Monthly Archives: October 2005

My sleep number

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I left work early on this first weekday after going off of daylight savings time and hustled home to finish my preparations for Halloween. I made it just in time to get the cider heated and the fire built in the driveway as darkness fell and the first waves of trick-or-treaters began to circulate. It was a nice night and almost every kid said “thank you” which made it even more enjoyable to be outdoors.

While it was cozy next to the fire, I had time between visitors to think about the ever-shorter days yet to come. I also remembered reading about the effect on human sleep patterns after Thomas Edison invented the electric light. Before 1910 people averaged nine hours of sleep a night. Now that number is around seven and a half hours a night, but laboratory studies have shown that if people are deprived of electric light they revert to a nine hour sleep schedule. I don’t know if they’ve measured the effects of blogging on sleep patterns, but I’m averaging six hours a night since I started this blog.

I’m going to bed.

Halloween Screams

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I remember the first time I was going to go trick-or-treating for Halloween. I was four years old and my mom had bought me a black skeleton costume with silver sequined bones on the front that was probably next to invisible in the dark. It had a plastic mask that covered my face and had eye-holes that more or less lined up with where my eyes were. The material was some kind of filmy fabric that probably would have ignited in a warm breeze. (Kids in my generation had to be a lot tougher – or luckier – to survive). And I couldn’t wait to get out there and start hauling in my share of the loot.



When the moment finally arrived to hit the street I impatiently nodded my masked head at my parent’s reminders to be careful and bolted out of our front door like a greyhound out of the starting gate. The slamming sound of the storm door preceded by one and a half seconds the slamming sound of me colliding headfirst with the telephone pole in our front yard. I spent the rest of that hallowed eve tearfully laying flat on my back on the living room sofa with a large goose-egg and an ice-pack on my forehead while countless other kids came to our door for candy. I think the next year I went out as a cowboy.



I did, however, learn early on how important it is to think through a costume idea and I enjoyed the creative aspect of devising each year’s design as I got older until parents at the door started refusing to give candy to the big lug trick-or-treating with the little kids, no matter how clever the costume. The next year I decided to stay home and pass out candy in costume. My first customer of the night, a three-year-old girl in a white fairy princess costume ran screaming for the street and her father when I stuck my monsterized face around the edge of the door at her height. I felt really bad the rest of the night.



In later years when I was old enough to go to grown-up Halloween parties, complete with adult beverages, I reignited my creative muse and quickly added three important ground rules to future costume design: 1) I must be able to sit down while wearing the costume. 2) I must be able to drink while wearing the costume. 3) I must be able to use the bathroom while wearing the costume. Then, once I became a parent, I pretty much got out of the whole costume and Halloween thing. The world was getting weirder and I had more reservations about the underlying spirit behind the evening. We’d normally darken the house and take our kids in their costumes to “Hallelujah Night” at church.



Then, the Halloween after 9/11 I got to thinking that it was better to be out and involved in the neighborhood, and I started a tradition of setting up a firepit in my front yard and serving hot apple cider to the parents who, because of the way our house is positioned, could stand by the fire and watch their kids hit nearly every house around. Every kid that came by got a handful of candy and a “God bless you.” It’s become a popular stop each year since, especially in the years when it’s been very cold and windy.



Last year the folks at my office decided to have a dress-up day and costume contest for the first time. I struggled to regain my muse up until the night before when an idea finally dawned on me. A part of our Division had just been sold off to a company from Scotland. I thought that if I wanted to come up with something really scary, then I should dress up in full kilt regalia. A friend of mine just happened to have the authentic ensemble and let me borrow it. It was a big hit (see photo under “About” in the right sidebar) and I even won a prize. During the potluck lunch, however, I walked by a conference room were a number of our nurse consultants and our HR generalist were eating. The HR lady waved me in and said that she had been working lately on a new dress code, including approved underwear, and she and the group were wondering what… er, umm …a Scotsman might have under his kilt.



