January 2004 Archives

It's a family tradition that we don't go out on New Year's Eve. There are a few really simple reasons for this. First, I usually work. Second, we don't drink.

Years ago, the last time we really went out for New Year's, a drunk guy started making a pass at my wife. In fact (though we laugh about it now) we almost broke up on our first pre-marriage New Year's Eve together.

This year, we stayed home with Steffie and watched some of the goings on in Times Square. Helaine said she wasn't, but I was very worried that some masterstroke terrorist act would take place in Times Square while the World watched.

Though we moved back and forth between Fox, MTV and ABC, we mostly stayed with ABC. Sure, I work for an affiliate, but there is also a tradition with Dick Clark. Again this year, for at least the second year in a row, Dick was inside a warm studio above Times Square. I'm sorry. He needs to be outside. And last night, the weather wasn't all that bad.

I was also upset at the use of Steve Doocey - who represents Fox News Channel's morning show - as 'talent.' This is not to say Steve isn't good... he is. But, this is another case of cutting your nose to spite your face. Why would ABC want to shine such a bright spotlight on someone who is trying to eat their lunch? Doesn't anyone in the company realize that using talent from other networks is the equivalent of dumping the Disneyland live shots for Six Flags or Universal?

There was a pretty tough article on Dick Clark in Newsday recently. I've attached it to this link.

Maybe because I knew most of this before, or maybe just because it's becoming more obvious now, I have trouble finding Dick warm and likable. His interaction with others, especially on 'tosses' from live shots, or look live taped pieces, is forced and a little too staged.

On the other hand, I'm not ready to cede New Year's Eve to Ryan Seacrest or the stable of hosts on MTV (none of whom stick out in my mind).

Happy 2004

It all began when Steffie and Helaine decided to go see Rick Springfield in concert on two consecutive nights this past summer. On July 31st he played Westbury Music Fair on Long Island, about 90 minutes away. On August 1st he was at Foxwoods, here in Connecticut, but still an hour away.

Helaine has been a fan of Rick's for 32 years! After she took Steffie to see him in Las Vegas, where he was starring in EFX at the MGM Grand, Steffie was hooked too. He's one year older than me and in good enough shape to take his shirt off on stage. I sometimes refuse to take my shirt off in the shower.

I don't know the man - met him for thirty seconds in a group of people - but can sense that he still relishes the attention and adulation of his fans. Not everyone does. Enjoying your audience makes a long career much easier and a whole lot more fun.

I do know that he has no objection to photography at his concerts. So, I gave Steffie the briefest of lessons, preset the most critical of adjustments, and sent her on her way with my Fuji S602Z.

The Fuji S602Z is a great camera. There's no doubt it's the best I've ever owned. It's fairly sensitive in low light, but more importantly for concert shooting, you can preset the shutter speed and then let the camera try and do the rest. And, if there's not quite enough light, there's always Photoshop.

I remember looking at the photos when Steffie and Helaine returned from Westbury. They were excellent. It was obvious that Steffie has a great eye for photography. I put them on my website, but never really mentioned them. Helaine, active on a Rick Springfield mailing list with over 2,000 members, never mentioned it there.

The next night, at Foxwoods, the lighting was better and the pictures were just as good. Again, silently, they went up on the website. They were available to see, but you had to be curious in the abstract, or someone had to tell you where to look, in order to find them.

In the meantime, Helaine had a few printed after Westbury and brought them to Foxwoods where I was able to get her and Steffie backstage to see Rick. He liked the pictures too.

Helaine sent links to the pictures to her friend Lisa in Mississippi. Lisa told Kym and from Kym the photos got to Rick.

Are you still following?

A few weeks ago Lisa sent Steffie an email with this:

Not only didn't Steffie know - we didn't want her to know until the tourbook (and as we'd later find out the Rick Springfield 2004 Calendar) came out. It would be another Chanukah gift; finding out she had been professionally published.

A handwritten note arrived from Kym with copies of the calendar and tourbook. She too congratulated Steffie, telling her Rick made the final decision on which pictures would make print, and Steffie's were there.

It wasn't until Steffie returned from Florida, a few days ago, that we showed her the notes, email, tour book and calendar with her work and photo credit!

She was ecstatic, and why not? Her work is excellent by any standard of measurement.

Part of the job of father is to be proud. The father of a teenager sometimes finds that very difficult. The teenage years are difficult... not on the teen, on the father. But, I am very proud and hope that Steffie continues to pursue photography, something she definitely has an aptitude for.

If you'd like to see the pictures for yourself, here are the Westbury shots and these are the ones from Foxwoods.

I'm not going to go into this in great depth because I don't know if it's real or a reflection of my earlier mail server problems, but, my spam is down - way down. It hasn't disappeared totally, but I'm seeing a whole lot less than I did as recently as Wednesday.

Since there were problems, and my host confirmed them, I have been testing my mail server by going to news sites and sending articles back to myself. So far, everything I've sent has made it.

So, where's my spam? Has the new law related to spamming actually slowed it down? Or, am I just imagining?

Stay tuned.

There are big headlines coming from NASA this weekend. Two missions reaching milestones.

The Spirit rover will be touching down on the surface of Mars (how cool to even be able to type those words - and they're true!) inside Gusev Crater at 04:35 Jan. 4, 2004, Universal Time (11:35 p.m. Jan. 3, EST.) Spirit's twin, Opportunity, will reach Mars three weeks later.

Compared to earlier Mars explorers, these two rovers are more sophisticated and should bring back better and more complete scientific data. Scientists are constantly intrigued by the twin possibilities of water and life on Mars - though we would be talking about life much simpler than found on Earth... more like complex chemistry than what you'd consider living things.

