Friday, February 29, 2008

Someone out there has a sense of humor and time on their hands.

Well, it's February 29th, which is something of a non-day by regular calendar standards. We move these numbers around the months all the time, but the days always stay the same. It's just Sunday through Saturday, over and over forever. Wouldn't it be great if we had one extra day of the week instead? Once a year we could have Bernsday or a Ferzday or something. I say we do it after the first Tuesday in March. We have a Lermday. And then we just go back to Wednesday. Banks could close or stay open, I don't care. You wouldn't have to go to work. No one would! It's Lermday! The calendar wouldn't miss it! I'd put my flag out!

But we'd all be a day older. That's the space-time continuum for you. It might be worth discussing if everyone was into LOST as I am. It's the only show I care about, since they started airing House on alternate Tuesdays and sometimes Fridays, with episodes from whatever season is handiest. I tried to explain the space-time continuum to my wife, who was either uninterested, unimpressed or both. It's also possible that I didn't know what I was talking about, as the Wikipedia entry on it explains it rather differently. Check it out, if you're bored. Of interest in the article is that Edgar Allan Poe was the first guy to conjure up the topic, which I found curious. Also, there's that fact that atomic clocks slow down on the space shuttle. I'd heard this years ago and found it amazing then as I do now, though I admit that I have no idea what it means.

Nor does anyone else, I wager, that is, outside of Poe. Edgar Allan Poe was quite a character, and an unearthly one altogether. He was found delirious in the streets of Baltimore wearing someone else's clothes and crying out stranger's names right before he mysteriously gave up the ghost. This is basically what happened to a few of the characters in LOST last night. Expect Poe to show up mid-season as one of the original "Others".

I was reading about Edgar Allan Poe recently when I heard that the mystery of the "Poe Toaster" had finally been revealed. It was such a disappointment of a revelation, right up there with the deathbed confessions of that faked Loch Ness pic and the bogus Bigfoot footage. Ah, well. If you missed those stories, they're here, here, and here. And don't even get me started on crop circles, the shroud of Turin, and Piltdown man. It's all too depressing.

I saw Edgar Allan Poe's original dorm room, of all things, when I was visiting the University of Virginia once. They had a sheet of plexiglass in the doorway and you could peer in at the 50 year-old display. I remember there was a taxidermic raven on the antique desk and I thought, such cheese. There was a button you could push for an aged audio recording that recounted Poe's time spent at UV. I remember that it claimed he had "pulled a few boners" during his time in college, which really got a fall-down hearty laugh out of me at the time. Actually, it still makes me chuckle.

I'd always thought a "boner" was a tall-tale, but the dicktionary (sic) says it means a "stupid mistake or blunder", among other things. (I should have known this, since I've been pulling boners all week!) I actually remember my grandfather using the term, which got raised eyebrows out of me and my brother at the time. A little Googling unearths this sweet find from comic book lore...







Now that's just the funniest thing I've seen all month. Oh, what I wouldn't give to read about the "Other Famous All-Time Boners"! (Square #1) Pretty sure that these comics are the genuine article. I take solace in the clear fact that history itself is far more entertaining than any hoax.

Have an excellent weekend. Don't get forced into any boners!

So! They laugh at my boner, will they?! I'll show them! I'll show them how many boners the Joker can make!


~

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Still feeling fairly puffy today. (And too puffy to post a blog yesterday, evidently.) When I say I feel puffy, I actually mean PUFFY. I wake up feeling as if someone rolled an air compressor to the side of my bed overnight, and then jammed the hose into my mouth and turned the valve FULL ON. You can see it in my face in the morning. The inflated bags under my eyes, the swollen flesh around my cheekbones, and the general all-around subcutaneous padding as If I'd got up in the morning and pulled my skin on over my pajamas. Another side effect is the dry mouth from the hose.

I'm still sick I guess. Illnesses are just a side effect of life, when you think about it -which is kind of a funny thought. Children are a side effect of marriage, which is a side effect of life. Deafness in the part of the Dad is a side effect of the persistent wailing child in the background, which is a side effect of marriage, which is a... you get the idea. Everything is a side effect of something else, I guess. There's a label on the soul: THIS LIFE COULD RESULT IN YOU GETTING SICK AND EVENTUALLY DYING.

I suppose I could be more upbeat about it. But happiness is really only a side effect of itself, and not of circumstance, which is what can make it so hard. Anything that ordinarily I would list as making me happy (gardening, water skiing, beer, etc.) has a downside effect as well (filth, muscle pain, boat repair, expense, headache, etc.) I do believe that you can just choose to be happy, fake it even, and sooner or later find that you actually are happy. It's one of life's anomalies, I guess. Easier for some more than others.

