The day after.

Three-year old Regan meets her new baby brother. Too cute not to share. But I'll stop now, promise.

The beat goes on.

Marshall Addison Curtin, 7.4 lbs, arrived today in McCall, Idaho.

Bragging rights? Yeah, I can handle that.

As it turns out, I happen to know a couple of really smart kids.

This email from my daughter arrived this morning (she sent it to my ex-wife and her husband's parents as well, of course, but I'm going with the idea that the genetics line refers directly to me because that's the kind of guy I am):

Thought I'd give you a little grandparent bragging opportunity! :-)

Second Marking Period for the Middle School and the High School just came to an end yielding straight A's for Ryan & Jack! Jack (Middle School) pulled straight A's and A+'s with a good course load including the advanced Math class. Ryan (High School) pulled straight A+'s and a 4.70 GPA with a FULL honors course load. All this and they managed to finish out another fun basketball season!

I credit good genetics.....

The only negative note here, as I told her in a return email, is that this is going to play hell with Jack's plans to drop out and become a struggling musician.

Life just isn't fair.

Also, well done, guys. I'm proud of you.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

Today marks the second anniversary of the arrival of the inimitable Buddy on the scene, delivered to my house by a dog rescue group and changing my life in many ways, most of them pretty good. I go into the matter in more detail over here for them as is interested.I just wanted to acknowledge the date here as well.

I just have one thing I need to say.

Original is here.

The weird guy in the back of the room.

Way back when the world was a simpler place, over a quarter century past, I had my own up-close-and-personal with a disturbed individual similar to Tucson assassin Jared Lee Loughner. Not at the same level of danger, by any means, but still unsettling. The memories came flooding back as the terrible story unfolded last week, but I've held off until now out of respect for the wounded and slain.

I was in my second year in the Temple University English Department Master's Program. I'd decided late to go to grad school, so I paid my own way the first year but, since teaching was my goal, I talked my way into a class that was offered to Graduate Assistants (they got free tuition and taught a class each semester, for which they were paid) and was hired as a paid part-time instructor. I finished up all my classwork by year's end (you tend to work harder and faster when the money's coming out of your own pocket), teaching classes in Night School to earn my pay, and was planning to do my Master's Thesis during the summer.

Then, after I received a rave review from the department chairman for how, as part of the at program, I stepped in and conducted a sophomore literature class one morning, I was offered a graduate assistantship of my own for the next year. Hey, why not? I was already in the Delaware Air National Guard so my craft status wasn't an issue and it was another year on campus before facing the real world. I had no classes to treat seriously but could audit as many as four a semester (which I did, a couple in areas of English Lit where I felt inadequate and the others in history and philosophy). I also picked up a job as the instructor of Friday night literature class at the Philadelphia Museum College of Art (previous a "school" which had to add academic classes to achieve its new status) which I got to conceive entirely out of whole cloth.

My assigned class under the assistantship was a Freshman English first semester course, 20 or so students. I'd had some, um, unusual students in Night School, but this class was your average college class...except for this one guy who always sat in the very back of the room.

From the first day, he would stare at me with hard cold eyes and periodically make hand gestures in my direction which looked very much like karate chops. He never participated in the class and was non-responsive when called upon. Three weeks in, those karate chops turned into his making a pistol with his thumb and forefinger and pointing it in my direction. The week after that, he suddenly stood up in mid-class and, still pointing his "gun" at me, started walking to the front of the room. I said something like "Whoa!" and several students (football scholarship guys I later found out), stood up and blocked his way.

As soon as class was over, I went to the administrative offices and worked my way through the system until I got to the Psychological Services Dept., where they told me a lot more than I believe would be permissible these days. The guy was 31 years old, a combat veteran who seen action in Asia. He lived with his parents and had, someone offered helpfully, "never been on a date." He had been accepted into the university under an agreement that he would take prescribed medications on a daily basis. And, oh, yeah, he had not shown up for those meds since this new semester had begun.

I remember to this day standing up and thanking them for the information and then saying, "if I go to the next class and he is in the room, I'm done" and then leaving.

I never saw him again.

'Tis the season to be...

Sometimes cuteness triumphs over all.

I assiduously avoid putting pictures of my family online, especially the children, because I believe no good can come of it, but reason can be trumped by the heart every now and again...