As sexy as that is, I think the really exciting mission is the one that will get less publicity.

A few hours ago, the Stardust mission flew by the Comet Wild 2 (pronounced 'vilt') and, in an aerogel container, captured some bits of the comet's tail. Aerogel is such a low density material that the cometary particles should be stopped without being destroyed... even with the spacecraft doing 17,000+ mph

In a few years, Stardust will return to Earth with its samples and parachute down to the Utah desert. It will be the first time ever that science has traveled to a comet and brought back samples.

A comet is a great place to visit because it is suspected that they were formed at about the same time as the Solar System. And, since the cometary particles have been protected inside the comet's icy crust, they should be much the same as they were 4.5 billion years ago!

To me, this is much more exciting than men travelling to space. Because manned space travel is a government project, we've become very timid in what we do there. Much of manned spaceflight is a worthless excercise with little scientific purpose. Intelligent machines can do a lot more with a lot less risk.

That photo on the left is a book I ordered a week ago and received yesterday. That's the way it came from the Post Office (I'm guessing it was that way before Rich, our postman, got it). It was one or two bounces away from being undeliverable.

As it turns out, the book (Special Edition: Using Microsoft Office 2000) was physically OK and now goes into the ever expanding collection of computer reference material I've accumulated over the years.

The fact that I bought this book in the first place upsets me to my geeky core. When I was taking my Statistical Climatology course, I found using a spreadsheet was very helpful. I used OpenOffice, the free "office suite."

Here's the problem - OpenOffice is not the mature product that Microsoft Office is. I wanted to be able to export graphs as images, and it can't be done in OO. More importantly, OpenOffice is poorly documented in printed literature (which is much better than on screen help while you're using a program).

If there was a good OpenOffice book available, I would have bought it. But, I couldn't find anything and so I settled for Microsoft - which I know is bloatware and helps promulgate Microsoft's monopoly position. It upsets me on so many levels.

Speaking of buying computer books - here's how I do it:

I go to Amazon, find the book I want, and then head to the "Used and New" section off on the right side. In most cases these books are new but are overstocks or for some other reason out of the normal retail market.

In the case of the book I bought, "Special Edition: Using Microsoft Office 2000," the list price was $39.99, Amazon's price was $27.99 and the "Used and New" prices start at $9.00.

The comment on the $9.00 book says it has a little wear and sounds used, but for $9.24 you get:

That's a pretty good deal, saving $18.75 from Amazon's price.

Usually, I ship the least expensive way. That means a Postal Service employee crawls on his belly all the way from the warehouse to my house. Actually, it's library rate which is v-e-r-y slow. So, when there's a choice, I look for a dealer here in Connecticut or an adjacent state.

I have never been dissatisfied with the physical condition of a book I've gotten this way, and I've saved a mint.

I remember the battle cry of the Internet entrepreneurs of the late 90's: "Content is King!" I'm not sure whether that's true, but I do enjoy adding fresh content to the website, especially if it is 'live' data.

That's what I did today in adding weather advisories from Connecticut, where I live, and the rest of the United States. Of course, it's not quite that simple. It was important to me that the data fit in with the look and feel of this site and that it be as fresh as possible.

The Weather Service has just started producing RSS feeds of this data. All I needed to do was find a way to convert it to a web readable format and I'd be on my way. I found a Perl program called JSMFeed.pl and installed it on the server. It produces a javascript file which can then be converted and inserted into my pages.

All I had to do was write the few short lines of code to do it. Considering I can't explain any of what I wrote in the previous paragraph, this was going to be tough.

Javascript is a language I don't know and have never written in. Luckily, once you know one programming language, you have an idea how to write in all of them, and the web is loaded with resources to help show you the proper usage.

Unlike high school, spelling and proper syntax do count. Misspell anything, or misplace anything in the program, and it won't work... or worse, it will work but will subject your computer to an endless stream of gibberish.

My friend Kevin, who speaks a little javascript, was my mentor this afternoon. He'll tell you he didn't show me what to do. But having him on the phone allowed me to bounce ideas and move the process forward. Without Kevin, this wouldn't have worked.

I also have to thank the folks (or person - who knows) at Creativyst, who donated this program for others to use for free.

If you'd like to try this new addition out, it's on the right hand side of the screen. Just click a link and have fun.

I played in a $3 limit Hold'em tournament tonight. Me, and 828 of my closest friends this time. By the time it was all over, I came in 71st, turning my $3 into $4.97... and only taking around 3 hours to do so!

Actually, I was doing really well until I was dealt a pair of Kings. I bet them all the way, losing a $19,000+ pot when the player I was up against paired his Ace.

Tonight, someone will turn $3 into $621.76. Not me.

A few weeks ago Jim Shelton, of the New Haven Register, called to ask if I'd like to participate in a story on gadgets. Absolutely!

I'm a sucker... err... early adopter... when it comes to high tech stuff. I'm on my third digital camera, and our computer network at home has five PCs for three people (though only two could be considered close to leading edge technology). Of course, I've been playing with computers since 1967 and have had a PC at home since 1978 (TRS-80 Model I), so this is a deep seated illness.

The attached photo (right) was taken by Peter Casolino of the Register staff, using a Canon D1, I think. You could actually see the bulb light up above his head as he had one of those "Eureka" moments, realizng what he wanted to shoot.

It's not a trick. That was my photo being displayed in the laptop. In this morning's paper, the photo takes up fully 40% of the top of the first page in the Living Section.

