Technology & MSG

I missed this video on Sunday night. Listen on your stereo, though I wish there were an HD version.

I really like the arrangement with the orchestra, particularly with the strings and piano.

Tags: hip hop, music, orchestra, piano, strings, superbowl, video, youtube

It’s just snowed. Maybe still snowing. You’re about to shovel your driveway. But where to put all of it?

Maybe you have room to shovel it to the side of the driveway. Super. Maybe you’re going to pile it into the bed of your truck. Great. Maybe you’re going to say “to hell with county ordinance” and shovel it onto the sidewalk. Works for me. Maybe you’re going to dump it on top of the bushes, which you suspect are dead already. Okay, though I feel for the bushes. Maybe it’ll be a combination of all three. But whatever you’re thinking, here’s the really important part…

Do not shovel it into the street.

Don’t even think about it, especially if there’s more than an inch on the ground. I know you’re thinking that the snow plow will just push it all away when it comes by, but that’s not how it ends up working.

Despite their magical presence and ability to clear large swaths of ice and snow from the pavement, snow plows don’t fare too well against large piles of snow in the middle of the road. Most drivers won’t even attempt it if they don’t think they’ll be able to clear at least part of the street. If you and your friends have created a maze of seven foot snow piles on opposing sides of the street, realize that you’re responsible for your street not being plowed. The driver isn’t going to attempt to navigate a slalom course. If there isn’t a straight shot, it isn’t going to happen; why do you think that most counties and HOAs recommend that cars park on one side of the road during winter months?

Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that your driveway is clear by noon, but now you’ve got nowhere to go. And neither do your neighbors up the street. Perhaps for days, until the removal contractors can get the Bobcat teams dispatched.

Next time (and every time), please refrain from shoveling the snow from your driveway into the street. A plow might be able to do something. Your neighbors will appreciate it.

Note: This public service announcement has been brought to you by choice neighbors who unknowingly screw over their fellow neighbors every snowfall with their idiocy.

Tags: plow, psa, shoveling, snow

The last big snow, we all bitched about how we couldn’t get out. In retrospect, that was nothing. We could have gotten out. This time around — with over three feet of snow in less than 24 hours — no one is going anywhere without a plow, although I just got a report about some neighbors that trekked to the store on foot and found it open.

Mind you, this is Maryland. Not New York.

I spent about two hours shoveling out the driveway this morning. There was a solid 24-28″ all around, with drifts up to my waist. Once I reached the street, I stopped. While we saw a plow trying to clear our feeder, it hasn’t been up my street since 7:30 last night. There was no point in clearing more until the road is clear. Looking back at the driveway it was definitely a case of diminishing returns, since it continues to snow. Despite all appearances, my efforts weren’t in vain; shoveling a foot or two tomorrow will be much easier than shoveling four or five, though I’m wondering if I should be clearing off my deck as the neighbors seem to have been doing.

As has become my little tradition when it snows I’ve been cranking the tunes (The Postal Service and MGMT, today), watching movies (Almost Famous), sipping hot chocolate, documenting the winter wonderland that is my landlockedness, and watching my neighbors make their attempts towards freedom.

In other important news, I saw a freaking DeLorean parked at one of the local service stations. How slick is that?

Gloves dry, it’s time to head out again. Nothing else to do, really.

Tags: movies, music, snow

After all the hype and the panic and the long lines of cars entering and exiting Walmart, it took almost four hours of snowfall before it started sticking to the street. It still isn’t sticking to the sidewalk, but it’s finally here.

We’ve got an eighth cup of milk left in the jug, but we’re stocked up on all the other essentials.

Bring it.

Tags: milk, necessities, snow

Took a quick stab at my taxes for the year. It appears that despite a decline in side work — that usually balances out some of my taxes paid — I’ll be getting a larger refund than I expected. As much as I’d prefer to have my money working for me throughout the year, I’d rather get a little more back than I expected and not have underpaid by a lot; paying penalties is not something I like to do. It’s a crap shoot every year.

After an hour worth of Q&A and shuffling through all the various statements I’ve received in the last two weeks, I got an “out of memory” error. I checked the system; plenty of memory to spare. And then a “could not save” error.

