heater.

I also avoid working on my car; I was never any good at auto repair. I stopped changing the oil and filter myself when proper disposal of used motor oil became so difficult. I don't care to take on major projects like replacing a roof or put down ceramic tile throughout the house. For some things, time is just more valuable than money. (I would argue that the question of installing a new roof in west Texas in August is really an intelligence test.)

I suppose it boils down to whether the time and effort associated with a job justifies the sense of satisfaction that comes from completing it. In the case of the above-described valve job, I grudgingly admit that it does. But, ask me again in 8 years.

Now...back to the question I posed at the beginning. What are jobs that push you to the limit, that represent the last stop before picking up the Yellow Pages and dialing for help? (And, ladies, this question doesn't just apply to guys.)

Friday AM Observations

It's been five weeks to the day since we had rain in Midland, and thus the sound of raindrops on the skylight was an absolutely wonderful way to ease into the 5:30 wake-up routine. The forecast is for continuing on-and-off showers and a high in the mid-80s. It doesn't get much better than that, in West Texas, in August.

The Great Blackout of Ought Three isn't making for compelling TV. The folks on The Today Show are trying their darndest to make it into the story of the century, but with little success. Labeling a couple who spent a few hours in an unpowered subway train as "Subway Survivors" still didn't convince me of the drama of the situation. My wife observed that the condition of Katie's hairdo was the most dramatic indication that something wasn't quite right this morning. But then, she feels Katie's pain; civilization reached its pinnacle with the invention of the blowdryer and curling iron. (I'll admit that I hadn't noticed the Katester's hair.)

However, the aerial views of the masses of New Yorkers taking to the streets by foot yesterday was pretty impressive.

But the very fact that we can't seem to get worked into a frenzy over the situation seems to me to be the story. It's inevitable that we'll hear some stories of looting or other incidents where bad people did bad stuff because of the blackout, but those reports will really only underscore the fact that the vast majority of people reacted to the situation with grace, patience and a certain level of toughness. Is it overstating things to say that if they can survive 9-11, they can survive anything? I don't know. But, perhaps, even terrorists need to study the Law of Unintended Consequences.

Midland's "South Side"

As a sometimes cynical and critical -- but nevertheless regular -- consumer of the local newspaper's content, I think it's only fair for me to give credit for the really good things they do, and this week's series on Midland's neglected "South Side" is an excellent example.

The neglect of one area of a city in favor of another is not unique to Midland, and, in fact, is probably not as bad here as in some other places. There are socioeconomic and political forces in play that we somehow feel powerless to define, much less control. The realization that this is, nevertheless, a situation that can be solved carries equal parts of optimism and despair -- the latter because the historical odds are against it, and the former because the solutions start with informed and interested people.

The Reporter-Telegram has done a good job in giving us the information. It remains to be seen how interested the citizenry will become in doing something about it.

Here's a practical tip on how to put feet to any desire you may have to get involved. Monitor the Keep Midland Beautiful website for the announcement of the dates of the second phase of the "Dead Tree Removal" project described in today's MRT, then show up to help. The whole of Midland -- not just the South Side -- will be a better place for your involvement.

Bloggers in Love

I just discovered something that's been public knowledge for a week or so. I'm so out of it. Anyway, two Midland bloggers are getting married!

Julie (Yellow Bug News) and Wallace (Streams) have made their engagement official and are trying to pick a date for the ceremony.

No word yet on whether they'll exchange vows via their blogs.

Best wishes, folks!

Oil Company for Sale

Not long after announcing the closing of their local office to join the Houston consolidation lemming herd, Anadarko is revealing its true hand: selling out. This has been rumored for a while, but it was confirmed by Reuters today, and the stock took a nice bump.

Look for another heartwarming story of corporate executives getting a windfall and the average employee getting, well, you know. I wonder about the fate of those Midland employees who have their houses on the market, and are looking for new homes in Houston even as I type this (my neighbor being one of them). Nothing like a little uncertainty to keep you on your toes.

