<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238</id><updated>2011-07-30T22:42:28.901-07:00</updated><category term='du'/><title type='text'>kaos without order</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-8347767559731197206</id><published>2010-02-15T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T06:23:38.818-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The DMV is your friend</title><content type='html'>I went to the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; a couple of weeks ago. I went to make sure that when I drive back from my vacation out of the country, I have a valid license. I wanted to have a valid license while on vacation as well, just in case I wanted to rent a motor vehicle and drive around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little did I know what was waiting for me at the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Hi, I need to renew my license early. Can I do that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:"Well, when is your license due for renewal?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:" February 22&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;, but I will be on vacation shortly after that and I want to have my new license before I leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Well, I can take care of that. You are not applying too early."&lt;br /&gt;Me" Here is the paperwork that I was handed when I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; my number at the door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;type type type&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Me:" &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;? I don't think I have ever heard a good "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;", unless you are going to break tradition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;-----NOTHING&lt;br /&gt;Me:" You are going to break tradition? Right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" What?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:" The"&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;" you just said, that was good, right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" No...."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" No (pause) it is good?" ever hopeful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Do you know that you have a ticket you need to take care of?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Uh, ticket? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;, no. I need to take care of it? What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Yes you have a speeding ticket. You were cited for speeding in Lassen county."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Lassen county? Does it say where?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" No, oh wait, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Susanville&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Susanville&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Susanville&lt;/span&gt;? OH, CRAP. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Susanvile&lt;/span&gt;. I know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" So, you know what I am talking about?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:" yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" But that is not the problem."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" WHAT? PROBLEM? HUH?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Yes. It seems that your license was suspended in 2007 because you did not report an accident."&lt;br /&gt;ME:" I didn't report an accident?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Yes, you had an accident and didn't report it."&lt;br /&gt;ME:" Uh, well it seems to me that you know about the accident. I have to report it? You just told me about it. You suspended my license because I didn't tell you about an accident that you know about?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" That's not the point. You are supposed to report any accident that has more than $750 in damage or has personal injury."&lt;br /&gt;Me:"(&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Smartass&lt;/span&gt; mode initiated) I didn't get injured. I was hit. It was not my fault. I did not suffer any damage. I don't know what happened to the other person, I felt a nudge, I heard &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;screeching&lt;/span&gt;, I heard a crash, but it all happened to my left and behind me. We were in the middle of a corner and I could not see the outcome of the "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;collision&lt;/span&gt;". The police officer never told me to file a report."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Uh, you should know. It's on the drivers test. Ignorance of the law is not an excuse."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" What about just plain ignorance?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;: not even a smile&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Okay, I'm sorry. How do I rectify this horrible &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;miscarriage&lt;/span&gt; of my driving &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_34" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;privilege&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_35" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" You need to submit an accident report."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" How do I do that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_36" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Fill this out."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" What? Fill what out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_37" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" This accident report form."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_38" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;OoooKay&lt;/span&gt;..." scribble, scribble, scribble&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Here you go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_39" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;:" Thank you."&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Oh, you are more than welcome."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the long and short of it is this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not report an accident. The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_40" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; knew I had an accident. Apparently, they sent me a letter about the fact that I needed to tell them I had an accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that I thought that if they sent me a letter to tell me to tell them I had an accident. They must already know. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, apparently they didn't know. All they knew was that I needed to tell them that I had an accident. Since I didn't tell them that I had an accident, and they asked me to them that I had an accident. They went to their safe place and suspended my license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that they forgot to tell me that they suspended my license. Over 2 years, I was driving on a suspended license. My insurance company never told me that my license was suspended. I am pretty sure that I never got a letter telling me my license was suspended. I think that I would have responded. Maybe it was double secret suspended license suspension.(Animal House reference)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after I filled out the paperwork for them they were happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_41" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; a letter from the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_42" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; a week later telling me that my license was retroactively re-instated. It went on to mention that if anyone asks, it would not show up that it was suspended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if I understand this correctly;&lt;br /&gt;I was in an accident.&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_43" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; asked me to tell them that I had an accident. (They obviously knew about it)&lt;br /&gt;I did not tell them.&lt;br /&gt;They suspended my license.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to renew my license.&lt;br /&gt;They made me tell them about the accident.&lt;br /&gt;They re-instated my license.&lt;br /&gt;They told me it would not show up on any request to see if my license was suspended. (In other words it never happened)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, am I really blogging this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am not, just send me a letter telling me to blog about my recent dealings with the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_44" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;. I'll understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-8347767559731197206?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/8347767559731197206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=8347767559731197206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8347767559731197206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8347767559731197206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2010/02/dmv-is-your-friend.html' title='The DMV is your friend'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-22790684360466159</id><published>2009-12-31T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T23:18:17.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>Well, another year come and (almost, at the time I am typing this) gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost everyday I am amazed that I was somehow able to, and am responsible for, raising 2 children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel good that natural selection did not kick in and remove them from the gene pool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am responsible, in that I think that I have talked them out of most of the "bad" ideas for fun they had, just to keep natural selection at bay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do often ask them, after they have done something I told them was not a good idea.  "How was that?  I see that exactly what I told you would happen, happened.  Are you going to do it again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, I think the most effective deterrent that I have found is,  "You should do that later in life, when your body is more able to deal with the trauma this will cause you. :) )  So far, no objections(hee hee).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am also responsible for many of the hours that Felex(aka Fox) has spent in front of the Xbox playing games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He and I are a very good team at just about all of the Lego themed Xbox games. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost entirely responsible for introducing both Dex(aka Rex) and "Fox" to Runescape, and the hours of playing that they have spent trying to catch up to me in the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Completely and utterly responsible for the amount of easy cheese they have consumed. &lt;br /&gt;"Cheese in a can?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, cheese in a can.  It is pressurized and shoots out and will cover, with cheesy goodness, whatever you put in front of the spout.  Mmmmm, cheese."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not at all responsible for the amount of sushi they consume.  Honestly, I can take it or leave it.  This was proven when Grandma took the boys out to dinner on a recent visit.  I think, if memory serves, I removed only 1 sushi boat from the endless river/sushi boat caravan.  I ate all the edamame I could get my hands on.  The boys, on the other hand, turned out to be bottomless sushi pits, I kind of already knew that.  I guess that I really should have warned Grandma before hand, but I think she figured it out.  She's a smart cookie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am entirely responsible for Mr Fox's love of the British auto.  He and I have been working on a few.  Mostly dis assembly.  Soon, he will enter into the hate portion of the relationship, assembly and trying to make it run, AND keep it running, WELL!  Ah, the love/hate relationship.  At least he will get Love/Hate 101 with dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I am responsible for the kids already arguing over who gets the green MGB when I die.  I keep pointing out to them that I am still ALIVE and they should have the courtesy of not arguing over who gets my stuff when I am around.  And by "around", I mean within hearing distance.  And of course, STILL BREATHING!!!  Of course I take this chance to mess with them and tell them that it could be another 4o or 50 years until they assume all my debt and non-running vehicles.  Either they don't care, or they are messing with me.  Hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as I said at the beginning, another year has come and gone.  We all made it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-22790684360466159?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/22790684360466159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=22790684360466159' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/22790684360466159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/22790684360466159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-2590068524883873544</id><published>2009-12-16T20:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T21:25:41.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>South of the Border, down Mexico way</title><content type='html'>Well, its official.  After years and years of staying between the North and South boundaries of these united states, I am once again going out of the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In March we are going to Mexico.  As a family.  On the same plane.  AT THE SAME TIME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that it will go better than my last trip South of the border, and I don't mean to Taco Bell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like it was yesterday, even though it was last century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bunch of us, 25 or so, thought that it would be fun to go into Mexico and hang out at a hot spring for a few days while drinking in the local culture and a few &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;cervesas&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well to be honest, we don't have to be in Mexico to drink in culture and beer.  Not necessarily in that order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year when we lived in San Francisco we went on a desert trip.  Sometimes I drove my pickup/chuck wagon and other times I would ride one of my many motorcycles.  Well if one was running and I was reasonably sure that I would make it round trip, I would ride it.  Although a few trips I did make on a motorcycle I ran into a "sudden unplanned maintenance interval".  Meaning, that while I was as far away as possible from my manuals and lots of tools, something went wrong.  Just as you would expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the last time I was South of the border was no different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out like any other day.  Driving through Mexico.  Heavily laden with beer, camping equipment, dogs, tools, food, beer, and creature comforts.  I had taken my pickup so the dogs could go with us as all of our dog-sitters would be on vacation with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour or 2 after visiting the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Tecate&lt;/span&gt; brewery, and 25 or so miles of washboard dirt/gravel road we found our campsite.  I always loaded the cooler in last so it could be first out.  You never know when you are going to develop a thirst or hunger when you are unloading your truck and if this is easily accessible well, it just makes unloading that much easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had been at camp for 45 minutes or so when people started trickling in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few riders at first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we saw someone coming in with very little gear.  That's not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This rider told us of an accident on the dirt road that one of the riders in our party had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;.  That is never good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How is he?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know, he was getting back up as I came by.  He looked OK."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next rider was a little longer getting in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wrecked too.  I left my wife to look after Tim.  I think he broke his collar bone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Great.  How are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK.  You should go get Tim." Came the reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I had the best vehicle to do it with.  I grabbed a co-pilot and hit the dusty (really dusty) trail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We passed just about everyone else on the way in.  They had jettisoned all non-important cargo in order to navigate this road easier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Brad and I arrived, we saw a mountain of gear and 2 people sitting on the pile waiting for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took stock of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broken bike, pile of gear, broken person and a long way to a hospital in the States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pushed the bike behind a big bush, loaded up the gear and the people, got Tim some liquid general anesthesia, well all of us really, and hit the road. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not go too fast as all the bouncing on the road jiggled Tim too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2o minutes later and we were on a paved, relatively smooth, road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally had a chance to get out of 3rd gear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not for long.  About 10 minutes into our drive toward medical help, my right rear tire had a massive blow out.  I managed to stop without doing any damage to anyone or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well good thing I have a spare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the spares in the world won't do you any good if you don't have a way to put it on your vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got out of my truck to start fixing the flat, I had a flashback.  It was of my jack and jack handle/spare tire removal tool, sitting on the garage floor back in San Francisco.  I had to use it to replace a water pump and timing belt on a friends car as my floor jack was at the shop in Berkeley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, time to use some ingenuity here.  Luckily I still had the lug wrench and my wheel lock key.  BIG sigh of relief.  We just had to find a way to get the flat off the ground, the spare lowered and everything back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Egyptians would have been proud of us.  We pulled a fence post out of the ground to use as a lever.  I hope the poor farmer didn't lose too much livestock since we had to cut his fence.  We did put the post back.  We got a big rock and now had our jack.  