A Running Joke

Tuesday afternoon was our department's Holiday Luncheon at a fine restaurant in the city. I had the butternut squash ravioli in creamed chive sauce with cranberries and walnuts. Very Good! At lunch, one of my bosses asked about my commute in - it being so odd that I was late. When I got to the part about that ride to Metro, the entire table became silent. The guy who sits in the cube across from mine said, "Oh my God. Stranger Danger!" I had to ask for clarity. "Stranger Danger! It's from elementary school. You don't get in a car with strangers. Are you crazy?" I said, "She was alone", but that just made it worse. That's when the questions started:

Were you hitchhiking? No.
She just stopped and picked you up? Yes.
And she drove you all the way to Metro? Yes.
Was she good looking? Uh ... well ... yeah, she was.
Did she have a nice car? Yes.
And you've never met her before? No, but she sees me at the bus stop all the time.
Have you ever done this before? No.
Was she married? No , she was divorced. (Hmmm ...)
Did she have a good job? Yes
Did you get her number? No.
Did she tell you where she lived? Uh ... well ... yeah, she did.
Do you think your wife is setting you up? No.

It became a running joke for the rest of the day. I was surprised at how much I knew about this total stranger. And I wondered how much information I'd divulged about myself on that ride. Forty minutes is a long time. I know she was just a nice person who put herself at risk by helping someone in need. I could have lied at lunch and said I caught the 8:10am bus, but I didn't; so I guess I deserved the good natured ribbing. After all, it is an odd story.

As we left the office that evening, someone asked, "Would you do it again?" I gave a blank look. "If she comes by the bus stop tomorrow, will you get in her car?"

On Wednesday, I wore a little more clothing, the 7:20am bus was only five minutes late, and I didn't see my new friend. Life is back to normal.

A Cold Day

Ever since I exchanged my hotel job in town for a corporate job in the city, I've been dreading this day: The day I would have to take the bus and train to work in the freezing cold. On Tuesday morning, I wore wool trousers and a coat over my jacket, a scarf and two pairs of gloves. It was in the low 20's, with gusty winds, and an inch of snow on the ground; but it's only a ten minute walk to the bus stop. I thought I was prepared ... but I wasn't even close.

The 7:20am bus never showed. At 7: 30am I started pacing around to keep warm. It would be ten more minutes until the next bus arrived. My fingers and toes started to get cold and my face was freezing; but the 7:40am bus didn't show either. I waited another ten minutes, but at 7:50am there was still no bus in sight. I'd been outside for forty minutes, the wind was cutting right through my pants, and I could feel my core body temperature dropping. I had to do something! I considered going back home and starting over; instead I decided to walk to the country store about a half mile up the road. I could warm up in the store, get a hot cup of coffee, and catch the bus at the stop out front.

I walked along the shoulder past cars sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic as far as the eye could see. Once in a while they would move a little ... but not very much. I heard someone call out, "Hey, do you need a ride?" I turned to see a woman in a late model sedan driving up along side. I tried to say "No", but my face was so cold that what came out was, "Umm ... a ... Of course, that would be wonderful, I think I'm slowly freezing to death." I asked if she could drop me at the country store; she said she'd be happy to drop me at Metro since it was on her way to work - and since she was already late, a few extra minutes wouldn't really matter.

When you ride the bus or train, you don't talk to people. It's rude. There are even signs warning that unwanted conversation with passengers is a basis for being ejected; but when you ride in someone's car, you can't really avoid conversation. And she didn't have her radio on, so conversation was kinda' necessary. We spent the next forty minutes together in traffic; and it should have been awkward ... but it wasn't. It was more like two friends who hadn't seen each other in years catching up on each others' lives. At Metro, I thanked her for her kindness and ran to catch the train. What a strange morning. By the time I arrived at the office, it was past 9:00am. It had taken almost two hours to go twenty miles. Wednesday morning looks like it will be even worse. I wonder if I'll survive the winter?

Mile Post 100

It's hard to believe, but this is my 100th blog entry. To commemorate the event, I'm posting an entry from my personal journal. It's a glimpse of how this all got started. But before I do that, I want to say "Thanks" to Suzanne of "At Home with the Farmer's Wife" for providing the creative spark. Each life touching so many others. It really is a wonderful life.