Anadarko's CFO, Mike Rose, took a spin through Midland in the early 80s as a mid-level accounting guy working for ARCO. Even then, he had a rep as a "conspicuous consumer"...but then, who didn't, in Midland, in the early 80s? I suspect that he and his amigos are grinning ear-to-ear now, as that "Executive Severance Package" begins to materialize on the horizon.

B.L.O.G. Update

It's been 10 days since we announced the formation of B.L.O.G., a President's Challenge Group created to provide bloggers with some incentive to take an occasional break from the keyboard and buck the national trend toward porkicity. An update is in order.

OK, so we're off to a, um, methodical start, group-wise. That's OK. There's no sense overdoing it.

Anyway, just a reminder that the group is open to any and all bloggers. Visit the website linked above, sign-up as an individual participant, then click on "Join a Group." The BLOG Group ID number is 430, and you pick your own Group Member Number (which can be your blog name, but doesn't have to be). Feel free to let me know if you have any questions.

A $4,000 Nap

Just got back from getting a PET scan, which sounds like something leading up to a flea dip, but was actually done in an attempt to identify the little alien lifeform in my chest.

The process is the stuff of bad sci-fi movies. We don't have a permanent scanner in the Permian Basin, so one circulates among El Paso, Midland and Odessa on a weekly basis. It's housed in a big white semi-trailer, plastered with the requisite "nukes-on-board" decals. You -- the patient -- enters the trailer via a big gate-lift which takes you up to a powered doorway operated by one of those two-buttons-on-a-thick-black-cord controls like Linda Hamilton punched when she whacked the Terminator the first time around.

I was greeted by a pleasant fellow named Don, who explained the procedure with a faint northeastern (US, not Texas) accent. I think he was pleased when I asked him a somewhat technical question about the radioactive tracer (I took it most people just wanted to know if it would make them glow; I knew better, having paid close attention during the original series of Outer Limits). But I knew we were serious when he pulled out the lead-encased syringe. (Tip to future moviemakers: lead-encased syringes reek of suspense.)

After a heapin' helpin' of radioactive sugar water, I laid back in a recliner while the solution circulated. The theory, as most of you know, is that tumors are metabolically-hyper little guys, and they'll latch onto as much of the sugar as they can, even beating up the poor little geek cells around them for their lunch money, as it were. But what they don't know is that this is Special Sugar Water, and the radiation will shine a light on their nefarious schemes.

Anyway, in a half hour, the solution has either been absorbed, or has come to rest in, um, the bladder. I had to dispose of that excess according to very explicit instructions administered by a young lady xx years my junior ("sit down, don't stand; clean up very thorougly; flush twice" -- I think the last is a code for something like "no, I didn't fall in" And, by the way, I left the seat up, just so they'd understand I'm not to be trifled with.). I was vaguely comforted by the fact that she was standing watch outside the restroom. You get that way when you're in a cancer treatment facility.

Back into the trailer, where the real test was to come. Lay down on your back. [Check] Pillow under your head. [Check] Pillow under your knees. [Check] Restraining strap across your chest and arms, and another to tie your feet together. [Whoa!] Now, just lay back, relax and enjoy the nice music on NPR for the next 55 minutes.

I think I dozed some, but not nearly enough, and for sure not during the last 20 minutes, which seemed like 20 hours. The fate of the free world rested on my ability to remain ABSOLUTELY motionless. The last time I was absolutely motionless was when Mrs. Buster walked past my desk in the fifth grade seeking evidence of who had just nailed her in the back of the head with a spitwad.

Well, to make a long story a tad shorter, I survived with only minor kinks that I'm sure a few miles on the treadmill will work out later this afternoon. What I really need now is some serious caffeine, as I had to do without this morning.

Of course, the test results will be agonizingly slow in materializing. They tell me it will be next Tuesday before the readings are interpreted in Dallas and returned to my doctor. Stay tuned.

Now, I've got to look for that old geiger counter. I know I don't glow, but I wonder...

BloggerCon, Tejas-style?