Especially given how puffy you may feel at present. Dennis Prager says we have a moral obligation to be happy, which reminds me of the old Monty Python line, "You are hereby sentenced to be hanged by the neck... until you cheer up!" Yes, he says, A MORAL OBLIGATION! which makes one feel responsible to grin and bear it for the sake of all humanity. Prager says that being happy makes other people happy, and being in a bad mood repels other people just as much as, if not more than, bad breath, body odor, or food in your teeth. I pretty much agree with him.

Of course, people call in all the time with, "Oh, woe is me. I have two kids in jail, my wife is an alcoholic, I lost my job because I'm in chronic pain from a back injury and I'm dehydrated from the diarrhea I get from taking the meds," and Dennis just tells them to find a way to be happy anyway. "You don't have a choice!" he says. And, "You're gonna have to fake it for a while." It's kind of funny, really.

I've always struggled with it, I admit. I have one of those expressionless moonfaces most of the time, with a downturned smile to boot. All my life: "What's wrong?" Me: "Nothing." But often there is, so I've been trying. Especially with the Little Ditchman around. God help her if she ends up like me, dreading the days of work ahead, whining about being puffy -even though she's the one who gave me the cold to begin with.

And with such nice weather!


~

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

I woke up this morning feeling so puffy. And I mean "puffy" and not "Puffy" in reference to last night's airing of the much ballyhooed miniseries of A Raisin in the Sun starring Sean Combs. I guess he's going legit, if only because he's not "Puffy" anymore. (Or "Puff Daddy" or "P. Diddy" or whatever.) I don't see what was wrong with his fine, strong name to begin with. Me, today I'm puffy.

I was sitting here trying to work out the daily conundrum when I paused and told Mrs. Ditchman, "I feel puffy," to which she responded, "You look puffy," which was not encouraging. She said I often look puffy when I'm sick, and I don't think she meant gold chains and thumpthumpthump, yo.

I had to read A Raisin in the Sun back in college and I don't really remember a thing about it except that it was one of those "important" plays about black people, starring black people, produced by black people, and so forth. (Sorry, black people.) I do remember one of my creative writing class discussions in which the word "puffy" was discussed, however. Someone had used "puffy" to describe clouds, as in, "puffy clouds". It was an ordinary phrase, some argued, and that it was over-used. "There are so many ways to describe clouds! and everybody uses 'puffy'!" So I try never to use "puffy" to describe clouds. I think I've mentioned it here before. Anyway, it made such an impression on me that I obsess over the word "puffy" to this day. A Raisin in the Sun, I have no idea about anymore.

Which just goes to show... something. Either my creative writing teacher was really good and my dramatic literature teacher was really lame, or there's just plain something broke in my mind. Probably both, either of which could explain why I never finished that last year of the university.

I thought I knew everything back then, and I've been trying to deflate my puffiness ever since. Anyway, gotta go! There is work. It's a beautiful day! Blue skies! Sunshine! And wispy, white, uh, you know... clouds!


~

Monday, February 25, 2008

And I didn't think I was going to make it through last week! But I did, albeit barely. I admit it was partially the fault of my own inflated ego that I ended the week draining my sinuses onto enough rolls of toilet paper to... to... wipe clean an elephant in an Ex-lax factory? Oh, I don't know... I just felt that I'd had enough colds in the past six months that I couldn't possibly catch another. And certainly not one teensy, weensy, wittle cold from the toddler in my house. But no. I felt as if I'd been broadsided by a whole school bus full of green-snotted kindergartners on their way to a research study at the CDC.

Came out of nowhere, it did. These things usually come at night where I wake up feeling sniffly and by morning am all scratchy and stuffed, but this one came midday. I had a little sneeze and blew my nose and figured, well, that was the extent of it -it's good to be an adult and not catch these things like the kiddies do every other week! And then WHAM! By the time the sun went down I was rummaging through the medicine cabinets, begging for mercy, pining for a hit of Zicam.

And now I'm not so sure I can make it through this week. Things were a bit put off from the rain of late, which giveth me twice as much work in the coming days -but at least good spring weather is forecast. 72 and sun! (Okay, 68.) There are vexing problems this week that I just don't have the answers to, however. I assume the answers are out there, like cold fusion, life on other planets, bigfoot -but these are answers I have to find! Which is a bummer. It'd be easier if I wasn't sick, but it could be worse. It could always be worse. Sometimes it is worse.

