Laziness vs Embarrassment

Laziness is opting to take the elevator to the 2nd floor instead of using the stairs that are right there as well, for no other reason than just being a fat unmotivated slug. Embarrassment is having a co-worker jump in and press the button for the 4th floor, somebody who has a right and reason to use the elevator, and their having to wait for your lazy ass to get off a moment later. :-

365-230-7477

Today marks the one year anniversary of starting, or actually, 're-starting' this website. As I wrote and posted in the 'About This Website' entry on this day in 2005, this is not my first website effort, but it was a fresh start with a renewed desire and focus on more personal entries and writing.

So here I am, 365 days, 230 posts, and 7,477 unique views later, wondering if I've stayed on course, met my expectations, and what I've accomplished with this effort so far.

A Window Office

I Have an office at work. It's a typical office with walls, a door, an adjacent window into the hallway, a white board, and a seldom used pencil-cup. I actually spend the majority of my time at the office in that office, but in the mornings, when time and schedules allow, I like to take my laptop to the cafe on campus. There, I'll get a cup of coffee, perhaps a bagel or cup of warm cream-of-wheat, and take a seat up against the broad wall of windows. Using the fast wireless network I can sift through emails, prioritize bugs and tasks, prepare for meetings and do pretty much any and everything i would do in my office, but with a full view of the campus and lots of sky and sunlight. It's quite refreshing and takes the 'hovel' feeling out of the workday.

What I'm Really Thankful For

As i expect most people did this week, I gathered with family and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving, and as has been the case in many prior years, we took a moment to mention the things we were "grateful" for. The gathering was a mixture of immediate and extended family, as well as other friends of the host, so there was a range of people that I knew, knew well, and never met before. When it came to my turn, I made a minor joke about being thankful for the forthcoming end of Bush's presidency, and followed it with a sincere but routine reference of being thankful for my family.

Although it's true and I am definitely thankful for my family, my 'attitude about gratitude' goes deeper then I took the time or had the inclination to recite on a moments notice. I've had an opportunity to give it more consideration, so here goes.

Gettiin'Jiggity Jig

As far as films go, there's but a handful of movies that i'd be able to say i've watched over and over again. I'm talking about double digit viewings. And I'm not talking about stumbling across a movie 1/3 of the way into it while channel surfing TMC on a lazy afternoon, I'm talking about a dedicated, purposeful, intentional 'screening' of a film, popcorn and soda in hand, from start to finish. One of those at the top of the list, right between 'Apocalypse Now' and 'Brazil', is 'Blade Runner'. For those inclined to ask, the "Director's Cut" of course. And it continues to be a tried and true favorite in the Sci Fi genre. Yet one brief line has stuck with me, echoed in my head, and I'd never made any further logical association until last year. That line, obscure and insignificant as it might sound, is "Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig".

Peter Panned

I thought it'd be fun to get the kids a Disney movie, and I wanted to have it be something 'wholesome', something I'd grown up with. So I got 'Peter Pan' and my son loves it, but my wife pointed out, and I have to agree, confirming that my transformation to a conservative parent appears to be complete, that it's not appropriate for a 3 year old. There's some 'killing' references, swordplay, and 'mean' behavior that he really doesn't need to take in just yet. I think we'll be sticking with Pooh Bear for awhile. Perhaps 'Mary Poppins'. Either way, it's still a strange feeling to be finding myself actually giving this consideration, when there was a time in my life that i'd not give it a second thought.

Drinking A Latte Eggnog

If you're at all a fan of Eggnog, as am I, you've got to head over to your nearest Peets Coffee and get an Eggnog Latte. Seriously. Skip that Starbucks stop and go the extra mile for something you really deserve. The best. Even if doing so requires downing a large quantity of lactaid beforehand, it's worth it. This is year three of my ongoing seasonal addiction and I'm hooked again.

Guilt On A Onesie

When our kids were first born, my mother in law stayed with us for 3 months. When it was first arranged, although it was great to anticipate the help, I feared the typical 'Darin/Endora' interplay and tension, and on more then one occasion I actually think I heard her mutter 'Derwood' under her breath. But in all honesty, it was more than a saving grace, so much so that we added her name to our daughter's name. And when she was due to leave, having made a big deal of her callous abandonment of her grandchildren, I wanted to make sure she didn't do so without a final pang of guilt. All in fun of course.



So with the help of a color printer and iron-on decal paper, I produced this set of 'onesies' for the kids to wear on her final day.

