Tooth

My son's first permanent tooth is just beginning to come in!

Reseller

I can identify with the writer of this piece ― I love a good book, but it isn't easy to resist a bargain.

I bought a copy of a new book from a reseller via Amazon.com months ago ― a brand new copy (at least, it appeared to be) at a fraction of the cover price, an even better bargain than Amazon's customary discount. I'd often wondered, as both reader and publisher, where do these books come from? Had they been shoplifted? Or stolen as part of a more organized theft from, say, a retailer or distributor? Were they really new? I thought I'd satisfy my curiosity.

The book proved mildly interesting, though disappointing (I devoured it more like a magazine article than a book), and I soon sold it to someone else, via Amazon. (I've forgotten how much it sold for, probably even less than I paid for it.) I've since sold dozens of books ― some had been given to me as gifts, though I already had them, others I just couldn't find much interest in. I don't do it for the money so much as the pleasure and satisfaction I get from knowing that a book will be put to better use than just sitting on my shelf, gathering dust. Now I know where at least some of those books come from.

(I've been thinking of offering this book, which has been sitting next to my bed for the past year, during which time I've hardly scratched the surface — much as I'm interested in the subject matter, the book just hasn't sustained my interest. But Mr. O'Malley has left his teeth marks in the dust jacket and spine, and I wouldn't feel right selling it.)

I suppose it would be easier to make use of my local library, but for some reason, I've never felt the same investment in a book when I simply borrow it. (And knowing my peculiar reading habits, I probably wouldn't make the best library patron.)

Good Riddance

I like this idea, though more in concept than as a sort of self-promotional tool. (It's been organized by the Times Square Alliance, to promote the traditional New Year's Eve ceremonies in Times Square — as if that event was somehow in need of more promotion, or for that matter, greater attendance.) But I appreciate the desire for catharsis and release, this year perhaps more than ever.

When?

It is Sunday, isn't it? It sort of feels as though it is. Or it should be, at least. But I'm not entirely certain...

Without the beacon of a regular schedule, I occasionally lose my way in the fog of the days.

Merry

It has been a day of building and creating for my son and I — a blur of switches, gears and motors. Such was the theme of so many of his gifts.

I was sure the Lab Coat would be one of those gifts that would quickly be tossed aside, as soon as he realized it wasn't something fun. And it was, of course. But my son was encouraged to put it on just as we started working on a project together, and he wore it with great pride for virtually the entire day. And he looked adorable! (I've promised to make him a laminated ID badge to go with it.)

The Lego Robot we built and hastily programmed before bedtime made several attempts at it's assigned tasks, and promptly drove off the kitchen table. We'll try again tomorrow — this time on the floor.

Little Flower

I meant to mention this months ago, but I didn't want to spoil a pleasant surprise (and then, I promptly forgot all about it) — hand made caramels makes a splendid gift (or a pleasant surprise!) at almost any time of year...

Inbetween

I am, and I will readily admit this, a bit out-of-step with prevailing attitudes toward Christmas. I'm not observant of any religion, so that's out, and I'm uncomfortable with what this holiday seems to have become for many — a brightly-lit bacchanalia of commerce that seems to begin even before the end of Halloween. (I know this might seem ironic to anyone who regularly reads this blog, having virtually watched me spend hundreds of dollars on almost completely inappropriate gifts for my six-year-old — but my common sense sometimes fails where kids are concerned.)

As far as Christmas goes, I feel inbetween, neither here nor there.

So I have come to think of this as a time for reflection. This has been a beautiful, chaotic year; at times good, bad, and indifferent. At the end of this year I am in a mood for both forgiving and forgetting, with hope that the past will be allowed to remain past — and the future will be as exhilarating as ever.

Vanquished

Today I'm feeling — defeated. The collision of disparate events, both kept away as long as possible, has left me feeling exhausted and low. Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure, but tonight? I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide myself away from the world.

Feed

I've been feeding the deer that wander through this back yard, off and on, for as long as I've lived here. (It's feed that's meant for horses, but it's sweetened with molasses, and the deer adore it.) I have continued to do this, even though I'm really not supposed to (and for good reason), though less frequently, now mostly in the cooler months.

Each year there are regular visitors that I come to recognize — often because they come to recognize me. I'll see them peer in through the back door, as if they're hoping to find someone at home.

For the past several months I've been watching a group of five, three young adults and two fawns that still seem very small, much smaller than I would have expected at this time of year. They would turn up every few days, more so as the season wore on. I'm concerned about the size of the fawns, and feel obliged to help (in whatever small way I can), so I'll almost always put food out when I see them. They haven't grown all that much larger, but they're obviously putting on weight for the winter.

Another pair I only see every so often, a young doe and a fawn, both with a noticeable limp. They get around with some difficulty, yet they seem to manage, somehow. But I want to help them, too. Or, at least, to believe I am.

If only I had known...

How is it that I went all these months without hearing Sarah Palin referred to as "Caribou Barbie"? That's just brilliant!

Errand

I've just returned from having spent three hours on an errand that, on virtually any other day, might have taken me a half-hour, at best. The snow was just beginning as I left, but quickly became powerful enough to make driving difficult. So I crept along as the snow accumulated on the road, along with everyone else, there and back.

I'm not particularly put off by driving in this sort of weather, though it leaves my wife panic-struck. I certainly don't have a great deal more experience in doing so, and it I hope isn't foolish confidence. Perhaps I'm just a bit more cautious than most.

And the snow certainly does look beautiful.

Waiting...

It's a Snow Day! But the snow is late in coming!

Snow Day!(?)

Tomorrow the enduring ritual of Will We Have A Snow Day? begins anew. There's snow in the forecast — and lots of it! — but it's a question of timing. Snowfall is expected to start just as the school day is beginning, and to become intense enough to make it difficult to get everyone home safe in the early afternoon. So it's a good bet school will be closing early — but will they consider it worth the effort to get everyone in for just a few hours?

I don't remember the school district I grew up in as being quite so cautious about inclement weather. Back in the day, the schools would close because there was snow on the ground — never because of the threat of snow. And it took more, much more than the pale dusting that has become enough to throw school districts into a panic. (What a glorious time to be an Elementary School student!)

I lived for many years in a school district that began with a "V," so you can imagine how long I had to wait for the list of school closings to be read before I could hear the news I was anxious for. And you could only hear it on the radio. And if you missed the list, or your school wasn't mentioned, you'd have an tortuous fifteen or twenty minute wait — perhaps longer! — to hear it again. But I still remember the excitement of waiting and hoping, and the singular pleasure of the wish granted.

My son will share that excitement, but without quite so many anxious moments — these days, you can get that information almost immediately. (That, and our school district is just about in the middle of the alphabet.)

Detour

This is how much I need to update my business web site — I've just now discovered that my Barnes & Noble Affiliate Links, which are supposed to direct consumers to the product listings for my books on Barnes & Noble's web site (and pay me a very small percentage of any sales that result), is instead sending people to a merchant in (I think) The Netherlands!

One more something for the To Do List.

Cacophony

There has been considerable agitation among the crows outside my window. I've just seen a Red-tailed Hawk take flight from a tree in my back yard — I knew when I saw the distinctive tail — with perhaps a half-dozen crows in pursuit!

Boring

Do not read this post while driving, operating heavy machinery, or taking medication that may cause drowsiness.