I used my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Leatherman&lt;/span&gt; to cut the cable that held my spare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the blow out changed we headed into the States to get some medical help.  While Tim was getting help and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;, we stocked up on liquids as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back we stopped and had road side tacos at 3 am.  As we were driving away someone asked what kind of meat this was as the tacos were some of the best I have ever had. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Cabeza&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Burro." came the reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think that I need to comment on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did finally make it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim did indeed separate his collar bone.  His bike was also broken.  My truck was now &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;spareless&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we didn't know at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin, the other rider that wrecked had fractured his back.  His wife had a mild concussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope that this time when I go to Mexico, I don't get a blow out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-2590068524883873544?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/2590068524883873544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=2590068524883873544' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/2590068524883873544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/2590068524883873544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/12/south-of-border-down-mexico-way.html' title='South of the Border, down Mexico way'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3272773983818639689</id><published>2009-11-15T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T19:39:26.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The kid, the laptop, the repair and the fix.</title><content type='html'>Wow.  Where has the time gone?  I just went to the air show and then to work for a few weeks and then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, one of the little things that I have avoided over the past few months has been the less than stable power jack for my laptop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were on vacation in Baltimore it was dropped on it's side and the power port was compromised.  It was weak and "wiggly" from then on.  I knew then that this chicken would come home to roost, and roost it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course it couldn't wait until after the holidays.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Nooooooo&lt;/span&gt;.  It had to happen on one of the busiest weekends that I am going to have until the end of November.  Lots to do, lots to do.  Lets just add one more thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least 3 or 4 times a day I get asked if I am using my laptop by Mr. Fox (aka &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt;).  It is obvious even to the casual observer that I am indeed using my laptop, but he takes no heed and asks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, um, Dad, are you using your laptop?" &lt;br /&gt;"Gee, I don't know.  Let me look at my hands and see what they are doing.  Well look at that!  The are on the key pad and they are typing!!  I didn't think that I was using it, but what do you know?  I am."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you just have to be a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;smartass&lt;/span&gt;.  Sometimes more than others.  Me, most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I did come to a point that I was done and handed off the coveted laptop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About an hour later I heard the cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?!  I had it plugged in.  Why did it die?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me see it.  Oh here is the problem.  You didn't notice that the power port was damaged and you just shoved the plug in, didn't you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More of a statement than a question really.  I wasn't upset.  I knew this day would come.  I just knew it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that if I had thought about it, I could have scheduled it.  Yep, right on time.  I have so much to do this weekend, so why not break now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I slept all that I could Saturday night/Sunday morning.  At 6am I woke up, started a fire and started dismantling my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dismantled my last laptop about 2 years ago and it is still in pieces in the garage until I find that 1 part that I need.   But, that is not why I bought a new laptop, no, no, no.  I can put it back together, really I can, I just don't have the right part and I spent &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;soooooo&lt;/span&gt; much time looking that I rationalized that it would be cheaper for me to just get a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here I am with my new one.  Broken.  Needing repair.  I can do it.  I passed a final in the Navy by fixing a broken radar system, I should be able to fix my computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took another computer to find a website that had instruction to take apart mine, but I found it and did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took it apart, epoxied the power port and reassembled it.  All in the course of a few hours in a quiet house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't look forward to doing it again, but if the house is quiet and I don't have anything else to do..... It is really easy to clean that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3272773983818639689?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3272773983818639689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3272773983818639689' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3272773983818639689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3272773983818639689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/11/kid-laptop-repair-and-fix.html' title='The kid, the laptop, the repair and the fix.'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3304861657376245642</id><published>2009-09-27T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T17:54:46.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking one for the team</title><content type='html'>The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt; Air Show has come and gone.  Not without a lot of noise.  Both by the kids and the planes in the show.  Other people, of course, made noise as well.  I went, I saw, I baked in the shade of my large umbrella/parasol, I witnessed countless fashion violations, I ate and drank expensive Air Show fare, I breathed in the essence that is the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt; Air Show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first test of the day was just getting there.  We live about 3 1/2 miles from the airport.  We made it within about a mile and that is when the pace slowed to a crawl.  The next 75 minutes was spent going the last mile.  I jokingly raced a couple that had just  parked.  They decided they would walk.  They were out of sight in about 10 minutes.  I never saw them again.  I think that they won the race, such as it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Test the second; find a relatively cool place to "park it" for the duration.  I figured, rather than have a tired cranky dad following you around day, why not have a happy centrally located dad that you could just check in with every now and then.  I took my chair.  I took my parasol.  I took my good intentions.  I took a very large bottle of water in with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third test is the lucky one, right?  Find a booth that every one agrees on to get food.  I don't know why I wanted to do it that way, it just seemed, the not so easy thing to do.  Well, 2 out of 3 can't be all bad.  Fox, as he is now known, did not want to eat anything.  Just water, cold water.  So, 2 burgers, 2 sodas and 3 waters later we were ready to begin enjoying the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From my centrally located personage, I was able see the show, hear the announcer and, more or less, keep tabs on the kids.  I saw a few friends, as did the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt; challenge came when I started to bring up leaving.  I started by reminding the kids how long it took us to get here.  Then I told them that more people had shown up since we had arrived.  Then I told them that if we waited for the very last second to leave, we would be behind even more people on the way out.  They understood where I was directing this conversation.  I had made my point.  We just needed a few good pictures of the Blue Angels and we were outta there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next test;  Getting &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;souvenirs&lt;/span&gt; on the way out.  Remember, we were leaving before all the other people.  Well, getting &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;souvenirs&lt;/span&gt; was not as quickly done as one might think.  With a 5 minute limit the hunting for the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;souvenir&lt;/span&gt; began.  10 minutes later...  I was getting impatient.  People were seeing our exit &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;strategy&lt;/span&gt; and following suit, ahead of us.  We got it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet, sweet exit is in sight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad!  Dad!  There is another booth that I want to get a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;souvenir&lt;/span&gt; from.  You have got to be kidding!  Look how far we are behind now!  Come on!  Lets get out of here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DAAADDDDDD&lt;/span&gt;!  Just 1 more minute!  O.K, 2 minutes.  MOVE, MOVE MOVE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well 2 &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;minutes&lt;/span&gt; turned into 5, then 7.  Still no closer to a choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next challenge;  Actually leaving.  We managed to leave and follow droves of people to the truck.  I thought that I was a genius for using the airport parking lot and saving a whole lot of walking in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting home took about 25 minutes total.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the next round of tests.  Who had the cameras? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you the details, but I left both cameras at the air show.  Andrea and I made our way back, retraced our steps and luckily found them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how I took one for the team, kind of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3304861657376245642?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3304861657376245642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3304861657376245642' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3304861657376245642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3304861657376245642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/09/taking-one-for-team.html' title='Taking one for the team'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-2819110969171322206</id><published>2009-09-17T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T22:16:46.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleaning the unit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Desperate&lt;/span&gt; times call for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;desperate&lt;/span&gt; measures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well here it is just about 3 years from the time that I stopped "doing" &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;eBay&lt;/span&gt; I am back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, there is not much call for certain vintage British/European car and motorcycle parts in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt;. Well not enough for me to get rid of 1/100 of the parts that I have &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;acquired,&lt;/span&gt; in my or my great great great &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;grandchildren's&lt;/span&gt; lifetime. Well at least not in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt;. There just is not enough demand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Craigslist&lt;/span&gt; is a boon to mankind. Kind of the way that eBay was, in that it rids you of excess "stuff" in your life. Some have even made a living/starving on them. I know that I have had my share of success on both. They are some of the greatest electronic enablers of our time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;there&lt;/span&gt; will be a better, faster, cheaper, and easier to use system someday. I don't know what, where or when that will happen, but until it does, I will just have to put up with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Craigsl&lt;/span&gt;ist and eBay to get rid of my junk/garbage/gems/other man's treasures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway.... We emptied out one of my storage units earlier in the month. I have had this storage for over 4 years. Holding a bunch of "stuff". Stuff that I just could not bring myself to get rid of. So with work in the Bay Area slowing, and my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; appetite growing, I did the unthinkable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I renewed my love/hate affair with eBay. Mistress of all that is saleable/&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;shippable&lt;/span&gt;. Sure I am home more, but I am also on the computer more. Well when I say I am on the computer more, I should also say that I am "productively" on the computer more, in that I am now more productive when I am on the computer. Rather than looking at youtube to see what the Chad Vader is doing today. Did he finally get his store under control?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a lot of research that goes into selling descriptions. I need to make sure that I encompass all the applications of an item to make sure that I engage the largest crowd possible to fight over the right of winning the prize. The prize being a part that I can no longer look at. A part that I have since said my fond farewell. A part that I may have to pay the city to take care of for me, instead of someone paying me for the joy of taking off of my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes; I have renewed this affair, if you will. I think that now we have both grown and maybe this time it will work out. Maybe this time we can live together. Maybe this time it will be different. Maybe this time I will finally empty my garage and the last storage unit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;desperate&lt;/span&gt; times call for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;desperate&lt;/span&gt; measures. I am &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;desperate&lt;/span&gt; to quit paying rent on a storage unit full of my "treasures/trash". But I just can't bring myself to toss the stuff. It must be useful to someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to find that someone, and have them pay me for my junk....er stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-2819110969171322206?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/2819110969171322206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=2819110969171322206' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/2819110969171322206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/2819110969171322206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/09/cleaning-unit.html' title='Cleaning the unit.'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-699828306503632938</id><published>2009-09-05T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T19:15:47.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Million Dollar Idea</title><content type='html'>It hit me when I least expected it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;BAM&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;SPLOINK&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sploink&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;sploink&lt;/span&gt;. Wanna make something of it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make something of it? Was I arguing with myself? Probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I was sitting alone. No one else could have done that to me. So it had to be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what was I thinking/arguing about? Oh that was it, my million dollar idea wafting in and out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at an eating establishment, by myself, on a high stool, at a tall table. Well they also brew beer there, so I had that going for me. The beer, not so much the high table or the other stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking at the bar and listening, not eavesdropping, to the table that was behind me. It seems that there were problems. I just listened, I wanted to chime in, but common decency and false privacy prohibited me from sharing my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is when it hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a psychiatrist run the bar. It has long been said that if you want to know about a person, ask their bartender or letter carrier. The letter carrier can only tell you so much, but the bartender gets more and more information as the night goes on, sometimes without provocation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could have Psychologists wait the tables. The Psychoanalysts could work as hosts and cooks. I guess that the life therapists/coaches could clean up the mess that was left behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course there would be records kept and everyone would have to confer with everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trouble that I have is, do I charge by the drink/plate or just have an hourly charge? Do I charge more for sitting at the bar? Will there be a bathroom attendant, probably an intern?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I guess that I need to flesh this idea out a little more, but it just may fly and be another one of my unrealised Million Dollar Ideas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-699828306503632938?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/699828306503632938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=699828306503632938' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/699828306503632938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/699828306503632938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/09/another-million-dollar-idea.html' title='Another Million Dollar Idea'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-4649436006599630351</id><published>2009-08-25T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T21:35:03.