Three years ago today...

...she became my wife.

And every day since the best part has been the time spent with her.

Tiny triumph: New towels

Last weekend we were in Bed Bath & Beyond to pick up some items, and wanted to get some new hand towels for the guest bathroom, as we were to have guests later that day. While in the towel section we realized that the fancy bath towels we got for a wedding gift were now nearly three years old, and between those and one other set of towels that we pretty well alternate using and washing, using and washing, week after week, it may not be out of the question to consider some new bath towels for our own purposes.

We didn't get the really fancy ones; we didn't get the cheapest ones either (they were $15 each). We aren't living high on the hog but we can afford $30 in new towels.

It's funny how extravagant new towels seemed before we got them—or at least, how out-of-mind buying new towels was. But after getting them and drying off after showering… it's amazing how wonderful they are!

So, do yourself a favor: Buy new towels every year or two. Even if you're on a budget, it's worth the investment.

In praise of nice guys

Someday if my wife and I end up having a daughter, I can envision a moment many years in the future where a young person (for the purposes of this story we'll make him a boy) will come to the house with the intention of taking our daughter out on a date. I'll be imposing not so much because I'm that intimidating but because I'll be taller than the fellow. And invariably our daughter will not be ready to go (I know, I know; could I make our theoretical daughter more stereotypical?) so the young man and I will get to spend some time together in the living room.

I will size him up and, with any luck, he'll seem like a nice guy. (I believe our daughter will have decent taste). At some point I will let him in on something. "You will reach a point where you will feel like being a nice guy is getting you nowhere. You'll see all these jerks just rolling in chicks and you'll be tempted to abandon being a decent guy. There's really no avoiding that situation. But no matter what, do not give up. Someday you'll see it pay off." I will smile at my wife (who, for purposes of this story, will be in the adjoining dining room).

He won't believe me at the time, because young people never think that older people know what the hell they're talking about, but in the recesses of his mind it will seep in, slowly, and will take root. At some point he'll be in that very scenario and will remember what I told him.

But in the meantime, our daughter will be skilled in self-defense, just in case.

On this date

Seven years ago on this date, at around the time of day I'm posting this, I was on a first date. How did it go? Well, I'm married to her now, so it must have gone pretty well.

If one could go back in time to that day, and ask the me that I was then as I got ready for that date if I thought there was the possibility it could lead to the way things are today, I think the me from seven years ago would have replied "Yes." Not that I'd know for certain, of course, but that I suspected it could.

If one were to ask that version of me from seven years ago to describe a best-case scenario for how things would be seven years later (assuming things worked out), his answer wouldn't have been good as they really are.

A visit to the mailbox

Way back in May when we were sending out the wedding invitations we addressed one to Barack and Michelle Obama, at the White House.

It wasn't just a stunt; we were offering a legitimate invitation for them to attend. Obviously we had absolutely no expectation of them showing up, much less that it would even be acknowledged. But we had enough invitations and stamps to spare, and it cost no more postage to send it to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue than any other address.

The wedding came and went back at the end of June, and the first couple was not in attendance, which was precisely as we anticipated. The day turned out great. Their absence took nothing away from the event.  Personally, I didn't think of them at all that day.  Silly me, I was focused on, you know, getting married.

Then yesterday evening I got home and, as I do every day, I checked the mail. Amongst the bills and junk I saw a small, cream-colored envelope. It was hand addressed to both of us, with our full names.

In the corner the return address identifies the sender: The White House.

I knew immediately what it was regarding. Our wedding invitation is the only thing we've sent to the White House, and it's one of the few things that has had my full name on it.

I dared not open it before my wife got home. I knew she'd want to be there when the envelope was pried open.

When she got home I met her at the door, gave her a kiss, and then handed her the envelope. She looked at the return address, paused, and then started to cry (much as she did a year ago on election day) tears of joy.

She was too excited to perform the task so she handed it back for me to open, carefully, without damaging the envelope any more than absolutely necessary. And then when I was being too methodical she took it back and we tore a cautious hole along one end.