I can, I will admit, be a bit compulsive about backing up my files. Particularly my working files, that represent a significant investment of time and effort, but there are letters, and photos, and memories I'd be loathe to lose. (And you'll never know when something will prove unexpectedly vital.)

I have an older computer — a dual-processor Power Mac G4 that, once upon a time (six years ago), was the most powerful Mac one could buy (for $2999!) — that now sits on a shelf in my garage, having been put to use as a rudimentary file server. (It has a fan that is mostly quiet, but always on, so I put it where the noise wouldn't be a distraction.) It serves silently — at least, I don't hear it — as additional storage and a destination for files to be regularly backed up to.

It worked, but it was s-l-o-w. I'm not sure if that was the age of the computer, or sending so much data over the wireless network, but I hoped it might work better if I connected the G4 to my wireless router with an Ethernet cable. But to do that, I'd either have to move the G4 upstairs, find a way to run a cable up through the garage (a completely ridiculous idea I considered longer than any reasonable person should) or move the router and the cable modem into the garage.

So I moved everything into the garage. It was largely on a whim, a sort of "I wonder if that would work?" moment on a Monday afternoon.

The end result? Everything is better. Backing up files is now significantly faster, so much so that it frequently happens without my even being aware of it. And my Internet connection seems much faster, as well, now that the cable modem has been moved one splitter and perhaps a hundred feet closer to the source. This morning, I put up a small shelf to position the wireless router just so, to ensure the best coverage for the entire house. Tomorrow, I'll install another 500 GB hard drive for additional storage.

(I told you this would be boring.)

Tinkertoys

My son and I built this yesterday — he has a cold, and hasn't been himself, and instead of his usual self-driven endeavors, he wanted me to build something with him. (Or for him.) So we sat together and watched old cartoons, while I let my mind wander among the brightly colored plastic. (Ordinarily, I might have preferred the wooden Tinkertoys, but I was afraid they'd expand with the humidity and begin to splinter.)

You can't really tell just by looking at it, but each of those blue wheels is a moving gear that turns another, and another, and another — there are thirteen in all. (He insisted we use every last blue wheel we could find.)

I don't think I would ever have thought to build a system of gears using Tinkertoys — this was an idea my son had discovered completely on his own. (I was only borrowing it.) It was more by chance than by design, to be sure, and it was nothing quite so elaborate as this, but it was impressive just the same. He is learning to let the process of creation carry him along unexpected paths, to peer around unfamiliar corners.

Think Twice

I would have mentioned this months ago, but I've just noticed the note left forgotten on my desktop. I can't imagine ever having reason to use this, not really, but if you're a GMail user, you can now enable a feature called Mail Goggles that's intended to make sure you really do want to send that e-mail message you've just written...Always good to think twice, if answering a few reasonably simple math problems will distract you long enough to do so.

(Yeah, okay. I suppose there might have been one or two occasions where this would have been useful.)

Upon Further Consideration

I have gone thoroughly and completely overboard this year, far exceeding whatever limit I might have imagined for Christmas gifts for my son. Which is ironic, really — not only because budgets are precariously balanced here these days (if at all), but because I've been trying to convince my wife (as I try most every year) that my son might benefit from fewer, more carefully chosen gifts.

Each year, she'll suggest a dozen different items, a list that will be narrowed down after some discussion — and yet, somehow it becomes even larger! Christmas morning seems to wash over my son like a wave, with gifts opened in furious bursts of torn wrapping paper, fleeting attention (if it fails to catch his interest), and a leap toward the next gift-wrapped object he can find (even if it wasn't meant for him).

We're not particularly observant, but it's important to me that he come to know Christmas as something more than simply a gift-giving (or in his case, gift receiving) holiday.

Yet these gifts seemed just so perfect — so very right! — they just wouldn't wait. My gift is being able to give them.

Last year wasn't like this. I doubt next year will be, either. You only get to be a six-year-old on Christmas morning once.

Mindstorm Mine

The eBay auction I was watching has quickly exceeded $175.00 — with several hours remaining! — which is precariously close to my somewhat vague and ill-defined but still self-imposed limit, that point where I might as well just give in and spend a bit more money to order it somewhere else. I happened to check the price on Amazon.com (to aid in the decision-making process), and I was surprised and delighted to discover that they had dropped the price to just under $200! (That's $50 off the list price, and even a bit better than Amazon's previous discount.) That was good enough for me.

(Yesterday, I ordered a white lab coat for my son, just for fun. I'll package that, and any other related items I can find, in a large box, and tell him it's his very own Inventor's Kit.)

Help!

I have accidentally rediscovered Daedalus Books, seller of remaindered books and publisher's overstock. (I wonder why the catalogs stopped coming after so many years?) If I'm not careful, I could easily find myself spending far too much money there — even if most of the books I want are only $4.98, such as this one, which seems to have sold out in the hour-and-a-half since I first looked at it this morning. (That's the thing about ordering from Daedalus Books. You have to think fast.)

Mindstorm

My six-year-old loves to build, with anything and just about everywhere. I've been trying to find ways channel those constructive impulses in ways that don't involve any household object he can get his hands on (in addition to his toys). Tinkertoys have proven enduringly popular, and surprisingly versatile, but I've been hoping to find something that will encourage him to create on a slightly smaller scale. So this year I had planned on getting him an enormous 700-piece Lego building set.

After two-and-a-half minutes of research this morning, I made a quick trip to the local Toys R Us to see if the item I wanted was in stock. (I tend to avoid retail stores around this time of year, but this was an excuse to get out of the house on a cold and dreary day.) It wasn't, but I soon found myself distracted by something that was — LEGO Mindstorms NXT, a reasonably simple, easy to build-and-program robotics kit. (I was this close — this close! — to buying the last one on the shelf, but then I noticed that faint first digit on the price label, and realized that the price was actually $200 more.)But the more I've thought about it, the more I'm beginning to see my son build machines, rather than simple structures. He's taken an interest in cause and effect, in making things react and move. He'd enjoy building with Legos, sure, but I'd really like to find something more kinetic.

The Mindstorms kit is far too advanced for him to build successfully by himself (it's recommended for ages 10 and up!), but we could certainly play with it together. I found a book that's designed to be "A Kid-Friendly Guide to Building Animals with the NXT Robotics System," that would offer us several fun projects to build.

(I've found a similar product more suited to his age — Lego's new WeDo Robotics Concept — and while it certainly is more age-appropriate, it seems a bit too simplistic, somehow. And it won't be available 'till the beginning of next year.)

Perhaps this would be too much for many six-year-olds. But I'm thinking of this as a gift that is almost infinitely expandable, in that you can purchase different accessories and modules, and it will become even more fascinating to him as he grows older. (I've found an unopened kit on eBay, which I might be able to pick up at a reasonable discount.)

If you were to ask him the age-old question of what he wants to be when he grows up? He would answer, without a moment's hesitation, "an inventor."

Desire

I'm watching A Streetcar Named Desire as I write this, though as much out of a sense of obligation as anything else.

The biggest surprise for me came at the very beginning of the film — there actually is a streetcar named "Desire." I'd always assumed it was just a metaphor (it is, of course), and I had no idea that streetcars in New Orleans could have such colorful names (though most don't — this one was named for Desire Street, the route that it followed).