Vision Plan

The eyestrain related headaches and the sore neck muscles from arching my head back to be able to read the small print were enough to prompt an eye dr visit, and it turns out that my prescription has changed and it's time for new glasses.

I love my optometrist, Janis Gong, and I recommend her to everybody. BUT it seems that every 'private practice' marks their glasses prices up well outside of reasonable. Insurance only covers $120 towards the cost of frames, and frames at Costco or Site For Sore Eyes run between $50-$100, so I assumed I'd do better to find a pair elsewhere, and avoid the $150+ I'd end up paying out of pocket when all was said and done.

Well, once again, insurance companies have the upper hand, and whatever collaborate arrangements they have work to the benefit of themselves and those that 'partner up' with them.

It turns out that pretty much anywhere I go outside of a private practice is considered 'out of network', and, get this, they'll only pay $40 towards the frames and only $20 towards the lenses. So by the time I'm done going elsewhere to save a few bucks, it still ends up costing me about the same.

I really despise that my needs for glasses requires such restrictions, and worse, the feeling that the system is designed to pretty much forcing me through choices not necessarily in my best interest, but in theirs.

Putting theTandem In Tandem Computer

In the early 70's, shortly after we moved to the Bay Area and settled into a home in Cupertino, the family got a Tandem bicycle. If I recall, it was something my mother found for sale for $25 via a local neighborhood bulletin board. It was long, yellow, and loads of fun. For about a week.

But that's the way things of that nature seemed to go in my youth. I'd get something new, it'd be the hot topic of interest and attention, then something else bright and shiny would catch my eye. And on occasion, something would leave me with a lifetime memory.

And such was the case with the yellow tandem bicycle. There are two memories, one historical, and one hysterical, that I'll always associate with it.

My father, brother and I would take various turns riding with one or the other around the neighborhood. Most of my parents adult friends, when visiting, would also take it for a quick spin around the block. I don't recall my mom jumping on for a ride but she might have as well, in the first day or two. Yet after awhile, the novelty wore off, and it became yet another obstacle lining the side walkway along our house.

The funny memory is something that happened towards the end of our 'interest period' in the bike. My brother and I had pretty much 'been there/done that' with regards to riding the bike on the streets and sidewalks of the surrounding area. But we'd not crossed over into the 'all terrain' aspects, and when you're a teenager and you're losing interest in something like this, you're not quite so inclined to put a good deal of emphasis into its condition or treatment. Conveniently, directly across the street from our house, was an elementary school with plenty of open spaces and rough patches, just the right sort of challenge for a pair of adventurous siblings.

My brother, being the elder, was hence the ring leader. I, subsequently, filled the supporting role position of the adaptable lackey, nodding obligingly while occasionally muttering the standard agreements of "yeah, boss.. yeah yeah... sure sure... uh huh...". It was this or a bloody nose. I adapted quickly.

We'd made fair game of the baseball fields, the dirt patches, and even the tanbark encompassed monkey-bar areas. They'd all yielded willingly to our forceful intrusions. So logically, the decorative bushes in the front of the school fell into our next path. With the right momentum, we'd careen into a wide patch of knee deep bushes, crushing branches along the way, as we'd forge a path by brute force. The bike would shimmy and bump, but, provided we maintained the consistent effort on the dual pedals, we'd get through in a matter of moments, looping back around the outer campus pathway to traverse it again. It worked several times in a row, then halfway through, we heard a snap from beneath the front tire, and I felt the rush to follow.

It seems our prior passes ran directly over a rather large-scale water pipe valve. Nothing so obvious that we'd have seen it from a distance, or even during the rough and tumble travel over it, but it was there, taking the brunt of the impact repeatedly, and with each pass, cracking just a little more. And finally, it snapped audibly, and the rush to follow was that of a busted water main, pressurized with enough force to send a blasting jet of water directly into the sky, probably about 20 feet or so into the air.

So remembering that we're on a tandem bike, and taking note of the fact that the snap occurred as the front tire dislodged the broken value and released the captive water, my brother was spared. I, however, was not. As my brother so eloquently tells the story, hearing the snap and feeling the impact, he glanced back at me over his shoulder, only to find a circular pillar of rushing water, through which, in slow motion, came my nose, then my cheeks, then my gasping face. The water had shot up directly behind his seat and completely nailed me on mine.