Inside was a note, embossed with an emblem, with a message wishing us well on our wedding.

At the bottom were the signatures of the president and first lady.

It may have been a stamp, but nonetheless there were their signatures. On a card that had been sent to us.  From the White House.

And only six months after we sent out the invitation. Given the economy and the wars and health care, I'm kind of amazed it showed up that quickly.

~

It's undoubtedly best that the first couple did not attend the ceremony back in June. As exciting as that might have been, I have to imagine Secret Service padding down all our other guests would have been something of a distraction. And I cannot help but think them being there would have taken the focus off of us. It's the one day it does get to be about us, so that would have been something of a bummer, I must think. I'm just sayin'. No offense to them.

So the card is better. Whenever it showed up.

DVRs: Recording a wonderful life

Nostalgia tends to make one of my age pine for the "good ol' days," but I want to take a moment to acknowledge that some things are far superior now.  Most particularly, I wish to commend the makers of technology for the Digital Video Recorder (DVR).  I know it's not exactly new (although it's still not commonplace in all households, despite what commercials might have you believe), but it is truly marvelous.

I remember back in the days of my childhood, where if one wanted to watch a TV show one had to make the effort to be in front of the set at the moment it was airing.  Eventually the videocassette recorder (VCR) became viable at a consumer level and one could set it to record on tape a signal that was broadcast on the TV, so that with some effort ahead of time one could later watch a show even if one was not home at the time.  This also could facilitate the scenario where two programs aired simultaneously that one wished to see, so one could record one while watching the other.

Relative to missing the shows altogether this was a vast improvement.  However, it created a new dilemma: having a videocassette ready to record, and then afterward keeping track of what had been recorded and where.  Obviously, if one was starting with a blank tape and one rewound and viewed the recorded program immediately upon getting home or after the other show was done, and that was the only thing one had taped, it was pretty simple.  However, the ability to record for later viewing serves to make one more inclined to want to watch more, which in turn brings on recording more, which tends to lead to situations where one has multiple recorded shows on the same tape, which means that either one keeps meticulous lists of what is on what tape, or one wastes a bunch of time popping in tapes and searching through them to figure out where the desired program was recorded.

So it was either devote the time up front to stay organized, or devote the time later to find the haphazardly recorded show.  Either way, a new task emerged that was not specifically about the watching but regarding being able find what to watch.

As with any linear access technology, if what one wished to see was near the end of the tape and it was set near the beginning, one would have to devote sometimes minutes to just getting it cued up before viewing could begin.  And we won't even digress to the limitations of the videotape itself, with the potential for the tape unspooling out in to the player, where when ejecting the cassette the strands of iron oxide-covered plastic looked like a piece of chewing gum one had stepped in, and where the medium itself deteriorated.  And let's not even go off on how the tracking might need to be adjusted in order to get a reasonably clear picture.

Oh, and to figure out what time something was going to be airing in order to set a recording one had to… check TV Guide or the listings in the newspaper!

Now, with hard drives big and fast enough to take in the massive amount of information in a digital TV signal, we can dispense with external media (the tapes); the system merely writes the data to the drive.  No more trying to remember if there's some available space on a tape.  No more having the tape run out before the end because one underestimated the space left on the tape (or one accidentally recorded at the wrong speed). 

That alone would be an impressive improvement, but that's just the beginning.  Because it's basically a computer, it keeps track of what has been recorded in a convenient list that dynamically updates as shows are added or deleted.  No more handwritten lists of what is where. 

But we're just getting started.  There's no searching through TV listings in a magazine or newspaper; there's a guide that shows what's scheduled to air on all the channels at the various times, so one merely need scroll through the grid of programming to the applicable channel and time, press one button, and schedule the show to record.  No setting the VCR to record at the wrong time or to the wrong channel (or, in some circumstances where it just recorded whatever channel the TV was left on, having someone else change the channel and record the wrong show altogether).  And better still: one can set the system to automatically record the series, so that the next week the show will be recorded without you having to make sure there's a tape in the device, without you having to remember to trigger the recording to occur.

