Along Came a Spider

Counting down the minutes during a workout is often the only way to pass the time. For the lazy non-fitness person, workouts are measured in minutes, not pounds lifted or miles run. Run five miles? That would take like an hour, once I see that thirty minute timer expire, I’m out. In a hotel gym, the minutes seem to pass even slower. It’s as if they have installed some sort of time distortion field that makes each minute feel like two. Hotel gyms are a mixed bag. You can get anything from a retrofitted guest room with some random second-hand treadmills to a full on strength and cardiovascular training paradise.  This week’s hotel gym was the latter, including a pool, separated from the gym by a glass wall. All manner of cardio torture devices facing the pool to give you a clear view of (or lack of) the swimmers.

As I strode gazelle-like on my elliptical machine peering into the unused swimming pool, I noticed something scampering out from under a deck chair. This something happened to be a spider. No ordinary spider. This was a creature of National Geographic proportions. Something Man vs. Wild might cook on a stick in the Sahara before building a bed out of dried palm leaves and settling down for a good night’s sleep. Twenty minutes to go (in the workout that is).

The spider now scurried cautiously to the edge of the pool and with what I imagined must have been a small splash, jumped in. Over the next ten minutes, it proceeded to swim around the pool, I assumed in a panic attempting to find the exit. Ten minutes to go.

Suddenly all movement stopped. The chlorine must have finally gotten to him. I’d be lying if I said I felt bad. No one mourns the death of a spider. Well, unless you’re one of those spider scientists, then you might. But since I don’t know any spider scientists, I’ll stick with no one. It was a goner. “Dead, dead, dead. My honest observation” yelled the music in my ear. A fitting epiphany. Five minutes to go.

The last five minutes of a workout are always the longest. Sweet freedom is so close you can smell it but the clock, oh the clock. Taking its sweet time, tick, tick, tick. Two minutes to go. One more check of my arachnid curiosity. Was that? Did it? Yes, movement, swimming, all eight (spider have eight legs, right? I’m too lazy to Google it) legs working in unison propelling it directly to the side.  Then, as if with no effort at all, it simply climbed out of the water and stood on the pool deck as if daring someone to enter and swim. Thirty seconds to go, then twenty, then ten, and freedom!

Exiting the gym peering though the glass, I thought to get a close-up snapshot. It was the image of myself caught in a giant web feebly moaning “Help meeeee…” that kept me moving. The pool is all yours my friend, enjoy it.

Travelpalloza

What I thought was an average Monday night leaving Chicago turned out to be the last day of Lollapalooza. A little travel trip: do not go to the airport on the last day of Lollapalooza. A sea of vintage t-shirts and poor tattoo choices clog the line to the Southwest check-in. Confused twenty-somethings unable to follow basic instructions. No, group C does not line up when the sign says “A”. No you can’t get on first just because you have a baby stroller. While we’re at it, why is your tattoo of a zombie giving everyone the middle finger? Are zombies inherently angry? Isn’t eating brains enough, do they have to also make obscene gestures? How hip and counter-culture, flying Southwest to Lollapalooza. In my day, we would have driven. Get off my lawn!

Definitions

Overheard conversation between two nine-year-olds:

“I saw a guy with a goatee!”

“What’s a goatee?”

“It’s a tiny little beard on your chin.”

“Oh.”

If you have a goatee, don’t feel bad. It’s not the size, it’s how you wear it. You might also be interested in the goatee saver.

Feet Soup

I can’t imagine waking up on a day where the temperature was approaching the 90’s and deciding that a foot-bath would be a relaxing treat. Yet, there she sits, tiny digits happily soaking in hot water, heat and bubbles turned to maximum, with one happy cat licking up the excess moisture. I think I’ll politely decline any offers to partake.