This is my granddaughter Regan, who will be three years old this February, with her mom, Dr. Sarah. They are on a "snowshoe trek to the North Pole" in Ponderosa Park in Idaho. The kids followed clues and were led by "elves" (the red pants of their Elf in the photo belong to one such) and Regan has just spied Santa from afar and is pointing to him as a local news photographer snaps his shutter.

180.

That's the magical, mystical number that flashed between my ugly big toes when I stepped on the the bathroom scale this morning.

I am flummoxed by how the weight keeps dropping away. I mean, I'm not even really trying any more. I appear to have settled into a more sensible eating pattern and am not feeling deprived at all. I do miss baked goods now and then but have no real urge to go out and buy any. I will say that the chocolate nut biscotti at Wegmans might tempt me if they ever show up again.

Food tastes better and even preparing it is more fun that before.

My big Thanksgiving meal with be Saturday at my daughter's house. I will probably consume more edibles then than I have on any day in going on five months now. Or maybe not.

Photo Fun.

I've been playing with the new camera this morning and a couple of the shots seem worth putting up here, if only for my own amusement...

This is the "I think it's time for a walk/meal/dump" stare...

And this is my work area in about as neat and organized a fashion as it's every likely to be seen...

My back and welcome to it.

First off, I should apologize. When I created the Great Disconnect site, giving me three (including this one and Liquid Diet) that need to be updated regularly to justify their existences, it was destined that the least-visited of the trio would suffer. I'll try to do better and will begin with a Buddy post by the weekend, maybe even tomorrow. That always pleases the few regulars here and attracts the masses from around the internets. The Little Guy has a way of spreading his scent, it seems. Here's a hint: the news is good.

Now, let's talk about me. Gather round, there's plenty of room.

I've mentioned my long-standing back pain around here, probably too often, three weeks ago I got an MRI and went to a pain management specialist. I guess I should clarify that while the back is the issue, it's my left leg that hurts. It went about as I figured except for the part where his disabused my of my lotion that my 1992 spinal stenosis operation was just routine matter. "Wow," quoth he looking at the MRI. "You had one helluva procedure. He asked who did it and I told and he nodded. "Seems about right," he said. My doctor was the best in the region and one of the best in the country; when I was waiting in the pre-operation waiting room the day I went in, everybody else in the room had flown in from around the country to have him do their operations. I was lucky; I knew somebody who knew somebody and got to a doctor normally beyond my reach (i.e, I'd have had to wait too long).

Anyway, we agreed on the approach: two nice long needles directly into my back in the area above where my operation had been done, where stenosis (a narrowing of the spine which presses on the nerves) was happening again. The date was set for this past Wednesday.

Now, let's backtrack. When I went in for that first consultation three weeks ago, they had my name wrong on the appointment schedule and I was listed to see a different doctor than the I had called. We worked all that out and my skepticism was over come by the doctor I talked with, a young partner of the one I had called for. This was a new office and location for a group which had two major surgical centers in the region and they were still working out the kinks. As they were when I arrive on this Wednesday and they discovered a screw up in the insurance certification so I had to postpone until today. When I got back from that fiasco, by the way, I got a call from them saying the insurance was actually okay.

Anyway, I had the shots this morning, from the doctor I had originally scheduled with. Hurt a bit more than I expected but not all that much. The fun time was when he'd apparently be injecting the needles (I was numb) and asked "do you feel this?" I said no both times, then Whoa! I could feel a shooting...not pain, I guess sort of nerve reaction, right down the leg. I go back in three weeks for two more shots. The back and leg have been fine all day but the latter is starting to hurt some now. I was told the initial effect of the shots would wear off in several hours and that, indeed, tomorrow might be the worst day I've had yet. I have permission to drug myself up as need and will be heading for the whiskey cabinet after posting this.

Sorry this went on and on.

Buddy coming up!

"God bless Willie Mays."

gWhen my first wife came out of the anesthesia following the birth of our son, those were the first words she said. I'd uttered that plea so often that it was ingrained in her memory. Willie, the greatest baseball player of all time, was, and is, my favorite baseball player ever.

For that, and lots of other reasons, I should have been rooting for the San Francisco Giants to win the World Series this year and, in the end, I was. Right after the Giants had eliminated The Phillies, though, I was in no mood to to take side at all. I eventually began considering the Rangers, who have (still) never won anything, and because I still had a warm spot in my heart for Cliff Lee.