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost days and blogs</title><content type='html'>Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. -- I believe that this was uttered by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle via Sherlock Holmes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bring this up because I had my own "impossible/improbable" scenario over the last few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After being violated by the world wide web, I decided it was time to toughen up the security at the old digital hacienda. I would let no unescorted digit past without proper authorization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the short run it meant a few extra clicks here and there, no real problem, just a minor inconvenience. For piece of mind, what's a few extra clicks here and there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went through our entire home network and all the computers and upped the level of protection to the maximum settings. I even put a password on my wireless router. I really didn't care if some passerby needed a hot spot for their iphone and used my connection. That's great. I am getting more use from my connection than I pay for. Being that I only expect the four of us in the house to be on it at any given time. There is plenty of bandwidth left for a passerby or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a side note. My fingers are much more active now that I have a laptop and oddly enough a lap to put it, when I am watching TV! Since we don't have a lap-cat anymore....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with the new security measures comes new problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most recently Andrea was not able to view her blog. We dismissed it for a day or 2 as a problem the website must be having. After all they have a lot more to go wrong with their system than we do, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the third day came and went and we still couldn't get to the website. Wow, how can they be down that long and not have people complain. I would think that they may need to do a serious overhaul if this continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that NONE of the house computers would go to the site was not entirely lost on me, I just chose to think that it couldn't be a problem here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. This kept running through my mind. Like it has many times before when I was chasing a problem. I chose not to believe that nagging little voice in the back of my head. After all, our system had been working.  I hadn't changed anything in the last 24 hours to cause this problem.  It must not be MY problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how many times I told myself this I knew the reality of a large website being down that long were very improbable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, after the email back from customer support.  Emails from friends saying that they could see the website, my chicken of despair came home to roost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even briefly thought for a brief moment that our ISP could be at fault, only for an instant though.  Why would everyone try to keep Andrea from going to her blog?  What sort of sort of sadistic computerised world has it become that "they" want to keep you from your blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, once I put on my aluminum foil hat and blocked out all the interference(probably from my own wireless internet router) I was able to see through the maze of wires, electrons and the whole improbability of my thought process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should look and see what I can do from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked into the one thing that all the computers, that could not view the website, had in common.  The router.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go figure.  I reset the router.  Checked and updated all the firewalls and low and behold I had found the keystone in my own conspiracy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The router did it.  I just don't know at this point if it was working alone or if it had an accomplice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-4649436006599630351?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/4649436006599630351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=4649436006599630351' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4649436006599630351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4649436006599630351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/08/lost-days-and-blogs.html' title='Lost days and blogs'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7693326269220297119</id><published>2009-08-04T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T22:51:00.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Innocence lost</title><content type='html'>We didn't even know that it was in the house. No one know what was going to happen that evening. How long had it been here waiting for the right moment to complete what it was put on this earth to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, just why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrea was the first to find out about it. Shock. Disbelief. Horror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else could we have done? How could we have kept this "predator" away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many questions. So many hours spent fixing the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am, of course, talking about her laptop being compromised. Hacked. Digitally hijacked. Remotely taken control of. Leaving our sphere of controlability (sp?/new word? You saw it here first).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what you call it, what it is is a violation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, it is not a home invasion robbery or a car jacking at gun point, but the emotional distress is no less real. Not that there was any information worth getting off of her laptop, but I hate to think that the emails it sent out to her friends were more successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this perpetrator that has violated the sanctity of our Internet connection. Our connection with the outside world, if you will. The very wires that we trust to bring us, among other things, celebrity deaths and drunkenness, local current temperatures and expected eyeball drying high temperatures, and maps of other parts of the world that look like a better place to live than here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now I just don't know what to do. We invite this "information superhighway" into our home and for all the trouble that we had getting it here, we are digitally accosted. Forced to give up information that we never would have otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How long will it take for me to trust again? I want to believe that Charles Nelson Riley is really dead, but I learned that over the Internet. The very same Internet that invaded Andrea's computer and took away her privacy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to forgive it, but I just don't know what it will take for me to trust again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I can do a Google search and find out what I should do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7693326269220297119?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7693326269220297119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7693326269220297119' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7693326269220297119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7693326269220297119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/08/innocense-lost.html' title='Innocence lost'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7937323275434948246</id><published>2009-07-21T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T19:45:34.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dog Days of Summer</title><content type='html'>I think that I finally understand the term "dog days of summer".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in rural Oregon where it rarely edged over 90 degrees in the summer.  It also rarely snowed in the winter.  Just lucky I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would hear of these "dog days" and never knew what they meant.  I think finally after 11 years in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt; I get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog days means that it is SO BLOODY HOT THAT ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS LIE AROUND LIKE A DOG ALL DAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well up until a few weeks ago I didn't "get it".  Well, maybe I just hadn't experienced it.  I have lived here and worked here for the last 11 years.  I guess that I was kind of acclimated to the summer when I was working here full time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I remember starring down the setting sun at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;MarketFest&lt;/span&gt; one year when we were tied with the HOTTEST PLACE ON EARTH (and probably one that was NOT on Earth)!  I sat there in the early evening trying to sell sandwiches (the best in town, I might add) and facing West.  Not seeing that many people and really questioning my career path at that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I now don't have to leave the house in the morning during the "cool" hours.  You know, less that 80 or so, to go to work and be in and out the heat all day.  When I do leave, it is at least 25 degrees hotter than my "comfy" house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I have been working in Berkeley, and it is Summer, I am often cold.  I have been out of pants since May.  Well not out, just put away so that my shorts are now easy to get, instead of those oh so warm pants.  I have several pairs of pants.  I have pants that are lined with flannel to keep me warm on those cold winter days in Redding.  The thought of wearing them now gets me close to experiencing heat stroke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even find that my home air conditioner isn't as cool as it should be when I set it to 75.  Now that's just &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;unsane&lt;/span&gt;, irrational, but &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;unsane&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COME ON &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;REDDING&lt;/span&gt;, I ONLY HAVE SO MANY CLOTHES TO TAKE OFF!  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;, give a guy a break.  111, 115, 119 degrees?  Really get serious.  Although I will admit, you generally get my attention at 110, but after 110 that is just silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now get the term "Dog days of Summer".   All I want to do is lay around, scratch myself and lap up cool bowls of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish that I could be that happy chasing a ball.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7937323275434948246?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7937323275434948246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7937323275434948246' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7937323275434948246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7937323275434948246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/07/dog-days-of-summer.html' title='Dog Days of Summer'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-5450250791871519613</id><published>2009-07-04T21:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T22:18:49.874-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='du'/><title type='text'>Poe's not home, man!</title><content type='html'>Well, we went to Baltimore. We saw the sights. We drank in the "ambiance"(i.e. east coast beer that I don't get here). We rode the water taxi. We &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;endured&lt;/span&gt; the rain (seriously, it DUMPED for at least an hour) when we were walking to lunch.  We dealt with the humidity, which was much easier to deal with than I remember as I spent a year on the East Coast while I was in the Navy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think that was all there as to it. Well I am here to tell you that, nothing is as it seems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the surface, we went to Baltimore to see the sights and see what it is like on the "other" coast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came. We tourist-ed. We conquered, well not quite. Although, we did see the Baltimore Orioles conquer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a wonderful time on the East Coast. All the sights, all the smells (yes different cities smell &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;differently&lt;/span&gt; than home) and all the different people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of them were friendly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Poe's not home. You have to be curious, right? Maybe just a little? NO? Well you should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last day of our trip to the East Coast we spent in Baltimore. We decided that we would trek to the Edgar Allen Poe House location that was on the handy little map that was in the lobby of our hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as with a few minor, very minor, directional issues with our trip in, why should this be different?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our map showed the "historical Poe House" to be a short distance away from our hotel. Really, about 30 or so blocks. What it failed to show, was the part of the city that we had to walk through to get the the Poe House. Let's just say that it was less than savory and leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked about 2 miles to get to the location of the "Poe House". It did take up most of our last morning in Baltimore. It also did seem a fitting end to our trip. Don't get me wrong, even though it sounds anti-climatic, it wasn't. It was probably the exact perfect ending to a perfect, if not long awaited and needed, vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more stories to be told from our trip. From Baltimore's finest helping us to our hotel. Seeing the Orioles win a game in the bottom of the 9&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. Getting soaked to the bone in a rain storm, in less than the time it takes you to read this &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;sentence&lt;/span&gt;. Being on the Red Line in DC and going through the station that had a fatal train &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt; less than an hour after we we got off the train. The water taxi, the pedal boats and the never ending beer glass at lunch (I honestly think that free beer is attracted to me by some sort sort of cosmic &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;attraction&lt;/span&gt;). The after hours walk through the "nightlife" area of town. It seemed as though every day we were there was a story or stories in and of themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that we will go back to Baltimore, but when we do, we will call ahead to make sure that the Poe house will be open. Oh, we will also take a taxi there and have them wait outside while we look around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-5450250791871519613?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/5450250791871519613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=5450250791871519613' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/5450250791871519613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/5450250791871519613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/07/poes-not-home-man.html' title='Poe&apos;s not home, man!'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3368327976460834055</id><published>2009-06-22T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T15:16:14.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Planes, trains, police automobiles</title><content type='html'>We are on vacation to the East Coast this week and part of last.  I had been working a lot of extra hours to get ready for this trip.  We were moving the shop that I work out of into a much smaller shop and just the general travel time to and from work made my time at home that much more non-existent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week that we left for Baltimore, my work had me in Berkeley, Tahoe, San Jose, Sacramento (twice) and Discovery Bay, out in the delta.  Then a trip back home and the next morning we all left for Huntington Beach.  All tolled, I drove almost 1800 miles that week and a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after all that driving, we get to fly on 3 different planes making 2 connecting flights at large airports. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last plane was held up at Chicago while the pilots were being flown in from Canada.  They had a tire issue on the plane they were on and we had to wait.  I know, why have us board if the pilots are still over an hour away?  I guess that it was to see what would happen when you stuff people to capacity into a large tube without air conditioning or a breeze of any kind.  Make sure that you hurry the people in get them seated, then don't tell them anything for the first 35 minutes.  Why do this? Just to see what would happen?  Wait to see if someone goes postal before we get airborne?  I mean, if they are gonna go postal better that it happen on the ground, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waiting an hour for the next train, we had a 20 minute light rail train ride to the stop for our hotel.  The train that was at the airport left while we were getting our tickets around the corner, and out of sight, from the train.  If the pilots hadn't been late.  We wouldn't have been late.  The train would still have been running on its 20 minute schedule instead of the night time hourly schedule.  So now the late pilots cost us 3 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get off the light rail and walk in the wrong direction for 30 minutes.  The directions given to me; walk in the same direction that you are going when you get off.  Turn right on Cathedral street and walk to the corner of Franklin.  That is where we (the hotel) are.  In retrospect, walk in the direction you are going when you get off means, don't go in the direction of the train, walk in the direction that YOU are going when you get OFF the train &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt;: 90 degrees to the direction of travel that the train WAS going, but the direction YOU are going when you get OFF the train.  Wacky East Coast directions.  So, I can't lay blame entirely on myself for that particular misdirection, but I can on the others that came later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after walking for awhile and noticing that the area was looking increasingly like the "wrong side of the tracks" we ask a nice local police officer for directions.  "You can't get there from here, easily".  A lot of one way streets, traffic circles, and construction made it difficult for him to give us directions to get there easily.  So, a car ride to the hotel, a helpful check in clerk and some very good, much needed hot pizza and all was right with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that was our first day of vacation condensed.  I hoped that would be all the excitement we would have on our vacation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3368327976460834055?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3368327976460834055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3368327976460834055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3368327976460834055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3368327976460834055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/06/planes-trains-police-automobiles.html' title='Planes, trains, police automobiles'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-8468248936988211469</id><published>2009-05-27T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T11:42:14.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the end of the school year as we know it (and I feel fine)</title><content type='html'>There is a lot of energy in the air lately.  