It's Sunday: July 5th, 2009 - 10:25 PM

I had my first exposure to the blogosphere today. What a strange world we live in. Millions? of writers working tirelessly to produce material read by a total of ten or twenty people ... and all for free? The internet continues to redefine the world as we know it. The newspaper industry is collapsing: everyone gets news from the internet and no one wants to pay. Has the reporter gone the way of the buggy whip maker?

I went "online" to search for Zen Macrobiotics; but before I ran that search, I remembered someone at the hotel saying I showed some signs of Asperger's Syndrome. I ran a search for "Asburgers Symdrome" (Yeah, that's how I spelled it ... Symdrome) on Yahoo, and the top search result was a blog called "At Home with the Farmer's Wife". It had nothing to do with Asperger's, but it did have a lot of cool homesteading stuff; and lot's of links to other blogs with cool homesteading kind of stuff ... and ... well ... it just goes on & on forever. Not really forever in a literal sense, but forever in a personal sense for sure. Millions of people writing blog entries every day - from "Alfredo is hungry this morning" to a discourse on how following the creek by your house can take you anywhere you want to go. The former a sad commentary as to what a writer thinks his readers will find of value; the latter a provoking narrative of the interconnectedness of life strangely reminiscent of that book about the little wooden canoe - "Paddles to the Sea".

The internet is like an uncontrollable thought that constantly leads somewhere else ... and burns up life/hours as if they were free. I never got around to searching for ... what was it? ... oh yeah ... I remember now ... Zen Macrobiotics. It's become damn near impossible to control the content. I found a discussion on one blog about raising chickens, and another discussion on another blog about whether blogging and writing a journal are one and the same. For some people "Yes", for others "No". Those who do both, fell into both camps - some used the different media for different purposes, others found themselves duplicating their entries in both media. I have to envy them and all their spare time. How can anyone have enough time to do both? I can barely find enough time to jot a few thoughts in here. I can't imagine having time to keep a blog ... or anyone else wasting time reading the entries.

How did all this come about? Where is it all leading? Where is the shared experience that makes us a nation? We just seem to get more & more fragmented: a whole nation of individuals. If I write a blog about working at a hotel and repairing trolleys and being a Realtor and fixing cars and gardening and fishing and building model railroads and doing all the other things I love like painting and writing and taking pictures and playing in the band and reading good books (but not fiction) ... would anybody care but me?

I've tried putting up a website but I don't have time to answer e-mails let alone develop web content that would really matter. And yet, there is a strange attraction to the vicarious aspect of a blog. Vanity, egotism ... I'm trying to remember the word that describes someone who considers his own insignificant life so important that others would want to know that "Alfredo is hungry this morning", but the word escapes me ... and Sharon ... and a dictionary ... and two thesauruses. Maybe I should just go run a search on the internet. If I could only stay focused long enough to find the word, I could write it here for no one to read. Sad really, very sad.

... And that is how Scarred Bark began!

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day

My wall calendar lists today as "Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day (US) First of Muharram". Funny how the calendar makers think it's important to note that Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day is a "US" thing, but they don't see a need to footnote First of Muharram - like we should already know what that means. I checked the major news today: Wiki-Leaks founder Julian Assange is arrested for failing to wear a condom while engaging in a one night stand. Not "On Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day Wiki-Leaks founder Julian Assange is arrested for failing to wear a condom while engaging in a one night stand." Is that even a crime?

Notes from the Lost World - Part 3

I haven't been able to access my e-mail account all day. At first, I figured my e-mail service was having a system problem. I decided to wait until later in the day to see if the problem resolved itself, but it didn't. After the 100th attempt to log in, I noticed that my password was missing a character. It's not obvious when a password is missing a character because they are all asterisks, and there are so many of them that you don't really notice when one is gone. So I very carefully typed in my password again and found out that the "number eight" key was not working. Why would it stop? Shift-Eight didn't work either, so I couldn't type any asterisks either. And not just in my web browser, that key didn't work in Word or anything else. Strange.

I tried rebooting to no avail. I needed to check my e-mail, so I went to a web page and copied a "number eight" from somewhere and pasted it into my password in the appropriate place. Access! The really weird part is - now that I've successfully logged into my e-mail account once - the 8 key is working again! 8888888888. See what I mean? Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got 'till it's gone.