Lee proceeded to turn that ice cold with his "I didn't mind seeing them lose" comment, which was perfect reasonable from his perspective, but not something I needed to hear. So I started the Series a little ambivalent but essentially wanting the Giants to win. They proceeded to conquer my heart completely with their fantastic pitching and their git-'er-done play.

The final decider was The Decider himself. When Texas trotted out Bush 41 and Bush 43 before Game Four and offered up camera shots of mean old Babs in the stands, her eyes and expression revealing her deepest conviction as they had--the men in this family are wimps--I was all in

Whoa! I look like THAT?

It is the curse of the dieting class, of course, that we tend to peruse ourselves more often in the mirror, sometimes approaching the level of self-absorption, and that is why I found this so intriguing.

The Buddy update.

I haven't written about the dog-thing in a while now and I do get questions (Carl P, I'm looking at you) so here's an update.

Buddy remains healthy and happy in the main. He still has that itchy skin condition and nothing I've come up with seems to make it much better. I have figured out, I think, that giving him a weekly bath was probably not doing much to alleviate the situation and maybe even making it worse by drying out his skin. So we skipped the bath this week and we're now 13 days out from the last one. I'm not so sure this helps with the itching, but it does make it harder for him to make things worse with constant chewing at himself; all that hair do get in the way. On the other hand, his distinctive doggy smell is now a tad more evident and we will go back to the tub tomorrow morning.he also needs some grooming, but then again, so I. We'll get to that sooner or later.

Buddy has also, for reasons I cannot figure out, returned to a higher level of separation anxiety than he had shown recently. I fear that what he's done is figure things out. He now recognizes so much of what I do, that any step which seems to indicate I'm about to leave the house alerts him immediately and he goes into action, tail-wagging in full force and excitement mode in full force.

It's still not clear to me whether, if I just leave him here, the barking and scratching at the door fades away after some reasonable period of time. That's probably the case, because I haven't come back after an hour to trip away of late and found him doing any of that protesting; he's usually inside at the far side of the living room and running toward the door when I open it. I assume the best but I'm still very reluctant to leave alone at night time when more residents are home in surrounding apartments. The last thing I need is neighbors complaining about him.

He still continues to make me laugh out loud at least two or three times a day and is therefore a priceless companion.

Editorial Note: This post was also done with the Dragon software and my constant repeating of his name in an effort to train the software to recognize it ( which is not going very well), has driven the poor guy a bit crazy trying to figure out what exactly it is that I'm asking of him. Fortunately we are hard upon dinnertime and that will solve all of his problems for the immediate future.

I like it here.

Earlier this afternoon, about a half-mile after I had crossed an old-style covered bridge over a small stream, I had to pause on my way home because of a cattle crossing. These were cows, not steer, but still...

Its moments like that which make living out here where I do so great, glimpses into a slower paced world mostly disappeared from these parts. That's not the whole reason why I just recently signed up for a fifth year on my lease, but it's certainly part of it. The rest of it has to do with how good I have it here at Orchard Ridge. They've never raised my rent and when I need something done, something gets done.

I asked to have my rear porch area power washed; they were here two days later. I asked if it was okay to remove the outside screams to wash my windows; they said they'll have the cleaning staff, do it next time they're working on the building. Two days after I first moved in here, my refrigerator went bad. It was a Saturday and they couldn't replace it until Monday, so I stored my food and beer in the refrigerator in a sample apartment a few doors down. I got up early Monday and left to do some things I had to do. When I came back there was a new refrigerator in place in all of my food and beer had been moved back from the rental apartment.I have a ground floor apartment in the rear of the building with a back door that opens out onto a grassy hillside in the woods below that. It's quiet and perfect for my dog, especially late at night when neither one of us feels like going for a long walk. During the day, on the other hand, there is a path of roughly a mile and a quarter or round the property which is ideal for our walks.

Being out here isolates me a bit from the city, and that's not the best thing for me professionally since I should be spending more time in there checking out the bar and restaurant scene. Getting to the city at night involves a 20 mile drive to the nearest train station and a 45 minute train ride. Coming back out means having to catch one of the hourly trains that run only until shortly after midnight and then making that 20 minute drive back home after drinking. That's not very much fun and, since I developed cataracts in both eyes, I have had serious problems driving at night even following two operations to remove them. This means that I generally get a room in the city for the night when I do go in; it's the responsible thing to do and a safe thing to do. But of course it costs me, $100 or more most of the time, so it's not something I can do a lot.