I may have blinked twice before responding, in brogue, “Ye mean tae tell me ye’ve no heard of the Loch Ness Monster?”



Great laughter and shrieking ensued, drawing a crowd as I slipped quietly away to the other side of the building … where I could still hear the additional uproar as the incident was recounted to new waves of the curious who had gathered in the conference room.



So, anyway, Monday night I’ll be out front of my house, tending the fire and passing out candy and cider. You can send your kids around, it will be safe. Just tell them not to ask any silly questions.

Woot! 10,000 visitors!

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At 4:16 this afternoon someone in St. Paul, Minnesota with a Comcast account was the 10,000th visitor to this blog (as measured by Site Meter)!

I thought I was still several weeks away from this milestone so I was startled to make this discovery a few minutes ago. As such, I don’t have a prepared commemorative message other than to offer my warm personal regards and thanks to all of you – especially those of you who have visited regularly. Especially special thanks with whip cream on top to those of you who have left comments!

This blog started 8 months and 12 days ago when I had no clue as to how many people would ever see it and merely the sketchiest of ideas of what I was going to write about on day 2. It was exciting to see my average daily visitors number creep over 20, and to get my first comment (thanks again, Sandy!). It’s been fun to watch this blog climb up the TTLB Eco-system; lately it seems I keep evolving and de-volving between being a Marauding Marsupial and an Adorable Little Rodent (and don’t think that that isn’t hard on the old pelt!) Perhaps most amazing, 10,000+ visitors and no flames or trolls yet! (I’ll try harder).

Some details: the two most popular posts (396 each) by referrals are 21st Century British Healthcare and Love and the Difference Between Being a Friend and Being Friendly. I’m especially awed that the latter post has been downloaded in China, Japan, the Philippines and in several countries in the Middle East and Africa. Those two are among my favorites, but I’m also pretty proud of the time I compared doing this to being in a garage band.

Thanks, everyone – you’ve made my day!

Update:

So, with 10,000 visitors and some 60-odd (some odder than others) links, what is this blog worth? Here’s one measure:


My blog is worth $35,566.02.
How much is your blog worth?

FEMA, Bush hate North Dakotans

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The following was forwarded to me, but I haven’t been able to verify or attribute the source. It refers to this event, which occurred October 4-6.

For those of you who are not aware, North Dakota and southwestern Montana got hit with their first blizzard of the season a couple of weeks ago. This message is in from a county emergency manager out in the western part of North Dakota state after the storm:

WEATHER BULLETIN
Up here in the Northern Plains we just recovered from a Historic event — may I even say a “weather event” of “Biblical Proportions” — with a historic blizzard of up to 24 inches of snow and winds to 50 mph that broke trees in half, stranded hundreds of motorists in lethal snow banks, closed all roads, isolated scores of communities and cut power to tens of thousands.

George Bush did not come…
FEMA staged nothing…
No one howled for the government…
No one even uttered an expletive on TV…
Nobody demanded $2,000 debit cards…
No one asked for a FEMA trailer house…
No news anchors moved in.

We just melted snow for water, sent out caravans to pluck people out of snow engulfed cars, fired up wood stoves, broke out coal oil lanterns or Aladdin lamps and put on extra layers of clothes.

Even though a Category “5” blizzard of this scale has never fallen this early — we know it can happen and how to deal with it ourselves.

Everybody is fine.

No obvious jokes about global warming, please.

Close to home

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After working in corporate America for a couple of decades I’m used to seeing Dilbert cartoons that eerily depict something that actually happened in my company the day before. Today’s “Pearls Before Swine” cartoon by Steven Pastis, however, strikes especially close to home for Twin Cities readers, where we “enjoy” an evening radio talk show called “Krok Talk”.


(click to enlarge)

I’d say Pastis nailed it perfectly.

Filings: Sunday School dropouts?