Shiny Shoes

I played in the Alexandria Christmas Walk yesterday with the MacMillan-Birtles Memorial Pipe Band. It was a chilly day marching around in my kilt. I haven't played this parade in many years. I gave it up when the city stopped paying bands to perform. The whole affair is now a fund raiser for some charity I'm unfamiliar with. I'm sure it's a worthwhile charity; but the pipe band is a non-profit organization, and we depend on paid performances to survive. There are all kinds of expenses in running a band: uniforms, instruments, practice locations, entry fees ... Why go out in the freezing cold to do a free parade to fund someone else's organization when we have our own outfit to run?

We have about fifty members in the band, but only thirteen showed up for the parade - about a 25% participation rate. The streets of Old Town were lined with spectators, and the band played well enough considering the challenges of the weather; but thirteen members does not a pipe band make. I'm not sure how many players are needed, but I know thirteen is not enough. Maybe twelve pipers piping and eleven drummers drumming would be a decent band for a parade. I don't think we need any Lords-a-Leaping, but maybe some Ladies Dancing would be nice.

It was a long day. I left home at 8:00am and returned home at 8:00pm - that's twelve hours on the road. From the parade, we went to the Fish Market, Pat Troy's, and Murphy's ... to do some more free performing. No one even offered to buy us a beer. How times have changed. In the old days, you could crawl from one pub to the next, play a few tunes, and drink for free. Alas, no more! At least I got to play my drum as loud as I wanted, and see some old friends.

When I got home, I polished my shoes. I do that after every show now. I think it's because of a piper named Derek who used to play in our band. He was a Citadel guy. Spit and polish was part of his life, and he often complained about my untidy shoes. I saw him at a funeral last year, and ever since then I've been polishing my shoes. It's a small thing, but small things add up. When I polish my shoes, I have time to think about the day - what went well, what didn't, what I would change for the next show. In this day of modern technology, there was a video of the band on the web before I even got home! That's how I know thirteen players is just not enough. When I'm done polishing my shoes, I pack them in my uniform bag. It's comforting to know they are there, cleaned and shined, and waiting for the next show.

Open for Business

The National Capital Trolley Museum is open for regular service. I should have made this announcement sooner, but I wasn't making regular blog entries when the line officially opened. Now, we are working to expand our fleet of operating cars. The twins - #4602 & #4603 - are handling scheduled runs at this time. On Saturday, the 27th of November, I had a chance to wander around the museum taking pictures. There was a good crowd in attendance, and the first trip was made at full capacity. Who did I meet on the first run? Why, that's Mrs. Claus chatting with Conductor Drumwright as the first car prepares to leave the station. She and Santa stopped by the museum to take a ride.

We are still working to correct a few minor problems with our operation. A lot of it is boring technical stuff - like adjusting the overhead wire. The position of the wire over the track, the location of wire frogs and pull-offs - even the tension on the wire - all influence how well the trolley poles glide along the wire. It takes time to "tune" the overhead. In the next image, you can see Conductor Drumwright retrieving an errant trolley pole and placing it back on the wire.



If you have the time, come visit our museum. Take a tour of the new visitors' center and trolley display building, then ride one of our vintage streetcars. You can find our hours of operation - and a lot of other cool stuff - by visiting our website at:

www.dctrolley.org

Another Language

I've tried repeatedly to learn Spanish, but I just don't have it in me. I have no passion for it; and I'm too old to keep trying. It's funny, I don't seem to have much trouble learning a new musical instrument. I don't know why a language should be so much harder than a musical instrument, but it is - at least for me. Maybe it's that passion thing. When I have a little free time, I'll grab an instrument of one sort or another and start fooling around with it. It's fun! I dread the thought of grabbing a Spanish text. Where's the fun in that?

I've been practicing guitar off and on for about a year now, and I'm starting to get a little music out of it. I'm no Eric Clapton, but I am having a lot of fun, I'm learning new stuff, and I keep getting better. Maybe some day I'll be good enough to play in front of people, but I don't think that's really the point. It's more about being passionate about something I enjoy. I made my first guitar pick. I used my hotel room key from a pipe band trip as the material. I don't know how long it will last, but it does work; and it makes playing my guitar just a little bit more fun. I cut it out with scissors and finish shaped it with a mill bastard file. It didn't take very long to make; so now I'll keep an eye out for interesting material to make picks from. I saw an add for a pick maker. It's a sort of stamping machine that cuts a pick in one motion. I can't imagine needing to make that many picks, but it might be fun to play with.