Click here to read the article.

I know there are some people who'd rather not see their name in the paper... and others, like Saddam Hussein, who are wishing there would be a new photo to print. But for me, it continues to be fun to think anyone would value my opinion.

As little kids get growth spurts, so does this website. Every once in a while, I get the urge to add content.

I already wrote about the new 'live' watch and warnings links. They've worked really well - until I blew out all the Cron jobs on the server! Crons are clock based program triggers. Do something once a day, or every other minute and cron job is in action.

Yesterday, I discovered another really cool program. It was buried within the bowels of freshmeat, one of the geekiest destinations on the web. The program, Weather-Plotter, collects hourly weather information, then graphs and plots it. Very cool. Much better than the way I'm graphing data now.

I'll throw out the link, but it's not ready for primetime yet. Something like this needs weeks, maybe months of readings before the graphs start to flesh out. And, there's still the task ahead of me to make it look like the rest of the site.

People often ask me how I have enough time to do this. I don't. It will happen slowly.

About a year and a half ago, one night for no apparent reason, my upper lip swelled to the size of my thumb. I think I was riding in the car when I felt the first tingling. By the time I got home for dinner, I looked downright scary.

I wasn't in pain, but I certainly couldn't go on the air. People would be calling the TV station wondering what had happened to me. Children would lose sleep or get nightmares. It was that bad - this is no exaggeration.

I spoke to my doctor, Steve.

Let's stop here for a second. It drives Helaine a little nuts when I refer to a doctor by his/her first name. Doctors should be doctors - not Steve's. I understand the logic. But, I've known him for nearly 20 years. He's a great guy and recognized as a great doctor. He's Steve.

The lip subsided. Still, Steve ran me through every test known to man. Nothing.

Meanwhile, since the major swell-up, I found myself getting itchy on my palms and the soles of my feet. My fingers would swell. Sometimes my toes would itch. Of more concern, there was, what I surmised, was constriction in my wind pipe. Would this condition block my flow of oxygen?

I tried going to Google to see if there was medical knowledge that would help me. Without going into too much detail, you're not going to get a lot of medical help by searching for "swollen lips and fingers."

Helaine and I went on vacation to Las Vegas. While taking golf lessons I started inflating and deflating - fingers and lips swelling and subsiding. It was scaring the living daylights out of me.

There was no apparent reason for this internal body change after 50+ years. I was eating different foods in a different climate, drinking and bathing in different water. My total environment had changed but not my symptoms.

Steve spoke with a colleague, the head of the Allergy Department (it has a much more complex name, but you get the idea) at our local, major teaching hospital. If this was an allergic reaction, there would be no one more qualified to find it. I went to visit him.

I remember our first meeting. It might have been in his first paragraph to me when he said he probably wouldn't be able to tell me what was causing my troubles... but he'd be able to control it. And, he did.

Religiously, I have been taking antihistamines every day. Amazingly (except one day, months ago, when I missed my pill), I have been symptom free.

I know I will be on this, or a similar medication, for the rest of my life. And, I will also be going to visit this doctor... forever. Truth is, I need the prescription and he's entitled to get paid for keeping me swell free. So, we go through this medical charade where I go to his clinic at the hospital, tell him I'm symptom free, and get a prescription. He's a smart guy... fun to chat with, though I assume there are others, sicker than me, waiting for his expertise.

Today was my day to visit. I'll be back in June.

You've probably seen the Emmy's on TV. All of Hollywood's glitteratti, decked to the nines, attempting to be humble or gracious (depending on whether you're a winner or loser) in front of a worldwide audience.

As much as I'd like to go man-to-man in competition with Tony Perkins or Al Roker , I'm not eligible. NATAS, the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences nicely compartmentalizes the Emmys with national awards (day, night and technical) and local ones. Here in Connecticut I belong to, and participate with, the Boston/New England Chapter.

Obviously, the statue I go after doesn't have the same cachet as the one that goes to a David Letterman or Camryn Manheim. It's smaller, lighter and has a rectangular base as opposed to the circular one on the national award. Still, it's a great honor to receive one... and I have been lucky enough to get seven, all of which sit in a cabinet in our family room.

If you belong to NATAS, you get a chance to enter the Emmys and an obligation to judge them. I have taken my turn a few times, looking at tapes from broadcasters in other parts of the country. This year I held a judging session in my home, looking at weather tapes from the Midwest.

It takes skill to be nominated and luck to win. It's a trite phrase but it's true.

Judging usually takes place over pizza, maybe some beer, and lots of shop talk. You try to be a good and fair judge, but it's tough. Does tape 8 get the same shot as tape 1? How long do you let a tape that has no chance play? My fear is that some winners are arbitrary winners. That's not because of a bias but because of human nature.

This year, while I judged, I noticed a 'syndrome' among the entrants. They often confused a 'good' weather situation with a good weather presentation. In fact, talented broadcasters should be able to get by with a tape from a day with nothing doing... though none ever have the guts to send that. I certainly don't.

Helaine and I used to go to the Emmy awards religiously. Unfortunately, it tends to be very Boston-centric and the weather category is at the very end. So recently, we haven't gone. And, over the past few years I haven't always submitted a tape.

Part of that is because of the ceremony, but it's probably more because of my scatterbrained, non-organized personality. In order to enter, you have to save some of your work... and I hardly ever do. Then, you have to meet the deadline. Hello! Deadlines are my enemy. I'm terrible when it comes to getting myself motivated and started.

Still, this year I wanted to try. We have two new guys in the weather department, both with a real chance of winning. I'd kick myself if everyone entered but me.