I attribute most of it to the excitement that is being generated by the last week of school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my last weeks of school.  No real instruction happening.  Just fun and goofing off.  Making plans with my friends for swimming, fishing, and dirt bike riding! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, not during the summer of '72 as my left leg was in a cast all summer from my Mother's Day accident.  The cast went from my hip all the way to my toes.  This was to immobilize my ankle.  The doctor thought it was best to make it as hard as possible for me to use my leg without crutches, so it could have maximum time to heal.  Of course that was the summer that we went all over Oregon and California on vacation and I had to hobble along on my crutches on all the "fun" hikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are excited about being out of school and just hanging out.  Playing video games, staying up late, sleepovers, and Legos.  Lots and lots of Legos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big beginning to their summer is a trip to D.C.  We have been invited to attend Boeing's anniversary party.  There should be a lot of planes and pilots there for Dexter to get to know.  Not to mention the flights to and from. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are also going to a bunch of Museums in the VA., D.C., and MD. area.  This will be somewhat of a "learning" vacation.  Kind of like a fun summer school, but we can't tell the kids that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course what the kids don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to REM for the idea for the title.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-8468248936988211469?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/8468248936988211469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=8468248936988211469' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8468248936988211469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8468248936988211469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/05/its-end-of-school-year-as-we-know-it.html' title='It&apos;s the end of the school year as we know it (and I feel fine)'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7104984786117788955</id><published>2009-05-17T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T16:48:59.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Trek (not what you think)</title><content type='html'>Since I am a "nerd", I had to see the new Star Trek movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I generally don't care for remakes, I do like it when a movie is made of TV shows that I enjoyed, either as a child or an adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up in rural Oregon, we had 4 TV channels.  One of them ran Star Trek every day of the week.  On weekends we were treated to two episodes in a row, instead of the sparsely doled out singular episode week days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really get into all the other variations of "Trek*", but I would watch them, IF there was absolutely nothing else on and I couldn't go to sleep.  Although I have to admit that I did watch "TNG**" for a couple of years.  I had to quit because I went into the Navy and did not get the luxury of the "boob toob" for about 4 months.  After that, it didn't seem to matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think that I would consider myself a "Trekker or Trekkie***", I consider myself a loyal fan.  I enjoy most Science Fiction and some Sci-Fi, yuk yuk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that this was one of the best adaptations that I have seen.  They used a lot of the familiar quotes, phrases, terms and stereotypes****.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked it better than another recent TV to big screen movie I saw.  I enjoyed Get Smart, but there  wasn't enough of the "smart" dialog carry over from the series for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the idea of seeing the first movie in the series first.  I am sure that there will be more Star Trek movies.  I look forward to them, in the order they occur.  I think that you know what I am talking about Mr Lucas.  I enjoyed your movies as well, but I think my life would have been just as happy without the 3 prequals, not too mention I would have been about $25 bucks richer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen it twice now.  Once by myself and once with the kids.  I enjoyed it both times.  They both enjoyed it, the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just so you know, in case you don't;&lt;br /&gt;* Star Trek; The Next Generation (TNG), Star Trek; Deep Space Nine (DS9), Star Trek; Voyager (Voyager) Also Star Trek; The Animated Series (TAS, which I had to watch as we only had cartoons on Saturday morning back when I was a kid.)  There are more movies and I think, another series, but this is most of the TV stuff.&lt;br /&gt;**TNG- See * above&lt;br /&gt;***Trekker/Trekkie/Trekking- I don't even know where to begin here.  It is like a gang mentality when you mention one and not the other.  Not to mention the riots that erupt at Science Fiction conventions when you choose one side over the other.  Although, like chocolate, I don't believe there is a bad side.  Look it up on Wiki.&lt;br /&gt;****You've heard them. "I'm given' her all she's got", "live long and prosper", "I'm a doctor, not a (fill in the blank)".  Aside from the familiar banter there was also the stereotypical;  Kirk kissing a green woman, Kirk, Sulu, and unknown crew member leave the ship-unknown crew member dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked the instant familiarity the film gave me with the connection to my childhood days of watching it after school.  It seemed like a logical choice for a movie ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7104984786117788955?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7104984786117788955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7104984786117788955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7104984786117788955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7104984786117788955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/05/trek-not-what-you-think.html' title='The Trek (not what you think)'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-4665937468716396661</id><published>2009-05-07T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T21:09:41.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Happy Mother's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it is a few days early, but if I don't do this now, I may be too tired or forget to do it later, you see we are having 2 days of neighborhood yard sale starting Friday morning at 7am sharp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not about the coming Mother's Day, but a Mother's Day past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 1972. I live in rural Oregon. I am 8 years old. I am in the second grade. I have a dirt bike that I ride almost everyday. This is how I get to my friends and just have fun and kill time as the Internet is almost 30 years away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother works in Albany, about 35 minutes away. We live on a rural road next to a covered bridge, at the bottom of a small hill and a nice sweeping 90 degree corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Mother's Day, I gave my mom a ride on my motorcycle. Probably more terror for her than a gift, but I was happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She left for work just before noon and I went to my friends house up the road on my motorcycle. Oh, how the times have changed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 3pm it started to rain and I decided to go home. I took off and headed to my house about a mile away. I usually would get going good and fast and whip around the corner go through the bridge, turn around on the other side of the bridge and then cross back and go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, being 8 years old I did not understand a lot about physics, in particular how they apply to wet roads and knobby motorcycle tires on pavement in a corner that has little to no banking. Lets just say it was like riding a block of ice on a teflon road with a 90 degree turn and no banking in the turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost control of my motorcycle about half way through the turn and slid into the guardrail. I flipped over the guardrail and landed about 30 below the road by the river on my back. My motorcycle, still apparently running, idled it's way into the middle of the bridge and fell over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of our neighbors that I saw on a regular basis as I rode by his house, saw my bike in the middle of the road and me nowhere to be seen. Knowing that I rarely left the side of my bike, he went to the house and asked my older sister if she knew where I was. She didn't. As far as she knew I was riding my motorcycle somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They started to look for me. Calling my name. I eventually became conscious that someone was calling my name and I answered back. I could not move. I couldn't figure out why then, but it would become apparent later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yelled to my sister that I couldn't move and she called the Sheriff. The Sheriff called the hospital in Albany and they dispatched an ambulance. Obviously before the ability to dial 911 for emergency services. We even had a party line that she had to convince them that this was a real emergency, not like some of the other emergencies that the party line was cleared for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in and out of consciousness for a while and the next thing that I knew the ambulance was there. The EMTs climbed down the hill to assess my situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They found out why I could not move. I couldn't move for 2 reasons. Reason 1, my left leg was broken just above the ankle, and not looking too good. Reason number 2, the more important reason at least to me, my helmet was stuck to one of the bolts that came up out of the bridge footings. I could not move my head because my helmet had become one with the support. They unbuckled my helmet and I could move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They put a splint on my leg, covered me with a blanket to keep me warm, and were getting ready to haul me up the hill when it started to sprinkle. As it started to sprinkle the EMT with me decided to cover me up all the way, that is he pulled the blanket over my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently the Sheriff called my mom at work and she had been racing toward home, just to arrive as it started to sprinkle. They directed her to an area by the guard rail that you could see me from, and as she looked down, I was just getting my head covered up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH GOD! MY BABY IS DEAD!"!!! Came the blood curdling scream that brought me back to semi-consciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I flipped the cover off of my head and yelled back to my mom. "No I'm not mom, I'm OK"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was too much for her and she promptly passed out. On the way to the ground she struck her head on the guard rail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they finally got me into the ambulance, my mother was already there being treated for a concussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rode to the hospital together on that Mother's Day. I don't think that she or I will ever forget that one. I never gave her another ride or even offered it. I did eventually get a bigger motorcycle, even though mine was not harmed in the accident. I was the cushion between the bike and the guard rail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope Andrea doesn't get mad, but I don't want any memorable Mother's days any more. I want them to come and go happily (ever after).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Mother's Day moms!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-4665937468716396661?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/4665937468716396661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=4665937468716396661' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4665937468716396661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4665937468716396661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7445239610138294880</id><published>2009-05-04T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T16:27:52.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair</title><content type='html'>I don't normally look too closely at myself in the mirror, at least not my hair.  Sure I have to look at myself when I shave or risk losing a lip or earlobe.  I mean that I just don't look too carefully at myself.  It just never seemed that important to me.  I am not about looks, I'm about content!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep my hair short so I don't have to mess with it.  I shave when I remember.  I brush my teeth.  You know, the regular stuff.  I just don't spend that much time "looking".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the other day I saw some pictures that were taken about 12 years ago.  Not that much time, but enough to make some subtle differences in my appearance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked much younger, my hair darker, and my gut less defined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that when I do look at myself in the mirror, maybe every other day or so.  Certainly no more than a week will go by without me at least catching a glimpse of myself reflecting somewhere.  I don't see too much difference.  I usually notice when I shave that the hair on the back of my head is longer than it needs to be, then it is time to get a hair cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went to get my hair cut.  A very nice girl cut it.  She was asking how I would like it cut.  What length to cut it on the back of my head, the top, and the sides.  She said that the grey in my hair was very "distinguishing".  I  thanked her then looked for myself.  GREY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know that I have had some grey hair on the sides of my head for years.  But when I looked into the mirror in the very brightly lit hair cutting place, I saw something that I was not prepared for.  Grey hair mixed throughout the top of my head.  Sure there is not that much.  Maybe 5% of the total hair on the top of my head has some grey mixed in here and there.  But it is there.  Taunting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did that happen?  It had to have been coming on for some time now!  Why wasn't I informed?  Who is in charge of this operation?  Which grey hair belongs to what kid? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I have messed around with some different hair styles over the years, most were too much work.  I have always wanted to be "wash and wear", "get up and go".  I don't want to waste too much time messing with a bunch of dead cells that will never continue doing what I want them to do anyway without massive amounts of gel or some other hair-holding super agent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hair is too fine and wimpy for many of the regular hair styles, so I just keep it short and let it do what it wants to do.  Although I always thought that I would be in charge of the color.  I guess that I was wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7445239610138294880?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7445239610138294880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7445239610138294880' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7445239610138294880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7445239610138294880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/05/hair.html' title='Hair'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-581898515691372369</id><published>2009-04-25T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T21:55:06.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dodgey business</title><content type='html'>I have owned my truck since it was nearly new.  Just a few hundred miles on it when I bought it.  I have owned it for over 9 years, going on 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not gone as many different places with this as I have with my previous pick ups(is pick ups the correct term for multiple trucks or is it picks up?  like more than one grand prix is grands prix.  What ever the correct term I will use pick ups to denote more than one.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an 88 Nissan 4x4 that I had for 6 years.  I bought it after I lost a wheel on my MGB.  By "lost a wheel" I mean that it came off the car while I was driving, not that I took it off and misplaced it.  I don't quite know or more likely, remember what the thought process of buying a new truck was.  I guess that it seemed easier to get a new vehicle than to fix my old one.  Anyway, I drove the Nissan until 93.  I put 180,000 miles on it.  I drove it across the country, into Canada, up and down the coast of California and even parked it for a year while I was stationed in Hawaii when I was in the Navy.  I towed my MGB with it several times. I must like to drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I traded the Nissan and some cash for a 1969 Alfa Romeo boat tail convertible (Duetto).  What an awesome car.  I loved that car.  Andrea loved that car.  As a main vehicle and only motorcycles as back up, probably not the best of situations.  So after about a year and a half and 40,000 miles or so, I sold it after a series of most unfortunate events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved onto a used 93 Toyota T100.  I bought it with 45,000 miles and drove it until it had 210,000 miles on it.  This vehicle too saw many states Canada and even a brief stint in Mexico.  I drove this on many car finding trips in California and even went to Montana to get a Triumph once.  I was also getting into a pattern.  I towed my MGB with this truck, many times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sold the T100 in early 99 and was happy to drive my 1967 Volvo P1800 for a while.  Andrea had a wonderful Mercedes Turbo Diesel sedan.  Unfortunately it had no a/c and since we just moved to Redding, it had to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cue the 1991 Volkswagon Vanagon.  This didn't last too long.  It had a few problems and I was not impressed with the rate of travel it chose to take going up hill.  It couldn't get out of it's own way down hill, much less up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, late in 1999, Andrea went to stay at her mom's house with Dexter while our new (to us) house was being remodeled.  I lived in the VW in the driveway and worked.  One day I had had enough.  I sold the van and bought my current truck.  A 2000 Dodge Ram 2500 Diesel.  I couldn't imagine when I bought it, how long, or how many miles it would take me.  While I have not visited as many states as some of my previous trucks with the Dodge, I have covered almost as many miles as the other two combined.  Last week I just turned 280,000 miles in the Dodge.  WOW!  How on earth did I do that?  With the exception of a few expensive pieces and some inexpensive bits the truck has most of the original parts it left the assembly plant in Mexico with.  Sure, I still need a few parts to make it 100%, but the important systems are still functional.  A/C, check.  Radio, check.  4 wheel drive capability, check.  Heater, check.  Cruise control, super duper check! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while I enter my 10th year of ownership, I realize that I have owned this longer than just about any other car I have had.  