Being completely taken aback, we faltered a foot or two on the bike as it slowed and fell sideways, water raining down upon us from the fountain we lay beneath. We scrambled to pull the bike aside and, once my brother was able to regain his composure and control the unbridled laughter at my drenched state, we rode back to our home to get our father's help. By the time we'd returned, numerous neighbors had come from their homes to observe the new fountain we'd unintentionally discovered, and the fire dept. soon followed. It was quite an event for us all.

Soon after, perhaps for the better, the Tandem bike had been abandoned on the side of the house. Perhaps for a year or even longer. And during that time, my father had joined a few others leaving their positions at HP to a startup company known as Tandem Computer. My father was one of the first 100 employees. And as the company grew, he approached the family with the desire to donate the unused tandem bike to the company.

Even though it had been some time since the bike had been used, even though the tires were flat and the yellow paint had faded and given way to an increasing percentage of rust, and even though it had sat long enough for weeds to have entwined themselves in its tires, there was still some trepidation at the thought of relinquishing it. It was one of those moments where the thought of giving it up was cause to reconsider using it again instead.

But like many things that run their course, server their purpose, meet the immediate needs, and oh yes, contribute to the pool of childhood stories one later relates, it only took a few moments of sincere consideration before we agreed to letting it find a new home. And with that, the bike was gone from sight, and shortly thereafter, from memory.

I don't recall how many years later it was, perhaps only 3 or 5, perhaps more, but following my parents divorce, and my dad's subsequent relocation to Germany, I had arranged to visit him for lunch one afternoon while he was in town. It was to go to a local hole-in-the-wall bar & grill called 'the 19th hole', in a shopping center at the intersection of 280 and Stevens Creek Blvd, that he'd rightly claimed to have had one of the best burgers in the Bay Area. When I arrived in the lobby of Tandem computers and requested that the receptionist advise him of my presence, I stood, glancing at either side of the back wall of the lobby where hallways extended in either direction, awaiting his arrival. And suddenly, almost as you'd expect to occur in a movie, complete with slow motion and reflective musical accompaniment, my eyes recognized, beneath the staircase centered against the back wall of that lobby, the Tandem bike. Our Tandem bike.

It had been lustrously restored; the dingy rust-stained flaking yellow paint was gone, replaced with a rich dark gold.The seats, pedals, grips...everything was pristine. It had been there for some time, a casual tie in for the company to their name, and a symbol to visitors for many many years. When we returned from lunch my father and I even talked briefly about the bike and its memories. Even as recently as a few years back, when I'd made some contact with a number of his co-workers, I was told that the bike was still around and in the possession of one of the executives.

I hope it's in use, and if it's in use by that executives children, I hope they'll try making a run for the bushes some day. Perhaps it'll be something they speak of and reflect on fondly, many years from now, as I do today.

Sock Stock

I know this seems trivial and I’m not going to make a big drawn out post about it… but WTF is happening to my socks? Even with the chaos of twins, it’s not like there’s a lot of places for them to go, but I have reached a point where 80% of my socks are without their mate. Seriously. I counted 15 individual socks without partners. I know that it’s not unusual for one or two to go astray from time to time, but 15! I only own about 18 pairs.



Like I said… I’m not going to make a big deal about it, but it’s really pretty extreme right now and I just needed to vent a little.

Found In Translation

OK this is funny. I've had a conversation with more then one person on different occasions in which they've commented on the increasing presence of shop signs in the Cupertino area that are not in english. Having grown up in Cupertino since 1971, I can personally attest that the demographics have changed dramatically and there is definitely a much more prevalent asian community and influence. This is not news. And there's more and more stores and shops that are specifically asian targeted, complete with signs that I can't read, or more often, that are bilingual, but the english is secondary and typically in smaller print beneath the other.

SO... (this is where the funny part comes in) I found it amusingly ironic that, when recently driving away from a visit to my mother's home in Cupertino, I drove past a very dirty van parked on the street, the back of which had "Wash Me" written in english, and below it, there were one or two mandarin characters as well.

No Access For You!

It turns out that a ‘CryptoCard’, something used to access one’s company network in conjunction with a unique password and a 6 digit code it displays, can get out of sync with the office server. How? One scenario can be that the button gets pushed repeatedly, say 20 or so times, in a matter of moments. And I know this because….? Because after two days of not being able to use the card, I finally contacted the IT team, walked through the reset process, and had them convey this tidbit to me. Which in turn reminded me of its brief disappearance in one of my kid’s hands over the weekend, for apparently just long enough to push the button repeatedly, say 20 times or more….. you get the picture.