BloggerCon 2003, the big $500-a-whack Hahvud shindig that you weren't invited to, along with roughly two million of your closest friends, is beginning to attract some backlash among the trailer trash* of the blogosphere. You know the ones. They have the digital equivalent of pink flamingos on their home page, and their blogrolls are up on blocks, awaiting a hemi-transplant. You wouldn't want 'em marryin' your daughter (unless you were already related, but that's another story) or borrowin' your 12-gauge.

But you would want to party with 'em. And you'd be a fool if you didn't want to blog with 'em.

And it's those kind of fine, salt-of-the-earth buckaroos who are proposing an Anti-BloggerCon convocation. It's a fine idea, if you ask me, especially since the idea seems as natural in a Texas location as a rattlesnake in a brush pile.

So, here's my advice. Drop on by The Fat Guy's hideout -- especially if you're a Texas blogger (living here, or simply wishing you were) -- and give him some input about what, how and when. He's already got the why down cold.

*I just hate having to flag my satire as such, but you can never be too careful nowadays, you know?

Circle of Life, Blogwise

As with any vibrant community, the blogosphere presents us with opportunities to make new acquaintances, even as we mourn the absence of old ones.

I was made aware yesterday of a new blog, which I hereby recommend for your consideration. Deb Thompson is a writer living in California, and she brings us her gentle and wise insights via Write Lightning. [As of this writing, her server seems to be having some problems, but I'm sure they're temporary.]

On the other hand, after realizing it had been quite some time that I'd seen any evidence of updates via my blogroll for Steve Kellam's Five Points, I dropped by and found a Dear John note dated August 2. Dr. Kellam has chosen to stop blogging, due to time and energy constraints, something that I empathize with very well, indeed. I shall miss his perspective from the medical profession, and I've let him know that I hope his leaving is only temporary.

I'm reminded yet again of the encouragement many of you gave me when I contemplated discontinuing the Gazette. I'm glad I didn't, but it's good to know that new voices worth listening to continue to spring up, even as the older voices tire.

How did this get by the editors?

The September issue of MacWorld arrived today, with the expected cover photo of the new G5. What I didn't expect was the ad on the back cover, shown at right.

The tag line on the ad reads "Suddenly, Jennifer realized she forgot her Kensington Car/Air Adapter." The "snicker, snicker" is implied.

I've always had a fair amount of respect for Kensington products, although at the present time I'm not using any of their peripherals. However, if their creativity has sunk to the point indicated by this ridiculous ad, I doubt that I'll be wooed by any of their hardware any time soon.

I suppose this ad is appropriate if your demographic target is 13-year-old males, but last time I check Apple's price list (and it's been pretty recently, you know), most of them don't have the kind of folding cash needed for Apple's stuff.

If you'd like to express your opinion about Kensington's taste in magazine ads, they've thoughtfully provided an email address on their website, which I've taken the liberty of giving you here. Sic 'em!

They even embarrass themselves

[I don't have a category for "Cheap Shots," where this post truly belongs. But some things are too good to pass up.]

The Wall Street Journal reports that the management of America Online is asking its Time Warner parent to drop "America Online" from the corporate name.

The cynic might argue that this is a clear case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Sermon Recommendation: God the Father

We had a guest speaker yesterday morning, a young man named Gregg Matte. Gregg is a nationwide retreat and conference speaker, the author of "The Highest Education: Becoming a Godly Man," and is the Director and Founder of Breakaway Ministries at Texas A&M University (my alma mater, by the way).

His message was entitled "The Fatherhood of God," primarily based on Luke 11:9-13, and it was quite good. I was especially touched by his picture of what our prayer life should be.

He describes his 18-month-old son's babblings as the most incoherent -- and beautiful, to his ears -- sounds in the world. Then he asks us to explain why, when we pray, we feel like we need to be so "grown-up" (my words, not his). God rejoices in the simple sound of our voices; He doesn't need to hear the words to know the thoughts, feelings, needs, fears, desires. He just wants to hear our voices.