Automaton

I spent some time this afternoon contributing to Amazon's Mechanical Turk service. The idea (so far as I've come with it, at least) is that you complete different types of small tasks — brief transcriptions of audio files, or identification of photos, for example — and are paid a small (very small) premium for your work, if accepted, provided it follows some basic guidelines. I answered a half-dozen different questions — some seem to be a matter of opinion ("What is the best tennis racket brand?"), while others are more a matter of fact ("What is the definition of transmutation?").

Some tasks require specific qualifications, others seem open to anyone. My understanding is most of the requests for services come from businesses (who pay a percentage of the price of successfully completed tasks as a fee), though I've seen some instances of people using the service to encourage comments to be posted to their blogs. (I'm not quite that desperate.)

It's an interesting distraction, I suppose, and I enjoy the opportunity to learn something new, albeit trivial. But it's difficult to imagine finding the time to complete enough tasks for it to amount to anything.

(That's an engraving of The Turk, by the way, the infamous mechanical device from which the service takes it's name. Perhaps my goal will be to earn enough to purchase a copy of this book!)

Facade

An invented life can never be used; it cracks and crumbles under the pressures of life like clay in a season of drought.

James Baldwin

Eraser

I've just bought a package of Sculpey Amazing Eraser Clay. (I can't speak to it's "amazing" qualities yet, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.) I'll make my son something fun for the top of his pencil — I've been thinking of a small rocket, or perhaps one of the planets in the solar system).

The dilemma in a product like this, of course, is that you can put all sorts of time and effort into crafting something detailed and wonderful — but it's ultimately going to be used as an eraser, and worn away, bit by bit! (I doubt I'll have that problem, though — when we're doing homework, my son stubbornly insists on removing whatever is at the top of his pencil and using the small pink eraser, instead.)

Vanished

I wish I could return to the curious dream I had this morning — but it was a life written in disappearing ink, slowly fading just as pages are turned.

Touchless

I thought the best solution would be to just go to the Apple Store. The closest one is about an hour away, more or less, but it's a pleasant drive, when you know the alternate route. I'd leave as soon as I got my son on the bus in the morning, and I could (hopefully) be there and back before too much of the day was lost.

No sooner had I parked the car when I realized — I had completely forgotten to bring the credit card I wanted to use! I made a quick call to check on the balance of another in my wallet, though, and I was hopeful I had enough to cover an iPod.

It turned out, though, that I didn't — I was off by just over a dollar!

It's now several hours later. I've given in and ordered one from Best Buy. (I have to go and pick it up.) I don't like shopping at Best Buy — the reasons why have been lost to time immemorial, but I've had enough unpleasant experiences there that I'll use them only as a last resort (and even then, only to pick up something ordered online). But they're five minutes away, and the iPod was on sale.

Such is the way the week has been going.

Versions

My brilliant plan to surprise my son with the gift of an iPod Touch hasn't worked out as well as was hoped. I'd been intending to buy a refurbished model from Apple at a discount — but I've suddenly realized that the only refurbished model they offer is the previous version, which does not have a volume control switch and (more importantly) a built-in speaker, both of which I consider to be essential features for a six-year-old.

If only I had known, I would have taken advantage of the sale this past Friday and saved myself — what was it? — all of $20. Oh, well.

Lost

This has been a day that just seemed to slip from my grasp, and I'm left to wonder where the time has gone. (It's like The Lost Weekend, but without the drinking.)

Persephone

I really do not like having to pay a restocking fee. I resent it. I think what irritates me more is the realization that if I had been paying closer attention, I probably could have avoided a retailer that charges one instead of allowing myself to be lured by the siren song of the lowest price.

Balance

I am every bit as much in need of the dark as you are of the light, and I think we both seek an end to quiescence.

Tryptophan

I am in eager anticipation of tryptophan-induced euphoria and restful slumber. Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate; enjoy the day with loved ones for those who do not.

Ten Degrees

There's a bit of a conundrum here: Alton Brown's recipe available online says the internal temperature of the turkey should reach 161 degrees Fahrenheit — but on Good Eats he's said the internal temperature should reach 151 degrees Fahrenheit.

Touch

I'm thinking of getting my son an iPod Touch for Christmas. I know, I know — it's a ridiculous gift for a six-year-old, isn't it? But there are a few movies, television shows and songs he enjoys watching and listening to (particularly during a long car ride), and a few applications he enjoys playing with on the iPhone from time to time, and I think he's old enough to handle an iPod with care when he uses it.

I think the decision will depend on what sort of sale prices I can find on Friday. Anything a good bit below $200, and I'll do it.

Coyote

Several people have reported sightings of coyotes in the neighborhood. I find this all very exciting (if true), but unsettling, as I fear this may provoke some sort of overreaction. Coyote attacks on humans are uncommon (and it's become far too cold for pets to be left outdoors), but people here don't often seem to have much patience for the wildlife whose habitats we share and whose habits we encourage.

Hearing a coyote is, I'm told, much more common than seeing one. I've yet to do either.

The Indomitable Fern!

I was delighted and amazed to discover, during a walk at the edge of the woods in late-November's 30 degree weather — ferns!

Time Stand Still

Freeze this moment
A little bit longer...

Make each sensation
A little bit stronger...

Chalkboard

Did you know you're supposed to "prime" a chalkboard before using it? (No, neither did I.) Scribbling all over it and then erasing is supposed to leave behind a thin coat of dust that encourages the chalk to adhere. I quickly gave up on that — the eraser wasn't really working (there's a slight texture to the ceiling), and I had to use a damp cloth to erase my scribbling, but then you're supposed to prepare the chalkboard all over again after cleaning it with a damp cloth. And I was getting chalk dust all over everything. And the chalk seemed to draw just fine.

In case you didn't recognize it, that's a picture of Jupiter (with the Great Red Spot in the bottom right corner).

Ripples

From yesterday.

Winter

The first snow is falling! (Thankfully, I doubt there will be any accumulation. As much as I love a thick, heavy blanket of snow, I'm just not ready for it.)

Seeing Stars

Attaching little magnets to the back of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars is surprisingly time-consuming.

Where?

I think life is often most rewarding when you quietly ignore the signs, and slip away to find (or make) your own path to travel — don't you?

This day is already off to a wonderful start.

Adventure

I never had an Atari 2600 while growing up, though I had friends who did. (Years later, I eventually bought one as an adult, almost as an impulse.) On those occasions I was able to play, I often found myself strangely attracted to Adventure. Sure, the graphics were unsophisticated (even then) and the dragons seemed to resemble some sort of duck ― but somehow, the simplicity imposed by the limitations of the system became the game's strength. And it could be quite a challenge:

The player's goal is simply to find the enchanted chalice and return it to the gold castle. The player character, represented by a square, explores a multi-screen landscape containing castles, mazes, and various rooms. Hidden throughout the world are a sword, keys to unlock each of the three castles (gold, black, and white), a magic bridge which allows the player to travel through a wall, and a magnet which will pull any of these objects toward it.

Adventure has just been brought to the iPhone, just as I remember it ― and it's free! (And I'm no better at it than I was the last time I played, which must have been 20 years ago.)