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Former Minnesota governor and professional wrestler Jesse Ventura was once quoted as saying that religion was a sham and something for the weak minded. I think the best response to this statement came from Jay Leno who commented that it’s a good thing nobody ever said that about professional wrestling.



Da Guv later amended his words somewhat saying that the people he really thinks are weak-minded are the “wackos and fundamentalists,” not the “typical” religious folks. Of course, Jesse – like the Devil and the StarTribune – are most useful when you just take it for granted that the opposite of what he says is closer to the truth.



The truly weak-minded are the ones whose convictions are easily swayed or intimidated, or those who really don’t know what they believe in the first place. After all, which is harder – to go with the flow (or the latest poll on what’s right or wrong), or to hold fast to what you’ve seen and experienced to be true when to do so is said to be unpopular or controversial?



Sometimes I wonder how an ostensibly “Christian nation” can tolerate – or even embrace – thinking and actions that are clearly ungodly. A large part of this perception is probably due to the fact that – except in unusual or extreme cases – events that show there is an active and interested God don’t make it into the news, and even when they do they are twisted or incomplete.



I think the real problem, however — and the reason why ungodliness is unwittingly celebrated — is ignorance. In our society a high school education is considered to be the bare minimum necessary to succeed. Spiritually, much of our “Christian” nation seems to be Sunday School dropouts. They have poor study skills and even less comprehension. The knowledge many have about what is really in the Bible may even be dwarfed by the number of things they think are in the Bible but really aren’t. No surprise then when policy is based on poll rather than principle. And no wonder that the best that so many can do when they struggle to come up with a spiritual answer for something they don’t understand is to say “the Lord moves in mysterious ways.” It’s only mysterious when we don’t know what the Word says!

And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ… (Ephesians 1:9)



It’s when I take my eyes off of the big picture, however, and focus on my life and the lives of those around me that I see just how tangible an impact Jesus Christ really is having. I know what’s happened in my life, and I know the testimonies of others who have sought and discovered what God’s will is for them in many areas. Therein is the hope for our world, for no lasting large-scale change can happen without the hearts of individuals being changed first.



The breakthroughs I see come in the lives of those who have permitted themselves to be discipled and who have committed to disciple others. While there’s no downplaying the importance of evangelism (how will they know, unless you go?), I think discipleship is just as important (how will they grow, unless you show?). Christians have a joint obligation to both learn from others and to help others learn. It is important to “study to show yourself approved of God” [2 Tim 2:15], but the breakthroughs in my life in healing, finances, and relationships have occurred not just when I’ve read the Word, but when I’ve also had it explained and seen it lived out. Furthermore, I’ve seen my breakthroughs get turbo-charged when I’ve helped someone apply in his life what I’ve learned in my life.



No matter where we are spiritually, there’s always someone who knows more than us, and always someone who knows less – and we need both in our lives. Furthermore, our world needs it. I know there’s lot of prayer going up for our nation, our government and for God’s will to be manifested, and I believe these prayers are and will be effective. I also believe that some of the fruit of these prayers, however, occurs when we move ourselves away from our pride and/or our self-interest and admit, first of all, that we need help and then – perhaps even harder – admit we have what it takes to help someone else.

They regret that they have but one afternoon to give to their country

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In reading around the blogosphere today I saw an interesting juxtaposition between two different stories. The effect is so surreal I can picture Johnny Depp, as Willie Wonka, saying the following:

“Welcome to today’s protest, children. Will you be wanting consequences with that action, or not?”

First, an excerpt from Shot in the Dark (Mitch Berg’s comments in italics):

This is from an email sent to local pro-Dictatorship groups:

Urgent solidarity needed! [I love that – “Urgent Solidarity”. What’s the next level down – “Laconic Solidarity?” – Ed.]

Students are being threatened with failing classes for walking out on November 2nd

*** Help mobilize our defense! ***

As of October 19th, nearly 1,000 high school students across the Twin Cities had signed the “November 2nd Walkout Pledge,” and we expect that number of grow substantially in the remaining 12 days before November 2nd. This tremendous response to Youth Against War and Racism’s call to action has taken place in the face of threats to fail students who miss tests that day.