Getting Old(er)

I wonder what 1998 me would have thought of the newly remodeled Fireside Bowl hosting music once again.  It’s one of those places I have fond memories of and to be clear, I never considered it a bowling alley. 2010 me, who now prefers comfort to looks when choosing footwear, would probably welcome doors on the bathrooms. I’ll miss the old venue although I’m not sure my current concert going companions would have approved of it. At least I’ll always have the memories.

Cheese Theory

File this one under “kids say the weirdest things.” In the never ending drive for improvement, a piece of baby Swiss cheese was recently evaluated at the dinner table. After examining the slice with a particularly thoughtful gaze an observation was made. “Baby Swiss is much better than regular Swiss but, do you know what’s even better?” After replying in the negative, I got my answer. “Premature baby Swiss.” Now understand, I have no one to blame for this but myself. You see I once made an offhanded statement that it was only called baby Swiss because the factory employs scores of infants responsible for making the holes with their chubby little digits. I suppose this was the logical progression.

Sprung a Leak

My hotel bathroom leaks. Not the drip, drip, drip kind of leak. The “why are my socks wet?” kind of leak. I should have asked for a new room but this is my last night and I brought extra socks. In hindsight, I should have known. The potholes surrounded by cones in the parking lot were a clue. The buffet waitress who upon discovering the scrambled eggs were running low simply screamed “we need more huevos por favor!” was another. The workout room at the end of a long dark hallway, bench press cord snapped and curled like a pig’s tail was yet another. Unfortunately once I put all the clues together, it was too late. I’m not going to name the hotel but I will say that it rhymes with chest best fern. In the long litany of hotel horrors I have experienced this isn’t the worst. Rooms without windows, lizard (and ladybug) infestations, and hidden porn caches are just a few of the indignities I’ve suffered at the hands of the hospitality industry. A leaky bathroom just doesn’t seem that bad in the grand scheme of things. I wish I had brought a pair of flip-flops but I’ll survive. I’d go on but I have to change the towels on the bathroom floor.

Pets and Babies

Poo. Yes, you read that right, poo. It’s the one thing pets and babies share in common. If you’re going to have either, sooner or later it will be part of your reality. Babies seem have the upper hand in that they tend to grow out of it. They reach a point in their development where it is no longer a necessity for others to participate (if you get my meaning). Oh sure in later years they may opine about it. Use the word as a conversation starter. But as a parent, your physical involvement with the real thing ends. Pets on the other hand, seem to be stuck in some sort of developmental stasis. Simply unable or unwilling to just take care of business themselves. Cats, dogs, lizards, rodents, even fish (you have to change the water, don’t you?) insist on dragging you into their world. Today, as Emma and I chased a cat with what I will simply call a “poo foot” around the house, I questioned why anyone would want to possess such an animal. I was fine with this scenario on the baby front but on the pet front, not so much. I seem to recall voicing my strong aversion to ever dealing with such matters (for pets not babies) and being summarily dismissed by two guaranteed caregivers under my very roof. I can’t help but feel like I was lied to just a little bit. Although, I have to admit, the freshly bathed (that’s right, he got a bath), purring, napping beast resting on my lap as I type this does hold a certain charm. If we could only train him to use the toilet (and wash his paws)…

