Dave's Good Stuff

Jami saw my PuTTY screen a couple of weeks ago while I was preparing a major home server upgrade. Upon noticing the frantic scrolling green text of a compile in progress (I have my term colors set to mimic the old Apple //e I grew up with), she belted out “What’s that?! What are you doing?! Is that some sort of crazy ‘Logo Rhythm’ thing?!”

She’s prone to sudden and unexpected outbursts. It’s her way.

One such outburst involved the History Channel. While on the couch together I was watching the History Channel (and it wasn’t about Hitler!) while she and a friend of ours who was sitting on the other couch, were talking about flowers, or butterflies, or ribbons, or some such thing. Upon noticing what I was watching, Jami immediately belted out “Boring!! What is that?!”

I couldn’t help but start laughing. As did our friend. As did, or course, Jami. The passion with which she evoked the single word “Boring!” was admirable. Thus, it immediately joined ranks with the many inside jokes we’ve developed over the last two(ish) years. I did not, however, change the channel.

This time, having asked with equal passion (and a touch of fear) about those crazy “Logo Rhythm” things, I knew immediately what she was talking about. She was talking about “Logo“, that old teaching tool for up and coming programmers where you push the little turtle this way and that. I’m not sure what that says about me that I knew immediately what she was talking about, other than perhaps that I’m critically geek. It’s my way.

New inside joke: Check.

Her childlike enthusiasm and high intensity are just two of the many things I adore about my wife. Put the two together and you have a definite distinct incomparable third.

Lest you think I make fun too much, ask her sometime about “squeeze more bees.” I’m certainly not above my own butchered colloquialisms… Then there’s my penchant for self injury… In short, I’m a bit of a mess.

Now, if you’re reading this, then the server upgrade is complete and all is back in order. I’m finally current, having not upgraded my poor server in over six years.

The two major upgrades were FreeBSD 5.x to 8.x including all the userland components, and Apache 1.3.x to Apache 2.x (yes, I finally made the move). Additionally, I reconfigured the hardware to take advantage of the Gigabyte GA-7DXR onboard RAID1 capability. Yeah, it’s an old motherboard, and I’m just mirroring, but it still works and I don’t need blazing performance. I just need some assurance against drive failure.

Last night, I checked the mail and had three Netflix movies waiting for me! Excellent! Except for one small thing… I don’t have a Netflix account.

Huh. Immediately suspicious, I decided to dig in and see what I could find out. My first step, having opened the movies to see what they were (nothing worth watching, and no… no pr0n), I sat down at the laptop and brought up netflix.com. I’m not a member… well… I’m not a knowing member, so I had no idea what my username would be, much less my password. Normally, you can have instructions sent to the e’mail address on file, but I was confident that in my case, my own e’mail address wouldn’t be on file. However, they have a method of logging in if you don’t remember, or have access to the e’mail address you signed up with. It asks for the first name, last name and card number used to sign up with. Using my real first and last name, I started going through my credit cards to see which one had fallen into the wrong hands. I didn’t have far to go… I got a hit on the first try.

I started digging into the account, and while the name and address were mine, the phone number and e’mail address were not. I called the number, on the off chance that I’d find the person responsible, but instead reached a nice couple who (if they can be trusted) don’t have a Netflix account either. We talked for a while, and they’ll be monitoring their credit closely. I then called the credit card company and had the card canceled and a new one reissued. Finally, I called Netflix themselves and appraised them of the situation. They canceled the account and forwarded it to their fraud department, telling me someone would contact me in the next 1 to 3 days. Some scissors to the card and I’m all done.

I can’t help but wonder what kind of completely incompetent idiot steals credit card information to purchase goods online, only to have the goods sent to the rightful owner of the card! The mind, it boggles. It really worked out for me, b/c the proof of fraud was hand delivered to my mailbox, so I’m not complaining… but it begs a few questions… How did they get the card information? When did they get it? Could it be a diversion? Were they drawing my attention away from the real fraud? Or were they truly, just that stupid? There were no charges to any of my cards that I can’t account for, so if they’d planned other acts of theft, they hadn’t gotten to them yet. Still, I’ll be watching very closely.

This morning, I returned the movies I’d been sent in their very handy self addressed no-postage-necessary envelopes. Though it wasn’t necessarily the ideal of first experiences, my experience with Netflix was actually very very good. I might even consider signing up for an account.

In a final bit of humor, I did some searches for quotes about incompetence for the title, and one of the sites had a pop up ad for… you guessed it… Netflix!

In the break room this morning I was chatting with a co worker. She mentioned that they were predicting snow this week. I’m not in the old habit of checking the forecast yet, so it was a surprise to me.

“No. Snow you say?”
“Yes. Snow, even as I say it.”
“And so you do. Fah. I hope it’s not too bad.”
“Tell me, may I ask you a question?”
“Certainly. You may ask anything, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer.”
“But of course. This then, is my question.”
“I anxiously await your question. Please note how I stand ready.”
“Here it is then: Will you be riding your bike in the snow?”
“Certainly! But only if it snows lightly. I don’t like too many inches, after all.”

I’ll leave it up to the reader to find the humor in that. If you found it, you and I think alike. If not… then I must admit to part of me being rather proud of you.

And a question of my own, posed to you: Can you guess the name of the author I’m reading right now?

Overheard two nights ago at Shooters in Olathe: “McDonald’s fries give Burger King fries the 6.“

I’m on a conference call with my headphones on. It’s the kind of one-ear headphone set with a microphone that curves around in front of the mouth.

I have a bag of peanuts.

I have a handful of peanuts.

I swing hand with peanuts up towards face to place peanuts in mouth.

Peanuts hit microphone.

I have a lap full of peanuts.