Marriage

"- what is the matter with me? Am I too particular? I don't want to be married just to be married. I can't think of anything lonelier than spending the rest of my life with someone I can't talk to, or worse, someone I can't be silent with."

Excerpt taken from Juliet's letter to Sophie dated 12th January 1946 in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.

Thanksgiving

Thursday was our family Thanksgiving party. My little brother provided the food, my parents provided the place, and we all provided the entertainment. Four generations all sitting down to share a good meal - what a great holiday! It's hard to believe that this holiday isn't observed all over the world. I know there are harvest feasts in many places, but Thanksgiving is an American Holiday. I like that. I'm glad we have traditions from all over the world here; but I'm not a globalist. I like having uniquely American traditions to share with my family - like Thanksgiving and 4th of July.

Not everyone could be there: my youngest son and his girlfriend are in West - by God - Virginia, and my mother-in-law is in California with her son and daughter; but all the rest of us were there, and we had a good time. The young ones played with my model trains for hours. The best part of grand children is the chance to see the world again through the eyes of a child. A chance to gather family together to share tradition, memories and a good meal ... in the long run it's one of the few things we do that really matters. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving too.

All Will Be Revealed

One of my last tasks before moving to my new job in the city was training my replacement at the hotel. I worked closely with her for about two weeks imparting my knowledge in hopes of making her transition a smooth one. During that time, we got to be friends. One day she said to me, "You must sew." I was surprised by that comment. I do sew, but I'd never mentioned that to her. I don't generally talk about it because it's not really a "guy" thing to do ... even though Tailor was once a respected male profession. I told her I did sew; then I asked her how she could possibly know. She said it was easy to tell by the way I handled scissors.

It's funny all of the ways we reveal things about ourselves unintentionally. The next time you are at a dinner party, watch what drinks people order and the way they order them. You can learn a lot about people from something as simple as that. The way people walk, what they wear, where they choose to sit on the train; all can be interpreted by the student of human nature.

I'm still struggling with this Face Book thing. I've done a little poking around, and it's kind of scary how much personal information people reveal about themselves. Talking about expensive purchases, listing travel plans; there are bad people in the world and they look for this kind of information to use against you. At the Risk Assessment course I recently attended, they gave as an example: a man in a new Mercedes with vanity plates announcing he is a plastic surgeon. It's like a law suit waiting to happen. Why make yourself an easy target?

I assume people realize that Human Resources professionals regularly search social media sites like My Space and Face Book as part of the screening and monitoring of employees. It's not even a secret; they will list the practice on applications and in employee handbooks. Why do people post things on line that may negatively affect their careers? I've even seen people post behavior that may actually be illegal. Some people just don't know when to stop.

Joining The New Millenium

Today I joined the rest of you in the twenty-first century. I'm not completely sure why, but I now have a Face Book. Maybe I just got tired of telling people I didn't have one. Thanks to the young lady who was kind enough to help me get started. I logged in and found I have a couple of friend requests from years ago. I was hoping to avoid having to actually decide who can be my friend ... it's so third gradish. I'm not really looking for any friends, but now Face Book people can tag my picture if they feel the need.

There was a time when I experimented with My Space, but I just didn't get it. I have the feeling that Face Book will turn out the same in the end, but you never can tell. When I started playing with Blogger, I never imaged the number of hours I would fritter away jotting down random thoughts ... but I don't consider it wasted time.

The Wait Is Over

I've been waiting for more than a year to read a post from a Blogger friend of mine about "people who drain you." The actual post was supposed to be about "letting go of connections to people who have negative energy (aka suck the life out of you)". I've reminded her repeatedly about the need to finish that post, but she has not done so. I'm guessing it's because she can't. So I'm stealing her unpublished idea and using it here. Maybe she will read this and be inspired to finish her own version. For me, it goes like this:

There are dynamic, creative people in this world. They exude a kind of positive energy that touches everything and everybody that comes near them. They are easy to recognize: They are the people who brighten your day when they call you on the phone. They are the friends you try to cultivate because wonderful things happen when they are around. They are the ones you turn to when you need advise or help. They seem to have an unlimited amount of this energy too. That's a good thing because we need friends like them to bring out the best that is within us - especially when we're having a bad day.