Meandering

I've had occasion to be concerned, over the past several years, that my mind seems to be slipping away from me — my memory, in particular. (Do you know that unsettled feeling when you walk into a room, but can't seem to remember why?) Lately I've come to wonder if it might not be a lack of mental activity, but a surfeit of it. That so many thoughts are wandering through my mind at any given moment that I am often easily, temporarily distracted, even in that brief moment it takes for me to wander from one room to the next.

Compulsive

It's after 3:00 AM, and I'm eating a Fluffernutter, winding down from the long day of work. It's more tedious legal research — I find the web sites of select law firms, and attempt to gather information about the employees. Most important is the e-mail address. For some firms this is easy, and all of the information I need is part of a large listing that I can just copy and reformat. For others, it's not so easy, and I'll have to look at each individual entry (which often means looking at several hundred individual entries.) Then there are some I can skip entirely, when the email addresses are cleverly hidden ― most likely to prevent someone from doing exactly what I'm trying to do.

It's not particularly interesting, not by any means. It can even be a bit taxing. But it pays reasonably well.

It had already been a long day when I was ready to close for the evening, a few hours ago — but, I thought to myself, I'll just check this one last firm, to see what it looks like, and if I can finish it up quickly, I will. And when I did, I checked the next one on the list ― and then the next. And then the next, which wasn't quite so easy, but I did it, anyway.

And suddenly, it's after 3:00 AM, and I'm eating a Fluffernutter. (I'm not sure how this work became such a compulsion.)

Ceiling

If I were much more ambitious, I think I'd paint the ceiling in my office black.

Primer

I'm waiting for the initial coat of primer to dry, so I can apply another. (I don't like waiting.)

Stars

I have promised to paint in my son's room this weekend. He wants the area above his bed ― I'm not sure what it's called, really, but it's set at an angle that follows the pitch of the roof (all of the rooms on the second floor are like this, even the hallway) ― painted black. He wants it to be chalkboard paint (even though most of the ceiling will still be out of reach), and I had the idea to try the "magnetic" primer underneath it. We can attach magnets to the back of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars and decorate the ceiling, rearranging them when they become too familiar, and we want to travel to another part of the galaxy.

Whatnot

Did you know you can build your own Muppet? This is very, very tempting. (I've wanted to do this for years!) But there really aren't enough options for customization, particularly if you wear glasses — you can't even order one without hair! — and the price seems exorbitant.

Life

"I think making plants grow is a good thing for a kitty to do," my six-year-old told me. He knows what happens to everything that was alive, after death. "Yes," I said. "Plants make the oxygen we all need to live."

"Did you know Tigger can still hear me? I told her thank you for helping the plants grow."

Phoenix

Not the best day to have to tell my son that the Mars Phoenix Lander has succumbed to the Martian winter.

Tigger

I've had to have my cat Tigger put down this morning. She had been taking medication for a thyroid imbalance for almost two years, and while her condition had been stabilized, the illness left her weak, vulnerable to other problems. She had lost weight over the past several years, and was feeling the effects of age, but she had just been back to the Vet about a week ago, and seemed to be doing well, despite the circumstances. So it was a sad surprise when she became more seriously ill over the weekend.

We're not entirely sure how old she was, but we have reason to believe she was at least sixteen or seventeen; she had been with us for (I think) thirteen or fourteen years. We adopted her — or rather, she adopted us — when we lived in an apartment in Jersey City. She would escape from her home down the street, repeatedly, inevitably to hide underneath our front porch. Eventually, the people she was fleeing from seemed to lose interest, and we quietly, surreptitiously took her in. She was gentle and good-natured, and got along well with the other cats.

But she never completely lost interest in being outdoors. She was the only cat to jump through the open window when our apartment was burglarized, though she stayed close by when she couldn't get back inside. Many years (and a change of address) later, she would seize any opportunity to dash through the open front door, hoping to elude capture by hiding under the front steps, just out of reach.

When my son was born, Tigger was the first of the cats to express real fondness for him. She was even willing to tolerate the clumsy ways of showing affection that came with his age.

I'm still not sure how I'm going to explain this to him. He knows that Tigger has been ill — I want to find a way for him to understand that there are times, when an animal is seriously ill and with no hope of recovery, in pain and discomfort, that hastening death is the kind and right thing to do. That it's a difficult and painful decision, but important. Perhaps a six-year-old doesn't need to be told the truth in a situation like this, but I think my son will want to know.

Well Said

I just looked up a word using my MacBook's built-in Dictionary, to check the spelling — it was the word "noticeably" — and I was offered a list of suggested alternatives that ought to be used in different situations...

A scratch on someone's face might be noticeable, while a scar that runs from cheekbone to chin would be conspicuous...Use prominent when you want to describe something that literally or figuratively stands out from its background...Remarkable applies to anything that is noticeable because it is extraordinary or exceptional...Striking is an even stronger word, used to describe something so out of the ordinary that it makes a deep and powerful impression on the observer's mind or vision.

How useful!

Martian Meterorite

I'm thinking of giving my son a tiny Martian Meteorite for Christmas. It's a very, very small piece — only about 3mm, I'm told — but the box can be opened, and it can be touched and handled. I'm trying to decide if the excitement of having an actual piece of another planet might outweigh the disappointment, for a six-year-old, that it's such a tiny sample. (The image above is actual size, more or less.)

He's shared my excitement as we've followed the various explorations of Mars that have been undertaken since he was a toddler. (We watched the Phoenix landing together this past May.) I'll do just about anything to encourage this interest — even if it means spending $39.95 for a tiny piece of rock!

There are pieces from the Moon available, as well, but they're not that much larger and not all that less expensive. There are also slightly larger sections of meteorites of indeterminate origin, but I think he'd have more of a connection to something that came from a specific location.

Ironic

I must confess to being somewhat exasperated by talk of what this election supposedly represents, this naive idea that fear of the unknown and the unlike have somehow been driven back into the darkness, and tolerance and acceptance have won the day. Would that it were true.

Measures passed this year in several states that would prevent same sex marriages from being legally recognized; one in Arkansas would keep same sex couples from adopting children or serving as foster parents (though to be fair, it would also apply to unmarried couples of the opposite sex, as well). Exit poll data suggests that many of these measures were heavily supported by black voters, which seems sadly ironic, somehow.

Who Isn't Voting?

Estimates this morning are that just under two-thirds of eligible voters (64%) participated in the election, which would be the largest voter turnout in exactly 100 years. (65.4% of eligible voters participated in 1908, according to the U.S. Bureau of the Census.)

That led me to wonder — who isn't voting?

The most substantial indicators seem to be age and education. According to the statistics from 2004, young adults had the lowest voting and registration rates, though they had the largest increase in both since the 2000 presidential election, compared with all other age groups. (Exit poll data put estimates of voters under 30 in this election at more or less the same percentage as in the recent past.) And voters with a college degree were about twice as likely to vote as those who had not completed high school.

It should be interesting to see how that statistic might change this year, with the efforts that have been put toward recruiting new voters and motivating them to follow through — there was an estimate of as many as 3.5 million new voters this year, according to Associated Press. I wonder — who are they?

Information

I'm getting ready to settle in for the traditional long evening of watching the election returns. Not so much because I'm interested in following the results, but because I've long been intrigued by the way the news is covered, and the way information is presented. It's been fascinating to watch the way technology has changed the method of presentation through the years, though disheartening to see it interfere with the essential need to just get the point across.