Simple setup, with automatic start and stop (but with options to override if necessary), and dynamic maintenance of what's been recorded:  It's better in all ways.  Surely that's enough, right?

No, the best is functionality that was not even possible with VCRs.  The DVR is not merely ready to record something in the future, it is recording (temporarily) what you are actively watching, so you can pause and rewind the live show.  And if you decide part way through that you would have wanted to record it (perhaps for someone who isn't home yet but may want to see it later) you can tell it to record then and it will include not merely from that point forward but as far back as you watched.

And as the capacity on the hard drives in the DVRs grows, the amount of available space for recording increases as well, reducing the likelihood of running out of space.

The biggest limitation now for many systems, but which with networking will be overcome in the future, is that if one has multiple TVs in the house, one has to record the show on the DVR attached to the TV on which it will be watched.  That was the one thing videotapes had: one could pop them in whatever TV was in the room.

I know this sounds like a sales pitch for TiVo, but I'd say that particular one and its propensity to try and anticipate what you might like based on what you've previously recorded is one of the only downsides to this whole thing.  And that's just because they tried to get too fancy and think for us.  It should know that when we watch TV we aren't inclined toward thinking.

Of course, just as the VCR allowed for recording and therefore increased how much one could watch, the DVR technology has taken that and run with it.

~

I don't know if everyone with a DVR in their home ends up being like us in this respect, but in the several years that we've had one the list of recorded programs has grown past the point where realistically we could watch it all.  When my wife moved out of her apartment she had before we moved in together, the DVR unit she gave back to the cable company had hours of shows that had never been watched, even though they'd been recorded over two years ago.  When the DirecTV guy hooked up the dish and DVR units in both the living room and bedroom a mere six months ago both started out empty; now both have over 50 hours worth of shows and movies.  That's a cumulative 100 hours of viewing material where one or both of us thought at one moment in the past, Hey, that looks like something I'd want to watch, but already we're to the point where if we did nothing over a full weekend but watch recorded stuff (and that means not sleeping) we still couldn't catch up with what we've amassed on a single unit in half of a year.  And it's unlikely that if we were to undertake such a venture that we'd actually enjoy what we'd recorded, regardless of it quality; it would feel like an obligation rather than recreation (much like back in college where when I had to read an assigned book for a class it would not be something I'd enjoy as much as if I had read it just for pleasure).

And this is something for which we pay a reasonable fee each month, at least because we believe we really like TV.

Obviously, one doesn't always find oneself in the same mood for something later; whatever motivation one had when pressing the button to record may have been unique to that moment, never to emerge again.  It's not that it became any less interesting necessarily, and in our minds it holds some association with something we might eventually watch, so it doesn't just get deleted.

However, given that the list of recorded shows is displayed such that the most recently recorded ones are at the top, it does prove to be the case that the farther down we need to scroll in the list the less to find something likely it becomes that something will be viewed.

The more time that passes between the pressing of the Record button and the pressing of the Play button the less the likelihood that Play button will get pressed at all.  And in certain cases the rationale for recording starts to fade from memory (why did we record this Letterman from three months ago?), but the assumption is that there must have been a reason.

And the reason is always:  Because we could.

Although the hard drives in the DVRs get bigger and allow for recording all this stuff, there's still the same number of hours in the day.  However, for some blithely optimistic reason, on an unconscious level we seem to think that somehow there will be.

But maybe it's just us.

~

It is surely an optimistic gesture, this recording of more than our free time realistically allows; it connotes a belief that, somehow, opportunities will present themselves eventually.  A pessimist would not bother, figuring that after a while, when the queue was filled to such a point, it was pointless to keep accumulating material.

Thus, we are optimists.  That must count for something.

Be vigilant

Recently I noticed a charge on my credit card statement that I didn't recognize. So I got the phone and dialed my credit card company to report the suspicious activity.