Then there are their opposites: The people who never have a good day. These are the people who's calls you try to avoid. When you are near them, they really do suck the life out of you. If you have unlimited positive energy, you may be able to stand next to them without ill effects; but if you are like me, you can feel all your enthusiasm for the moment vanishing into their unbounded negativity.

What is a body to do? Well I guess that depends on five things:

1) How much positive energy do you have?

2) How much positive energy can you afford to give away?

3) How long will it take you to replace that energy once it is gone?

4) How much effort is that person worth to you?

5) What are the chances that your efforts will have the desired effect?

It is a complicated question. Some people aren't worth much effort, and you just need to avoid them. Other people - like your children maybe - are worth all you can give plus a little bit more. In any case, back away from negative people before they drain you so much that you become like them. Give yourself time to recover, and then decide whether or not you want to see them again. Remember, the fastest way to replenish your positive energy level is to surround yourself with people who have it in abundance.

A New Image

I took a risk assessment course at work a couple of weeks ago. It was very interesting. We looked at various things that could happen, what the chances were that they would happen, and what the probable consequences would be if they did. We looked into how irrational many of our fears are, and how those fears can prevent us from accomplishing our goals. When you get down to brass tacks, almost all of us will die - statistically speaking - from one of three natural causes: heart attack, stroke, or cancer; and most of us will be old when that happens. The next three - which were an order of magnitude less likely to happen - were car accident, falling down, and getting shot. After those top six, the probabilities get very small. Some events - like a nuclear explosion - are such remote possibilities that allowing them to influence the way we live our lives would be plain silly. And yet, who among us hasn't thought that such an event could happen? What are the chances? And if it does happen, what are the chances it will effect you? That's what risk assessment is all about. If you are young, and you want to live to be old, your best strategy is to stay away from automobiles. Beyond that, your chances for survival are pretty good.

For parents of young children, it may surprise you to hear that the chances of your child being abducted today aren't any higher - statistically speaking - than they've ever been. The perception that the chances are higher is probably a result of more media coverage, but it is not born out by the numbers.

There was one risk which I found fascinating: an asteroid hitting the earth. The probability of the event happening is about as close to zero as you can get. There are always people saying the event could happen - or even that it will happen - but in reality, the probability is still as close to zero as you can get. The problem lies in the consequences: if an asteroid does hit the earth, then everyone could die. It really skews risk equations, but it doesn't change the fact that the risk is so remote you shouldn't allow it to effect the way you live your life.

After that course, I placed a photo on my desktop of a giant asteroid hurtling to earth. Each time I logged on or closed a program I would see that picture of an asteroid coming to destroy the planet. After a few days, I had to change the picture because that image was starting to bother me - even though I knew that the event couldn't happen. Irrational fears can be difficult to overcome. But I did learn something useful from that exercise: You can influence your mood by the picture you place on your desktop. Now, twice a week, I put a new image on my desktop - and I'm a lot more careful about what I choose.

A Good Day

Dew still lay on the grass when he broke from the trees. The fresh cut meadows spread wide before him, dotted with bales of hay. He trotted out into the open and his body warmed by the sun. It would be hot today - not now, but later when the sun was high overhead. He would sleep in the brambles then; but for now ... it was time to run! He ran and ran weaving among the bales. Venturing out into the fields in daylight could be dangerous, but today he did not care. It was a day to run! Half way across, he quickened his pace. Was it foolish to take such a chance? He ran on and on ... his heart pounding, muscles burning. As the forest drew near, he flew across the ground in great bounding leaps - not to flee some imagined pursuer, but simply because he could. He was a young buck in full stride, and it was a good day to be alive.

A Fine Edge

Sunday was kitchen knife sharpening day. I do this a few times each year to keep them in good condition. We received these knives from my father-in-law as a Christmas gift in the early 1980's. There are five knives and a sharpener set in a wooden block. The chef's knife has the company name - Carvel Hall, emblem - a steelsmith hammering a blade on his anvil, and the words "Great Blades Since 1895" laser etched onto the blade. They are nice knives: molybdenum steel blades, full tang construction, and riveted wood handles. I've sharpened them many times over the years, so I know each blade intimately. When someone inadvertently nicks one of the blades, it can take years for the imperfection to be honed away. Once, someone snapped off the tip of the paring knife. I was horrified. To this day, no one has taken responsibility. Now - after perhaps a decade - the paring knife has a decent point again. It's funny how much time it can take to repair the damage caused by a single careless moment ... and not just with kitchen knives, but in our personal relationships as well.