Lessons from the Bus Stop

When I was but a wee tot making my way through the mean streets of the city, the only bus stop I knew involved tokens (do they still have those?) and a string you pulled to make sure the driver didn’t pass by your destination. Making too much noise might just get you stop skipped out of pure spite. The most exciting thing you could hope for was the arrival of one of those extra long buses with the accordion part in the middle. The most sought after seat was always the accordion seat.  Today’s modern suburban school bus stops are a whole different world. First of all, a simple backpack on the ground is all it take to assure you place in line. What I can’t figure out is why having a place in line matters. There seems to be more than enough seats for everyone and, there’s no accordion seat as far as I can tell. No matter, because you’ll be too busy playing basketball, football, scootering, and generally messing up the neighbor’s lawns by any means imaginable to even notice when the bus pulls up. Luckily a chorus of Moms will ring out “THE BUS!” Mom’s at the bus stop seem to come in two flavors: I’ve given up and I’m wearing sweats or I’m incredibly overdressed and not really going anywhere after the children leave (Mom’s who work outside the house are in short supply at our stop). Dads, on the other hand, always seem to fall into the former flavor. The sights you’ll see at the bus stop. It’s not uncommon to see a King-Kong missing a leg and an arm (presumably from a fight with a T-Rex), any number of dogs running wild, small siblings attempting to stow away on the bus, bicycles, scooters, skateboards, swords, pirates, hot dog vendors, and even the occasional random neighbor who has no school-aged children but still hangs around at the bus stop (Is that creepy? I can’t decide). It’s quite a menagerie to behold, quite a difference from the orderly line of well mannered young people we must have been. Oh, and if you happen to fall in the mud while waiting, no worries, you can go home, change and get a ride to school from a surly parent. In my day we would have just gone to school muddy; but then again, if we ran out of tokens, we had to go home and get a ride from a surly parent.

Acer Fails at Customer Support

If I upgraded all the computers in the house, only one is guaranteed to cause problems: my wife’s. Sorry honey, it’s true. Computer after computer you’ve proven yourself to be the technological problem child (through no fault of your own, life is dangerous on the cutting edge). But hey, I’m only the first level of support, we can always escalate. So, after exhausting my Google and Bing searching skills, I threw in the towel and contacted Acer:

“I recently upgraded to the final release version of Windows 7 Ultimate 64-bit and I'm experiencing problems with external USB drives. They seem to work initially but on long file transfers, I experience delayed write failure errors and see Event ID 51 in the event log. I've tried the latest BIOS and drivers from both Acer and NVidia (NForce Drivers) but nothing seems to help. I did not have this issue under Vista. I was wondering if this is a known issue and if so is there an available or planned fix?”

Here’s the stellar response I received:

“Please do the steps given below to drain the power.
Turn off computer and unplug power cord.
Disconnect everything except monitor, mouse and keyboard.
Press power button and hold for 10 to 15 seconds.
Plug power cord back into computer and press power button.
Check front panel LEDs (lights) on bezel (front face) or optical drives and listen for power supply fan.
If LEDs are on or power supply fan starts spinning, watch for boot screen on monitor.
If computer begins to start, turn it off.
Reconnect any external devices.
Press the power button and make sure the computer starts.

1>Could you please check the status of device manager?
Start->Run->devmgmt.msc->OK.
2>Do you see any splats, question marks, or red X in the device manager?
3>Since when are you facing this issue?
4>Was the system accidentally dropped or did someone drop it?
5>Has your computer experienced any power surge?
6>Have you recently changed anything?
7>Have you installed more memory, a new hard drive, downloaded or installed new software etc?
Please note that Acer does not support changing an Operating System.  Changing the Operating System may cause driver conflicts.  You have the option of upgrading or changing your Operating System at your own discretion.  However, it is preferred that you keep to the original configuration of your system so that all the programs and applications in your computer will recognize all the hardware installed in it.”

First of all, the Comcast people try that “drain the power” thing every time I call. It’s a trick. I think they get a bonus every time someone reboots a cable box. Don’t fall for it. Did I drop it? It’s a desktop system. I’m not in the habit of carrying it around the house. Have I recently changed anything? I’m pretty sure I mentioned that I upgraded from Vista to Windows 7. Finally, notice the bit about them not supporting changing an operating system? Does that mean no upgrades (which is what this was)? What about service packs, are those supported?

If the only goal was to close the support incident out as quickly as possible, then mission accomplished. Next time I’ll just by a Dell.

Five Guys

Imagine my excitement when we passed a sign reading "Coming Soon - Five Guys". I immediately went home and ordered bigger pants.