Dove into the NyQuil last night, which I am loathe to do. I'm not sure why exactly I am loathe to do this, but I always try and hold out as long as I can before I start hitting the heavy meds. I figure it's healthier in the long run, and that I might heal faster, though I have nothing to substantiate these notions. It doesn't matter, for I usually end up taking plenty anyway as the misery is so, well, miserable. I was smart enough to buy the NyQuil at Costco about six months ago. "Flu season's coming," I said. "Better stock up!" My wife pushed the cart right on past but I insisted, "No. Seriously." Flu season did come. She was pushing the cart forward because the NyQuil sold at Costco comes in the super-multi-jumbo-case. I swear, it may as well come in a liter bottle with a shot glass on top stacked up on pallets next to the Captain Morgan, if they're going to do it like that at all.

Anyway, it worked a little, but the stuff doesn't have the kick to it like it used to since they took the pseudoephedrine out of it. Anyone notice this besides me? They replaced it with something called "phenylephrine" which some studies say is as good for a cold as cat food and dandelion petals. I guess you can still get "NyQuil D", which is the old stuff, but not at Costco. Stores keep it behind the counter with the rest of the Sudafed so that the kids aren't buying it for the meth labs in their stepdad's darkroom. Dumb kids. What? NyQuil D not strong enough for you?

So I stocked up at Costco way back when because I hate going to the store when I'm sick to buy medicine. It's the fluorescent lights. (They clog up my sinuses when I'm not sick, for crying out loud -which is why I have a career outdoors.) I'm finally at the age where I have accepted the fact that I'm going to get sick again. When you're young, you never think about getting sick, (which I guess is part of the reason why you'd do meth) but at some point, sooner or later, you get sick and you can't remember what it was like to be healthy. That's when you think, man, if I ever get healthy, I don't ever want to be sick again. I know, I know, it sounds deppressing but... we're all gonna get sick again, dammit. And it'll suck.


~

Friday, February 22, 2008


"Bad seed is a robbery of the worst kind: for your pocket-book not only suffers by it, but your preparations are lost and a season passes away unimproved." -George Washington

I planted some bad seed in my garden about a month ago. I shouldn't have, I know, because Washington is right. It is backbreaking labor to till the soil, turn and amend it, and then to pray fervently for rain and lastly -here is the worst part- wait. You wait. It is a full pleasure to finally see the tiny shoots peering from the ground. You have done some, God himself has done the rest, but with bad seed, all is wasted and you wait forever.

Washington knew this as a farmer, and he would know that after that first month of waiting for the germination, things really start to move. After the initial shoot, there is the first set of two leaves, and then four, and then one day you will turn your back and the plant will burst forth with life. It is the same with the fruit: first one, then two, then ten, then a hundred, and the work turns suddenly to preserving the goods, as you have more than you can eat.

Washington: "Liberty, when it begins to take root, is a plant of rapid growth."

He believed wholeheartedly in the young constitution and dedicated his life to preserving it. And so much did he envision the success of the young country, that he was once quoted as boldly saying: "Some day, following the example of the United States of America, there will be a United States of Europe."

When I think about George Washington, the first thing that comes into my head is a question my dad asked me when I was in about the 5th grade: "Do you know what George Washington did for a living?" I did know. He was a surveyor. I remember my dad being particularly impressed that I knew this, but it was just by chance that it had been mentioned in class that day. George Washington came alive for me when I had heard it. My father was a surveyor, too.

It takes a certain kind of person to be one, actually. You have to have a love for the outdoors, an exacting mind with respect for numbers, a keen sense of direction, and also: good penmanship. I remember my dad in his boots, with his theodolite on his shoulder, making his way across a field, noting every tree and boulder. And then my dad in his office, with his maps and his calculators, his rulers and his insufferable attention to detail. My dad would show me the maps of various subdivisions and they looked like nonsense to me, just plain bad Spirograph, but he explained it as legal mathematics. I picture Washington somewhat similarly.

Washington gained a reputation as a surveyor who was fair, honest, and dependable. This was no small feat. Imagine mapping out rough country with no roads, no vehicles, with wealthy landowners breathing down your neck, not to mention Indians. It would be easy to cut corners on say, some hillside thicket. Evidently he didn't. To be a surveyor was akin to being a judge in those times, when property was everything, and the lines that divided them akin to lines on a check register. Landowners relied on them. Unreliable ones would be run out of town.