They advised me that the first step was to contact the company to which the charge was attributed and ask that the charge be reversed. Which I did, and when I heard back from them they claimed to have no record of any transaction, but they were polite in their reply. (And no, I didn't give them my card number. I may not be the sharpest tack in the box, but I'm not a complete idiot. Or at least I wasn't in this instance.)

So I called my credit card company and disputed the charge. I explained the situation to the initial representative, who then they transferred me to the dispute department. I was on hold only a few minutes, and when I was connected, the representative had been advised of my situation by the first one, without me having to re-hash the story all over again. I provided a few more details, and she issued a refund to my account. And to be on the safe side that account was closed and I'd be issued a new card with a new number in five to seven business days. I was only on the phone for about 10 minutes.

In short, dealing with the credit card company was not an arduous ordeal at all. Unlike most of the calls I've made to companies in the past when I've had a problem to report.

Sure, I'm kind of left with a slight unease because it went too well, waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, but for the moment I have nothing to complain about.

I just thought I'd offer an optimistic post for a change.

~

But do keep an eye on your statements. The scam was charging only $11.89, which conceivably would have been a small enough amount that many may have missed it or let it go. But doing some research online I found many others who were similarly charged over the past six months, so it sounds like someone has been committing this fraud for a while, and conceivably are still out there (and maybe even blaming it on unrelated companies).

Yes, it's disquieting that it's possible someone got my credit card number, and I'll be watching all my accounts very closely, but by paying attention I may have nipped this in the bud. At least I'm choosing to believe there's a possibility that this isn't the prelude to something horrible.

It's a new year. I'm keeping pessimism at bay. (We'll see how long this holds up.)

Thanks for coming

Every so often I check who has stopped by my humble little spot on the web by looking at the details of visits according to SiteMeter. And while what it tells me includes nothing about the person, it does tell me the page visited, the time of the visit, the browser used, and the city and country of the ISP.

(It's kind of a benevolent Big Brother situation.)

So I discovered that yesterday at 3:30 pm I got a visit where a Google image search directed the visitor to this post from last year.

It's a picture of an amazing Simpsons cake my fiancee got for my birthday years ago; the post I titled "Best. Cake. Ever." (a play on one of Comic Book Guy's lines).

Not only did the person come to the site, but he or she stayed for over three minutes (an eternity in internet chronology), looking at three other pages. (According to the data, most visitors who find a post of mine through a search tend to view only the page in question, so this is quite impressive to me.)

And from where did this visit originate? Georgia.

Specifically, the city of Tbilisi.

Yes, that's the capital of the republic of Georgia. You know, the country where Russian tanks are still on periphery of the capital.

I'm not sure whether this is a subtle indication that the cease-fire was, at least yesterday, allowing Georgians some free time, or whether it's just that the power of the Simpsons cake trumps even fears about invading Russians. Would that really make it the best cake ever?

~

To be clear: I don't mean to make light of the unresolved military situation with the tone above; I very much mean to make light of myself.

I'm not changing the tagline on the site to "Giving comfort in a time of crisis" or anything, but if there's even the slightest possibility that even just this once a post provided a moment of needed distraction for someone in this world, it certainly makes my humble efforts seem worthwhile.

~

In an interesting coincidence, I also got a visit yesterday from Georgia, U.S.A.

Sight

There have been moments when I looked at the site meter on the photo blog and saw the low numbers and wondered why I bother. I would think about how I barely seem to have time to do (what I call) the "post-production" portion (any cropping, rotating, or adjustments in contrast or color, etc.—and I don't even do that much) and then try to determine which shots are the best (yes, I take way more pictures than I share—despite all appearances to the contrary). (At present I am over a month behind in what is posted to the blog versus what photos I've most recently shot.) If so few were looking, was it worth the effort?

Boo-freaking-hoo. I'm not looking for sympathy. This is merely admitting that, although I try to have pretty low expectations, it is nice every once in a while to think that if the celebrity gossip blogs can get hundreds of thousands of hits per day that I might be able to get a tiny fraction of those numbers. Occasionally.

Boo-freaking-hoo. Yes.