I only have one other car that I have owned longer.  My 67 MGB.  Yup.  I have owned that car more than half of my life.  I have also towed it more with the Dodge than any other vehicle I have had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope that I am not jinxing myself by spouting goo about my pick up, but just in case maybe I should get the MGB running.  I don't think that I could tow the Dodge with it, but I know it would try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot of memories of all of my past and present vehicles.  Not all fond.  Not all based on mileage or miles driven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that I have at least another 280,000 miles or at least enough to last me until the economy evens out and I can get another car loan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-581898515691372369?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/581898515691372369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=581898515691372369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/581898515691372369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/581898515691372369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/04/dodgey-business.html' title='Dodgey business'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-4785113710393382002</id><published>2009-04-19T18:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T20:45:32.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Airplanes and helicopters oh my!</title><content type='html'>Airplanes were the topic Saturday morning. Saturday was the Young Eagles Fly Free day in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the young children, I don't know the cap on the age, but there were teen-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;agers&lt;/span&gt; there, could take a free flight with a private pilot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what types of aircraft we were looking at, except to say there were airplanes and 1 helicopter. The airplanes were different designs and types. The helicopter was definitely different than the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;CHP&lt;/span&gt; chopper that was also there, but not giving free flights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to this last Father's Day and man, the lines, the lines.... Couple that with triple digit temperatures and you have one &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;loooonnnng&lt;/span&gt; sweaty, sun-burned day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year we arrived much earlier, around 9am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently not earlier enough! By the time we made it through the line to get a number to wait for a flight, we were number 52 and 53. Dexter and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; did not want to ride together as they both wanted to be "co-pilot".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dexter got his wish, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; did not. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; took a ride with strangers and got the same "brotherly" treatment from these kids. Although, I don't think that it made a difference to the kids he was riding with. It was just the order that the pilot put them into the cabin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dexter of course made friends with the pilot with a lot of "airplane-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ese&lt;/span&gt;" speak. Instant friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We actually made pretty good time. There were at least 7 planes taking kids and of course the helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally our turn came, around 11am. Awesome! We can get out of here before noon! What a break for the parents!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or so you would think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, Dexter found out that you could also get a ride on the helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BONUS!, for Dex. Not a bonus for Mom and Dad. Not that we don't want Dexter and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; to have a ride in a helicopter. It is just that there are other things that need to get done and the fact that we have just had the switch turned from nice 80 or so degree days to getting too close to triple digits in less than a week. No acclimation, no warning, no gentle ramp up. I think that we had a fire in the fireplace about 2 weeks ago. Then all too soon near 100 degree temperature?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what was I thinking, this is &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Redding&lt;/span&gt;. The weather changes daily here. Great now I have to dig out my shorts and put away my flannel lined jeans and wool lined cap. Although I did see a kid today wearing a wool knit cap. No, I think that I will only fry my brain more. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Mmmmm&lt;/span&gt;, brain... Where was I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, Kids Fly Free day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; was done. Even though he signed up for the helicopter flight, he did not want to go another minute without food. I took him home and we had sandwiches. I got the phone call to come back and get them as Dexter was next and I should arrive about the time he got back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More red tape and Dexter was not next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, Dexter had made friends with the helicopter pilot and his kids. Dexter WAS on the next flight with the pilot and his children. Not any of the other kids that were waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dexter got the co-pilot seat in the helicopter as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 happy kid! I think that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; may be considering a career in flight as well. They got certificates, bracelets, pictures, memories, and maybe even a little sunburn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-4785113710393382002?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/4785113710393382002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=4785113710393382002' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4785113710393382002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4785113710393382002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/04/airplanes-and-helicopters-oh-my.html' title='Airplanes and helicopters oh my!'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-331277399219092367</id><published>2009-04-17T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T13:01:41.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Phones and hope</title><content type='html'>Big excitement today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New phones for the kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo many phones, so little in my price range, for the kids that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course they both gravitated towards the most expensive phone type that they were interested in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dexter wanted a Blackberry Storm, just like dad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Felex wanted a very nice Verizon G'zOne.  Looks like it was made by Playskool.  You know the company that made weebles?  They wobble, but they don't fall down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the dust settled.  The boys each ended up with a nice CHEAP phone and holster.  I know the only reason that the liked the phone cases is because I called them holsters.  You know like you would carry a gun in, but this one is for your phone.  I know that Dexter will attempt to obtain as many different varieties of holster that are available and try to fill them one day.  For now he happy with his phone and his phone holster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrea chose a nice new cover for her Voyager.  A cheap attempt to "un-ghetto-ize" her  phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I want is some hope that there will soon be a software upgrade for my Storm.  The salesman was very nice and gave me a glimmer of hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salesman:  Will that do it then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well, I do have a Storm.  Do you think that they will be coming out with a ...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salesman, interrupting: Software upgrade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes, how did you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salesman: I get that question a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salesman: I have heard that they will be issuing an upgrade in the next few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Great.  How will I know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salesman: It will be automatic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So I will just one day notice a marked improvement in my phone function and performance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salesman: Uh, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thanks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour and a half.  2 new phones, a phone cover and hope.  All for the low, low price of about $70 after rebates.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-331277399219092367?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/331277399219092367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=331277399219092367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/331277399219092367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/331277399219092367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/04/phones-and-hope.html' title='Phones and hope'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7354116221272469173</id><published>2009-04-06T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T17:55:17.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting journey to the odyssey of the mind</title><content type='html'>This weekend we took an odyssey.  No, not following the epic of Homer.  We took a different kind of odyssey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The odyssey we took was of the mind.  Dexter and his team won a spot to go to the state odyssey of the mind.  They did a skit/play on superstition.  Their superstition, bear in mind that it was 5 boys all in the 5Th grade, if you play a video game too long, you will get sucked into the video game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, what a great imagination they have.  I have never heard of that happening.  Of course I am from a different generation and grew up with "Pong" as the dominant video game.  I don't think that it was possible to play Pong long enough to get sucked into the game.  I usually lasted about 10 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got bored of Pong, we could play hockey or racket ball!  Both of which were very cleverly disguised versions of Pong.  If you were really feeling cocky you could play on expert level.  What that did was instead of giving you a paddle about 6 times bigger than the digital ball, it made it almost the size of the ball.  Meaning that made it harder to hit the actual ball as you had to be that much faster and accurate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the odyssey of the mind.  The boys made up the superstition and a play.  Some of it made sense, some of it did not.  They had everything.  Fake backdrop with a clock, a TV, and, I think, some sort of refrigerator looking thing.  Lots of action.  Lots of mumbling.  Lots of laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I did not understand some of what they were doing, they did.  They did it with such conviction that you almost believed it was a real urban myth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course if it were true, Felex and I would be stuck in Lego Indiana Jones as we played it for 4 days straight after Xboxmas this year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good weekend spent with the family.  Grandma flew up to join in the fun as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An interesting journey to the odyssey of the mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7354116221272469173?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7354116221272469173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7354116221272469173' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7354116221272469173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7354116221272469173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/04/interesting-journey-to-odyssey-of-mind.html' title='Interesting journey to the odyssey of the mind'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7806761260018820505</id><published>2009-03-28T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T19:10:11.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Math</title><content type='html'>"Math is hard, let's make cookies for the boys!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many of my favorite quotes come from The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Simpsons&lt;/span&gt;.  Some are so true, and some just funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not been in a math class since I was in the Navy.  Then it was all calculus and physics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last few weeks, when I was home I was treated to helping Andrea with her math homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I can do it.  I understand it.  I like it, now.  I did have to have a refresher course on shapes and geometry.  I remembered a few of the formulas.  Although, not in their correct application.  Pi r squared is always a good one to throw out.  1/2 base times height.  Another good one.  4pi r squared, always fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just plug the measurements into the correct formula for the problem at hand and you have an answer.  That answer may or may not be right, but it is your answer.  A few tricks with the calculator later and I have figured out my fatal error.  I can't read my own writing and put it the wrong number for h squared.  Oh well live and learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrea learned a LOT today.  I relearned some things.  Found out how much I had forgot.  Well not all of what I have forgot, but a good sampling of what is missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also learned how frustrating it can be to try and teach someone a subject that they are having a hard time grasping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the toughest problem for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  2 boys + 1 television + ravenous appetites - peace and quiet - self control - the capacity to remember what you were just told 5 minutes ago = ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: frustration/give them whatever it takes to keep them somewhat quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although when the correct answers started flowing, with the correct formulas and legible hand writing all came together, I could tell that the transfer of knowledge was happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By George, I think she's got it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well at least some of it, the rest will come later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7806761260018820505?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7806761260018820505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7806761260018820505' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7806761260018820505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7806761260018820505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/03/math.html' title='Math'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-1462174537171316350</id><published>2009-03-25T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T15:10:16.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Benz Blues</title><content type='html'>"Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz." I think that most of us are familiar with this line from Janis Joplin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the song. I now think that she was missing a very important point about Mercedes ownership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maintenance. You know, paying for those little items that need to be replaced every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that I can see her point. If I were to get the car for free, then I would have some extra money floating around to deal with these pesky maintenance issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although there is no such thing as a "free" car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrea (over the phone) "Honey? My car is making a weird noise."&lt;br /&gt;Me "What kind of noise? Is it the same noise it was making the other day?"&lt;br /&gt;Andrea "No, this is different. Kind of a squealing noise."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Wow, that is different."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Is it making it now?"&lt;br /&gt;Andrea "No."&lt;br /&gt;Me "What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;Andrea "I turned it off."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Turn it back on, open the hood and see if you can tell where the squeal is coming from."&lt;br /&gt;Andrea "OK. I have the hood open. Do you hear that? Oh, the noise stopped. The belt broke."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Well now we know what the noise was."&lt;br /&gt;Andrea "What do I do now?"&lt;br /&gt;Me "Wait for the tow truck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that is the important part of the conversation.  You really don't need to know the rest to know that the car ended up in the shop 2 days later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our 12 year old Mercedes went into the shop. Unfortunately for us, we don't get to pay for 12 year old parts or labor. We have to pay for today's parts and labor. The car still runs and drives, but a seized part (air pump) on the outside of the engine, caused the serpentine belt to prematurely part ways with itself. In other words, the pump seized, the engine still worked and the belt broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the pump seized, the crank kept turning. It moved the belt a little. Enough to muck up the belt, transfer VERY hot "belt rubber" onto all the other pulleys on the engine and finally to break. Causing the belt tensioner to "explode". Of course once you are in here working on this part of the engine, you may as well check out everything else. So we are doing a few other maintenance items as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand what happened. I don't understand why it cost over half the value of the car to fix a broken fan belt. I guess that at the core of the issue is the car manufacture. I guess, if you can't afford the parts and maintenance for a Mercedes, you shouldn't own one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just think that Miss Joplin would have been more correct if her song was "Oh lord won't you fix my Mercedes Benz, I spent all my money and the repairs never end."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least that is what I think.  Maybe she never got her Benz, then again I think that if she did, she could easily afford the repairs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-1462174537171316350?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/1462174537171316350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=1462174537171316350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/1462174537171316350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/1462174537171316350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-lord-wont-you-buy-me-mercedes-benz.html' title='The Benz Blues'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-8869433108488465146</id><published>2009-03-18T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T21:46:39.