Brief panic.

All that banter about “do you want to auto-save?” and apparently auto-save wasn’t working the whole time. It isn’t the end of the world, just a brilliant moment for the software people.

If nothing else, I’ve got a ballpark idea of what to expect money-wise and a hefty list of data points to retrieve before trying it again. I’m going to need a detailed breakout of work-related, commuting, and personal mileage for a few vehicles. The sales receipts from the new car and the storm doors. All of my medical receipts, too. And then, I’m printing everything out to be on the safe side memory-wise.

Maybe once all that snow arrives and I’m stuck indoors for a day or two, I’ll give it another try. Hopefully the memory Gods will be more amenable.

Tags: autosave, errors, memory, receipts, taxes

General anesthesia is total unconsciousness.

I’ve had a couple minor and one major surgery done over the past fifteen years, the last of which evoked some questions from family and friends. A handful of procedures doesn’t make me an expert by any means, but I decided to document it best as I can remember. So here goes, what does it feel like being put under?

No sensation. No memories. No visuals. No pain. Nothing. Completely dark. Your autonomous systems are functioning, however.

In simple terms, general anesthesia feels like dreamless sleep.

One notable difference is that you don’t retain any concept of time. If you go to sleep at night, you’ll wake up in the morning and know that time has passed. Many nights, I can tell the difference between a full night’s rest and just a couple hours. Even when you wake up from the disorienting naps that you weren’t planning on, where you don’t have any idea what day it is (even though it’s only been an hour or two), you still know that time has passed. With general anesthesia, not so. Whether you’re out for an hour or for ten, it’s like the time never happened. Similar to how time travel was explained in Back to the Future, as far as you’re concerned the trip is instantaneous.

The brain is a complex device. The freaky part is that the mechanism of pain, sensation, and anesthesia isn’t well understood (meaning, there are a couple theories). That being said, anesthesiologists are like magicians and worth every penny. They start you on an IV drip and you’re out. They remove it and you come back to life. Throughout the procedure they monitor your vitals and keep that anesthetic agent flowing through your veins so that you don’t wake up.

From my perspective, the procedures were straightforward. I was admitted to a private room. After changing into a hospital gown, a nurse found a vein in my hand and started a peripheral IV. It was painful, but not as bad as I would have thought considering the size of the thing. She hung a bag of saline on the IV tree and departed. The IV lines have a few ports available so that additional medication can be injected into the the bloodstream without having to get pricked a second time.

A nurse returned to help roll the whole bed down to the OR, the wheels pivoting in every direction and moving without a sound or a jitter; I was amazed at how smooth the ride was. Someone was there to explain what was going to happen, I guess trying to keep me calm and informed; I think it was the anesthesiologist, since I remember some drug being injected into the line and being told that my extremities would start to feel a little tingly. After some quick “good luck” and “you’re going to do great” assurances from my parents, I remember being rolled away from them and into a very bright and sterile looking room.

Laying down, the first thing I noticed was the light. It’s bright and clear like no other. It screams “medical” without saying a word. The room was much bigger than I thought it would be, with much higher ceilings. As I was transferred to an operating table, I noticed there were a half-dozen people scurrying around the room making preparations. And then they’re all done, looking at you with reassuring eyes. And there you are, ready to go. The anesthesiologist returned, receiving some visual cue from the surgeons. She told me that I’d feel a chill in my arm when she injected the anesthetic, and there it was. Cold. She told me to count down from ten.

Ten.

Nine.

Darkness. Something was wrong. Had to be, that was far too quick. Wasn’t it? I can’t be dead. This can’t be heaven. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I became aware. My head hurt, thus relieving my fear that I had died. I was certain that dead people do not have headaches. I was in the hospital, alone.

I felt really groggy. Not capable of complete thoughts. I spent some time orienting myself and checking things out. My mouth was parched. The air. Something about the air. It was cold. And dry. I couldn’t move all that easily, but I could feel that I was laying in bed, back elevated about 45°. I managed a few self checks: toes, fingers and genitalia, all accounted for. Good. My left hand still had the IV line, so I reached up with my right and discovered an oxygen mask and the cause of the dry air. There were some other tubes coming and going, but I won’t get into those; suffice to say during a six hour procedure there are other autonomous functions that have to be taken care of.

