• Jen’s dad is on his

    Jen’s dad is on his way home. We had a great time while he was here, and Max loved it. I wish he could have stayed longer.

    I took the day off on Friday (hence my silence here). We decided to go find this German restaurant in West Virginia we missed going to last time Jen’s dad was here. We took a great drive down Route 7 from Leesburg to West Virginia through the rolling hills and the pastoral beauty of changing leaves, farmland and small towns.

    We made it to the the Bavarian Inn and Lodge in beautiful Shepherdstown. It sits on a hill high above the Potomac River. The view was gorgeous. Since it took us less time to get there than we thought, we let Max stretch his legs and run around. He took off over the well-groomed lawn, climbed up and down the stairs, and explored the grounds. Then, we had lunch, which was kind of a disappointment. We we seated and instantly became aware of the fact that Max was the only patron sitting in a high chair, and that Jen and I were the only diners under the age of 45. There were matronly old ladies wearing hats, old men in sweaters and their middle aged children leading them around by the hand saying, “Yes, mother, the ladies’ room is this way.”

    The food fell into a category I’d call “upper-class cafeteria”. The food was “ok”, but bland and not up to a setting like that.

    To make up for it, we stopped on the way home and picked up a freshly made apple pie from an orchard on the way back.

    On the way home, I felt more like a father and protector as I ever had before. They slept, and I drove. Their safety was in my hands. It was a strange feeling to realize that Jen and Max are my responsibility to provide for them, keep them safe and healthy.

  • In case you forgot… Digital

    In case you forgot… Digital Journalist has a special issue: Seeing the Horror. Some amazing images, but not for the faint of heart.

  • My new Mac is here

    My new Mac is here in all its gigantic overpowering silver glory. It glows nice too.

  • Sometimes, a comic is too

    Sometimes, a comic is too true to be funny… Good goin’ Mr. Bolling. I was looking for a laugh and you cut right to the quick. Didn’t you get the memo? Sarcasm is out this year. Earnest oatmeal is the funny of the day. And let me tell you, I almost smirked.

  • Ooooh, oooh, oooh!! Trey Atanasio

    Ooooh, oooh, oooh!! Trey Atanasio (from Phish), Les Claypool (Primus) and Stuart Copeland (The Police, duh) have formed a band!! They have a couple videos you can watch online, and wow. Take the funky slap bass from Primus, Les’s goofy vocals, Trey’s intricate guitar work, and Copeland’s crazy drums and I’m in geeeee-tar music happy heaven land. The bass-i-ness of it all reminds me of early Living Colour – nice and thick without being annoying. Fine stuff… expect a full review after I get the album. (link via Caterina)

  • Schoolboy Crush

    I like Tony Blair. No, not that way, you perv. He seems like a good leader, temperate, intelligent and savvy when it comes to dealing with difficult situations. Plus, he has a great way with words (something I wish he could teach our guy). After the IRA start disarming, he said, “This is the day we were told would never happen. I hope we can be forgiven for indulging in hope. It is in short enough supply.” Short, sweet and to the point.

  • Random Childhood Memory

    Today’s been a crazy day, so I decided to wander down to the comp’ny store and grab a bag of Gummi Bears. They’re the same brand I used to eat when I was little. They triggered a childhood memory. Here it is:

    When I was 5, my dad was stationed at Ramstein, Germany. We used to go shopping “on the economy” all the time (that means not at the BX or Commissary). I remember this knick knack store in Kaiserslattern that used to hand kids little bags of Gummi Bears as they walked in the door to keep their little hands occupied and off the merchandise. It was a great idea. My little brother and I loved going to that store.

    They had bins of cheap plastic toys at ground level that we’d sift through while mom perused the nutcrackers, cuckoo clocks and other German trinkets. We’d usually get to pick out one to take home with us (after mom paid for it of course, which never crossed our minds back then). It was a great little world I lived in back then, with bins of plastic cars, airplanes and animals immersed in the bonging and chirping of a thousand cheap cuckoo clocks.

  • And not five minutes after

    And not five minutes after it leaves my fingers… mailGuy shows up with my copy of YellowDog 2.1!! Happy camping ahead…

  • My new work Mac comes

    My new work Mac comes tomorrow. Woo-hoo, as Homer would say. A superdrive, 60 gig hard drive and everything a little geek could hope for. Now, if only my YellowDog 2.1 disks will show up…

  • Good morning, sunshine.

    Good morning, sunshine. How does it feel to wake up and realize (finally) that your entire world has changed and will never be the same? It’s taken almost a month, but it’s finally sunk in. The stock options I had such faith in 18 months ago are worth about a third what they were then, and there’s very little light at the end of the rainbow. Still, I’m better off than the folks who bet the farm on a startup that’s now just a memory.

    The old reliable stuff like TV, football, movies and entertainment in general doesn’t have the draw it once did. CNN’s the order of the day, and the news isn’t good.

    They say that we’re in a national state of shock/mourning. They’re right. I’m shocked. I’m mourning our national lost innocence. We’re so short-sighted, and have even shorter memories. I think I now know what the country felt like on in December of 1963, a month after President Kennedy was assassinated. Lost, wandering, watching the news and not believing it.

    I can’t believe that anthrax is a real threat, and that the Postal Service won’t spend the money to test its employees. That just doesn’t seem right. I can’t believe that we can bomb a country with almost pinpoint accuracy, yet we can’t get airport security right.

    Maybe I’m on the road to recovery, and I’m grappling with denial. I hope things turn out. I hope “they” figure out everything, and get it under control. But mostly, I look at my little boy and pray that he’ll be ok, and that that blue envelope with the powder in it wasn’t what it could be. I pray that those two sheriff’s deputies who came and got it really tested it instead of just throwing it away, and that the test comes back saying it was just correcting fluid, or sand, or something other than what it could be.