Wow – a thousand high school kids signed a pledge to…get out of school for a day?

Wow! This must be serious!

By an unfortunate coincidence, many Twin Cities schools scheduled a finals day on November 2nd, the anniversary of Bush’s “reelection” [A “re-election that, ironically, happened on the same day as his re-election! – Ed] and the day chosen for nationally coordinated student walkouts against the war and military recruitment in schools. But other students who miss class that day for reasons school administrators deem legitimate will not fail their classes. They will get to take a make-up final.

Right. Because skipping school to go to a bogus political rally is not a legitimate reason.

Is it too much to ask that anti-war students who choose to participate in this justified act of protest, who are taking action to secure a decent future for our generation, also be given make-up tests?

No, the students who are demonstrating to return Iraqi and Afghan children their age to the Sixth Century would be asking a bit much for this sort of special treatment.

Let’s hope this goes on their permanent record so they can look back on it someday and slap themselves, really hard, on the forehead. Meanwhile, in the real world, Varifrank notes:

More than 20 members of Cuba’s world-famous national chorus are singing songs of freedom today after defecting in Toronto.

Members of the National Chorus of Cuba dodged security officers and jumped into waiting cars, some on Sunday and others yesterday, said Cuban exiles who planned the defections.

“These people are scared for their lives,” said Ismail Sambra, president of the Cuban Canadian Foundation. “They are worried about their families back home”. (Why should they be worried? Uncle Fidel and revolutionary party are merciful, are they not?)

Hmmm, I wonder if they chose to defect in Canada instead of the U.S. because of the school systems?

Reason, facts gone with the wind?

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The Missing Link isn’t just bedeviling evolutionary theory, but could be a problem for those trying to connect increased hurricane activity with global warming. As this National Center article by David Ridenour describes, the global warming/hurricane link may just be hot air:

An August article in the San Francisco Chronicle warned, “As the United States experiences more… out-of-season hurricanes like this summer’s, more Americans will recognize what the rest of the world has long accepted: Global warming is here, it will get worse…”1

This analysis has a critical flaw: The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) says the hurricane season runs from June 1 to November 30.2

That would make summer hurricanes in-season, wouldn’t it?

And there’s another little problem with the Chronicle warning: Much of the global warming that occurred during the last century occurred from 1900-1940, followed by a cooling period that lasted from about 1940 to 1975.

A comparison of hurricane severity against the warming/cooling trends finds that we had an above average number of hurricanes in the 50s and 60s – when the Earth was cooling.

Hurricane severity is governed by a natural Atlantic Ocean temperature cycle that lasts decades. Following the identified pattern, Atlantic hurricanes were especially prevalent in the 1950s and 1960s, were less so from about 1970 to 1994, and, since 1995, have been prevalent again.3

Talk of a link between global warming and increased incidence of hurricanes is just hot air, nothing more.

As Christopher W. Landsea, a scientist with NOAA’s Hurricane Research Division, has noted, “It is highly unlikely that global warming has (or will) contribute to a drastic change in the number and intensity of hurricanes.”

Landsea found that the number of intense hurricanes (those reaching Saffir-Simpson scale ratings of 3, 4, or 5) actually decreased in the Atlantic during the 1970s and 1980s.4 And from 1991 to 1994, the Atlantic had fewer hurricanes than any four-year period on record, with an average of less than four hurricanes per year.5

The article shows that while there has been more activity the last couple of years, the most severe storms have been in the past. The most intense hurricanes according to barometric pressure were the Labor Day hurricane of 1935 and Hurricane Camille in 1969 (Katrina is third). If you go by wind speed at landfall, Camille, Andrew (1992) and the 1935 hurricane were the worst. In terms of lives lost, the Galveston Hurricane (1900) and Okeechobee Hurricane (1928) were more more devastating than Katrina (it could be argued on this count that there was less warning in the 1900 and 1928 hurricanes which may have contributed to higher death tolls; as Katrina showed, however, having plenty of warning may be of limited value).