Peas Help Us

Just a tip for all you amateur farmers out there: it’s better to harvest peas too early rather than too late. So yes, the one vegetable we had a chance of getting our child to eat turned out to taste like little balls of wadded up cardboard. No amount of butter in the world can help. We’ve done nothing to change her opinion that the only good peas come in a can (just like peaches).

Disappointments

Sometimes, in life, reality doesn’t live up to expectations. Case in point: convertibles. Oh sure, it seems like it’s going to all driving around talking to girls on your Mr. Microphone and looking cool but sadly, no, it’s nothing like that. Strange people at crosswalks yell unintelligible things at you. The little light that warns you that the top is neither all the way up nor all the way down won’t stop blinking. There’s no room in the trunk for a suitcase and in fact, there’s a giant sticker in the trunk with a picture of a suitcase with that red circle and line going through it. It’s as if the sticker is saying that if you were dumb enough to get a convertible for your rental car, you don’t deserve to travel with a suitcase. Wear what you have on. OK, let’s not give up all hope. So the convertible thing didn’t work out, there about bound to be some things that live up to expectations. Pet ownership? Maybe not. Log rolling? No (and I speak from experience). Speed reading? Evelyn Wood disappoints. Windsurfing? That’s it, windsurfing will definitely be as cool as it looks. As I head back to Avis with the top somewhere between up and down wondering what that guy just yelled at me, I’ll be smiling because I know how cool windsurfing is going to be.

Socially Awkward

Do me a favor, if you see me standing in line for a breakfast sandwich, don’t stop and ask “How do you keep your head so clean?” I guarantee my answer of “soap” won’t satisfy. Also, don’t follow up that delightful exchange with “Can you believe the price of razors?” Yes, yes I can.

No U-Verse for You!

Near the entrance to our subdivision is an unassuming green box. I never really paid it very much attention until yesterday. It turns out, that box is the arbiter of the fiber optic. Unfortunately, we live too far from that box (4,400 feet to be exact) which puts us into the digital slums of the subdivision. Cursed to forever suffer under the yoke of Comcast. Some day the bits will be free, but not today.

New Article on DevX

My latest article ”Reliable Sessions Made Simple with WCF” is now available on DevX. If you’ve got nothing better to do (or find the subject matter strangely compelling) check it out.

Emma/Shadow 2021

Upon discovering that we have not yet had a female president, Emma declared that she would be the first. She’s also chosen a running mate… the cat. When pressed on her platform she responded, “Well, we’re gonna kiss a lot of babies. It shows people that we care.” The cat’s hot-button issue will surely revolve around napping. I’m pretty sure she’ll tap her cousin for Chief of Staff provided she passes the confirmation hearings. I don’t think the irregular accounting will be an issue. So, as the 2021 campaign season begins, you and your baby might want to be on the lookout for a kissing eight-year-old and a sleeping cat.

I Want to Live!

I have stared death in the face and laughed. Laughed! That’s right, yesterday I unwittingly consumed a recalled Larabar Peanut Butter Bar.  It was a tasty 200 calories of death. I seem, dear readers, to have survived but just in case there are any lingering effects, I feel I should warn you that this may be my final post. I was in possession of four more bars but, someone with more sense than I insisted we dispose of them. Thinking back, I realized that if I had survived the first one, the other four were probably a pretty safe bet.

Hallucinations

This explains a lot. Now if I can just get that purple gorilla to move so I can get some more coffee (as the voices have instructed me)…

A Suspect Emerges

The person across the aisle from me just finished a job interview over the phone. This is relevant but, as an aside, how little do you have to care about your current job to be taking interviews on your business line in your cubicle? It's not like we sit in offices with, you know, doors and stuff. Anyway, it's clear that he's feeling the heat of the ongoing garbage can investigation and is trying to get out before the jig is up! I'll be watching him closely...