There is a filet knife in the set too. It has a thin blade and fine delicate edge. It is designed to filet meat and fish ... and nothing else. It is not designed for cutting vegetables or chopping up a whole chicken for parts. The edge is not designed for that kind of abuse; it is designed for slicing raw meat and nothing else! I get upset when I see people using the filet knife for something other than it's intended purpose; but even if I don't see them, I still know. All I need to do is look at that fine edge: If it looks as bad as the other knives, then I know it's been used just like the other knives. When you look at the big picture, it's kind of silly to get hung up on something so trivial; but since I'm the one who has to keep them sharp, it's hard not to care.

B-Side Cuts

The way we listen to recorded music has changed a lot in my lifetime. It's hard to believe, but my uncle actually had a gramophone which we played when I was a kid. I've had records, 8-tracks, cassettes, CD's. I'm amazed at all the different ways the recording industry has convinced me to purchase the same music over and over. I've resisted getting an I-pod or MP3 player. My wife has embraced modern music technology and has both.

Of all the formats, I think record albums were my favorite. They were big - so there was plenty of space for artwork and lyrics to be printed on the cover - and they had two sides. The best music was always on the front; but later - when you knew the front side by memory - you could turn the record over and there was a whole new set of music to enjoy. Smart bands placed a great tune as track one on the B-Side so you had to turn the record over to hear it. I don't think the B-Side was ever as good as the A-Side; but a few - like Boston's first album - had B-Side cuts that went on to become hits in their own right. I think every song on that album eventually became a hit.

The other big change has something to do with focus. Not many people listen to a whole album by an artist any more. Now, everyone's I-pod only contains "the good ones". You get a different understanding of an artist when you listen to an entire album in the order it was produced. Sometimes - like Dark Side of the Moon - the album is more than the sum of it's parts. They aren't a bunch of individual songs randomly laid down on vinyl; they relate to each other. It's the order "they" wanted you to hear them in; why fight it? Would you cut the body parts from a Picasso and glue them back down "in the right places"? Greatest Hits albums have a place too, but eventually you have to spend the time and listen to the real albums to understand the music.

There were many reasons why the 8-track failed. My pet peeve centered on the tune list. The 8-track contained the same songs as the album, but they were often arranged in a different order. This was done to prevent songs from jumping across tracks. I found it off-putting when the next song was the "wrong" one. And sometimes songs had to jump tracks anyway because there wasn't any way to avoid it. Who wants to hear a big pause and a ca-chunk in the middle of her favorite song? The only real redeeming quality of the 8-track was - in a time before auto reversing cassette decks - it's ability to play continuously for as long as you wished. I have fond memories of Abbey Road played in just that fashion ... and so does my wife.

Vision

It doesn't matter how hard you squint, you still can't see clearly if you're looking at the world through dirty glasses.

Glitches in the Matrix

One day last week, I went to the cafeteria for lunch and had the "Beef Chili Con Carne". Uh ... that would translate as "Beef Chili with Meat". Why the double billing for meat without even mentioning the beans? Then, when I rode the elevator back to my floor, the elevator stopped beeping going past floors 9 and 10. It beeped passing all the other floors, but not those two. I said to the other guy in the car, "A glitch in the matrix." And he says, "Yeah. At first I thought it was my hearing." Then, today the elevator doesn't beep again - but this time it's only passing 10. Then, I'm riding home on the bus and this alarm is wailing away but nobody seems to notice. It was like I was the only person who could hear it. I'm riding in a compressed natural gas bus with an alarm wailing away; and I'm thinking to myself, "I guess the bus is going to blow up and nobody cares." Isn't someone on the bus supposed to attend to those alarms ... like, maybe the driver? At least the bus didn't actually blow up.