Washington became a wealthy landowner himself, eventually, and had many slaves as was the manner of the day. This kept Liberty on his mind, I figure. At the time of his death there were over 300 slaves at Mount Vernon. Slavery was a touchy subject and so he never brought it up publicly, but in his personal letters he wrote: "I can only say that there is not a man living who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the abolition of slavery." He wished to sell them all, but was legally bound to keep them as many came from the dowry of his wife. These intermingled with his own through the years, and as a result there were many slave families that Washington refused to break up. Washington would be the only prominent Founding Father to free his own slaves, which he had demanded in his will to be done upon his death.

And he was a warrior.


His knowledge of the land from his surveying was of great benefit to battle strategy, as was the discipline gained from his profession. "Discipline is the soul of an army. It makes small numbers formidable; procures success to the weak, and esteem to all," he wrote. He fought in two wars, and was witness to the blood of the thousands of men that poured on the soil that would become America. Considering that, at the time, it was little more than a dream that they were fighting for, he must have been a man of immense faith.

There is argument and debate as to whether Washington was a Christian, but I suspect this is a fact that resides only between the man and God himself, as it does for all of us. He was baptized into the Church of England and even served on the lay council of the local church at one point in his life. There is no doubt religion was an important part of the man, as he claimed:

"It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible."

And:

"Reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle."

But one thing is curious. He was known to have regularly received the sacrament before the revolution, but in his church attendance after the war it was noted by some that he would leave the service before Communion was offered. It was common in the day that, prior to communion, believers would be admonished to take stock of their spiritual lives and asked not to participate in the ceremony unless they found themselves in the Will of God. I imagine many Christians can identify with the moment in church when the sacrament comes around and you just feel unworthy. I've been there, and I suppose that for Washington, after years of nothing less than brutal bloodshed, the forgiveness of the Lord would be a challenge. Later in life, Washington would cease attending church on Communion Sundays altogether.

It follows that he believed man to be a flawed creature, an utterly biblical notion.

"Mankind, when left to themselves, are unfit for their own government."

He was not one to pass judgement on religion. When hiring workmen for Mount Vernon, he wrote to his agent, "If they be good workmen, they may be from Asia, Africa, or Europe; they may be Mohammedans, Jews, or Christians of any sect, or they may be Atheists." And in 1790, he wrote a response to a letter from a synagogue that he was more concerned about them being good citizens than what manner of faith they had. The Jewish community had finally found a place in the world where they were both welcomed and free from intense prejudice. The Jewish nation has been an ally in democracy ever since.

There are all manner of stories and exploits, quotes and myths, regarding this man who happened to never sign the Declaration of Independence, but was the only president ever elected unanimously by the electoral college. Only one state is named after any American: Washington, and there is, of course, the nation's capital. He was called the "Father of Our Country" more than twenty years before his death. He is considered by many scholars to be our best president, and to have our best president as our first president, is Providence indeed.

After American independence was bravely fought and won, King George III asked an American, “What will George Washington do now?” He was told: “I expect he will go back to his farm.” The King replied: “If he does that, he will be the greatest man on earth.”

To the astonishment of all, this is what Washington did.

It's not too difficult to imagine, really. I had the good fortune to visit Mt. Vernon, and I can attest that it is a beautiful and serene place. Upon his death, Washington refused to lie in state beneath the cold capitol dome, where a crypt was built for him. Had he done this, the capitol of our nation would have become a mausoleum, and Washington something akin to a pharaoh -a dead god-king worshipped in his immortal pyramid. Instead, the man wished to be buried at home on his farm. Identifying himself in his will, he wrote merely: "George Washington, of Mount Vernon, a citizen of the United States." The United States; a place that didn't exist for most of his life, but exists today thanks to him. And to see the capitol dome today, one thinks not of any king nor conqueror, of president nor political party, but of the greatness of the United States of America itself.


Though he was revered and though he was noble, though he was bigger than life -tall, strong, with a full head of hair (contrary to myth he never wore a wig) he was able to stand down after the presidency with his dignity utterly intact, setting a precedent of extraordinary character. Even Napoleon recognized it on his deathbed when he moaned, "They wanted me to be another Washington," but powerful conqueror that he was, ambition was his foil. This was Washington's greatest achievement: to shed his ambition entirely.

Congressman Henry Lee, in his famous eulogy of the president, wrote:

"First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, he was second to none in humble and enduring scenes of private life. Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere; uniform, dignified, and commanding; his example was as edifying to all around him as were the effects of that example lasting… Correct throughout, vice shuddered in his presence and virtue always felt his fostering hand. The purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public virtues… Such was the man for whom our nation mourns."