There is also evidence that warmer weather may actually reduce hurricane activity.

Even if the planet does eventually warm, it’s not clear that either the incidence or intensity of hurricanes would increase.

Patrick Michaels, a research professor in environmental sciences at the University of Virginia, has noted, “Atlantic hurricanes are much more delicate than their destruction suggests. One thing they cannot tolerate is a west wind blowing into them because it wrecks their symmetry. As a result, their maximum winds decline.”9

These are precisely the conditions that exist during El Ninos – weather phenomena that some scientists believe increase with rising global temperatures.

If they are right, this would mean that global warming might be expected to result in less severe hurricanes.

Other studies suggest that higher global temperatures would also result in fewer hurricanes.

A 1990 study of temperature data by Drs. Robert Balling, Sherwood Idso and Randall Cerveny spanning 41 years found that the warmest years had fewer hurricane days, on average, than the coldest years.

These findings are consistent with the earlier historical record. The most severe storms in the North Sea, for example, occurred during the 15th and 16th centuries, after the onset of the Little Ice Age.10

Nature, not man-made global warming, causes hurricanes.

My father has been known to describe certain people as being “Windier than a sackful of…” well, I won’t use that kind of language on this blog. The description may be more than apt in describing the warming-mongers who may be more interested in “cause and elect” than “cause and effect.”

Follow the link and read the entire article (HT: Amy Ridenour). An interesting and humorous historical analysis can also be found here.

Are they sure it wasn’t pining for the fjords?

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British say dead parrot had bird flu strain that has migrated from Asia to Europe

There doesn’t appear to be any doubt that this particular parrot contracted the H5N1 virus, but consensus hasn’t always been easy to reach with the British. You may recall the classic Monty Python “Dead Parrot” sketch where Mr. Praline tried to return a recently purchased, but deceased, “Norwegian Blue” parrot to the pet shop owner who insisted it was merely “resting”:

Mr. Praline: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely ‘ad enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not ‘alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein’ tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.

Owner: Well, he’s…he’s, ah…probably pining for the fjords.

Mr. Praline: PININ’ for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got ‘im home?

Owner: The Norwegian Blue prefers keepin’ on it’s back! Remarkable bird, id’nit, squire? Lovely plumage!

Mr. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.

Owner:(pause)Well, o’course it was nailed there! If I hadn’t nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent ‘em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!

Mr. Praline: “VOOM”?!? Mate, this bird wouldn’t “voom” if you put four million volts through it! ‘E’s bleedin’ demised!

Owner: No no! ‘E’s pining!

Mr. Praline: ‘E’s not pinin’! ‘E’s passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! ‘E’s expired and gone to meet ‘is maker! ‘E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, ‘e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed ‘im to the perch ‘e’d be pushing up the daisies! ‘Is metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘E’s off the twig! ‘E’s kicked the bucket, ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

Read the entire sketch here.

Getting ready

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Some Saturday reflections:

It has been a terrific fall season this year with fair weather extending well into October. This afternoon brings more bright sun and temperatures in the 50s, along with that distinctively crisp smell of autumn that quickens one’s awareness of needing to get ready for winter. I am circuiting my front yard on the riding tractor, the mulching deck doing it’s thing on the leaves. It’s a large front yard with four good-sized maples that drop soft, leathery leaves nearly the size of my face. There are also a couple of birches on the property that drop yellow, trowel-shaped leaves that are small and a real pain to rake. If I’m careful to act before the leaf fall gets too deep I can stay ahead of the leaves with the mulcher, even though I’ll need to repeat the route at least once more in the next few days to get what’s still hanging from the branches.