I'm not doing justice to Gregg's word pictures, but you can listen for yourself. We've put the sermon on our church's website, in MP3 format, so feel free to download and listen. It'll be there for a few more weeks.

In praise of Zero

I have a new vice. Well, to be accurate, I've rediscovered an old vice: the Zero candy bar.

Ever had one? Zeros (Zeroes?) are, according to the wrapper, "caramel, peanut and almond nougat covered with white fudge." That's technically correct, but for me, anyway, they're little edible time machines.

My hometown of Fort Stockton, Texas, is in the middle of nowhere...100 miles from the nearest body of water big enough to accommodate a bass boat. But the town was founded in the 19th century around a series of prolific springs, which flowed until the early 60s when the alfalfa and cotton farmers depleted them with their irrigation pumps. Anyway, the town boasted a huge swimming pool constructed on the site of the largest such spring (the pool is still there, and unlike most objects recalled through the misty veil of memory, it's still huge). For all we knew, it was the 8th wonder of the world, at least for kids like me who tried to spend every waking hour of every pre-employment-age summer roasting on the concrete banks, reveling in the human anatomy lessons presented unknowingly (?) by the high school chicks, and overcoming our fear of the 12 foot (this was before the invention of meters) diving board.

One of my fonder memories of that era (besides the sound of "Groovin'" over the PA system) was investing in the sugary pleasures of the snack bar. And, for some reason, the Zero candy bar was more often than not my prime target. At that time, I seem to recall the wrapper featured a polar bear, and the word "Zero" sported icicles. Perhaps I'm imagining that. But the attraction of such a package on a 100°+ day was undeniable.

And it's strange, really. I don't like white chocolate, and I've never been fond of peanut-oriented candy; I wouldn't cross the street for a Snickers. But this particular combination... this happy incarnation... this siren song of sweetness... well, it just works. And, as an added bonus, eating one allows you to partake in a piece of history. Hershey's now owns the brand, but the candy bar has been around since 1920.

It's funny, isn't it -- how a candy bar can bring back such a flood of memories. I'll bet you've got your own combination of sweet delights and recollections. Feel free to share 'em. But get your own Zero bar; mine are all spoken for.

Lileks Whacks Robinson

James Lileks, like Arnie, is back...and turning the full force of his fury on Gene Robinson. He's got a great perspective on the situation, not one that I'd necessarily focus on, but still quite valid and perhaps even more relevant to the personal impacts that stem from decisions made by people.

"Life-intentioned," indeed.

The Tipping Point

I've come to the not-so-elusive conclusion that 2003 represents a kind of "tipping point" where homosexuality will become increasingly mainstreamed, and socially present far out of proportion with its actual presence in our population.

Some bloggers I respect come down on opposite sides of the question about the moral (in the theological sense) implications of this phenomenon, with some -- like The Thinklings, expressing sadness and others, like Signposts, attempting to show that it is a refreshing and Scripturally-correct (or at least not proscribed) development.

I don't think there's much value in adding my voice to the fray, beyond what I've already expressed here.

Instead, I want to remind my fellow Christians -- at least those who still believe in the primacy and infallibility of Scripture -- that what we're observing is nothing more (less?) than the fulfilment of prophecy. 2 Timothy 4:1-4 is particularly relevant, in my opinion (NASB; bolded text my emphasis):

Of course, if you fall into the camp that believes that the Bible must be constantly re-interpreted according to the latest cultural and social fads, then this passage will be deemed irrelevant. And I would argue that when Christians begin to adopt this general belief toward the Bible, they've got a lot more grief on the way than issues related to homosexuality will ever generate.

We all attempt to rationalize or justify our sin. That tendency began in the Garden of Eden, and we've really gotten good at it during the intervening centuries. What's terribly sad is the trend toward using the Bible as a key tool in this unfortunate process. It's not just an issue of homosexuality or [pick any other sin]; it's an issue of whether God expects us to be holy as He is holy, and whether the guidance He's provided us in this area is sufficient. Human-derived platitudes about "inclusiveness" are ridiculously unhelpful in addressing these issues.