So, last night I pulled together a few airchecks. This morning, I digitized them on the computer in my office and edited together a 7:30 presentation. It's now on a DVD, but tomorrow it will be dubbed onto a VHS tape and FedEx-ed to Boston - just in time for Friday's deadline.

Since I have this website at my disposal, I thought I'd throw a copy here too. If you have a Real player and DSL or cable modem, click here and take a look. If you're on dial-up, don't even bother - it won't work.

Later, I'll let you know if I'm nominated. No promises. There's more competition than ever before.

I was speaking to someone tonight about game show hosts. I'll let you in on a poorly kept secret - I've always wanted to be a game show host.

I remember the classic Mary Tyler Moore Show episode when Ted is asked to host a game show. Lou, trying to stop him from making the move says, "Ted... is that what you want to be... a quizzzzzz-master?" The "z" in quiz prolonged, to make the point.

That night I yelled at my TV - "YES! I do."

I'm not sure when or why the job started to appeal to me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that as host you always knew the answer to questions, even when the contestants didn't. Maybe it's because, as a kid growing up in New York City, most of my local TV heroes also hosted game shows.

Back, sometime in the early sixties, I actually went to a live broadcast at 30 Rock. I don't remember the show, or who the host was. I remember Wayne Howell, the announcer.

Wayne warmed up the audience. Considering my age at the time, it was probably my first experience seeing standup. He was very funny. The jokes were very corny. There is one joke Wayne did that day that I have stolen as my own.

The floor director counted down the time to air, saying "one minute," "30 seconds," and finally "10 seconds to go." At which time without missing a beat, Wayne Howell said, "If you have to."

The audience screamed, and we were on our way. Forty years later that cheap, little joke still has significance to me. He pulled it off so well.

There have been some excellent hosts. Looking back at the old tapes on Game Show Network, I can see why I loved Match Game's Gene Rayburn. He was so fast on his feet and always listening, making him topically funny.

Even when he used a contestant's flub as the butt of his joke, he never came off as anything but nice. It's easy to make a joke at someone else's expense and look mean. He was masterful in avoiding that trap.

Bill Cullen was another great host, but in a different way. He was more of a bright everyman. I don't remember him throwing one liners, but as with Rayburn, he was always listening and responding.

The most important on-air quality for a host to possess is his/her ability to make the audience believe he's rooting for the contestant. Watch Pat Sajack spin the wheel in the final round - always finding big money. It's no accident. I think viewers sense Pat is consciously doing that, and subconsciously they like it and him.

Bert Convey was that way too. Though he did a number of shows, I think his best work was on Tattletales. Tattletales was a show where celebrity husbands and their (now divorced or deceased) wives would be quizzed on what they knew about each other. It was similar to, but less low brow, smarmy or sexual than the Newlywed Game. Convery was everyone's friend, always helping.

I'd like to throw Chuck Barris into this mix for his work on the Gong Show, but I suspect I was watching one very stoned individual who would be incapable to duplicating his performance while straight. I really don't know that, but it's my assumption.

And there's Chuck Woolery, Allen Ludden, Bob Barker, Tom Bergeron, Ken Ober, Regis, and a host of others who'd be offended if they ever came across this site and saw I left out their name. That's life - get over it.

Without game shows I wouldn't know about the Michael C. Fina Company or Spiegel - Chicago 60601 or that it was McCormick in the east and Schilling in the west (or was it the other way around) or remember Kathy Lee Gifford as Kathy Lee Johnson, when she was adorable and sang 5 seconds at a time on Name That Tune..

As is often the case in the performing arts, it's not just the game ,or just the host, but a plethora of interlocking imponderables that make for a success or failure. Chuck Woolery never had the success with Wheel that Pat Sajack does. A number of different hosts tried doing syndicated, nighttime versions of the Price is Right - without success.

I've seen Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, from Singapore, hosted by The Flying Dutchman (a morning disk jockey there). Same set, same music, same game. It needed Regis.

Who knows if I'll ever get the chance? I'd move heaven and Earth. It's a crap shoot, I suppose. Whether I'm talented or not, being the weatherman in New Haven is probably not a huge selling point. Though I'm immature for my age, it might be said that I'm too old.

I hope I'd be good at it. It would be fun to find out. I think I already know how to play the game.

I got an email this evening from Bank of America. My email client at work, Mozilla for Linux, brought it right to me. At home, Popfile thought it was spam.

That's what it looked like - but looks can be deceiving. The link to www.bankofamerica.com was really just text. The actual web link, hidden in the source code of the email, was different (I'm going to change a few characters so it will show up here, as it is specifically formatted to be invisible!¹):

So, what have we here? It's an exploit, taking advantage of the way Internet Explorer (and possibly other browsers) treat what they see. You're not being sent to a Bank of America website but actually:

In other words, the info you see is treated as if it were a username or password and the real destination is a directory on 211.23.65.84. That IP address, 211.23.65.84 is nothing out of the ordinary. Every website has a numerical address hiding behind its URL. This site, www.geofffox.com, is really 66.225.220.189.

So, who is 211.23.65.84? It's a website, hosted by Chungwa Telecom Co, Ltd.

Are you confused yet?

Let's get very simple. Someone sent out emails, looking like they were coming from Bank of America, asking people to log in and provide account details. What looked like a Bank of America website was really a website located in Taiwan.

The normal user of this IP address is Spectrum Research and Testing Laboratory, Inc. More than likely, they had no clue what was going on, and one of their computers had been hijacked for this exploit.