Notes from the Lost World - Part 2

Somehow I managed to lose my glasses Wednesday night. How is that possible? I had to wear my sun glasses to work Thursday - to my new job in the city. There was no way to disguise them; and I had no excuse if anyone asked - which everyone did. It was embarrassing to explain - over and over - how I lost them inside my own house. I found them Thursday night tangled up in the rigging of a model ship. It must be the Borrowers. I can think of no other plausible explanation.

I Can't

Have you ever found yourself in this situation? Someone asks you to do them a favor - not a little favor ... a big one that will take hours of your time. You'd like to help, but you tell them you can't spare the time because you are already too busy with too many other things. But they keep insisting. They say things like, "I'm not in a hurry" and "Do it whenever you find the time." So you finally relent and agree to do them the favor; but when you don't do it soon enough, they start complaining about it.

Hidden Treasures

It is easy to forget how wonderful life is. We have food to eat and clean running water, enough clothing to last a decade, and a nice warm place to sleep at night. We have cars, and computers, and just about anything else we can imagine. Everything is available ... at least for those who still have jobs. And yet, at times, we find ourselves anxious or unhappy. How is that possible? How can our wanton materialism fail to provide us with lasting satisfaction? A brief look at recent pictures from Haiti reveals a kind of desolation most Americans can never fathom. I suppose we have become jaded by the world we live in. So when you finish reading this post: take a deep breath, look around you, and reconnect with your own world. Rediscover the hidden treasures in your life. Today, I'm sharing this ceramic egg - a gift from a mother to her daughter.

Open For Business

The National Capital Trolley Museum is open for business. Today, TTC #4603 carried revenue passengers on the new line. At the present time, only the loop at the visitors' center is open to the public; but work continues on the rest of the line.

The Coming Wave

I attended several courses on foreclosed homes this past Saturday. One of the instructors painted a disturbing picture of the next two years. He outlined numerous reasons why the number of foreclosed homes on the market fell sharply in 2009. The first time home buyer tax credit was one factor. Another was new legislation which extends the time period required to complete foreclosure proceedings. A process which took three to six months in 2008, now takes a year or more. I know there have been numerous governmental efforts to slow down the foreclosure process; but what surprised me was the instructor's claim that the legislation was implemented at the request of mortgage lenders. You see, the lenders have a right to foreclose on delinquent mortgages; but if they fail to foreclose in a timely manner, they risk losing that right. At present there are so many delinquent mortgages that lenders can't process them fast enough - they needed an extension to avoid the risk of failing to foreclose in a timely manner. But he says not to worry. Lenders are working feverishly to get caught up; and the avalanche of Option Arm mortgage resets over the next two years virtually guarantees a flood of new foreclosures in the future.

No Words Required

You can click on the picture for a larger image.

Continuing Education

As a licensed real estate salesperson in the State of Maryland, you are required to take 15 hours of qualified continuing education credits before you can renew your license. This must be done every two years. The sane method involves taking one class every three months or so. If you are a procrastinator like me, they have the special all-in-one plan: One day - fifteen hours of classes. Classes began at 7:00am Saturday morning and continued until 11:00pm Saturday night. What a fun way to spend a Saturday ... and at only 200 bucks, it was cheap too!

Notes from the Lost World

Somehow I managed to lose my shoes last night. How is that possible? I had to wear my tennis shoes to work today. I am so glad they are black. And I walked to lunch so I would have a prepared excuse in case anyone asked - which no one did. But really, how do you lose a pair of shoes in your own home?

Stimulate This

With all of the stimulus money being poured out of Washington these days, you'd think there would be funding to staff every Museum in the country. Here is a shot I took at Steamtown a couple of years age. I love suburban tank engines. I wish this one was undergoing a full restoration before entering excursion service. Alas, Not!

Steamtown is a National Park - you'd think there would be unlimited funding to run an outfit like this. The first time I visited, locomotives were undergoing restoration on site. That kind of work is no longer performed at Steamtown. The Museum is nice, but a lot of the outdoor exhibits are poorly cared for. We can spend a trillion dollars blowing up Iraq and Afghanistan, but we can't even find one billion in stimulus money to fix up the engines in Scranton. I was sure Joe Biden would take care of this when he became V.P.

Character

"The Barley Neck Inn, I knew, took reservations, but my mother would never dream of calling for one. It made her uncomfortable to walk past a waiting line of hungry people to a table saved just for her."

Excerpt taken from the introduction to Still Cove Journal by Gladys Taber.