Ideology

There is minor controversy here, this morning. The adults of the household are solidly with the Democratic ticket — but the six-year-old vote seems to be with the Republicans. ("I just like the name McCain," he says.) The polls close not too long after bedtime.

Frustration-Free Packaging

This is a great idea. Not so much because of the difficulties you might encounter in opening packaging — a good pair of scissors is enough, more often than not — but because so much of product packaging is designed to be attractive for display at retail, or to demonstrate a particular product feature, or deter theft, or to serve any number of other promotional purposes that are no longer as necessary when you're ordering a product sight unseen, and the decision-making process that such packaging is meant to influence has already been made.

What's important here is that this will reduce waste — for not the least of reasons that printed cardboard packaging generally isn't recyclable in the same way that a plain corrugated cardboard box is. I hope this catches on.

I, Robot

Halloween has now come and gone, for another year. My son and his costume were a source of fascination wherever he went ― I'm fairly certain he was the only robot ― and I believe he enjoyed the attention, though I wasn't entirely sure he would. (He's very much like me in that respect, eager for appreciation but uncomfortable with too much of it.) I hope I gave him everything he had wished for.

The raccoons got into the last bit of candy left outside when it became too late to answer the door. They seem partial to Dum Dums.

Vet

I had to leave Mr. O'Malley with the Vet this morning, to be neutered. I'll be able to pick him up this afternoon, and there's no cause for concern ― but I know this will be a frightening and unpleasant experience for him, and for some reason I'm feeling his discomfort all the more keenly.

Gears

The robot costume has all come together, remarkably well, at that. All that remains is the application of a few coats of clear enamel to seal the head piece, and other minor details.

I had been keeping, or had been trying to keep, a running account of costs in the back of my mind — but I somehow spent twice what I was expecting. (Those small, inexpensive packages of rubber o-rings seem to add up.)

Vanished

How is it possible that an e-mail message I spent a half-hour composing last week, and thought I had sent, could have vanished completely, leaving no trace whatsoever?

Robot Under Construction

I wasn't even sure they'd still have it, and I didn't really want to drive all the way to Ikea, but it was the only place I was reasonably certain I could find that lightweight ribbed plastic tubing I want. You know, for the robot costume. (I've been wanting to use it on the rocket I built, too.) Not only did them have it, it was available in two shades of grey, which means I don't have to paint it.

The electronics have been disassembled, the lights have been removed, and the plastic gears have all been spray-painted a metallic silver, though somewhat dulled by the clear coating applied after. The box has been constructed, and spray painted, too. I'm sure it will sound ridiculous, but I actually built a separate prototype box so I could try it on my son, and make minor adjustments to be sure it would fit comfortably. (I don't usually do design work in three-dimensions, and cardboard isn't all that forgiving as a medium.)

This afternoon, I have to find a switch and rewire the electronics, just slightly, to use it.

Patience

A problem I often have, particularly when I'm just starting on a project, is patience. I have so many ideas in mind, and I'm anxious to see them brought to fruition. I want to start working — now.

Gershwin

You really shouldn't have done it
you hadn't any right
I really shouldn't have let you kiss me
And although it was wrong
I never was strong
Though as long as you've begun it,
and you know you shouldn't have done it

Turn out the light
And hold me close in your arms
All through the night
I know tomorrow morning
You will say goodbye and amen
But until then, please do it again

Costume

This weekend, I'll start work on my son's Halloween costume — he has it in mind to be a robot, complete with lights that will light up and gears that spin. I can make it out of cardboard boxes, plastic tubing, silver spray paint, and a particular toy I have in mind that will (hopefully) be easily disassembled. I've had a sketch and thoughts and ideas for a few weeks, but I've been preoccupied — then again, these projects are always the most fun when put off until the very last minute!

The Man Of Tomorrow

A lawsuit has been making its' way through the courts over the past several years, an attempt by the family of one of the creators of Superman to take advantage of changes in Copyright Law to reclaim part ownership of the character. It's a long, and not particularly interesting story (unless you find a discussion of the minutiae of Copyright Law interesting) but a surprising aspect that has been uncovered as part of the process is that one of writer Jerry Siegel's abandoned ideas for the origin of the character was that he should have come not from the doomed planet Krypton — but from a doomed future Earth!

What I find so fascinating is that this seems to go so much against the very spirit of optimism and hope for tomorrow the character has always represented. (For me, anyway.)

Above: unpublished art from artist Russell Keaton's interpretation of the origin of Superman. Keaton was approached by Jerry Siegel to collaborate with him on developing the character, several years before the feature was eventually published. Siegel and Keaton eventually parted company, and Superman would come to be known as created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

Do Not Call

I may be personally responsible for Nina Totenberg receiving an unwanted phone solicitation.

Caterpillar

My son has adopted a fuzzy caterpillar, found outside in the yard yesterday afternoon. He feeds it green leaves and gently strokes it's fur, and ignores it for all but a few minutes each day. (From the caterpillar's point-of-view, this is probably all for the best.) He knows we can't keep the caterpillar inside in a plastic container forever, but I'm more than willing to indulge his interest for a few days.

Ashley

Have I ever mentioned that I know someone who made the cover of Cosmopolitan — twice? She's the daughter of my mother's best friend from college. I haven't seen her in almost thirty years.

A Google search turned up the usual assortment of photos and videos from her modelling career, along with something curious: she had run for political office in Second Life. Or rather, a fourteen-year-old girl using Ashley's name for her avatar had run for political office. (She lost, amidst claims of electoral fraud.) From what I gather, the real Ashley teaches ballet in Boston, among other creative endeavors.

Temporal Mechanics

I've spent an entire afternoon trying to restore the data on a corrupted hard drive. And I'm not entirely sure why.

I only use it for Time Machine, to keep my computers backed up — at worst, I won't lose anything more than files that had been discarded over the past several months (and even then, that's only if I should suddenly need them).

But it's been comforting, somehow, to know that should the need arise, I could travel back in time.

I must have spent an entire other afternoon trying to preserve the back-ups that had accumulated from my previous iMac when I set up the new one. I never did get that to work, despite detailed instructions — what I lack in expertise, I more than make up for in following detailed instructions — and I finally had to just give up and start from the beginning.

My ability to move backward in time stopped at precisely that point. I would be able to go no further.

A Week Ago Thursday

Last week, having somehow missed a note on the school calendar, I didn't take my six-year-old seriously when he insisted there was no school on Thursday. At first, I thought he was just kidding — but he was very insistent, and he even got a bit angry and upset when I wouldn't believe him.

But he was right, I was wrong, and he was able to enjoy his moment of triumph over a parent. (The first, I'm sure, of many to come.)

This morning, energized by the success of the past week, he tried to convince me that there was no school today. (He didn't try all that hard, though.)

50 Days, 16 Hours, 48 Minutes

For what it's worth, according to iTunes, at this moment I have 19,089 songs, which would take 50 days, 16 hours, and 48 minutes to play.

Pushing Daisies

I'm catching up with Pushing Daisies, a series I highly recommend — even having seen only one episode. (I was completely enchanted by the pilot when I watched it last year, but I don't have much patience for watching network television these days, even with a DVR and my twitchy fast-forward button finger. So I've borrowed the recent DVD release.) It's smart and silly, whimsical and magical, bigger than life, and deeply appealing to my romantic nature. I'm still not sure how far they can go with this premise — but it's such an offbeat premise and such a charming series that I cannot help but be intrigued.