What's even stranger is that the actual email was mailed from a Comcast home customer! It's possible that the Comcast subscriber was a conspirator, but more often than not some piece of 'malware' has invaded that home machine and it's now a 'zombie' doing the bidding of these potential identity thieves!

It just sounds too weird, doesn't it? But this kind of stuff is going on all the time! Many people, maybe most people, who get this kind of email will bite and enter their info. Everything looks legit. Everything seems on the up-and-up.

As of this evening, the site mentioned in the email is down. How many user names and passwords were gotten before it was stopped? Your guess is as good as mine.

Catching the crooks is going to be tough. The miscreants who devised this probably aren't in Taiwan, or using a Comcast cable modem. They could be anywhere in the world, getting ready to go on the shopping spree of a lifetime. On the Internet, there's really no difference between Brooklyn or Bulgaria or Buenos Aires.

This is the cancer that has invaded the Internet. I have mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. The Internet in general, and email in particular, will become devalued unless a method is devised to accurately verify who is the sender. This will mean a total reconfiguration of email protocols - but it's got to be done. And, it's got to be done sooner rather than later.

Tonight, there's someone, somewhere, who suddenly has the money to mount the research into writing that new email protocol - but that's the last thing he wants.

I could not have begun to tell this story without the help of Spamcop and SamSpade. Both are top notch in getting to the bottom of spam.

¹ - (01-10-04 3:33 PM) I just got a call from Mike, at the Cingular Store, who was reading my webpage. It seems even including the altered code from this email was enough to set off McAffee Virus Scanner! I have changed the code again and McAffee now passes it. This just goes to show how nefarious these 'phishing' emailers are!

I just went out for a container of coffee. Usually, even in the coldest weather, I grin and bear it. Tonight is different - special if you will.

My car-mometer said 7... and then 6 degrees. That in and of itself wasn't too bad. It's the wind.

Wind chill is a real thing. No, water won't freeze at temperatures above 32, just because the wind chill's down. Still, your body's skin temperature will move more rapidly toward the outside air temperature when the wind is whipping. That's what wind chill is all about.

It's brutal. It really was painful to stand outside, even for the few seconds it took to get to the car.

If there's any consolation, it's that I'm going to Florida to visit my folks and play some golf on Monday. Even if the temperatures in Florida are below their normal - if it rains every day - no matter what, I won't kvetch. Not after tonight.

All week I've been talking about the cold temperatures and that you've got to respect the "3 P's": Pipes, People and Pets.

In the past, when the temperature has approached zero, we've had a problem with one pipe - bringing the hot water to our kitchen. The way our house is built, the kitchen juts out past the foundation, and the hot water pipe is right against an outside wall between the basement and first floor.

We drip a little water, and it's just fine. And, when I came home, the water was dripping.

I had to wash out a dish I had brought to work for my dinner. As soon as I turned on the hot water, I realized the dripping had been on the cold side and the hot was frozen! Uh oh.

I went upstairs to get a blow dryer. It's possible to thaw a frozen pipe, if the freeze isn't too far from the exposed part of the pipe you're heating, and if the freeze isn't all that long in the pipe.

The cord on a blow dryer isn't made to reach from a counter level outlet back under the sink. Up to the (very, very cold attic) to get an extension cord.

I had to clear the cabinet beneath the sink and pile our little home chemistry lab (well, that's what's under there) on the kitchen floor. I wedged the blow dryer on the pipe an turned it on.

Within a few seconds there was a drip. Thirty seconds later it was a tiny stream. Within a minute water (cold water) was flowing from the tap. Not long after that, it was hot. I washed the dish.

The one time our pipe really froze, we called Frank the plumber. It took him about 30 seconds, using what looked like an arc welding transformer to heat up my pipes by using them to carry high current electricity. To this day Frank is my hero.

Right now, the thermometer out my office window reads 0.3§! Sunrise doesn't come for another 5« hours. We might hit 5« below zero - maybe more!

In anticipation of a week away, down in Florida, I began packing tonight. No coat. No sweaters. Golf clubs!

I have decided, for this one week, no shaving. We'll see what my folks have to say about this... or how I feel about it once the beard comes in.

Shaving is one of those necessary evils of adulthood. I'm not sure I know one adult male who wouldn't stop shaving, if he could. I will look scroungy!

When I return to Connecticut, I will shave it off. Even if I could wear it, I probably wouldn't (and it probably wouldn't be allowed), it's not a good look.

At least I don't think it's a good look. I'll have a chance to reevaluate.

So, here I am at 3:30 AM, schmoozing on IM with my friend Bob in Florida, when he springs it on me. The computer models are now calling for about ¼" of precipitation on Monday, my getaway day. And, to make matters worse, it looks like snow.

The snow had been in my forecast, but as recently as Friday it looked quite minor, like flurries or snow showers. Earlier, it seemed like it might be a mix of precipitation.

This forecast calls for about 2-3" for my drive the Bradley Airport (and Helaine's drive home). And then there's always the chance that flights will be delayed due to weather.

Depending on what's going on later today, maybe I'll give Southwest a call and see how cooperative they are?

My $222.50 ticket is now closer to $400, so they might not want to make an even swap. On the other hand, if they anticipate bad weather for Monday too, and how can they not, maybe they don't want me hanging around in the airport.

Now that I've written all this, I realize that maybe I'm becoming a little bit of a wuss. After all, I lived in Buffalo. How bad can 2-3" of snow be?