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop and smell the roses</title><content type='html'>In an effort to slow down and/or stop my road going, fast food eating, drive till you pass out, work style I have decided it is time to do more than just talk about how I want to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hate eating fast food. If it just wasn't so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;convenient&lt;/span&gt;. If it just wasn't everywhere. If it just wasn't thrown in your face constantly. If I just had a few minutes extra, I could choose a sit down place. If I just had a few better choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I do. I have found a way to make myself SLOW down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I have a trailer and I can't go through a drive through anyway. Also I have a diesel pickup and I don't like to shut it off while on a trip unless I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;adequate&lt;/span&gt; time for a proper cool down.  If I don't have a trailer I can use the drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;, but only if I shut off my engine as it is rather loud and makes any type of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;communication&lt;/span&gt; over a drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; speaker near impossible while running.  The best I can hope for is an order that is similar, but not exactly what I ordered.  Yes I know this for a fact.  If the engine is running, I will not get what I ordered. Of course I may not get what I ordered if I went inside and presented in on a piece of type written paper in large font that has been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;notarized&lt;/span&gt; either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, you should always allow a "cool down" period for a turbo charged engine. Really any engine if you would like to extend the life. Of course you should also use a premium oil, changed regularly and, well never mind I will do that one later....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am trying to alter my "on the road diet". Last week I was gone 6 days and only had 2 meals at fast food. The first was Carl's Jr. I had a grilled chicken salad with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;bleu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; cheese dressing and it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;adequate&lt;/span&gt;. I was neither &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;disappointed&lt;/span&gt; nor elated at the presentation, taste, size, or amount of plastic that it took to house and consume this wonderful meal. Topped off with a large diet soda and I was not "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;oogey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" at the end of the meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No fries, no onion rings, no deep fried cheese, no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;criss&lt;/span&gt; cut&lt;/span&gt; fries. I was alright. I kept it together. Sure I stared longingly at the food some of the other customers were getting, but I knew if I went astray of the salad, I would not feel "good" at the end of the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all it was a good week. I ate an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;omelet&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;avocado&lt;/span&gt; and cheese and had water to drink at a nice family &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; in Salinas. I had some excellent ribs and one of my favorite beers on tap at a nice homey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; just outside of Glen Ellen. I had the largest Cobb salad with wonderfully cheap blue cheese dressing in Santa Rosa. I also had my favorite (so far) spinach salad with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bleu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;cheese with a warm balsamic bacon dressing&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Petaluma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I had other good meals that were memorable and nutritious. Just that these were better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is easy. Sure the temptation is there to just fill up, grab a bite to eat and hit the road, but I have to stop and smell the roses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just for the record, most fast food &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;restaurants&lt;/span&gt; contain NO roses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-8869433108488465146?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/8869433108488465146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=8869433108488465146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8869433108488465146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8869433108488465146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/03/stop-and-smell-roses.html' title='Stop and smell the roses'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7033377855501715791</id><published>2009-02-21T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T09:57:41.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and the F-man</title><content type='html'>I spent the better part of the week alone with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt;.  Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt;.  F-man.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Fefe&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Fedex&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Theyre&lt;/span&gt; all the same little guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could set your clock by the questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's for breakfast?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's for lunch?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's for snack?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's for dinner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's for snack?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's for desert?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do I have to go to school?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do I have to go to school?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really, why do I have to go to school?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I go to bed at 9:30 like mom let's me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why can't I go to bed at 9:30?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do we have for snack?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Repeat as necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, we had a very fun time together.  4 days of cartoons, frozen food, no work, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;lazen&lt;/span&gt;' around the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good times, good times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7033377855501715791?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7033377855501715791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7033377855501715791' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7033377855501715791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7033377855501715791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/02/me-and-f-man.html' title='Me and the F-man'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7046883943801753210</id><published>2009-02-14T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T19:53:34.259-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cold rain</title><content type='html'>The cold weather has finally hit.  At last, we have rain, and cold.  No snow, but it is cold.  With rain.  I hate cold rain.  Just a few more degrees and it would be cold enough to snow.  I like snow.  Maybe not enough to live in an area where it will snow every year, and stick.  But, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;enough&lt;/span&gt; to live in an area where, if it did snow, I wouldn't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait.  That is here.  Occasionally it does snow.  Crap.  I just don't like the 38 degree rain.  I mean really, it may as well just snow.  If it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;raining&lt;/span&gt;, I falsely think that it is not too cold out.  It certainly can't be near freezing if it is raining, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrong.  Just a few degrees above and, you guessed it, rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snow gives me an excuse to use the 4 wheel drive feature of my truck.  Not that it does exceptionally well in the snow mind you, but I feel better when I use all the capabilities of my truck than just a few.  To be nimble in the snow in a 4 wheel drive you need to be moderately light.  My diesel powered Dodge is anything but light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, I have used the 4 wheel drive option more times when I was not in snow than when I was.  Sure I have used it "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;continuously&lt;/span&gt;" longer in snowy conditions, but....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had to use 4 wheel drive to keep my truck from rolling down hill when I was loading a car on a trailer while pointing down hill.  Oddly enough, setting the parking brake does nothing when the rear wheels of the truck come off the ground when you are driving a heavy car onto a trailer.  The back of the trailer goes down.  The front of the trailer goes up.  It is connected to the rear of the truck.  The rear of the truck goes up.  If the rear of the truck goes up, then there is NO braking action/holding action to cause the whole freaking works to stay in one place.  So, you take a short trip down hill in your truck and trailer while you are in a car behind the whole thing.  No too fun, but a valuable lesson learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that aside, I still don't like it when it is this cold and only rains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7046883943801753210?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7046883943801753210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7046883943801753210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7046883943801753210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7046883943801753210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/02/cold-rain.html' title='Cold rain'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-7634875355427729903</id><published>2009-02-10T10:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T10:48:57.751-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spent</title><content type='html'>Wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a whole lot of nothing for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked some and loafed some. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time in the emergency room with Dex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time waiting for a tow truck, again :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time looking for a new bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time with the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time watching cartoons, with and without the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent a lot of time driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent no time writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time moving stuff out of storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent time figuring out how to spend time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent a lot of time on the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent my wasted youth years ago... Or is that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;mis&lt;/span&gt;-spent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent all my money on a bob-tail nag (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;camptown&lt;/span&gt; races).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now that I'm spent, I should have less nothing to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-7634875355427729903?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/7634875355427729903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=7634875355427729903' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7634875355427729903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/7634875355427729903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/02/spent.html' title='Spent'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3388301423584744442</id><published>2009-01-11T18:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:23:30.032-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing</title><content type='html'>I have been in a nice steady state of doing nothing for a few weeks.  It feels good.  And at the same time, awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been working 4 and 5 day weeks for the last few months.  I also drive 4 hours one way to work once a week.  Then back home when I am done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is not that hard.  I just have to do it away from home.  I don't get to eat in my house.  See my kids, or wife.  Sleep in my own bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been off of work since before Christmas(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Xboxmas&lt;/span&gt;).  A much needed rest, I must say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can also say that I have never gone this long without doing "something" remotely worthwile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well to "ease" myself back amongst the working, yesterday I fixed the leaky kitchen sink, sure it has been leaking for a few months, but it was not time to fix it yet.  You may not think that is a big deal, but it is.  You see, not only do you have to figure out the original problem that caused the leak, you need to rectify it.  You have to fix the pipes and think about how you will avoid the same problem in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problem; leaky sink.  Cause; recycle and waste buckets pushed the pipes and caused them to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;miss align&lt;/span&gt;, causing a leak. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solution; remove all the leaky components, loosen up the left over components, go to store and get new pipes, cut and fit new pipes, align and tighten.  Leak test, and if all is right with Karma, there will be no leaks.  So the sink is now fixed.  Cost $7.19 for materials, 3 hours of time, $5 for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mocha&lt;/span&gt; during the shopping trip to jump start my brain and make sure that I was getting the correct parts, about 3 miles of wear and tear on my truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to make sure this does not happen again; the only thing that I can think of is to move.  Barring that, we moved where we put the recycle and waste baskets.  Of course if I was the only one to put stuff under the sink that would help, but we aren't going there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for my weeks of nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3388301423584744442?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3388301423584744442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3388301423584744442' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3388301423584744442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3388301423584744442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/01/nothing.html' title='Nothing'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-2251601885417991659</id><published>2009-01-02T21:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T21:44:42.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving and resolutions</title><content type='html'>I helped a friend move some furniture today. Not much, just a few couches. That was enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told once that a "true" friend would never ask you to help them move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a pickup. Therefore I am qualified to help people move "stuff".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always had a pickup. I have a bunch of stuff that occasionally has to be moved. It has to be moved from point A, to point B, back to point A, then to point C, and if there is time, make a point D and move it there. Do you get what I am saying? I like to make work for myself. That is why I have a pickup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind helping out someone occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have known about this move that I helped with today for a few weeks. I remembered it off and on. Today it was on. CRAP. Stairs, doorways, dirt, bushes, the bed of my truck that has hauled many a greasy engine and parts, dirt, night. You name it, we had to overcome it today. We only had a reprieve from the rain. It rained earlier and luckily it was just frigid not rainy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was surprisingly easy. Just the fact that I am "kind of" out of shape. And by kind of, I mean that I am horribly, terribly, remorsefully, beyond any condition that would be considered "in shape". The last time I was in a gym, Clinton was in the White House and the U.S. had a budget surplus!  Made this anything other than a piece of cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should make a new years resolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which one should I make though? Go to the gym? Don't help move anyone? Go on a diet? Go on a diet AND go to the gym? Try not to do anything that will remind me that I need to exercise? Well, that last one really won't go over well. Every now and then I just get this little reminder that I am not as young, or fit, as I used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only I could go back to 1986 at the peak of my fitness when I was a firefighter for the state. The epitome of "me".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well maybe after I made it through Navy dive school. Which was 2 weeks in HELL with Navy Seals pushing 24 hours a day to make sure that I would not crack under pressure was the epitome of physical me, but mentally that was another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could have done all my moving then. I wouldn't be where I am now, would I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-2251601885417991659?