I couldn’t talk. As has always happened when I get put out for a procedure, I get frustrated when I can’t communicate. So I sign. And as always, my mind never puts it together that neither my parents or doctors or nurses can’t understand me then either. Like I said, groggy and not all together.

The road to recovery begins when you wake up. And you’re woken up a lot, as I found out that first night in the ICU. For the first couple hours, I was in and out of a stupor. A nurse would be in to check my vitals every 15-30 minutes, waking me (though not on purpose) from sleep if I had drifted off; I had come through the procedure without complications, but it was still very taxing on my body. The nurse pointed out that if I was in pain, all I had to do was push the button on a little remote; a predetermined amount of extra morphine would be released into my IV. There was pain. And my head was killing me. I was in the hospital, being looked after. And when else would I get to see what morphine felt like? Would it be dazzling? So I pushed it. Instead of the pain vanishing, the headache got worse. Excruciatingly worse. Overwhelming the pain. Whether I’m allergic to opiates or perhaps the preservatives used, I didn’t push the button again. I was still groggy and couldn’t effectively communicate this to the nurses; they thought there was some malfunction with the button. Yes, there was pain from the surgery, but none that compared to that headache. I chose to go with the pain.

In the morning, my doctors came in to see how I was doing. They said everything had gone off without a hitch. The anesthesiologist said that there weren’t any complications. I came to when I was supposed to. The way she said it sounded like a compliment. Thanks?

I was weak for the first day or so, slipping in and out due to the morphine drip and due to exhaustion. That was fine. I learned that there’s a lot that goes on in hospitals, much of which you don’t want to deal with when you’re sick. It’s easier to sleep through most of it if you can. A couple days after the surgery I was released, getting rolled out in a wheelchair to the car. There would be a lot more recovery time involved, but I was happy to be alive and out of the hospital. No offense to any of the fine people who work in them, but for me a hospital is not a happy place.

There are definitely risks involved with general anesthesia, both perceived and actual. The risk that you won’t wake up. The risk of interactions. The notion of awareness is something I don’t even want to think about. But quite frankly, there are risks to all surgery and I’d rather not be aware of the pain and the process. Given the choice between general and twilight anesthesia, I wouldn’t hesitate. Turn out the lights. I’ll see you when I wake up.

Tags: anesthesia, hospital, medical, surgery, unconscious

Until recently, I knew very little about Haiti. I knew that a coworker did mission work down there, supporting an abysmally ad hoc network. I knew that it was an island. As far as I knew, Wyclef Jean was the most notable product from the country (in regard to his origins, not as a source of revenue). Other than that, I would have had to do some research to tell you anything about the country.

I have recently come upon the following tid bits, mostly financial.

• Haiti occupies about the same space as Massachusetts.
• The United States is the largest consumer of Haitian exports, to the tune of $360M in 2008. We’ve since pledged over $100M to Haiti to go towards relief efforts, not including any of the private and institutional donations. That’s substantial.
• Six months ago, “$1.2 billion in external debt owed by the impoverished island nation to bilateral and multilateral lenders including the IMF, World Bank, and US government [was] cancelled.” Poof. Like that.
• The annual revenue of my employer exceeds the entire economic output of Haiti. It’s strange to me that a commercial entity could be doing more business than a country, yet there are much larger companies out there.

I find these things interesting, independent on the state of things. But the more I think about it, the less I care.

It’s not that things aren’t horrible in Haiti. Natural disasters are always tragic. People are suffering and that’s never a good thing. But what can we do? Aside from providing short-term care and support services (which we’re doing, and rightly so), what can we do besides give money? We can ease the pain of a country’s people, but we shouldn’t think we can roll in and cure things with cash; I’m disillusioned that we’re doing that much good with all the donations. We can’t exactly prevent additional earthquakes. Even if every dollar donated went towards rebuilding, things would still be sub-par in Haiti. Even if we bought more of their exports or loosened up our borders to Haitian immigrants, we aren’t going to turn a poverty-stricken country around.