February 22, 1732: George Washington's birthday.

Many hard-working men tilled the New World.
George Washington was the good seed.
God did the rest.

Status of flag: Out.


~

Thursday, February 21, 2008


Lunar eclipse! The clouds parted just in time for it, and you could see it straight out the window above my foyer, from the stairs. Sorry if you missed it: the next one won't be until December 20, 2010. I'll be forty.

That's the star Regulus, of the constellation Leo, on top, (can't you tell by its bluish hue?) and then Saturn itself in the lower left. Sorry you can't make out the rings. My Cannon PowerShot A85 only has so much power, evidently. I took a number of not-so-powerful shots on a little tripod out on the grass. This one was a 14 second exposure, which is a little too long for a good space photo, as the movement of the heavenly bodies themselves create a blur. A better lens and I might have captured an excellent shot of the Sea of Tranquility bathed in the orangish shadow of the earth, but alas. If I start another hobby right now, say, Astronomical Photography, Mrs. Ditchman will kill me. (She won't settle on the casual eye-roll that I can usually get away with.)

I am sure you're wondering, from whence does he gather such wisdom? Why, from the Starry Night widget on my computer screen, of course! It's a cool little thing. Free for the Mac (and even the iPhone!), but not sure about the PC. (One may have to shell out some cash for it.) Anyway, you just type in your zip code and which way you're facing and voila, all the stars in the sky are named. It's neat! The widget actually figures your time of day and shows you a picture of the exact sky you're currently looking at, only with labels. It's just the kind of thing the Internet was designed for. It even has a scrolling news bar at the bottom of the widget that reads out all current space-related news, which no decent, self-respecting star-worshipper can live without.

And yes, we shot it out of the sky. No, not the moon, the hydrazine-filled school bus that was in a descending orbit. Excellent work, men! I'm glad they did it, if only because we have the technology, but also because I just fertilized my lawn and the last thing I need is hydrazine overspray mucking it up. I had all manner of things to say about it, but as usual I was beat to the punch by Lileks, Overlord of the Blogosphere, who was piquant enough to be linked from here, two days in a row. Well done, Lileks. Serves me right for posting in the morning. Clearly, I'd never make it in the news reporting industries. (But he didn't get a picture of the eclipse!)

If you're interested in the more spectacular Total Solar Eclipse, there's one coming on August 1st this year. Go ahead and book your flight to Mongolia now.


~

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

It's raining out. Is it going to stop? Or is it going to get worse? Is it raining at the job site? These are questions that really press me right now. If I decide to forgo showing up at the job site this morning, it is almost certain to clear up -right about in the middle of whatever project I take on in the office. On the other hand, if I do go to the job site, it is certain to begin a real full-fledged, unremitting downpour like we had last week, but it will only ensue after I unpack the tools. It's a game I play with myself, really. I'd much rather just sit here at my desk with my feet up and drink coffee, checking weather reports. And my Seattle friends would laugh, "That's not rain! That's a life-affirming drizzle!"

And rain is scheduled for every other day this week, which just messes with my mind -for whatever I start today, I won't be able to finish tomorrow, or vice-versa. And then there's the city officials I have to contend with. You see, I've got a job this week where I have to dig a few holes, and then the inspector has to come out twenty-four hours later and confirm that they are, in fact, proper holes. And then I have to get the holes filled with concrete. Also, the inspector will not come every other Friday. Today is Wednesday. Rain is scheduled for today, Friday, Sunday... see my problem?

Ah well, it's Southern California. Really the best place in the world to live, even if your property is worth $10,000 less than last month.

I usually avoid mentioning politics. I bring it up and all manner of typable blathering emits from the keyboard, and why take that risk when YouTube is only a -click- away? But this Obamamania is really striking. I mean, yes, wow, his speeches are good. They're inspiring! Change! But where is the there? It's astonishing, really, that he's able to sustain the hype for so long without getting into any specifics, but that's what good politicians do, I guess. Voting records show him to be among the furthest left politicians in the Senate, and interestingly, McCain has one of the most conservative voting records, and yet so many republicans are decrying him as "liberal!" Acchh, politicians... Anyway, I only brought it up because I thought Lileks was pretty funny on it today. (Half way down the page.)

Change? Yes, of course. That's what an election is, change.

"Politicians are like diapers. They both need changing regularly and for the same reason."

FYI it's still raining (drizzling) out. But I guess I'm not the only one who can't get things done today as a result of bad weather.


~