Arnie "is beck"

So Arnold Schwarzenegger has decided to throw his sizable hat into the California ring after all. Good for him.

I wish he was governor of Texas. It's not that I have anything against Rick Perry, although he could use a personality transfusion. I'd just love to see Arnie get on his Harley, head for Albuquerque, and lay some Terminator-style "persuasion" on the embarrasingly ridiculous contingent of Democrats who'd rather flee than govern.

You know it's really bad when California has smut sultan Larry Flynt, SUV psycho Arianna Huffington, and Really Big Bosomed Angelyne as bona fide gubernatorial candidates, and yet we still can't really make fun of them because our "legitimate" politicians are such jokes.

Much as I admire Arnie, I think it would be the height of delightful irony if Davis got re-elected.

Medical Update (Don't buy your veil just yet!)

The cat scan confirmed the presence of...something...in my right lung, something about the size of a dime. The radiologist said that it could be one of three things: scar tissue from a previous infection, a sort of harmless cyst that's not uncommon among residents of desert climates who inhale a lot of dust, or, you know, The Big C. Only a biopsy or surgery will confirm which it is. I'm waiting on a call from my doc to discuss my options.

I still believe it's benign, so for those of you who were starting to count on getting a one-space boost in the Blogosphere Ecosystem (not that there could be that many of you below me), you might just have to go back to doing good blogging to get a bump. Sorry.

I very much appreciate the kind comments, thoughts and prayers, and it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you want to keep 'em going for another few days.

And I now realize that there's another definition for a really good bud: he (or she) will help you start planning your funeral before you're even sick! Ya just gotta love bloggers...

Them that cain't spel...teech?

Here's an actual photo of an actual sign in front of an actual elementary school in my neighborhood. Notice anything wrong?

Here's a hint: I don't live in Tennessee.

Update: 7 August 2003 - The misspelling has been corrected. All is right with the world.

A little scary

I had a physical last week, the first in a number of years, although I've had a complete blood work-up annually for at least the last decade. Part of the physical was a chest x-ray.

The doctor's office called today to tell me that the x-ray revealed a spot on one lung, and they want to do a cat scan to see if it's anything to be concerned about. I can have this done at time that's convenient for me...as long as it's between 1:30 and 1:32 p.m. tomorrow.

Well.

Let me say that in my heart of hearts, I believe there is nothing to this. I've never smoked, never been exposed to secondhand smoke in any meaningful quantity. I have no symptoms of anything out of the ordinary -- aside from the splitting headaches, temporary blindness in one eye, and inability to complete a th...um, where was I? Just kidding, of course, except for the last thing, and my wife will tell you I've had that on my plate for going on 31 years now. Anyway, after receiving the call, I went for a 20 mile bike ride. I'm sure this is just a precautionary move, a wise thing to do, but ultimately not important.

OTOH...my mind is really good at coming up with doomsday scenarios: will I be the strong hero type through the experimental and traumatic treatment, or will I whine incessantly? Will I burn through all our 401Ks and IRAs while pursuing exotic treatments, leaving us destitute, homeless and probably dependent on a Windows machine, or will my blogger friends start a fund that will not only pay all my expenses but leave enough to begin a foundation for future victims of the newly-discovered disease that now bears my name? Will I look at this post tomorrow evening and chuckle, or will it be the demarcation for a new chapter in the pitifully short time left to me before I shuffle off this mortal strand?

Do you hear violins? I'm sure I hear violins.

Blog Spam?!?

This is a new one on me. Take a look at the comment for this recent post on the Gazette. A spammer has somehow put the same message I received about 10 minutes earlier via email into my blog comments section!

Has anyone else experienced this? Any idea as to how this is accomplished? Or, more important, how to prevent it?

This is a revolting thing to contemplate as a trend...

Welcome to new BLOG members!