The choice I had to make in signing a new lease was between the comfort and pleasures of the lifestyle I now enjoy and moving in closer into what would probably be not as good a situation in terms of lifestyle but more convenient for the things I have to do. I opted for a nice life I now know. I mean, really, that should be the point, right? And, to be honest, the other option remains right there if I wanted. While each lease is for a year, either side can opt out of it with two months notice. That's another reason I like it here.

If you're wondering why I'm rambling on about this and about things most of you probably don't care about, this has been a test at a training session for my Dragon voice recognition software. It's got to be done, so I might as well get a post out of it, you know?

Lo, there shall come a dragon....

This is my first post here using my new Dragon Voice Recognition Software, my second post overall. The first one was done over at the Liquid Diet website and posted without any corrections at all to show how difficult it's going to be to get some of the names and terms from the Philadelphia craft brewing world to be recognized.

I bought Dragon version 10 from Amazon at a good price. Version 11 has just been released and is apparently a quantum leap forward, but I figured I'd start with this cheaper older version on the theory that, if it works, I can upgrade to the new version a bit down the road. So far I'm using Dragon on my desktop computer but I suspect I'll find the notebook a better fit. I can see me sitting out in the backyard enjoying the weather and dictating my posts. A man's gotta dream right?

I've done all this without reading any of the instructions or looking at the tutorial because that's the kind of guy I am. When I get some time to be the kind of guy I ought to be, I'll check those things out. I'll keep you all informed about how this goes.

Anent my last post...

Well, I haven't really gotten my ass in gear over here like I said I would, have I? I had a wife once who would shudder and run out the room whenever I said "Trust me," so maybe it's congenital.

My excuses are at least solid. Yesterday was the Great American Beer Festival in Denver and I had to pay attention to the online broadcast of the awards and post stories on Liquid Diet and that other site which pays me to do so. Also we did a revamp of LD yesterday (thanks to the folks at the WordPress Support Forums who sent me in the right direction, Chris Olbekson of C3M Digital who did the heavy lifting and the always reliable Rob Davis for the new logo).

I was so far out of date that it took three progressions of updates to get me caught up, something I discovered just as I was about to embark on the task all by myself which would have meant going for one giant leap and who knows what would have happened. Those guys saved my bacon.

Go check it out.

Where I've been and why.

I am back to trying to upgrade my Liquid Diet site again--I do hate unfinished business--so posting here has suffered. Ill try to get back in gear this weekend.

Vibes. Good ones requested.

My friend Rob Davis learned today that he has cancer. Many of you will recognize his name because he was the co-creator with me of the online cartoon series The Dubya Chronicles, born out of another series we did for a now moribund website (they still owe us money) called Cartoon Caucus. He and I have in recent times been doing, in fits and starts, a series call Outside Looking In, which began as part of Mermaids and now has its own website.

It's prostate cancer and he sort of knew this was coming; a biopsy report today confirmed it. They have apparently caught this very early on and Rob is very positive and confident about the situation as is clear from his response when I asked him if I could share the news here"

"I'm a believer in the more people who send me positive vibes the better. Share this with whomever. I'm gonna lick this. We've caught it early (can't say that enough!). I'm not looking forward to ANY of the possible treatments, but we do what we must."

I just thought you should know. Send those good vibes, will ya?

who I am.

we are never, not one of us, who we hope or seem to be. Still, we know who we would be if we were who we wanted to be in our heart or hearts.

You'll have to add a decade or two to the "40," but I (kinda) like to think I yam who he I am....



Or, to put it another way, there's this from A.E. Houseman which I can definitely get behind:

The laws of God, the laws of man
He may keep that will and can
Not I: Let God and man decree
Laws for themselves and not for me;

And if my ways are not as theirs
Let them mind their own affairs.
Their deeds I judge and most condemn
Yet when did I make laws for them?

Not to mention this from the same guy:

Could man be drunk for ever
With liquor, love, or fights,
Lief should I rouse at morning
And lief lie down of nights.

But men at whiles are sober
And think by fits and starts,
And if they think, they fasten
Their hands upon their hearts

If I had to compress all this into a single phrase...

Let them mind their own affairs.