Maybe saying that I don’t care is a bit much; I’ve got enough things to worry about and don’t need to be adopting more. I wouldn’t say that people shouldn’t try to help if they feel they should. Haiti is the newest and flashiest story fit to print, and as horrible and things are down there, I think we’ve got bigger problems. Bigger problems that we are probably tired of hearing about, and as sick as it sounds, problems that we’d rather distract ourselves from even if it means something like this. Compared to various situations in places like Iran, China, and Pakistan, Haiti isn’t even on my radar. Situations that we might have a chance in hell of improving, given some proper attention.

Tags: china, disasters, donations, haiti, iran

I finally made it out to Coal Fire this week, a pizzeria where “charred to perfection” is their motto. Sure enough, they live up to it; their coal-fired oven produces a very thin crust with a crisp bottom and a charred top. It’s enjoyable but I didn’t notice any change in flavor. Should I have? What I did notice was that the crust lacked the baked flour particles on the bottom, yet it wasn’t greasy at all. Nifty.

Their menu is a mixture of pizza, salads, pasta, subs, wings, and a handful of appetizers. No desert on the menu, but Cold Stone Creamery is just across the parking lot.

Briefly, some non-pizza items. Just in case someone in your party doesn’t like pizza.

The Hand Cut Fries ($3.95) are thin and stringy with a nice texture, served up in wax paper atop a decorative metal thingy. They don’t taste frozen. I usually wouldn’t order potatoes as an appetizer to pizza, but there were a few baskets already ordered to be shared around the table. If you order the fries, eat ‘em up quickly; they’re excellent hot, good warm, but not so great cold.

The Grilled Caesar Salad ($7.95), where they stick the entire stalk of Romaine in the oven. Interesting concept and reportedly tasty, but the portion size looked a tad small for the price (plus another $4 for chicken, $5 for shrimp). The side salad that came with the Creole Pasta ($14.95) — which reportedly had a nice zesty bite to it — was larger.

But seriously, on to the pizza.

You pick your size, sauce, and toppings. If you’re hungry, a 12″ ($10.95) will feed one person. If you’re hungry, a 16″ will easily feed two for $3 more. They have three sauces: one traditional Italian with plum tomato taste, one spicy “that commands your complete attention,” and their signature mixture of the first two. Toppings are fairly scant, compared to most places. Bacon and chicken are notably absent, despite their presence in other dishes on the menu.

There are three suggested pizzas on the menu, each featuring a different sauce and combination of toppings. Each is made with fresh mozzarella, which is apparent in that has a more mellow taste and melts unevenly then the typical shredded refrigerated kind. You’ll end up with a blob or two worth of melted cheese per slice instead of a more uniform distribution.

We shared one of each of the suggested 16″ pies.

Margherita ($14.95) - Dough brushed with olive oil. Classic Sauce. Chopped basil. I found this to be rather bare. Despite not having much else on it to compete, the sauce didn’t strike me as being all that flavorful. The cheese melting as thin as it does, a pizza needs more than just basil.

Rustic Red - ($17.95) - A mixture of fresh roasted red peppers and red onions, with the signature sauce. This one was sweet and flavorful with lots of toppings. The roasted vegetables really brought out the flavors, while providing a juiciness that was lacking in the previous pie. There was a hint of a kick to the sauce, but nothing too spicy for kids or spice-averse folks. Definitely my favorite of the three.

Ring of Fire ($17.95) - The spicy sauce, with banana peppers and Italian sausage. Toppings were sparse. I think most of the spice came from the banana peppers than from the sauce, but it left me with a bit of fire on my tongue and a tiny bit of sweat on my brow. Spice note, noted.

It’s a nice looking place from the outside, all done up in brick. New, just outside a new community of upscale townhouses and McMansion homes. There’s a decently sized patio on the right-hand side of the storefront, which would make a nice place to have lunch once the weather cooperates.