Grand Theft Office

Never leave your cubicle unguarded. Case in point, upon my return from vacation, I discovered that my garbage can was gone. What kind of monster would steal a garbage can? Aside from Oscar the Grouch, I can't even imagine what such a person might be like. Now I'm forced to actually get up and walk to the next cubicle every time I need to throw something away. It's inhabitant is getting rather annoyed but, little does he know, he's a prime suspect. Maybe I'll nab his when he's away at lunch. What's next? My coffee cup? My Ethernet cable? I'd be concerned for my stapler unfortunately, I don't have one, yet...

Cubicle Hero

With the holidays safely behind me and the buzz officially worn off, here I sit with my pants just a little tighter and my wrists just a little more sore. The long grind to spring begins. The memories of ham and turkey and cookies and cake will linger alongside the extended Guitar Hero sessions. What better way to ring in the new year than by clicking your way through Crazy Train with a stringless plastic guitar?  Well, I suppose clicking your way through Crazy Train while surrounded by fellow stringless plastic guitar enthusiasts. Luckily, I seem to know a few. Maybe someday we'll meet a fake plastic drum player to round out our ensemble. It is with a newfound rhythm that I look forward to the long winter ahead for I will become a master of beginner level fake guitar playing. Three chords buttons of fury unleashed. Someday I may move up to medium but I doubt it.

Personal Hygiene

You sometimes see people doing interesting things on the train. Getting up early and rushing to be at the stop on time often forces people to perform portions of their morning routine en route. Eating breakfast, applying makeup, even getting that last hour of sleep are all appropriate activities for a train rider. This morning, I saw something that broke all barriers. Flossing. Yes, with teeth and actual floss and stuff. I can forgive the occasional nail clipper provided they contain the projectiles. Even the nail filer forcing everyone to breathe in their nail dust is OK. But flossing? Forgetting for a second the logistics of rinsing, I think this may be one step too far. I know what the mirror can sometimes look like after I floss. Happily I was behind and not in front of the offending flosser. Why not just show up to the train station in your pajamas and wash up in the restroom car? What's next. Clipping toenails? Plucking eyebrows? Shaving? Just get up 10 minutes earlier and floss at home.

Nametags

Over the years I've assembled quite a collection of nametags. With each new client I'm forced to pose in front of a large piece of poster board and fake a smile. It's usually red or blue because, depending on the client, one background color or another indicates that you are a consultant. Easy identification of the second class citizens. Most of the time, when the project is finished, I get to keep the nametag. Some clients force me to return them which always disappoints me since it leaves a gap in my collection. It's a history of Steve's glasses in small grainy photos printed on plastic cards. Big glasses, little glasses, thick plastic frames, thin metal frames. I've got a nametag for every occasion. At my current client, the ID card people accidentally added an 'i' to the end of my last name. So, the 'vich' became 'vichi'. Instantly transformed from an Eastern European to a Mediterranean by that little 'i'.  Now when I go to meetings and people see my nametag, they pronounce my last name with that sort of Italian flair where you stress the last syllable and your voice gets higher as you approach the end of the word. It gives me sort of a sophisticated air. I feel like I should grow a mustache or maybe get a Vespa. I hope they let me keep this nametag when the project is over. It has a really nice pair of glasses in the picture.

Write Faster

My throngs of readers (both of them) have been asking me why I haven't been posting very often. The short answer is that someone else has been paying me to write stuff, so you freeloaders are just going to have to be patient. The serious answer is that someone read something else I wrote and offered to let me write some articles for their site. In case you need some good bedtime reading (guaranteed to cure insomnia) I've listed some of my articles. Oh, and let me take this opportunity to thank my lovely and vivacious editor, the master of active voice, my wife, Sue. Without you I'd still be some hack writing a blog that nobody reads. On to the articles:

Virtualize Your SOA with the Managed Services Engine

A Spoonful of Governance for SOA

Transactions Made Simple with Windows Communication Foundation

SharePoint Site Taxonomy

Also, thanks to everyone who does take the time to read my self indulgent ramblings here and offer encouragement. I am thankful.