Tip: Kids and CryptoCards don’t play well together.

Showing Some Restraint

The last bastion used to cling to the illusion of an unfettered life has been relinquished. The natural course of time and my environment have successfully worn away at the facade, and the honest reality of my existence is now exposed for all to see. No longer will I have the option to use the time spent between home and work as a self-delusional time machine, where no visual reminders exist of what I've left behind and will return to at the end of the day. A glance in the rear view mirror will not require the presence of a police car to illicit that momentary hollow feeling in my gut. And the days of scantily clad lingerie models driving a jeep beside me, in jean shorts and half tops, blowing kisses and winking seductively, will be replaced with the same ladies in the same car, but they'll giggle and roll their eyes as they speed off into the distance. Yes, after 3+ years of rationalization and resistance, there's a child seat in my car.

The bright side? Perhaps I'll be able to get away with using the carpool lane.

Can You See The Real Me?

There's a great song on the opening of the Who's "Quadrophenia" titled "The Real Me". "Quadrophenia" is the story of a young man coming of age and struggling to find himself and his identity. The lyrics have been running though my head lately. Not out of a need to find my identify, but to convey it, and to do so in my posts and writings.

As I stated in my 'About This Website' post when I resurrected it in late 2005, much of my desire in doing this is to capture my experiences, history and observations for posterity. I'm enjoying doing so, and I was recently in a conversation with my brother-in-law, who was giving me some very positive feedback on this site. But something he said stuck with me; he said, and I'm paraphrasing here, that it was interesting to read because he knows me, and it's further insight into thoughts he might not otherwise be aware of.

But does he know the real me?

If A Dog Could Say ONE THING…

I made a side reference to this joke today at lunch and it busted everybody up. Jess asked if i was reserving blog rights to it, so i said yes and thus, I am posting it here. In part, the reservation of the rights was also due to them not belonging to me. In the spirit of giving credit where credit is due, the following quip was relayed to me many years ago by the very funny and bright Steven Hill, a friend for many years, and part of a time in my life I’ll write more about in the near future.

Q: If a dog could say one thing, what would it be?A: “...are you gonna eat that?“

Yabba Dabba Duo

Since year 1 of their birth, given his blonde hair and temperament, and her relative 'pebble-ness'', I've longed to see our kids in Flintstones attire for Halloween. Year 1 was too soon, and year 2 was right when we were returning to the bay area and just not an option. Next year, year 4, we pretty much expect they'll be telling us what costumes they'll wear. So this year, year 3... this was the last chance. And my lovely and talented wife saw fit to make the costumes by hand, and spent the majority of a week working on them. But damn.... did they turn out great or what? I typically don't opt to post family photos on this site but in this case I'll make an exception.



A special thanks goes out to my mom's help in stripping the existing background from one of the photos, which enable me to work a little of my own photoshop magic and drop 'em right into their hometown. (I'm particularly proud of the shadows). The first photo includes the great work on the shoes.

There IS an Age Limit to Trick or Treating

Once again, the end of October brings goblins, ghosts, ghouls and gremlins to our door, in search of sweet treats. Oh, and it brings about the same number of early-teenaged kids wearing their football jersey, or goth makup, looking for a handout. Once again I find myself at work, surrounded by an occasional elf, wizard, warlock, or devil, and I'm forced to return a modest smile or smirk, all the while wondering if they realize that statements made in meetings regarding the urgency of TPS report submissions just lose something in translation when it's delivered by a man in a Klingon costume. These are scary times, scary times indeed.

I don't know about you but sans the relatively simple and subtle inclusion of a set of felt horns on a co-workers head, and of course the attractive coffee bar girl adorning a tightly fitting pirate costume that accentuates her treasure chest, isn't the practice of adults dressing up for Halloween at work pretty much dead? I certainly have seen a consistent reduction in the practice over the many years, and I even recall a time in the early 90's where Apple had a dedicated parade for staff to march about the streets and buildings. But then everybody grew up and put 'work' in the workplace and reserved the play aspects of the holiday for the true observers; the children.

It's a kids holiday, people. I know you want to defend the donning of your dusty and tattered 'Renaissance Fair' costume from that wild summer of yours back in 1989, and I know you want to insist that we're all kids at heart, I need to loosen up, yadda yadda yadda pphpt! Stop struggling to look hip, to look young, and recognize that after the first moment or two of nervous laughter when you appear at the workplace, the remaining portion of the day, the laughter is definitely not in your favor. Let it go.