Helaine woke me up early this morning. She, as my driver, is concerned about the forecast for tomorrow. The map piece on the left, a little snippet of what I've looked at, says a few things. It shows between ¼" and ½" of liquid equivalent over Connecticut by 7:00 AM tomorrow. The two sets of lines show it won't be too windy but it will be cold enough aloft snow. Other maps, that you don't see, show this event over at, or before, 7:00 AM.

Bottom line, 3-5" of snow on the ground.

If you'd like to be a geek in training, these forecast maps are part of an ever changing suite of maps published around the clock by the National Centers for Environmental Prediction, in Silver Spring. MD.

I called Southwest. They'll move me to today - if I pay about double my current fare!

The plan right now is for Helaine and me to get up early and do our best getting to the airport. The hope is I-91, our main route, won't be too bad. However, I-91 is the road that separated me from the radio station early this season when ¼" fell!

This story is not yet over.

I have been a major Eagles fan since that day Marlene Maslin walked me into The Vet. A huge American flag was stretched across the entire field. The Sun was shining. The team sucked. But, it didn't make any difference. Love is often made up of imponderables.

Helaine is a bigger Eagles fan than I am. She lives and dies with the team. When they lose, she shuns all sports media. When they win, you need a firehose to supply the information and opinion she craves.

We just finished watching the Eagles play the Green Bay Packers in the 2nd round of the NFC playoffs. This isn't a sports blog, and I'm not going to go into detail, but the Eagles held on in improbable fashion bringing the game to overtime. Then, in overtime, they snatched momentum from the Packers on an uncontested interception and went on to win... the only moment of the game they were ahead.

Helaine usually goes to bed early - but she's so jazzed up over the game that it will be awhile before she's able to sleep.

I'm sure I'll have another entry tonight when the late weather models start coming in, within the next hour.

As the 00z (7:00 PM) run of the eta (a computer generated weather prediction model) starts coming in, it seems like the earlier prognostications will stand. Snow, starting before dawn and lasting through midday.

It won't be a lot of snow, but we have the long drive to Bradley Airport. And then, Helaine has to drive back home.

This trip will start earlier than usual. Hopefully, I won't spend the entire day sitting in the terminal... but I might.

The term is "phishing." A phony email is sent, purporting to be from a company you do business with, asking for private information. I wrote, only a few days ago, about a bogus note from Bank of America. Tonight, it's Citibank!

I'm not a Citibank customer, so I knew immediately this was bogus. Even if I had missed it, Popfile called it spam. Good job!

The last time I put one of these up, McAffee Virus Scanner stopped some people from getting to my site, so I've eliminated the link in this one - it's phony anyway!

Today's phishing expedition originated with email sent from an account on wideopenwest.com, a high speed Internet service provider (like cable modem or DSL) here in the U.S. The link on the email opens a form that looks exactly like a Citibank form (in fact, it's probably taken from their site), but it sends the posted data, including credit card and pin, to a site in Korea!

We're rapidly approaching email meltdown! How long can commerce survive in this untrustworthy environment?

----

01/11/04 10:38 PM - I have just reported this incident to Citibank via their weblink. I'll let you know if they respond.

Got up about an hour ago. I couldn't sleep, anticipating airport trouble. But, as I write this, the snow has stopped with only a few inches. Stefanie's school has been delayed 90 minutes.

I'm going to catch one more hour.

I have arrived - and it's warm! What more could you ask for? Considering what I saw when I walked out the door today, Florida is especially nice.

Getting to Florida today was much easier than I ever imagined. First, the snow was over early and there really wasn't all that much of it. Second, the roads were in good shape. Third, the airport was in good shape. Fourth, Southwest - excellent.

My flight was scheduled to leave at 12:15 PM. On the way to the airport my pocket started vibrating. It was a text message on my cellphone from Southwest. The flight was on time and would be leaving from Gate 2.

Helaine pulled up at the brand new terminal at Bradley International. Compared to the old "bus terminal" it is phenomenal. But, it's still pretty sterile with too much wasted vertical space to suit me. However, remember what it was before!

Gate 2 is pretty close. I got there early enough to watch a flight to Orlando board and leave.

Let me add here that the Bradley Airport experience would be greatly improved with the addition of Cinnabon. If there's one in the new terminal, I didn't find it. Cinnabon is required eating for air travel in the new century.

I struck up a conversation with the gate agent. It looked like the flight would be 2/3 full. So, even though I had a "B" boarding pass (no assigned seats on Southwest) I was in no hurry. As it turned out, I had a full three seat cluster and slept for about an hour. Unlike some other airlines, the Southwest seatbelts stowed nicely out of the way for comfortable sleeping in the airborn fetal postion.

The plane was nice. Southwest flies 737's and nothing else. There are different model and configurations, but they're all 737's. The seats were leather and firm. The plane looked clean, though it was 8 years old. It's tough to judge legroom and seat width when you're all alone, but both seemed adequate.

The flight to Tampa was fine. There was a little light turbulence, but it only helped put me to sleep.

After waking up, I struck up a conversation with a flight attendant. The first thing I told her was the first thing I noticed - the Southwest attitude. Everyone was friendly. Everyone was happy. I know this is an overstatement. Even in the best of jobs there are people who are upset, or hate the boss, or feel overlooked and overworked. Still, the aura was there. As someone who's flown mostly United and USAirways over the last few years (two airlines in financial troubles with labor unrest) it was easy to pick up the vibe.

I had planned on watching a lecture for my Synoptic Meteorology class, but after 7:30 minutes I pulled out the GPS receiver and watched our progress instead.

It was a 'nerdy cool', seeing the map and our position, then looking out the window and seeing everything where it was supposed to be. Where I-75 bent on the map, it bent in real life. Lakes and streams were positioned correctly.