We are proud to announce our first two BLOG members! Wallace over at Streams and Scott of The Fat Guy have taken the BLOG challenge, and will soon be Lean Mean Blogging Machines (according to their own personal definitions) while adding to the cosmic coolness of the blogosphere.

Now, how 'bout you?

Dog Days

The period we refer to as the "Dog Days of Summer" actually has a specific definition, based on a typically obscure early-Greek observation about Sirius, but I think we tend to gauge it differently depending on our personal situations. Most of us probably define the Dogs Days as the most miserable time of summer, regardless of when it occurs.

For me, we enter that gloomy period today, when the City of Midland begins its annual Seal-Coating of the Streets Festival. For those of you fortunate enough to be unfamiliar with this horrible and godless practice, it entails pouring a thin coat of bubbling tar over our neighborhood streets, followed by a layer of pea gravel.

Then comes the really exciting part. In an effort to make the citizenry feel a part of this civic abomination, we are permitted to use our personal vehicles as substitutes for steamrollers in setting the gravel into the tar! What a wonderful country! Sexy! Whiskey! Seal coating!

This process -- which is underwritten, I'm sure, by the windshield repair and auto mobile detailing industrial complexes -- is designed to coincide with the hottest part of the summer, the better to mix up the gooey mess and distribute it over car, sidewalk and unsuspecting pedestrian. Today's high is predicted to hit 104° and thus is deemed the perfect beginning to a perfectly awful situation.

The fact that bicyclists suffer disproportionately adds injury to insult. The gravel hangs around for months, being piled by traffic into precisely the wrong spots for safe bicycling. Perhaps it's the city's way of helping us hone our bike-handling skills. Perhaps they see it as added incentive to get a good workout, as we are willing to pedal miles out of our way to avoid whichever sextant of the city has drawn the black bean this summer.

So, as you sweat through the mugginess in the east, or stifle in the 115°+ temps of the west, console yourself with the fact that things could always be worse.

Are YOU a Keyboard Cauliflower?

The Post Title Explained

OK, before we go any further, let's discuss the title of this post. I spent literally minutes contemplating a new vegetable- or fruit-related metaphor for bloggers, instead of falling back on the tired old "couch potato" appellation. It was harder than I expected.

The obvious alternatives didn't toss my salad: keyboard carrot (too thin); e-ggplant (too obscure); keyboard kale (too, um, leafy); virtual vegetable (too generic); blog banana (there's the thinness, again); blog brussels sprouts (too wordy, plus nobody likes brussels sprouts).

So, "Keyboard Cauliflower" it is. Got one that's better? I'm open to suggestions...

The President's Challenge Website

Now, on to the real subject of this post. I was watching CNN Headline News yesterday afternoon while cooling down after a 20-mile tandem ride with My Lovely Bride, and this chick in a uniform was explaining the concept behind a new website, The President's Challenge.

This is a "physical activity and fitness award program" of the President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports. It's essentially an online exercise log, with a few twists designed to give you some motivation and benchmarking tools. I've logged onto it and like what I see.

It allows you to accumulate points based on your age group and the type, intensity and duration of physical activity. Achieving certain points levels qualifies you for a nifty commemorative medallion, which the cynical among us will describe as "cheesy." I won't disagree, necessarily, but I prefer to think of the medallion as irrelevant. It's the points accumulation that's the key.

Take Me, For Example

Perhaps a real-life example will help. I'm in the category of "Adult" (based on age, not maturity). My chosen activity for the day was "bicycling" (I could have chosen from scores of activities, from Aerobics to Yoga, and including Unicycling and Baton Twirling). Once I selected my activity, I can then select from some levels of intensity (in this case, 16+ MPH equals "vigorous"). Finally, I enter the time spent in this activity (75 minutes). Based on that combination of variables, the program computes my points total for the activity (1,015 in this case). Had I actually engaged in 90 minutes of Baton Twirling, I would have earned 348 points. (I don't think that you get any extra credit for contusions and abrasions.)

Now, here's the really cool part. Once you've started your log, you can compare your progress to an interesting assortment of "peer groups." For example, you can compare yourself to others in your age group, in your city, in your state or in your selected activity -- or in any combination thereof.