Inside, it’s a mixture of tables, booths, and wall-mount bench seating. Modern aesthetic and very clean. Pop/alt rock music was playing the whole time, a mix of Coldplay, Oasis, Dave Matthews, and Maroon 5 was noted. Nothing too loud or obnoxious to drown out your conversation, but enough so that you don’t have to hear the folks in the next section. Service was friendly and prompt.

I liked Coal Fire, but probably wouldn’t make a special trip. If I were in the area, I might stop in for lunch. Or maybe to meet people for Happy hour; Monday through Friday from 3-6pm, half-priced 12″ pizzas at the bar area. Otherwise, you’re paying a premium for thin crust from the place’s namesake.

Tags: coal, pizza, restaurants

Inspired by a fellow blogger’s weekly Thursday post, here’s a few things that rock.

1. Pre-heating the bed with the electric blanket.
2. House, M.D.: Season 5, minus one episode in particular. Particularly Locked In, for camerawork and perspective (and a nice performance by Mos Def).
3. Amusing late-night emails that close out the day just right, with a smile on my face.
4. The feeling of radiating warmth after some laps in the pool, such that it feels good to stick your head back in the water.
5. The selection of Jell-O at my grocery store. There’s an entire section with dozens of different choices. And I don’t even like the stuff.

And a few that don’t.

1. Late Night Taco Doritos. It’s like they were tossed with some weak off-brand taco seasoning. Where’s the caked-on MSG-laden artificial flavoring?
2. The content of Simple Explanation, even though I know why it was written. Granted, the use of Pete Yorn’s Lose You couldn’t have been more fitting. Such a sad and beautiful song.
3. Receiving a bill from BGE topping $200, despite keeping the thermostat colder than previous years.

Friday is only 42 minutes away. That’s another thing that rocks.

Tags: bills, dvd, groceries, house, songs, swimming, tortilla chips, youtube

If snow — or worse, the mere threat of it — causes a cancellation of this weekend’s festivities, I’m going to be irked.

It’ll be the second time this season.

Eyes to the skies, please. And some crossed fingers.

Tags: parties, snow, weather

I like throwing parties.

When a few people get together with the notion of throwing a party, there’s a mysterious mix of nervousness and excitement that surround the upcoming event. When each of the planners invites a bunch of people — perhaps with some crossover and familiarity but for the most part within their own individual social groups — there’s a few different ways it will play out after the initial introductions are made.

Ideally, everyone will get along famously regardless of who invited them. Some of the guests might even get on like they’ve known each other for years, right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. This almost never happens.

Alternatively, it will be — and I quote a dear friend — “a real shit show” the likes of which could have been inspired by Animal House or PCU. At least one person will be passed out by midnight, having not paced themselves or getting into the Jello a tad late. One person will lose their pants and not be able to locate them. Between lewd jokes, lobbed obscenities and furniture, the arrival of the police, broken glassware (if not noses), and revelers falling down, it will be described for months after as the party of the century. Half the guests will swear off drinking for at least a week, by which point the carpet might finally have aired out. Parties like these almost never happen, unless you just happened to move in the week before and have yet to meet the neighbors.

More likely, it’ll be an odd child of the two. There will some immediate mingling and small talk between social groups early on, followed immediately by the groups ignoring each other. Later on, facilitated by trips to the bar for refills some of the alphas will begin branching out (usually in direct proportion to the number of consumed martinis). There will be laughter. There will be some drunken yelling, if only to compete for attention. Photos will be taken. There will be some drama, but in general an air of comfort and happiness will pervade. As the night progresses, a few more converts will break away at social barriers. In some cases, numbers or email addresses may be exchanged. Some folks will take their leave early, while others will head home in the wee morning hours, while the most entertaining will happily stay for breakfast.

These are the sorts of things that I — as a planner and a host of parties — really like seeing in action. While it may look like I’m just running around trying to make sure everyone has gotten enough food and drink, I’m also observing these interactions. I like seeing when the evening’s events enable two people to get together who normally wouldn’t have, even if only to exchange pleasantries. Steady relationships (and even marriages) have started this way, from silly little parties. So many of us are so stressed and uptight, it’s neat to see people get to unwind. Forgetting their external cares an worries, even if but for a few hours.