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/2251601885417991659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=2251601885417991659' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/2251601885417991659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/2251601885417991659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2009/01/moving-and-resolutions.html' title='Moving and resolutions'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-450479999733912429</id><published>2008-12-31T21:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T23:09:15.845-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ice hurts and heals</title><content type='html'>Ice. Slick. Cold. Smooth. Hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets focus for a moment on the slick aspect of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took the kids and a friend to an ice skating rink today. "What could possibly go wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ice skating or "controlled skidding" as I call it, can be fun, IF you understand that if you come in contact with the ice at any speed above tilting a glass to your mouth, it will hurt. In some instances I have seen the glass with ice wreak havoc as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are a 7 year old and/or don't have a good grasp on physics this is a hard(pun intended) lesson to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; found out what happens when you meet, for all intents and purposes, an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;immovable&lt;/span&gt; object at the speed of falling off your ice skates. Face first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blood stains ice. Noses are softer than skating ice and possibly regular ice as well. Once you are on your butt or face, it is hard to get your feet back under you. This only makes the situation much much worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good side is that we avoided losing any of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;permanent&lt;/span&gt; teeth. The last face plant on concrete cost both upper front teeth and lots and lots and lots of tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough when I went to the office for some ice(ha ha) they gave me a chemical pack. I could not understand, with all the snow and ice around why they gave me this. They said that it cooled rapidly and stayed cold longer than ice. I said that there is ice all over and it is already cold and I could just about keep myself in a constant supply if I just had a plastic bag. It took all 4 people in the office to try to break the contents of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; bag so that it would give off the wonderful cold that was needed. Whatever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, since I wasn't skating(someone had to be able to drive us to the hospital) I was in charge of the camera. I have some wonderful action, or rather inaction, pictures of the accident. Post face plant, as I was having a discussion with one of the locals lads who was looking for a few extra dollars to stave off the hunger pangs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Any who&lt;/span&gt;.... I have some pictures of the poor lad coming off the ice looking to all to be a mighty hockey player that just showed someone how to do a proper hip check, and promptly cleared the benches for a mini-brawl on the ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the nice hard ice we went to a hill with some nice soft snow. The boys were not happy with the "penguin sledding" Dexter thought would be fun. Sliding down the hill on your belly. They found an abandoned metal garbage can lid and decided that would make a good sled. I think the found out why the lid was abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, there was every imaginable emotion today from the boys from extreme happiness to crying and blaming others for your pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next is skiing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-450479999733912429?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/450479999733912429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=450479999733912429' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/450479999733912429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/450479999733912429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/ice-hurts-and-heals.html' title='Ice hurts and heals'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-5472209838119139616</id><published>2008-12-30T13:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T13:38:18.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Xboxmas</title><content type='html'>Christmas came and went with a dull roar.  Many happy expressions and packages were opened.  We carefully picked the order the kids opened their packages.  You know, from small to BIG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We knew that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;XBOX&lt;/span&gt; would be a huge hit.  We knew that the snap-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tite&lt;/span&gt; model would be a huge hit.  We knew that the skateboard would be a huge hit.  We were not expecting the Mexican Coke(you know the one that actually uses real "sugar", the kind they don't sell to large corporations here in states anymore? At least I assume they don't as most larger corporations don't use it in their products.  Oops, I'm ranting....) anyway, the Mexican  Coke was as huge a hit as the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;XBOX&lt;/span&gt;.  Mild surprise.  They wanted Coke before video games. Huh.  Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next 4 days was spent relaxed attempting to beat one of the video games.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Felex&lt;/span&gt; and I logged at least 40 hours playing Lego Indiana Jones.  We were very dedicated.  Only sleeping and eating when absolutely necessary.  We beat it and now we are waiting for more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sequels&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get busy Spielberg!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-5472209838119139616?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/5472209838119139616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=5472209838119139616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/5472209838119139616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/5472209838119139616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/merry-xboxmas.html' title='Merry Xboxmas'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-8791363020671540716</id><published>2008-12-26T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T12:10:39.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hornet</title><content type='html'>It has been a bad year for the animals at our house.  We lost 2 cats and the day after Christmas a finch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that the finch has been the hardest lesson on "life" for a 7 and 10 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least the cats would let you pet them occasionally, when they wanted you to.  The really loved it when you gave them food and water.  Occasionally they would show their appreciation with the offering of a dead rodent or other animal at the front door.  Usually first thing in the morning.  Always a treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The finch, I am not convinced even liked us.  It seemed to me that they would be scared near death &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; you put food or water in the cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just the same, the boys loved their finches.  As they unconditionally love all the animals in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe Dex doesn't always love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sheeba&lt;/span&gt;, but we all have those times when it is hard to love an animal that has just chewed up your prize toy jet.  Well one of them anyway since they are all a prize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today Hornet was not looking too well.  A few hours later we took the cage out for cleaning and Hornet was no longer with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys are devastated.  They have made  a nice little coffin with some of Hornets favorite things.  An orange, some millet, and Dex's lucky key.  I don't know where it came from, but it was lucky for him and now it will be lucky for Hornet.  They have a wonderful head stone/plank that will serve as a reminder to all that miss Hornet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell Hornet, we hardly knew ye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-8791363020671540716?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/8791363020671540716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=8791363020671540716' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8791363020671540716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8791363020671540716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/hornet.html' title='Hornet'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-6730949412701449415</id><published>2008-12-23T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T22:59:40.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beer</title><content type='html'>I like beer it makes me a jolly good fellow.  Whiskys too rough.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Champagne&lt;/span&gt; costs too much.  Vodka puts my mouth in gear.  Yes I know the verses are out of order, but it puts my point across.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;snobbery&lt;/span&gt;.  Am I wrong?  I really don't think so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been many snobs before me.  Wine.  Movies.  Areas of a city in which to live.  Clothing.  Soda. Cars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know someone on this list, think about it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy most distilled spirits.  Probably too much.  I got my sub kicked out of a few bars &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;PERMANENTLY&lt;/span&gt;.  At least that is what they said.  Usually we had more standing than any other faction at the bar.  But, that is another story entirely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I moved from my appreciation of all that is distilled.  I went on to all that is brewed.  Once I found a palatable beer, my life expanded from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coors, yuck.  Bud, yuck.  Pyramid, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tasty&lt;/span&gt;.  Sierra Nevada, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;tasty&lt;/span&gt;.  Miller, well if that is all that you have.... are you sure?  Could you check and see if you have anything else?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I like the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;micro brews&lt;/span&gt;.  Now called "craft brews".  As the label "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;micro brew&lt;/span&gt;" is now a misnomer for most. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Deschutte's&lt;/span&gt; is a wonderful brewery.  Lost Coast another.  Even Portland Brewing is nice and tasty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will have to find out for yourself what you like.  I know what I like and it is not mainstream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-6730949412701449415?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/6730949412701449415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=6730949412701449415' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/6730949412701449415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/6730949412701449415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/beer.html' title='Beer'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3880172471129034665</id><published>2008-12-20T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T18:49:38.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I give and I give and I give</title><content type='html'>Giving. It's what I do. I give and give and give and give. I give until I am faint. It's not enough. I am constantly reminded that I need to give more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; another notice that I need to give more. I received my letter from North State Blood Center that I need to give again. I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind you, I don't do it for the wonderful after bleeding treats. Nor, do I do it for the promise of free movie tickets(BTW, don't get fooled by this ruse, there is no such thing as a free movie ticket! You end up spending more on drinks and food than you normally would!) or by getting entered into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt; pool to win a free vacation/car/boat/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;rv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; or other item that you will never win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do it because I can. Sure I don't do it as often as I could. I want to, I just don't make it there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could donate other parts of me that I don't need/use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have several extra brain cells. If I don't give them away I will just end up killing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could part with my appendix. I still have it. I know several people that have had to have theirs removed. If they don't feel whole I would be happy to donate mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a bunch of extra weight that I would be happy to donate to starving models.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hair. Not that I am a hairy guy, I just find that it is easier to not have hair. I won't mind when I go bald.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can not donate a kidney as I will need that to help kill the excess brain cells that I can't donate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't mind donating blood at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3880172471129034665?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3880172471129034665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3880172471129034665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3880172471129034665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3880172471129034665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-give-and-i-give-and-i-give.html' title='I give and I give and I give'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-6729742266821371309</id><published>2008-12-20T08:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T08:59:51.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and the 'nog</title><content type='html'>I LOVE egg &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt;. I don't just like, I LOVE it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I LOVE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt;, I am glad that I can only get one time a year. I would drink it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'm sure that I could find a few other occasions during the day that I could have a quick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt; break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a purist, so I prefer my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt; sans alcohol. I like the alcohol, but it just doesn't do it for me in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt;. It's like cutting your, um, well, I don't know. I just prefer my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt; untainted. Pure. Cold. Thick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really sure who came up with the idea of egg &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt;, but I think they should posthumously get some sort of humanitarian award.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I am sure that there are people who poo-poo the idea of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt;. I know there are people who like and dislike everything on the planet. That is why we have such a great variety of items from which to choose and drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would make my own if I knew how. I know where to get the egg part, but I have yet to find a store that stocks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt; so I can combine the two whenever I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is probably just as well I only have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt; once a year. Otherwise I would have to have a cardiologist on retainer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a way only being able to get it one time a year almost makes it that much better. Maybe I wouldn't like it as much on hot July afternoon as I think that I would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can dream. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Mmm&lt;/span&gt;....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;nog&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-6729742266821371309?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/6729742266821371309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=6729742266821371309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/6729742266821371309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/6729742266821371309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/me-and-nog.html' title='Me and the &apos;nog'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3637179597911863593</id><published>2008-12-15T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T21:03:52.009-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love the smell of sap at Christmas</title><content type='html'>Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how different you look in my house.&lt;br /&gt;When I saw you at the lot,&lt;br /&gt;You had more needles and cost a lot,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree,&lt;br /&gt;how happy my kids will be..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you know the real song. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is always different.  I mean, how we get the tree.  We went to a live lot and cut our own a couple of time.  We went up into the forest and cut a tree a few times.  We bought a live tree a few times.  We have gone to a tree lot and bought a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-cut tree a few times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we were married and had kids, we did not always get a tree.  One year we put a motorcycle frame on our porch in San Francisco and lit it up with lights.  We had people stopping and asking if they could take pictures.  We still have a few old photos laying around of that bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now with kids, I HAVE to have a tree.  There is no room for bargaining on this issue.  NONE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand, I am against cutting down a perfectly good tree, decorating it, looking at it for a few weeks, and then tossing it out.  I see it as horribly wasteful, but at certain times necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I took the kids to a tree lot that a friend of ours owns.  I know that I can always do a little horse trading with Buck.  It usually works out very well for both of us.  I was standing next to a nice fire talking to Buck and the kids were entertaining themselves running around the tree lot and making noise.  You know, like children that may have been raised by wolves, but really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;weren't&lt;/span&gt;, they just like to act that way while one or the other parent is occupied and can't say anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made a few passes at the fire and then came back with candy canes in their mouths.  Told me that they had found a tree and were gone again.  A few minutes later and they came back and informed me that they had also found a tree for their room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we left the tree lot with two trees in tow and the promise that I will free up one of the stainless steel tables that my friend Buck is looking for in trade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trees only have to spend one more night outside.  Then we will bring them in, decorate them, light them, put presents under them, and then hopefully recycle them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3637179597911863593?