I spent the earlier part of the afternoon taking care of another important preparation for winter, that of buying my youngest a new winter coat. The selection of colors in the store wasn’t as vibrant as what I’m seeing now, but it was unmistakably autumn all the same and there was a certain warm satisfaction in being able to manage this assignment. When I got home the yard was calling and the late afternoon sun was perfect jeans and sweatshirt weather.

Now the sun is lower in the sky and the trees and the neighbors houses cast shadows. As I move back and forth through the patches of light and shade I alternately feel a little too warm and a little too cool. As the afternoon slips away the shadowed section gets larger but it still feels good being outdoors. The extended mild weather has given us extra time to prepare for winter: taking down awnings, putting up storm windows, caulking those suspect seams around the cupola over the music room window and on one of the roof vents, cleaning out the flower beds. No reason we couldn’t have gotten to these little projects sooner, but we just didn’t – there’s always so much else to do when the days are longer. When the first nip enters the air, however, you know time is short and you’ve got to pay attention.

I’ve got the tractor in a low gear with the blade speed set as high as it will go to mulch the leaves as thoroughly as I can. It’s slow going, but I figure it’s still better than raking and bagging. My methodical progress doesn’t take a lot of concentration so I think about how much I love this time of year, and then on to where I might be in that “May to December” continuum that Frank Sinatra sang about in “September Song.” I don’t think I’m that old, but I’ve had my “June” — and “July” and “August” seem kind of blurry to me. My mind naturally goes back a couple of weeks to my long-awaited examination at the heart clinic. The visit stemmed from a mysterious episode back in August when I had felt a strange pressure on one side of my chest, but with no other telltale symptoms. A visit to the ER turned up nothing but a hefty bill and the advice to get further testing done. Kind of like my fall chores, I had put off getting that testing done for one reason or another even though, like my fall chores, I knew I was eventually going to have to do it.

When I had finally gone in I was injected with a thallium tracer and put inside a machine that rotated an x-ray camera around my torso both before and after a treadmill stress test. When that was finished I’d then had an ultrasound where the technician let me watch my own heart and its valves beat and listen as the amplified sound of my blood swishing filled the room. It hadn’t happened that quickly, of course, as I spent nearly three hours at the clinic and moved from room to room. During that time I couldn’t help but notice that almost all my fellow patients were much older than I and moved with much greater deliberation.

Sitting on my lawn tractor it feels as if it’s moving at about the same pace as those older folks and I think about how much I’ve taken my own mobility and energy for granted. That’s not to say there aren’t mornings when I wake up feeling as if I’m 60 (or what I imagine 60 to feel like, since I’ve never been that old), and I use reading glasses (which I’m always forgetting to bring to restaurants where it seems I need them the most), and thanks to the knee surgeries I’ve reached an accommodation with my body on certain activities (I’m riding a mower instead of pushing one, after all), but I still pretty much do the things I want to do. Yet I remember the sensation this past summer when the realization sunk in that I’m probably never going to play in a softball league again. One hour of running aggravates my knee for a week, so I haven’t played for years. Somehow, however, I always had the thought in the back of my head that maybe next year it’ll be better. This summer I sat in the bleachers and watched that ship sail off across the outfield.

The results of my heart tests came back the other day and everything was normal. I’m relieved, of course, and a bit miffed at having taken the trouble and expense, but also happy that at least I know where I stand — or, in today’s activity — where I sit. In a way, the tests were for me like one of those fall chores; a chance to snug things up before winter gets here. Like the summer, I’ve taken my health for granted but the nip in the air, like the chill of the stethoscope, reminds me that there are things I need to do before it really gets cold.

The yard is almost finished and there’s only a few strips worth of leaves to pass over, and only a small corner still in the sun. My bare fingers are feeling a little cold on the wheel. If it were February and they felt this cold I’d probably complain, but for now the weather is good and the promise of hot coffee when I finish makes the sensation even pleasureable. I make the last pass and head for the shed. Winter is coming.