It’s been a while since I’m co-hosted a party. I’m looking forward to it, without having the slightest idea how it’s going to turn out. It’s going to be an interesting weekend, for sure.

Tags: parties

I’ve been rediscovering things all weekend.

After a recommendation of a New York pal, I was looking at a “nifty fifty” lens for my camera. He said (and I’m paraphrasing slightly) that it changed his world. After taking a few unlit shots with a friends D80 on Friday evening and seeing how bloody crisp and fast it was, I was sold on the idea. So shallow. When depth of field is concerned, I like shallow. I just couldn’t believe how much light the little sucker let in. Can’t wait to play around with it some more.

Cutting metal pipe with a chop saw is visually appealing. Hooray for sparks!

I borrowed the first season of The Muppet Show from a coworker. I remember watching the show as a child and after watching a handful of episodes it makes me sad that that it isn’t still on. It’s so great to see Statler & Waldorf heckle, episodes of Veterinarian’s Hospital where the characters are looking up wondering where the narration is coming from, seeing the Swedish chef do his thing in a larger-than-YouTube format, and watching all the cast interact with their human guest stars. Even the per-episode ballroom dancing scenes are funny, the one-liners coming fast and crazy.

The double dog with everything from Ann’s Dari-Creme is still amazing.

I’ve added a few things to my RSS reader. I’ve known Molly and Steven for a while (and mfisher even longer), but for whatever reason wasn’t following either of them. The same goes for a dozen or so people that have Twitter accounts. All subscribed now. Situation rectified.

After some side work on Friday night, I’m reminded that I need to do a better job of documenting things.

Tags: blogs, cameras, discovery, dvd, lens, metal, rss, television, tools

I use CrossOver Mac when I need to run Windows applications on my Mac. It isn’t that often, but I’m glad it’s an option. I picked up a free download code a few years ago, before I really had a use for it; I’m not one to pass up a $40 package for free. CrossOver Mac is essentially a productized version of Wine (with some decent management software), which came in handy last year when I went to do my taxes.

For a few years I’ve used TaxACT to do my federal taxes. It isn’t perfect, but it does what I need it to. Last year the software installed flawlessly using CrossOver despite being “unsupported” by CodeWeavers. Network. Printing. It just worked.

This year, it didn’t. Installing TaxACT 2009 was a breeze, but as soon as it went to load there were some frame buffer problems and the Q&A wouldn’t load. Individual forms were still visible, but that isn’t nearly as helpful. After a quick search, I found that others had reported similar issues.

The fix, as found in the same thread on the Wine forums recommends installing Internet Explorer 6 in conjunction with TaxACT 2009. I can confirm that this works, in either order; it doesn’t matter whether you install IE6 before or after TaxACT.

With CrossOver, you don’t need to fiddle with winetricks. It’s easier. Start CrossOver. Select the Configure option from the menu and choose Manage Bottles. Click on the Applications tab and select Install Software. Choose Internet Explorer 6.0 from the list and click Continue. Follow the installation instructions and go through with the handful of virtual reboots (it is IE6, after all).

After installing, just start TaxACT 2009 as you normally would. The Q&A will be visible. There won’t be any frame buffer or custom pop-up issues.

Tags: crossover, mac, taxact, taxes, wine

I can’t be the only person who has to cope with these sorts of scenarios, but here’s another one from the cube farm.

When you send me an email, I read it. If it prompts me to take action, I do. I will usually respond with an email of my own, summarizing said action and any pertinent results. That’s just how I roll. That ought to be the end of it, unless there are questions about the results.

There is no need to call me on the telephone to explain why you sent the original email. I read it. Really. This is especially true if you call after I have completed said action. I would not have taken any action if I had not have read and understood the original email, so it is clear — at least to me — that I read the email.

Some people do this on a regular basis. I just can’t figure it out.

Tags: email, quirks

It blows my mind that we can create little people. From nothing.

It’s such a unique concept. It’s so far out there it’s like something you’d hear about in science fiction story or in biology class. Always theoretical. So despite our commonality and my own origins, it feels strange that I know people who have done it.

And no, this is not my way of announcing anything.

Tags: babies, biology, people, procreation, replication