I am thus far leading the state... nay, the nation... nay the WORLD... in the category of 51-year-old bicyclists riding at 16+ mph. Yep, that one other guy (or gal...it's gender neutral) is a real slacker, compared to me. (If you happen to be that other guy...or gal...don't pay any attention to me. It's just the endorphins talking.)

Of course, as of the typing of this post, only 857 people in the entire universe have actually registered on the site and entered at least one workout, but I refuse to acknowledge any diminishment of my accomplishment.

The Relevance to Bloggers

"So what?" you may be asking. Here's what. I know that some of you are dealing with weight issues, because you're chronicling them on your blog. I know that others are suffering from a variety of aches and pains stemming from hours of relative inactivity in front of a keyboard and monitor. And, finally, I know that many of you blog for the sense of community.

Well, here's a way to bring all three of these issues into a happy convergence. While it's impractical for most of us engage in any group exercise or other physical activities, what we can do is organized into a formal group that allows us to track and, hopefully encourage each other in getting more exercise...the benefits of which are varied and inarguable.

The President's Challenge website just so happens to support this group feature, and I've taken the initiative to create and register a new activity group solely for bloggers. I'm pleased to introduce -- drum roll -- BLOG. Catchy, huh? Stands for "Bloggers Losing Our Girth."

The Group feature of the website allows us to track our progress against other members of our group, while also allowing each of us to continue to monitor progress vs. the various categories I described a few paragraphs earlier.

We can even challenge other groups, although I can't see why anyone would want to go up against a group of focused bloggers, other than, say, a bunch of third graders...well... maybe the group challenge thing isn't such a good idea after all. But you get the picture.

Your Personal Invitation to BLOG

If you're a blogger and you're interested in this concept, please feel free to join BLOG. It's simple; just follow these steps.

1. Visit this page to learn more about the program, then jump to this page to register. This is your individual registration and it's required whether you join a group or not.
2. Once registered and logged-in, click the "Your Groups" tab. You'll be presented with a two-blank form, where you enter a Group Number and a Group Member Number. The BLOG Group Number is 430. The Group Member Number is freeform, self-administered and not limited to a number at all. Please use something that relates to your blog's name (I use "Fire Ant").

That's it! You're a group member, and as you log your individual activities, they will also be accumulated in the BLOG totals.

The Rulez

There aren't any. We're on the honor system here, and the stakes around accurate reporting aren't exactly life and death. This is something to have fun with. Eventually, we'll figure out how to get serious with it, leading to ruin and disenchantment, but we'll cross that bridge later. In any event, if you have some ideas for how to make this thing better -- more useful, more fun, more interesting -- let me know. I'll be happy for the feedback.

Now, get out there and start moving around!

Update - 2003-08-04: A word about anonymity This process is designed to let you remain anonymous to other group members. Even as group administrator, I can't tell your identity other than guessing at it based on your chosen member name. But if you'd like a little recognition, feel free to leave a comment here or send me an email telling me that you've joined, and I'll give you a "welcome link" on the Gazette.

SI's Best Sports Movie List

[Does this really go in the Sports category? Hmmm....]

Sports Illustrated is running a story on the 50 Best Sports Movies in its August 4 print edition, but you can view their Top 10 online now.

I haven't seen some of the movies in their top 10, and some of their picks are questionable, in my mind, but these lists are designed to stimulate argu...discussions.

One such discussion begins thusly: what is the definition of a "sports movie"? For example, there was a beautiful movie made about freediving entitled "The Big Blue" (just try to find anything about it online, however). Is this a sport, in the same way that boxing or baseball is? I'd say yes -- perhaps more so; just try holding your breath for three and a half minutes, 400 feet underwater -- and I'd put that movie on my list. Then there's the fantastic "On Any Sunday," which is not about football, but showcases motorcycling in all its permutations.

I would also put "The Rookie" near the top of my list, if only because the real-life character was from nearby Big Lake (which, BTW, isn't the one and doesn't have the other).