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3637179597911863593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3637179597911863593' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3637179597911863593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3637179597911863593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-love-smell-of-sap-at-christmas.html' title='I love the smell of sap at Christmas'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3114288134505829255</id><published>2008-12-14T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T12:02:19.688-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love/hate technology</title><content type='html'>I despise technology.  It takes up way too much of my time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a laptop that I bought almost 4 years ago.  You worked great for three and a half years.  Then, the innevitible happened.  CRASH!  Well, having learned my lesson when my desk top computer crashed.  I had all of my pictures backed up online.  No loss there.  Now I am still working on fixing the cause of the computer problem.  I think that for all the hours that you saved me, I have now spent trying to fix you, and then some. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, you were convienient.  Sure, you made my life easier.  Sure, I barely left the house without you.  Had it been socially acceptable, I would have hand-cuffed you to my wrist.  Just for safety, you understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I find myself hating the thought of looking at you.  I have re-loaded your software.  Replaced your harddrive.  Re-loaded your software.  Replaced your battery.  Re-loaded your software.  Lovingly dissassembled and cleaned you.  Re-loaded your software.  Yet you still mock me.  Refusing to work for me.  After all that we have been through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took you on all the road trips I went on.  We spent many nights in wonderful vacation spots.  So many hotels and motels.  Outside on warm spring afternoons.  Even up to the snow on a few occasions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that all there is left is a qualified "technition".  Maybe they can give you what you need.  I only hope that we can get past this little issue and get back to the good old days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not me, it's you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3114288134505829255?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3114288134505829255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3114288134505829255' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3114288134505829255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3114288134505829255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-lovehate-technology.html' title='I love/hate technology'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-4915930533758668596</id><published>2008-12-08T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T22:55:34.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cartoons</title><content type='html'>I love to watch cartoons.  Maybe it is because as an adolescent I was subjected to such inane cartoons as Smurfs, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Snorks&lt;/span&gt;(basically Smurfs underwater), Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner with most of the violence removed, and many other lame cartoons.  If you really want to scream about the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lametastic&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;toons&lt;/span&gt; of the 80's check this link out; &lt;a href="http://www.80scartoons.net/toons/"&gt;http://www.80scartoons.net/toons/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I do watch regular T.V. as well, just not much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;CSI&lt;/span&gt;, and the nerd one,.... uh, whats it called, Big Bang Theory.  I get it.  Ha ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love watching the cartoons that my kids are watching.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Spongebob&lt;/span&gt;, Danny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Fantom&lt;/span&gt;, My Life as a Teenage Robot, Jimmy Neutron, Avatar, and there are many more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me that the cartoons are more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cerebral&lt;/span&gt; and funnier.  Sure I get it, all cartoons are drawn by adults, therefore, adults should get ALL the jokes, even if the kids only get 80%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch the Simpson's with my children and they love it.  I am just beyond happy that they don't get EVERYTHING that is going on.  Even now as I write this I am watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Futurama&lt;/span&gt;.  The best of both worlds!  Cartoon and SCI-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;FI&lt;/span&gt;!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that my point is, I would rather watch cartoons than the news and most sitcoms.  I only watch a few "grown up" shows.  And that is only when I remember they are on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well to me it beats watching the news and finding out that we as a society are going to Hell in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;hand basket&lt;/span&gt;.  Either literally or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;figuratively&lt;/span&gt;.  Take your pick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to be entertained when I watch T.V., not depressed.  T.V. is there for my enjoyment and I choose to watch something that will make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, maybe I would watch the news if there were cartoon anchors.  Then again, maybe not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-4915930533758668596?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/4915930533758668596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=4915930533758668596' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4915930533758668596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/4915930533758668596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/cartoons.html' title='Cartoons'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-3437434004720746310</id><published>2008-12-05T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T15:39:04.488-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My MGB</title><content type='html'>I saw it from the window of a Greyhound bus.  I was on my way to go through a physical to enter the Navy.  I had to remember where it was as I was in an area that I was unfamiliar with.  Two weeks later and several attempts to retrace the bus route and I found it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor thing.  Sitting out in a field with only a few sheep to keep it company.  The top was so rotted that it immediately went to shreds in your hand.  The paint, what there was of it, was not at all appealing, thought it was peeling.  There was rust, dents, dings, bumps, holes, spiders and wasp nests.  I immediately knew that I had to have it.  After all, it was in better shape than the one I was currently driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a 72 that had come in contact, at high speed in reverse, with another vehicle.  Long story.  This one was a 67, the preferred year by many.  No major body damage.  Several shades of red, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bondo&lt;/span&gt; in color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I towed it home and performed an engine-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ectomy&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;power plant&lt;/span&gt; transplant.  It took about 3 days to get it up and running, more or less safely.  Almost as long at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; to get it registered and a new title in my name.  The longest part of the registration process was the application to keep the original black and yellow California plates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started driving it and I drove it for several years and many tens of thousands of miles.  At least 3 times back and forth across the country.  Countless times up and down the state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had it repainted a lovely shade of "Kermit the Frog" green with some black racing stripes when I was stationed in Hawaii.  I drove it around and around and around and around the island. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that they have Interstate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;highways&lt;/span&gt; in Hawaii that don't go to other states?  They don't even go to other islands!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, years later, I loaned it to my roommate while her car was not working.  In retrospect I probably shouldn't have let her drive my car.  It died on her and she left it on the side of the road and called me to to tell me.  I went and picked it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sat and sat and sat.  I rebuilt the engine and it sat and sat and sat.  I started it once about two and a half years later to make sure that it was ready for some more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have hauled it and moved it to several different homes over the last few years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never given my wife a ride in it, nor has it run since I have been married to her.  12 years now.  Wow, time does fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been collecting parts for it.  I have everything I need to make it run.  I should be out there working on it, not here at the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that it will forgive me for ignoring it over the last decade and a few years.  After all, I did save it from wasting away in a field and hanging out with sheep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-3437434004720746310?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/3437434004720746310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=3437434004720746310' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3437434004720746310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/3437434004720746310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-mgb.html' title='My MGB'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-9144093167254405998</id><published>2008-12-03T22:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T23:01:28.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My wife and the OTHER man</title><content type='html'>I have known for awhile.  Sure it came on slowly, as you would expect.  I knew that there was another man in my wife's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started innocently enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to bed, I would say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be right there, she would reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I would wake up after 11pm and there was an empty spot next to me.  Huh?  I guess that she must be watching the news....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I noticed the pattern. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, are you going to be staying up late tonight?  I asked thinking that I knew the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh?  What?  What do you mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, nothing.  I'm going to bed.  See you soon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew the answer.  No.  I would not see her soon.  It took me a while to get over it. &lt;br /&gt;I guess that I just had to come to the realization that I was the second choice.  I knew I could never be number 1.  El &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;numero&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;uno&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Primo&lt;/span&gt;.  The first one picked for the team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, once I figured out who I was running against, I decided that I could settle for second best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, I know that in the back of my mind, if "HE" ever shows up, I will be second fiddle.  I'm alright with that.  I mean really, how could you not be happy being runner up to Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Clooney&lt;/span&gt;?  I am every day, and I am happy to be his stand in.  He doesn't know what he is missing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-9144093167254405998?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/9144093167254405998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=9144093167254405998' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/9144093167254405998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/9144093167254405998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-wife-and-other-man.html' title='My wife and the OTHER man'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-45017775482768521</id><published>2008-12-01T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T16:11:58.538-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a NERD</title><content type='html'>I am a nerd. I have known this my whole life. I have even explained this to my wife. I had to get into the subtleties of nerd versus geek, because if you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;weren't&lt;/span&gt; one or the other you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; know there was a difference. They shouldn't be used interchangeably. Yes, I played sports. Yes, I had fringe friends/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;acquaintances&lt;/span&gt; in the popular crowd in school. Yes, the cool kids knew who I was, but that did not change the fact that I was, and still am, a nerd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with a select few, we came together at lunch time and evenings to do our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nerdy&lt;/span&gt; things. We played video games, role playing games (you know the ones), went to sci-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; conventions. We even spent a summer covered in carpet padding and remnants and beat on each other with bamboo swords. We played many different games. Most of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;colleagues&lt;/span&gt; were in band or choir or both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realised a few weeks ago I was still a nerd. I had bought some shirts at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;REI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in Berkeley. I bought 3 shirts and apparently &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; paying attention to 2 of the shirts that I had bought as they were a size too small to fit my "kingly" personage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the two shirts back and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; a refund. I then went over to the shirt area and picked out two shirts that would fit me. When I got to the counter and I was told the total of my purchase, I handed over the exact change that was in my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clerk looked at me with widening eyes and said "WOW did you just geek that out while you were standing in line? Taxes and all!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I said. I told him that I am a nerd not a geek. He looked at me puzzled. I tried to explain the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;differences&lt;/span&gt;, but I gave up and told him that I had just returned two shirts that were just too small and I still had the change in my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"oh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope that when the geek inherit the earth I am still in good standing with them and they give me a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; cushy government job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-45017775482768521?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/45017775482768521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=45017775482768521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/45017775482768521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/45017775482768521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-am-nerd.html' title='I am a NERD'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728928641401291238.post-8191912812624921365</id><published>2008-11-29T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T20:55:55.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Away from home for the holidays</title><content type='html'>I have never been fond of "Family Holidays", then who has, really?  I don't know why, but sitting around the table talking about all the stuff that has happened over the past year has never really been appealing to me.  I don't know why.  I want to care, I really do, I just don't.  All I can think about is getting away from my home life for a while and going to relax and see family.  When I get there I can't remember why I was so eager to get there.  Don't get me wrong I love my family and friends that I share the holiday's with, I just don't know why it has to be ONLY on the holidays.  In a perfect world you would see your loved ones whenever you wanted.  And when you did not want,  you would not see them.  Well maybe my world is more perfect than most.  I rarely see my side of the family.  I enjoy my wife's family and see them as much as is possible.  Sure it is not as much as when we were first together/married/happily blessed with child/then children, then who really sees their loved ones as much as they want? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to travel about 10 hours to get to Thanksgiving.  At the end of that time I was thankful that I had some self control.  More so on the way home, than on the way down.  I love my kids, but cooped up with a 10 and 7 year old that are either "bored" or "starving" every waking moment of the day, is not much fun.  That is, when you have the luxury of going into another room, or even leaving the house it is merely annoying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are cooped up in a 15 square foot area with windows, doors and seat belts.  The stereo can't be turned up loud enough to drown out the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;interment&lt;/span&gt; whining about boredom, hunger, space, he has my toy, where is my (whatever)?  You get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what is it that am thankful for?  After 3 meals in the truck, 12 restroom stops, 29 hours of drive time, almost 1700 miles, and countless "are we there yet?" and other questions.  I am thankful that I am home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure one of the dogs decided that the chair in the front room was a chew toy.  Yes the kitten/cat is almost unrecognisable.  There was no food to eat when we returned home.  Yet somehow I am happy to be in my own space. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed my holidays.  I guess that I have enjoyed all of my holidays, in my own way.  Even the ones spent only with roommates and friends.  But I think that is what makes them special.  You will always spend them with your loved ones no matter where you are in your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6728928641401291238-8191912812624921365?l=kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/feeds/8191912812624921365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6728928641401291238&amp;postID=8191912812624921365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8191912812624921365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6728928641401291238/posts/default/8191912812624921365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kaoswithoutorder.blogspot.com/2008/11/away-from-home-for-holidays.html' title='Away from home for the holidays'/><author><name>kaos without order</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07537381668852767908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