He Keeps Going and Going ...

I had lunch with a couple of the ladies at work today. They were talking about permanent make-up artists - tattooing eye liner and such. Then one says, "What's up with Andy Rooney's eyebrows? Can't they do something about that." And I ask, "Is he still on TV?" And she says, "Yeah, he still does a spot at the end of 60 Minutes; but I can never hear what he's saying because of those eyebrows." Hmmm ... I wonder if 60 Minutes will ever release Mr. Rooney's commentaries on DVD? Maybe he could become the spokesman for the National Curmudgeon Society. I'd join. We could be like the Red Hat Society for Ladies over 50, only much grumpier. Just for grins, I ran a Yahoo search on National Curmudgeon Society ... and the #1 result is:

Curmudgeonry

What an awesome blog. It almost makes me want to upgrade my Windows 98 so I can see the embedded videos. Wow, I did not know it was against the Maryland State Constitution for atheists to hold elected office. You learn something new every day!

Pole Spotting

I frequently get questioned about why a railfan would collect photographs of an entire series of locomotives - after all, aren't they all the same? Well ... maybe. When they leave the factory, locomotives are like peas in a pod; but after a few years of service, each takes on a personality of its own. Whether it's baseball cards, beanie babies, or locomotive pictures, there's a certain kind of satisfaction that comes from collecting an entire set. I suppose it's a kind of addiction. There was a movie released some years ago entitled "Trainspotting" that came out of Scotland. It was based on a novel of the same name; but somehow the actual spotting of trains was omitted from the movie - instead the movie focuses on an addiction of another kind. Railfans have a need to collect train pictures; and in turn, they provide an invaluable reference source to model railroaders. If you enjoy building and detailing model locomotives, you really need good photographs to work from. I know there is an OCD factor involved here, but it could be worse. When you set out to collect all of the locomotives in a series, you might be talking about twenty, or fifty, or maybe even two hundred pictures. What if you were trying to keep track of all the sparrows in the fields, or all of the hairs on everyone's heads ... now that would be a tall order!

And that brings me to today's post. It's 20 degrees outside and the wind is howling - the wind chill is down near zero. It would be a good day to curl up with a blanket by the fire and read my favorite book. But what if you are a member of the North American Pole Spotters' Association? How can a NAPS'A member sit home on his only day off when there are so many poles to see? I've included a couple of shots from a recent outing. The upper photo shows stamped aluminum numbers mounted on a strap band. The lower shot shows a newer plastic number strip. Notice that the plastic number strip has broken loose in the wind and is hanging upside down. Who would chance missing an event like that? And look at the numbers ... look how far apart they are. Every pole has a number, and back in the offices there are maps - and tax records - accounting for every one. It's amazing when you think about it: millions and millions of poles - all unique - and someone keeping track of them all.

I ran a Yahoo search for North American Pole Spotters' Association and the number seven result was this Wikipedia site on:

Streetcars

You are hereby warned that a body could spend eternity following up all of the links in this article.

A Cold Day in ...

Members of the National Capital Trolley Museum continue to prepare for our public opening. We're getting closer, but there is still much to do. Here's a picture of Saturday's shop gang taken inside the car shops. Yes, that thermometer says 30 degrees! Now that's what I call dedication. At least it's a dry cold, does that help? From all the gang at NCTM (left to right: Bob, Wells, Jim, Eli, Vernon, Eric, George a.k.a. Chainsaw George, and Bill) a "Happy Belated New Year."

Open on New Years!

So, on Friday evening we're driving down the road delivering Chinchillas; and the whole time, my favorite radio station keeps running this ad for Guitar Center's big sale ... including the statement "Open New Year's Day". After we drop off the Chin's, we decide to detour by Guitar Center to check out the sale; but when we got there, they were already closed. WTF man! Who runs a commercial saying "We're Open" after they've already closed? Guitar Center - if you read this - you guys suck. Thanks for nothing.

Happy New Decade!

It's 8:00 PM in Maryland, but in GMT it's already tomorrow. We're heading out to party with friends; but for all my friends in Blogland, the new year is already here. I wish you all A Happy, Safe, and Prosperous New Year! I'm glad the 00's are over, and I'm looking forward to this new decade - a fresh start with new ideas and opportunities. I don't think I could stomach another ten years like the 00's.