Roof Update

I know you're on pins and needles, wondering how the roofing job is going.

We've now completed Day 2, and I must say that I'm a little confused by the crew's approach. They've removed the old shingles from the back half of the roof, put down the new tarpaper, caulked around the skylights and various vents (some of which they also replaced) and have started installing the new shingles. However, they've left the front half of the roof intact.

I figured they would strip the whole roof, paper it all, and then install the new shingles all at once. I guess that since the crew doesn't work on Sunday, they didn't want to leave a lot of the roof exposed, in case of rain. (Hah! Rain...as if.)

Another observation, in case you've never gone through this experience. Prepare to be amazed at what gets dislodged from your ceiling during the process. Without going into too much detail, let me just say that it has never occurred to me until now that I should be vacuuming our ceilings from time-to-time!

Oh, sure...I suppose you vacuum your ceilings every week.

Midland County Property Values Online

This is pretty cool. If you live in Midland County (Texas), you can check on the appraised value (on the tax rolls) of your property -- and everyone else's -- via this website.

It will also tell you the square footage of your neighbor's house, in case you're feeling a little inadequate, but can't quantify the feeling. For example, a certain local unsuccessful gubernatorial candidate's home is approximately five times the size of your's truly's. But then, so's the taxable value.

The same data is also available via this website for Bandera and Harrison counties.

You call that a rest?

Someone needs to explain the concept of "rest" to Lance Armstrong.

Well, maybe a 37 mile crit is considered rest compared to the TdF!

Source: VeloNews

Home Improvement

What's a guy gotta do to get a little hail on his roof?

We've lived in this house for going on 22 years now, and not once have we gotten one of those insurance-adjuster-nightmare hailstorms that you lucky stiffs in the Metroplex seem to enjoy every six months or so.

As a result, I'm now shelling out my own bucks for a new roof, as I don't see any heavy weather in the forecast, perhaps for the next decade or so. And our "30-year" composition shingles were obviously never field-tested under west Texas conditions, as they're looking as worn as a two dollar burro.

I suppose it's just as well. My good buds over at Farmer's would probably cancel my coverage if I ever actually filed a claim for a new roof. It seems like insurance is now reserved for nothing but catastrophic losses. And maybe that's proper, too.

Well, on the bright side, I guess we're covered (pun intended) for another 22+ years. Unless, of course, it hails.

Hard jobs

One of the things I love about my work is the wide variety of clients I deal with.

For instance, right now I'm designing websites for a cardiologist in Odessa, a professional eyecare association in Illinois, and a northern Italian restaurant and the United Way in Midland. I'm just getting underway with a site for a local organization who is making breakthroughs in speech therapy for stroke victims. We just went live with sites for the Midland County Republican Party and a consultant who specializes in high school and college speech and debate tournaments.

Besides getting to interact with a lot of interesting and [generally] nice folks, I also learn a lot about their businesses and organizations. We are, after all, presenting them to the world... potentially, anyway... and most of them rely on me to assess how best to describe the details to their target audiences.

That's not always a good thing, however. This morning, I uploaded the new website for the Midland Rape Crisis and Children's Advocacy Center (MRCCAC). Working on that site was one of the more depressing projects I've ever participated in. I mean, they do great work -- really important work -- but it's just the fact that they even have to exist that's so sad. This is not work for the faint of heart, as you can imagine.

I worked with Christina, the Education Program Director. She told me that an increasing number of their clients are males... victims of rape and sexual abuse. I thought that only happened in Big Cities. She gave me more statistics about sexual assault and child abuse than I really wanted to know. And I don't even want to talk about the meta tag keywords that I typed into the source code of the site to help people who need it, find it.

God bless these people who really are working on the front lines to help victims of crimes so unspeakable that they must be spoken about (does that make sense?).

And it gets worse. The MRCCAC has a grant to create a website for the Child Sexual Victimization Task Force of Midland. Again, it's a shame of society that there's a need for such a website.