We took the kids out last night for their first Halloween, to visit a few select friends houses, and to see some family. It's a double edged sword, because there's a very special association with the ritual from my youth, and the glaring social stigma that it now carries; you're not supposed to trust people. That's just plain fucked up. And the reality is, just as you might think.... it's not really like that. it's all an urban legend.

Yes, folks. It's all a hoax. People don't poison kids with Halloween candy. There's an excellent write up on Snopes.com that wonderfully details the myths. So, that story you were told years ago about a friend who's friend bit into an Apple with a razor blade is bunk. Yet, just the 'concept' of doing so, in our culture, makes exercising caution a sad prerequisite, to the degree that Halloween outings for many kids include one final stop at the local hospital for a a quick kit-kat-scan.

And on the topic of Halloween, take a minute or two to review the wikipedia entry for Halloween. It's always fascinating to look at the history behind holidays and traditions, and to and see the evolution from one practice to another. And of course it's always interesting as well when what are called 'Pagan' rituals are redefined, when seasonal celebrations are realigned by the church, and when society's perceptions and/or beliefs adapt accordingly.

Then there's this whole thing about teenaged kids coming to my door. I like the little ones; they're honest, and there's a sense of wonder for them in it, and excitement, and joy. The teens are just there for free candy. It's not about anything else, and you'll have a hard time convincing me otherwise. Now, granted, If you take that same acne-riddled voice-cracking teen and see him scampering about in search of hidden eggs at Easter, or routinely leaping from his bed on Christmas eve to scan the skyline in search of a jolly old man and eight tiny reindeer, i'll cut him some slack. Hell, if they'd just put a modicum of effort into a reasonable effort at a costume I'd be impressed enough to reward the effort, but when a kid just shows up at my door in the later hours, with his a 'Tool' T-Shirt and his father's worn leather toolbelt sagging lower then the jeans already down to his thighs, they lose me.

True Story: Last year, we'd taken our kids to my mom's to hand out candy. Well after the end of the visitors that include the aforementioned teens, there was a knock on the door. The pumpkins had been removed from the patio and there was no 'sign' that we were 'open' for business, as it were, but there was a knock nonetheless. I opened the door and standing on the patio was a sole teenager, probably about 16 or 17, in standard street clothes attire and nothing even vaguely resembling a costume of any kind. Being surprised that anybody knocked at all, when I opened the door and saw him standing there, his hand outstretched, with a vacant look on his face, I figured I'd see if he'd even make an effort to say 'Trick or Treat'. So I stood there in the doorway, no expression, looking at him.

He said nothing. Literally, the kid just stood on my mother's patio, not in costume, hand outstretched, awaiting the typically reflex distribution of a bite-sized butter-finger.

"Yes?" I said, in an effort to prompt him into the simple three word statement.

He stared back for a moment, glanced about the landing, then looked back at me and said "Uh, do you have any candy?"

Without 'losing my cool' I leaned against the door jam, smiled slightly, cocked my head and and said "Dude, what are you thinking? It's late, we're got no pumpkin on our patio, you're way too old to be out here doing this, and you didn't even try and wear a costume? Where's your costume? Sorry man but this is ridiculous.... you're not getting any candy here."

He just stared at me for a moment, smiled slightly and made some half-assed excuse about not having any time to put together a costume. I just look at him, smiling back at the fact that we clearly both knew exactly what was going on, and just laughingly said "Sorry buddy... not gonna happen here... ". To his credit, he simply said 'OK' and shuffled along down the street. He was probably a little more aware of at least looking for a lit pumpkin, let alone rubbing some exhaust stains off a car onto his face and claiming to be a mechanic.

My wife thought it was terrible of me to do that but I honestly did not and do not think it was terrible at all. I wish more people would do so. I wish more people would put out a simple little sign with a ghost extending their hand out that say's "You must be shorter than this sign to trick or treat at this house". I think that if people looked at the half-hearted effort of high school kids out to get free candy and made it clear that they're no longer eligible for those benefits, it might be help return the innocence and mystery to the holiday for not just the kids, but for the families wanting to preserve the tradition.

Did I try and work the system in my teens? Hell yes, I did indeed, making me all the wiser now. My own experiences are exactly why I object to it today. My own experiences are also the reason i'll never let my daughter date before she's 25, or at least not allow her to go unchaperoned to a movie theater serving popcorn in collapsing boxes... but that's another story.