I found it curious that the DVD offers a bewildering range of language choices: you can watch the show in English or Portuguese, or see subtitles in English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, two different Asian languages, and one other I didn't recognize. (I looked it up — it's Thai.)

Tedious

I've been doing more legal research during the past several days — you can probably guess at how interesting this has been. I don't (much) mind the work, but it has a tendency to swallow up my days, leaving everything else undone, and a disheveled pile of papers on my desk.

Bloom

I may, in fact, be the only person who has ever looked at this blog on an iPhone, so I'll offer only this brief recommendation for Bloom. It's described as "part instrument, part composition and part artwork." Taps on the screen generate different tones, appearing as colored circles that expand like droplets of rain in a puddle, then slowly fade. The series of tones then plays as a loop, creating a unique piece of music that changes gradually on its own once left alone.

It's very satisfying — and very relaxing — to tap out a few notes, and watch the colors as the mind wanders.

I have a few different music-based applications on my iPhone — I've tried to select the ones that will encourage my son to play and experiment. He adored Bloom, for the many of same reasons I think most adults would, because it simplifies (perhaps even demystifies) the process of making music, and puts it within the reach of anyone.

Recorder

A girl in my son's after-school class, who has entered third grade this year, mentioned to me that she had been given a recorder, and would be learning to play. This reminded me that I had been given one, as well — probably at about the time I entered the third grade.

I remember it was red — dark red, I think — though I don't remember ever learning how to play it. (If I did learn, it didn't take.)

Working

I spent the most of the day doing legal research. It's not a particularly compelling job, though I can have something interesting on television in the background (so long as I can follow it mostly by listening), and the cats seem to appreciate the long stretches of my sitting still. But it can be surprisingly exhausting, somehow, when done for four or five hours at a time.

Keeping me company, it seems appropriately enough, has been Tony Robinson, host of (and not entirely willing participant in) The Worst Jobs In History. If you've never seen this series (it turns up from time to time here in the US on History International), it's the story of 2,000 years of ordinary life, told (in part) through wretched, often dangerous means of employment from different periods of British history. How wretched? You might have been a "Gong Scourer" (a Tudor-era cesspit cleaner), a "Pure Collector" (a Victorian-era collector of dog and cat excrement to take to tanners), or a "Resurrection Man" (a Georgian-era body snatcher). "Toad Eater," "Vomit Collector," and "Spit Boy," are, I think, all fairly self-explanatory.

Not all the tasks are so unpleasant, though — many are just arduous, backbreaking labor. (You could be a "Bridge Builder," for example, or an "Asphalt Pounder.") Robinson demonstrates each of them, albeit reluctantly. You can find several segments from the series on YouTube. (Robinson has also compiled a few books on the subject, drawn from the series.)

This legal research doesn't seem quite so terrible.

Separate

I had to run an errand this morning, to drop something off for my son at school. As I watched him amble back into the cafeteria full of children, it occurred to me — his day is filled with people and activities only he knows. I have a general idea of his day at school, of course, but I've never experienced it with him.

He has his own separate life, outside of this house — at six years old.

It seems like only yesterday I was with him for his entire day. Or was that the day before yesterday?

Search

Google is making available, for a limited time, a version of its' search index as it appeared at the beginning of 2001, the earliest index that was readily accessible. (The service had already been available for a few years by this point.) Much as I appreciate the novelty of this idea, I cannot for the life of me think of what to search for.

Day Off (One of Two)

We went to Teatown this afternoon, wandering down a path along the lake I had not previously explored. My son was excited to spot a Green Stink Bug — I was even more excited that he knew what it was. (I'd never seen one before.) We even snuck in a handful of peanuts to feed the crows. (They have three in captivity — two had been injured, one was reared by humans and has lost the ability to survive in the wild.)

Apropos of crows — did you know they can apparently recognize different human faces?

I am saddened to hear of the demise of The New York Sun, which will publish it's final edition today, after almost seven years. I only read the paper once, perhaps twice — I was on my way out of New York when it arrived — but I was drawn to the design, deliberately evocative of an era of metal type. And I particularly liked the masthead. And I liked the idea that a determined upstart might compete with the city's long-established dailies.

Change

I spent most of Saturday reading up on Cascading Style Sheets, or CSS, as they're better known. If you've never spent time tinkering with a web page, and have no idea what that means, you're likely to find this as interesting to read about as it would be to write about, I'm sure — so let's just say it's a technique that offers a degree of creative control over the appearance of a web page.

I'm at a point where this is only beginning to not seem completely, utterly overwhelming. At a glance, it all still looks like an impenetrable form of computer programming — but it uses (mostly) plain language (though it all has to be presented in a particular format) and for someone like me, who works in design, the concepts are familiar, at least.

That minor change? At the top of the page? It took me about two hours to puzzle out how it was done, by examining the code on another page, and relying on trial and error. I have a few other adjustments I'd like to try, but this is a start.

Tidy

Most of today has been sent cleaning up the office, in the best tradition of procrastination, an effort to put off doing anything more worthwhile 'till tomorrow.

Most of yesterday was spent with a book, as I attempt to improve my skill set. More on that (and the results) soon.

Perfect

My son is pitching what I suppose could be the First Grade equivalent of a Perfect Game: four tests in three weeks, all 100%. I'm immeasurably proud of his accomplishment — but at the same time, I know this is unlikely to last.

He doesn't really understand the significance, of course — the tests and homework that will come to dominate his days in the years to come are still novel, even welcome experiences.

In The Way

Better that I didn't need to print anything. (That's a drawing by my son in the background, by the way. I think it was a birthday gift.)

Garage

See, this is why I need to get myself better organized ― I fixed the garage door this afternoon, a task that certainly needed to be done ― the door had come off its' rail, and the garage door opener hadn't been working for six or seven years (I wonder what I ever did with the remote?) ― but this was only because I just happened to think of it while I was in the garage this afternoon. I thought to myself "How difficult could this be?"

That's how the days often go here, as we wander leisurely into October.

Interrobang

It isn't every day you learn of forgotten punctuation (is it?), but today will be one of those days: I give you — the interrobang. Wikipedia describes it as “a nonstandard English-language punctuation mark intended to combine the functions of the question mark (also called the interrogative point) and the exclamation mark or exclamation point (known in printers’ jargon as the bang).” For all the years I've spent working with type, this is the first I've heard of it.

It was invented in 1962; six years later, an interrobang key was available on some Remington typewriters. During the 1970s, it was possible to buy replacement interrobang keycaps and strikers for some Smith-Corona typewriters. Even today, it's hidden away in several commonly-used modern digital typefaces. Wow.

Did you know that yesterday was National Punctuation Day? This is the first I've heard of that, as well.

To Do

I'm employing a new tactic in my never-ending pursuit of the goal of getting things done — the familiar To Do List. I tend to be well-organized by my nature, and it's rare that I completely forget what needs to be done. But I tend to procrastinate, and there are times when I'm far too easily distracted, and a moment away becomes an hour, becomes an afternoon.

My hope is that by compiling a list, I'll guilt myself — perhaps shame myself — into accomplishing more.

So I now have a program on my iPhone, which will synchronize with a web-based to-do list, which allows me to use another service, which will transcribe notes dictated into my cell phone and add them to the list.