We landed in Tampa about 20 minutes early. One of the flight attendants joked on the P.A., "You tell your friends when we're late. Let them know we were early." And now I have.

The early arrival added to the ground time in Tampa. I sat on an arm rest and talked with a Connecticut couple and their 21 year old twin daughters. They were on their way to Key West. The dad was a dead ringer for John Goodman, though I didn't want to say anything, in case he had seen King Ralph or hated Goodman for other more cryptic and sinister reasons.

The door to the cockpit was open, and I asked the flight attendant if I might go up and take some photos. When I got their, the co-pilot had left the cockpit, so I schmoozed with the pilot who asked me if I wanted to sit down. Then he took my picture, at the controls. OK - we were at the gate, but still... It's a guy thing. I can't explain it.

The plane was around 1/4 full when we took off for the short run to West Palm Beach. As we headed skyward I studied what looked like cirrus clouds. Closer inspection leads me to believe it was a massive cluster of jet contrails which, in the nearly calm Florida atmosphere, slowly atrophied as it expanded.

My folks were waiting at PBI. They look great. Florida living is life extension. They have a great time and live the best lifestyle they've ever had. As I get older, this type of retirement life seems more enticing.

I knew a friend from high school, Ralph Press, was now living in South Florida, so I gave him a call and asked him over for dinner. Though his car was seriously smoking from the engine compartment when he got here, the rest of the journey seemed uneventful.

Ralph looks exactly the same as I remember him. Of course, he's a lot older - that's a given. But many people radically change as they age. Ralph has not.

We had dinner and worked on my parents wireless computer network. The network seems to be working except with my laptop. And, the laptop is giving me an error message I've never seen before. I have some CAT5 cable, so it's not a major deal. I can plug-in. But, I will obsess until I fix it and go wireless again.

I pride myself on the fact that I write something on the blog every day. That didn't happen yesterday. I wanted to write - just too tired.

I mentioned earlier that I had seen my old friend Ralph on Monday. What I didn't mention is, I didn't get to bed until after 3:30 AM. Between blogging and doing some Photoshop work for Helaine, I wasn't finished until then.

Yesterday, I went and played golf with my dad. We played a the Kings Point golf course, located at an older condo complex near here. The course was short - lots of water.

The weather was superb. It's even better with the knowledge that temperatures back home went below zero overnight with windchills down in the 'surface of the moon' range.

Today's weather at home:

Today's weather here in Florida:

As a golfer, I stink.

I remember seeing articles about the "worst regular golfer in America." I am sure that I'd qualify as a finalist in that competition, if I didn't take the main prize.

I have said this to people before and they usually think it's some sort of false modesty. No, it is not. I am awful at golf. I am awful at all athletic endeavors.

When I was a kid, being bad at sports was a problem. Sports and athletic acumen helps create the kid hierarchy. As an adult, I just don't care. And, most adults don't care how I play either.

Yesterday, it was my dad and me and two strangers we were hooked up with. Our partners were both older than my father who is 78. So, I had at least 25 years on the group. I was still the worst player in our foursome - it wasn't close.

This, off course, begs the question, why play at all? There are a few reasons, not the least of which is, it is played out of doors, normally in beautiful surroundings. The most important reason is the one, maybe two, shots per game when you really hit it right (even though that is just as much an accident as the one you splashed into the lake at a 45° angle from the fairway).

If I were to try and take the field with an NFL team, or go to the hoop versus an NBA player or stand in against major league pitching, I'd have no chance. But in golf, every once in a while, I will hit a ball just as good as the pros. I'm not talking about off the tee, but when I'm closer in to the hole, or even already on the green. In fact, if you watch the pros play on TV, they sometimes miss 'easy' shots. Hey, I can do that too!

We played 18 holes and I probably lost 9-10 balls! Suddenly the round of golf has gone up in cost. However, like the credit card commercials: A round of golf with my dad - priceless.

We got home around 5:00 PM, I took a shower and was out the door for dinner in Ft. Lauderdale with my friend Wendie. Wendie is my ex-boss. I have kept in touch with most my of the news directors I've worked for, but I am closest with Wendie.

She works in Miami as the Executive Producer of Nightly Business Report on PBS. Though less glamorous and well publicized than the other daily financial shows, it is the most watched. That surprised me too, but broadcast still has a vastly greater reach than cable.

Wendie picked a restaurant equidistant to the two of us (OK - she lied - it was much closer to her), Mango on East Las Olas Boulevard in Ft. Lauderdale.

East Los Olas is reminiscent of Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, Lincoln Road in Miami Beach, The Gaslight District in San Diego, or any number of other streets filled restaurants and artists. Wendie had fish and I had seafood over pasta. Very good and the atmosphere was nice. Most of all it was nice to catch up with Wendie. Good friends are tough to come by.

After dinner we attempted to walk some dinner off (Wendie - a gym rat - is in much better shape than I am), going in and out of stores. We especially enjoyed an art gallery that specialized in cartoon cells and other animation art. Considering this stuff is a byproduct of the actual work of producing the cartoons, and would be made whether it was later sold or not, it's awfully expensive. There were a few really cool ones from The Simpsons and Rocky and Bullwinkle.

By 9:30, I was on the road again, heading north toward my parent's place. I made a few wrong turns and a few phone calls. I am fairly pleased with Cingular's GSM service here in South Florida. I have only had one call dropped and always had service. If it could only work like this at home!