Anyway, last week I got a comment left from a woman who identified herself as being from "sunny Brazil." She noted having spent about an hour looking at what was on that site, and offered perhaps one of the greatest compliments I will ever receive: "I think you see things we don't."

Damn.

My self-esteem is not entirely in the toilet, but that level of accolade blows away what I'm generally comfortable accepting.

But I'll try.

And I am reminded why I bother. Despite all the conniving shit-heads out there on the 'net, it appears there may be a network of truly decent human beings with whom it's unlikely I would ever come into contact were it not for me bothering (and them bothering).

Hell, if I never get another visitor to that site, I'll still consider it more successful than that of the gossip bloggers.

I may be a cynical piece of crap a lot of the time, but if only for a brief second I put one tiny bit of beauty in an ugly world and someone else enjoyed it, that's something. Maybe not much, but it's not nothing.

A little heavy reading for the flight

Last Friday morning—and by "morning" I mean that period of time before the sun has actually crept above the horizon but after point where the darkness is still called "night"—I was packing up my carry-on for a flight. I had intend to include the little lap desk on which I typically set the laptop when it's actually on my lap. It has a flat top and a bean-bag-like bottom. However, the tiny bean-bag thingies were spilling out when it was tipped on its edge, and at that moment this was infuriating me.

It wasn't that the item was super-expensive, nor was it even unusable when laid flat for its normal functioning; it was merely something that couldn't be packed without the tiny Styrofoam (or whatever they are made of) balls spilling out. Still, I fancied the notion of using the laptop during my trip (perhaps on the plane, but also at my destination) and I prefer to have something between my legs and the ever-warming bottom of the computer. And it appeared that would not be possible.

Having gotten less than five hours of sleep probably wasn't helping my reaction.

It wasn't that the situation was all that dire, of course. It was merely another instance where having a little thing like being able to have an otherwise insignificant detail go my way was thwarted, and given how many big things outside my control don't seem to quite go my way, it's just kind of nice to have some of the little things go right. Yes, it is completely transferring frustration from larger issues to these unrelated moments, but that awareness doesn't make it any less frustrating in those moments; it just makes it seem ridiculous to appear so frustrated over such tiny details.

So the little lap desk had to be left behind.

We got in the car and drove to LAX. At that hour traffic was a non-issue. I waited maybe five minutes at the curbside check-in to have my suitcase taken care of. And even though the line for the security checkpoint wrapped outside the building, it still took less than fifteen minutes. The gate for my plane even proved to be right next to the Burger King, where I was able to get some overpriced breakfast sandwich with only a small wait (unlike every coffee place I'd passed on my way down the terminal). There was even a table available in the restaurant area where I could eat my food and look at The Onion, all within earshot of the announcements for my gate.

I didn't rush when I heard the call that the plane was boarding. I finished my drink, got my stuff together, and went to the restroom. By the time I got to the gate there was no line at all. I strode down the hallway to the plane door and made my way to my row. I had the window seat. No one was already seated in the aisle seat next to it, so I didn't have to crawl over anyone to sit. There was plenty of room in the overhead compartment, although all I was putting up there was my coat.

I sat and pulled out my copy of America: The Book, which I got a couple years ago as a gift but hadn't read very much of. (It's the hardcover, and too large for carrying on my commute to work, which is where I tend to do most of my reading.) Shortly thereafter I heard the door to the plane latched, and the seat next to me was still unoccupied, so it appeared I'd have unobstructed access to the aisle and the option to put my bag under the seat next to me, leaving more leg room for me during the flight.

Yes, it was all going pretty well. A lot of little details had gone in my favor. Still, the lap desk for the laptop remained at home. I kept reading America: The Book.

The nearly lap-size, hardcover American: The Book.

Which proved to be a reasonable substitute for the item that was leaking little balls. As you may have guessed, it is on what the laptop was set as I typed the initial draft of this.

~

Yes, it all worked out in the end, and much better than I had reason to expect. I concede that fate more than smiled upon me, even though it didn't seem like that four hours earlier when I was packing.

Before dawn.