(One of the other features this service provides is the ability to compose simple, brief blog posts — in fact, parts of this post were composed by phone. I can't imagine using it all that often, though. Not only am I limited to 15-second recordings, I tend to compulsively re-write and edit my work. And I cannot abide the thought of spelling errors.)

It might sound much more complicated than it is, and perhaps it is, but we'll see how it works.

Door

For the first time in (I think) almost ten years, the garage is off-limits to stray cats, wandering wildlife, and anything else that would have been small enough to fit through a pet door.

When we first bought this house, our hillbilly neighbors across the street (we used to refer to them as "The Bumpases," a reference that will be familiar to anyone who has ever read Jean Shepherd) had somehow accumulated a large number of outdoor cats. They were reasonably well cared for, but friendly and affectionate, and would wander over from time to time.

The Bumpases were evicted about a year later, and we agreed, reluctantly, to care for the half-dozen or so cats they couldn't bring with them. We couldn't take them in, or place them (they had become accustomed to living outdoors) but we fed them regularly, and they lived in the garage during the cold winter months. I installed a pet door so they could come and go.

Of course, in feeding the cats, I was also feeding the raccoons, who were quite fond of dry cat food. And when they discovered the cats were occasionally fed in the garage, they would come and go, as well. (I would occasionally see the backside of one trying to fit itself through the pet door.) I like the raccoons, I really do — I find them irresistibly adorable, watching them grow larger and larger in the months before winter. But they tend to be curious, and they're often a bit destructive. It became impossible to store birdseed or cat food in the garage.

Most of the outdoor cats died over the past two or three years, the last just a few months ago. They lived longer than most, I think.

Yesterday, I found the perfect piece of scrap wood and closed off the pet door.

The Lorax

I would imagine my son and I have read The Lorax close to a hundred times by now — there was a phase he went through where it was the book he wanted me to read to him, every night, and it remains one of his favorites. In fact, when asked to choose a favorite book to bring to school not too long ago, this is the one he selected.

(Often when we notice a building or vehicle belching smoke into the sky, he'll remark "The Lorax wouldn't like that.")

According to this, the Ohio Sea Grant Program wrote to Dr. Seuss in 1985 and asked that he reconsider the reference, “I hear things are just as bad up in Lake Erie,” as conditions had improved considerably since the book was first published, in 1971. (The Cuyahoga River, a tributary that feeds into the lake at Cleveland, Ohio, famously caught fire in 1969.) Dr. Seuss agreed, and said that the line wouldn’t appear in future editions.

The well-read, much loved copy I have, which dates from the early 1980s, still includes the line. (I bought virtually all of the Dr. Seuss books I have almost 20 years before my son was born.) I checked Amazon's "Search Inside The Book" feature, and while it does appear that the reference has been removed, they can't show me that page.

This will require a visit to the book store...

Mr. O'Malley

The kitten has officially been named Mr. O'Malley, after the fairy godfather in the comic strip Barnaby by Crockett Johnson. He's seen here on my desk — where all cats in this house seem to end up, sooner or later — next to the cactus garden, which has done quite well, much better than I expected. Mr. O'Malley seems to be growing almost as fast.

Like most cats, he is often aloof — but genuinely affectionate, when the mood suits him.

Easy-Bake

Have you noticed? The beloved Easy-Bake Oven has been redesigned to resemble a more modern microwave. I suppose it still uses an ordinary lightbulb, though the package goes to great lengths to disguise this fact. (Has this always been the case? I don't remember.)

Call Me Irresponsible

I'm in the mood to set aside my responsibility for today and have an adventure.

Where should I go? What should I do?

Systemizing

This is interesting — the suggestion that the increase in rates of autism might be due in part to "assortative mating," the tendency of individuals to seek out partners that are similar to them. Where once we might have chosen mates in deference to social tradition or for economic benefit, we now do so for largely different reasons, seeking partners who fit our notions of compatibility or similarity.

In simple terms, the theory suggests that "parents who are not themselves autistic, but who both possess...'systemizing' qualities — the tendency to sort things, an interest in rules or laws — have a higher risk of producing offspring that are themselves 'systemizers.'"

As any parent of an autistic child knows, there's much, much more to autism disorders than a predisposition toward "systemizing" qualities — it involves a range of different tendencies and behaviors. I've no doubt whatsoever there is a genetic component, but it seems too simplistic to assume that inheritance is the only factor, or even the predominant one.

Books

I've just dropped off several books to be donated to an organization that supports our local library, for a book sale to be held early next month. I'm pleased to support the library — but I must admit to a certain degree of self-promotion in doing this, the hope that someone might be intrigued enough by the bargain they've discovered to see what else is available.

I love books — and I've loved publishing them. It hasn't been the successful endeavor I'd hoped for (I'm sure that's the experience of most small publishers), but I never expected to find my fortune — I only wanted this to be self-supporting, to be able to continue to publish more books. If I had the resources, I'd do it again without hesitation. (And I may yet.)

Playground

Scattered

I just can't seem to concentrate today...

Ectoplasm

I'm proud to say I was several years ahead of the cultural curve, for what it's worth, in the resurgence of interest in the work of Raymond Scott, best known for his energetic, slightly eccentric musical compositions from the 1930s and 1940s (most with memorable, unusual titles, such as "Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals"). His work had been indelibly imprinted on me, thanks to repeated exposure during my adolescence (Scott sold his music publishing business to Warner Bros. in the early 1940s, and his compositions were frequently featured in cartoons released by the studio), though I never really knew it. But from the moment I heard Scott's original recordings, they became part of my (almost) obsessive curiosity about pop culture from days long ago.

My girlfriend at the time gave me a collection of Scott's work as a gift, a cassette tape compiled from vintage 78 RPM records that had been generously provided by Irwin Chusid. (He was largely responsible for the rediscovery of Raymond Scott, beginning with small steps like this one, and would later go on to produce a series of reissues of Scott's work). I listened to it constantly. (I still have it, too. I wonder if it still sounds as good?) I was often drawn to a few songs that were clearly from a different phase of Scott's recording career, perhaps a later one — they seemed to sound different, somehow, both in composition and in the way they had been recorded. But this was 1989, back in the days before Google —how did we ever get along? — and despite his fame in the 1940s, Scott had become a relatively obscure and mostly forgotten part of music history. I was quite curious, but had no way to learn more.

And now I have. Ectoplasm, released earlier in the year, covers this era of Scott's recordings, from 1948-1949 (the first for his own record label), and includes an illustrated booklet with essays and interviews. (I came very close to buying this on iTunes, but I knew I'd regret missing out on the supplementary materials if I did.) I can't wait to listen.

I bought another CD, too, but that was something else entirely.

Truth

My six-year-old heard a story on the radio this afternoon, about the reopening of the I-35W Mississippi River bridge in Minnesota after its' collapse last year. He asked if anyone was hurt when the bridge collapsed — I told him that yes, that several people were injured and some were killed.

Not too long ago, I would have avoided the issue altogether, or I might tried to tell him that no one had been seriously hurt. He went through a phase not too long ago where he would become overly concerned with the possibility of catastrophe — a thunderstorm, or a lightning strike that might cause a tree to come down, or even a tornado. This would become a regular topic of conversation (he'd always want to be reassured) and a part of his pretend play (his way of working through his anxiety). But he's past that now, he seems more secure. I didn't even hesitate in answering his question.