The Dew Drop is about a week away, and I’m chomping at the bit. I’ve hardly ridden at all this month. Looking back, it’s been almost as slow as February, and I was sick and out of town for much of that month.

And perhaps most distressing is that somewhere in there, I missed Fall. When I tore down the Fire Mountain (pics), it was warm. I was wearing shorts. When I pick up the Dew Drop, it’ll be cold, and I’ll be wearing long layers. That’s really only a shame for my fan club here at work that likes to watch me ride off… they’ll have to wait until Spring for the Good Stuff again. Back to the point at hand, what happened to it? Where’d Fall go? Granted, I’ve been a little bit preoccupied with personal stuffs around here, but still… I thought I’d notice when Fall stepped aside for Winter. One day it was nice, the next it was freezing at night, and barely hitting 60 at the height of the day. And here I was, completely oblivious. I mentioned to a friend, aghast, that it had hit 27°F the night before. She looked at me, clearly bored, and told me it’d done so for the last several nights.

I missed the first freeze of the year! I just wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t have to. That makes me sad.

I can’t wait for the Dew Drop to get here so I can start paying attention again. After all, I really can’t until it arrives, can I? I mean, what would be the point?

And now another thought occurs to me… I wonder how the Dew Drop’s smoother tires will handle the harsher weather that those of us around here know that Kansas can deliver? Should I invest in another set of wheels on which to put knobbies for the harsher days? Or should I just buy new tires and swap them out? New wheels would cost some cash, what with the wheels, and the tires, and the freewheels, and the mech brakes, but would it be worth it? Tell you what. I’ll figure out the cost and post another one of them survey things. I’ll let you decide what I should do.

Speaking of surveys, the last one got quite the response (considering the back woods corner of the web I occupy here), with an overwhelmingly positive slant towards “Yes, he can, so long as he has either George Clooney or Marky Mark’s help, or that he enlist Jack Knoff and Drew Peacock as wing men.” It was an interesting survey. I’d post a fancy chart, but it would be one big block of color. Boring.

Ok. Ok… here you go…

I think the answers are too long for Google to handle them well, so those miniscule, too small to read words say: “Yes, of course he can!” and “Needs George Clooney’s Help. (Marky Mark is optional).”

So, there you have it.

Random Musings…

I can’t help but appreciate this.

And I’m not the only one that found this one particularly moving. I misted up a little myself…

It’s been well documented that whenever two or more commuters meet on the road, it is necessary that they race. It’s unspoken, and rarely even acknowledged, but accepted without question.

I hear that runners have the same rules.

This morning was supposed to be a relaxing ride in. It was supposed to see me arrive at work relatively low on the sweat meter. In case you’re not paying attention, it didn’t end up that way.

Russ and I hit the intersection of 91st and Lamar at the same time. I was heading east and turning right, while he was heading west and turning left. He hails from Brookside, and I from Shawnee. Honestly, this morning I was that guy that doesn’t stop to chat. I was that guy who just rides on with only a nod, anti-social and distant even though you’re going the same direction. I was feeling solitary and withdrawn due to some general life stresses that have been getting the best of me. I turned right and rode on, pulling a pretty good pace down the hill from 91st to 95th. He apparently kept up pretty well, because the light at 95th stopped us both. We introduced ourselves and struck up a conversation (I wasn’t feeling *that* rude). He works for the advertising company that serves my company. Go figure! Small world, isn’t it?

And that’s when the race began. What started as an easy 17-18mph downhill turned into a 23-26mph minor hammerfest. He was pushing as hard as I was, judging by his breathing. He stayed a bit ahead the whole time. I was still resisting the urge to hammer it fully, but I kept up with him all the same. Interestingly enough, when we got to the incline between Indian Creek Dr and the 435 overpass, I dropped him. My climbing has improved quite a bit over the last few months, which I hope will help ease my passage over the passes in Colorado.

He went his way east towards work at the roundabout, and we bid our farewells. It’s possible we’ll see each other again, but it’s hard to beat the sort of timing we had this morning.

This morning, our hero finds himself racing against manicured lawns everywhere. Turning east on 91st, he notices what appears to be a street cleaner in the distance. He up shifts and increases his tempo just a bit to try and catch up. Unfortunately, stop signs and passing traffic keep him at a distance. He makes quick work of the 69 Highway overpass, and enters the rolling hills of Elmhurst. More stop signs and traffic continue to keep him at bay, but he finally catches his quarry at 91st and Grant. Unfortunately, there are still two cars between himself and what turned out to be an industrial size riding lawnmower.

One car, impatient with the slow and steady pace of the mower, guns it and passes, leaving just one car in between our hero and certain victory! The last obstacle guns her engine as well, but seeing oncoming traffic, stays put, forcing our spry pedalist to do the same. At about that time, a car comes up from behind and tries to squeeze him to the curb, but he puts a hand out and holds firm. The driver backs off, perhaps knowing what is at stake.

At the stoplight at Antioch, the mower turns right, and the driver ahead turns left. A few cars come through going south on Antioch. Delay is unavoidable. The cars clear, and a quick start puts the velomeistro back in play. That leaves nothing and no one between him and the grass eater. Victory is in sight! Ahead, the mower turns to a side street that immediately becomes a short but steep hill. Pulling almost 20mph, our hero closes in. Finally, at the crest of the hill, he shoots around the tenacious Toro with a wave, and is rewarded with one of the longest descents of the ride.

The driver of the dusted mulcher never saw what hit him.

Happy with his hard won victory, he relaxes a bit and enjoys the rest of the ride, secure that there is no mower on the streets that can best him and his Torelli.

Story.

This is special because I have not one, but two entire friends at Garmin, both of whom know me by both name and sight. Of course that means I’m all but on the team. I’ll be waiting for Millar’s call.

I’m sure the try-out ride is just perfunctory. See you in France!