There is a lingering part of me that can't help but wonder if I've made the right choice, if six years old isn't a bit too early to confront such difficult truth. I know he doesn't really understand what it all means — but perhaps just enough, in his own way.

Shuffle

An entire chapter of The Perfect Thing is devoted to the "shuffle" function of the iPod, the feature that selects and plays music, almost at random.

Apparently, this is one of the most popular features of the iPod. (There's even a model that does almost nothing but.) Some people are convinced that these random selections are anything but, even that the device has it's own agenda or distinctive moods. In fact, "random" can be a surprisingly elusive ideal, and the human mind does rather badly with this concept — we're quick to see trends and connections where there really are none.

(Apple later introduced a feature that allowed users to tweak the shuffle function, to make it appear to be more random by actually making it slightly less so.)

As I was reading about the "shuffle" function, I suddenly realized, I've never, ever used it. I suppose it's just never occurred to me. (I listen to my iPod just about every day, but I only use it to listen to music once in a while. I tend to listen to Podcasts while driving, mostly news and documentary programming.) I'm sure this will sound unimaginative and monotonous — but I enjoy an element of control over what I'm listening to, even prefer it.

Impulse

I'm probably not the best person to buy a book for as a gift. It isn't that I don't love to read — I have endless shelves lined with books, boxes full of them, too. But if you've bought me a book, even if I'm sure I will enjoy it, if it doesn't immediately grab my interest, it may end up sitting on a shelf or on my nightstand for some time. That even happens with books that I've bought — I'll start to read them, but my interest wanders away to something else, and they're left unread.

I have two books next to my bed at the moment — a biography of cartoonist Charles Schulz (I started reading that several months ago), and Physics of the Impossible. Both are books I've been looking forward to reading (though if I had known it would take me this long to read the Charles Schulz book, I might have waited for the paperback, which is due early next month), but today I was excited by The Perfect Thing about the development of the iPod. Very likely what will happen is I'll spend the rest of the day and most of the evening devouring this book, and it will be finished before the dust that has accumulated on any other books I have is even disturbed.

I adore books — but I'm not the person to buy them for as a gift. Perhaps a gift certificate is a better idea.

Balance

Try as I might — and believe me, I've tried! — I just cannot seem to keep my business checking account balanced. It isn't as though I use it all that often (my publishing business hasn't been particularly active over the past several years) but every so often it inevitably ends up a few dollars different from my bank statement, and no matter how often I reexamine the records it doesn't seem to make any difference. I end up having to manually adjust the balance.

It can't be that difficult, can it?

Wasps

I've been having a problem with wasps for the past several weeks — I suspect they've made a nest in a crawlspace under the house, and they've been coming up into the house through the bathroom downstairs (though I'm not sure just where). They're often weak and lethargic, so they don't seem to be much of a threat. I just caught a half-dozen of them and put them outside — they may be lethargic, but they're not always easy to catch — though most I find only after they've died, often on the windowsill.

Fly Away

The House Finch seems to have gathered up the strength to fly away.

House Finch

Hours later, the finch has now set herself up for the night on the large circular perch of the bird feeder. At least she'll be safe there.

Birds

Earlier in the afternoon, I saw an uncharacteristically sedate Blue Jay at rest on the corner of the deck, it's head buried among ruffled up feathers. I was concerned, but it has been a little colder than usual. Several hours later, it was dead.

A House Finch was similarly settled on the deck, beneath the bird feeder. She seemed unconcerned when I got close enough to take a picture, glancing up at me only briefly before burying her head back into her feathers. I've gently picked her up and placed her in a shallow plastic box I could move somewhere not so out in the open, somewhere she will be less likely prey for the neighbor's cat who comes around every so often.

She's now perched herself on the edge of the box, and returned to rest. I'm not all that optimistic about her chances, but at least she'll be able to die quietly and peacefully.

Backpack

Do you suppose a child's backpack is machine washable? There are no care instructions on the label, not that I could find.

I think it's time to find out!

Electricity

My plans to spend the afternoon at work have had to be unexpectedly put aside, for the moment — the electricity is out, for the second time today. (I'm composing this on my beloved iPhone.) But it isn't all bad — the only sound that remains is a gentle breeze rustling through the trees.

And that's got me thinking — how enjoyable it would be to spend some time without technology.

Five Twenty Nine

According to the paperwork I got in the mail today, my son has just over $10,000 in his college savings account. That seems like a reasonable amount, considering he just turned six last month.

A Week Ago Monday

This was when the kitten was found, wandering in the dark among the underbrush next to the house, meowing quietly. (That's the only way he knows how.) He's found a home here. It's taken some time, but the older cats are beginning to accept him — except for his tendency to play when the others want to sleep.

The name? The name is still a work in progress.

There Goes The Bus

A slight adjustment has been made to the schedule, and now the school bus is arriving about ten minutes earlier than it had been. Needless to say, this has thrown the well-oiled machine of my morning into complete and utter chaos. (We missed the bus both yesterday and today.)

Lessons

On this date seven years ago, our government became preoccupied with threat (imagined and otherwise), adrift in paranoia, eager for war, and quick to betray many of the most important legal and moral principles this country stands for. All in the name of "security," and almost to the exclusion of all else.

That, to me, for those of us with only a tenuous or indirect connection to the events of that day, is what must never be forgotten. We will have to live with the consequences of those actions for many years to come.

Restful

Particles

The first proton beam has circulated around the Large Hadron Collider. The world has not come to an end, et cetera et cetera.

While a few of those concerns had been raised by other scientists (a few of them outside of mainstream science), I often get this sense that they're taking advantage of the tendency of science not to rule out even the most outlandish theoretical possibilities if there's even the slightest uncertainty. Ordinary people read of this, of the possibility of calamity, and many seem to come away assuming the worst.

I was reminded of something James Burke said at the end of Connections, hat individuals have within themselves the ability to understand anything, as long as it's explained clearly enough. Trouble is, of course, these are complex, perhaps even abstract concepts, and difficult to explain clearly. I doubt most people even care to ask for explanations.

Pinky Dinky Doo

New episodes of Pinky Dinky Doo began airing on Noggin a few days ago. If you've never seen it, this is a wildly imaginitive and very, very silly series designed for preschoolers, one that I enjoy just as much as they do. (Possibly even more.) "Great big fancy words" has become the reference of choice more often than not when I explain a term that my son doesn't know the meaning of.

But the new series looks and sounds very, very different ― where previous episodes had been animated in Flash, and designed to play to the strengths of that process with intentionally flat character design and movement, the entire production is now computer animated. Motion is now more fluid, and the same basic settings have been enhanced with a sense of depth ― but it just doesn't seem right somehow. Most of the elements remain flat, but the addition of the occasional dimensional objects seems incongruous. And the young actress who is the voice of Pinky Dinky Doo (India Ennenga, who from what I gather is now about 13) is obviously maturing.

But the writing seems as clever as ever. Perhaps this will just take a bit of getting used to.

Homework

My son is bringing home homework. Not too much, not so much that it's a burden, but this is going to take some getting used to.

I've been thinking about getting him a sort of miniature version of the desk I have in my office (it came from Ikea) — wouldn't that just be adorable? — but that seems like a bit much for a six-year-old. I think we'll just use the kitchen table for the time being.