One of the most interesting sights on I-95 (a very boring trip for sightseers) is the logo on the side of the building housing Don King Enterprises. Don's logo is a crown with KING at the bottom and the slogan: "Only in America." Is he referring to the fact that a man convicted of manslaughter couldn't make it this big in another country? Probably. To my way of thinking, "Only in America" in this context isn't a glowing endorsement of America.

I used to live here in South Florida when I was starting out in radio in early 1970. The area my parents live, where I'm sitting right now, was swamp! In fact, the 'end of civilization' is miles and miles farther west than I could have ever imagined.

This is an area of great and continued growth. You can't drive far without seeing another strip shopping center or big box category killer store. There are more doctors, clinics and banks than anywhere else I've ever been.

With a huge population of seniors, many with fairly substantial amounts of disposable income and few expenses, shopping is thriving. I would guess, for these municipalities and the county (my parents live in an unincorporated portion of Palm Beach County), the elderly population is a godsend - paying taxes without sending kids to school.

One last thing before I go. I continue to go without shaving. The last time I was touched by the razor was Friday - so 5 days. I think I'm starting to agree with Helaine. It looks awful! And, it's a little uncomfortable. I'll give it a few more days.

I try, as best I can, to answer any viewer emails I get. There are, however, 5-10% who will become and remain ticked at me because I don't respond.

It's not me!

At least 5-10% of the people who fill in our email form at the station's website fill it out incorrectly... and the mail comes bouncing back. Sometimes I can figure out what they're doing, but often I can't.

Damn that Geoff Fox, I wrote him an he dissed me. No good deed goes unpunished.

This place--the condo complex my parents live in is built on swampland. They're not alone. Much of South Florida's inhabited land was once the province of birds, game and gators.

In many cases, civilization has killed the wildlife off or forced it to move away. In other cases, people and animals live together in harmony. That's what this entry is all abou, cohabitation between the species.

My folks moved in nine years ago. Back then they noticed an amazing tree. By day, it was bare... in fact, much of it looked dead with no leaves or hint of green. In the twilight of early evening it came alive as egrets flew in and landed. Overnight the birds slept on the tree.

As far as I can tell, what we have here is called a rookery.

The tree sits at the edge of a small, man made lake. This part of Palm Beach County is crawling with little lakes, dredged to afford water views and raise housing prices for the developers. This lake, maybe more of a pond, isn't special in any way I can see... but it is to egrets. They chose it for their home.

It's not out in the wild nor removed from civilization. The tree is about as close as it can be to the clubhouse for this complex of 600 units. There is foot and car traffic every day. The egrets don't care.

They fill this tree 365 days a year and every morning they all fly away to do whatever it is egrets do. They return, flying in groups of 5 to 10, swooping down and heading upwind before finding their branch just before sunset. It's tough to believe that the landing patterns at LAX or JFK are any more precise or coordinated.

They sleep in close proximity. Egrets are not deep sleepers. From time to time one will move or adjust his position. That motion will affect other nearby birds, and before long a section of the tree's population will have their wings up for stability or even take a very brief flight. A sound sleeper would soon be in the lake.

In the quiet of the evening looking across the lake at the motionless birds you sometimes hear a staccato sound. It's bird poop, hitting the water.

Last year, someone thought it would be a good idea to have a contest. Count the birds and win a prize. A photo was taken, setting the benchmark, and everyone took a guess. There are a little more than 300 birds in the tree. My mom's guess was closest. She won a stuffed bird (a toy stuffed bird - not something that had visited a taxidermist).

Earlier today, when I went to take my daylight 'empty nest' photo, a few people sat on a bench, looking out at the lake. This evening, getting the return shot, there were more people and what looked like twin toddlers. I'm sure their grandparents were more excited than they were and that some day they'll be quizzed to see if they remember the tree with all the birds.

When I returned tonight I had the birds to myself. It is an amazing sight.

From the distance, the tree looks like it's lit by small incandescent bulbs. It's only as you get closer that you begin to see the individual birds. Even then, they don't really look like birds. Their heads and beaks are tucked down in their feathers, probably to preserve heat and energy in the cool of the evening. For the most part it's a still life.

I've never seen anything like it and probably never will anywhere else. Not that they had anything to do with it, but the birds are a matter of pride for the condo dwellers.

Nearly every place has something special and out of the ordinary that only the locals know about. If only I knew the right questions to ask.

I just took a look. We've barely crossed into the new day and temperatures (7 hours before sunrise) already range from 0° to -8° at the 'official' reporting stations in Connecticut. I'm positive there are outlying areas already below -15° - and temps will continue to plunge.

So, where am I? Am I dripping water in the kitchen sink? Am I throwing an extra blanket on the bed? Hell no, I'm in Florida with my folks. And, I'm feeling a little bit guilty.

It would be easy to claim I knew it was going to be this bad and planned my vacation accordingly - which would be a lie. It was just dumb luck.

Normally, I visit a place and the newspapers run banner headlines, "COLDEST SOUTH FLORIDA TEMPERATURES EVER" or "LAS VEGAS DELUGE - FLOODING AT RECORD LEVELS."

I'm like the character William H. Macy plays in the new movie "The Cooler." Invite me for rain on your parade.

On the other hand, I have lived through my fair share of Northeast winters. I remember the winter of 1968/69. I was a freshman at Emerson College in the Back Bay section of Boston. From my dorm it was a short walk across Storrow Drive to the Charles River.

The winter of 68/69 was brutal. The Charles River froze up early. I was young and a little crazy.

One day, fellow freshman Ed Symkus and I decided to walk to Cambridge... over the frozen river. From Storrow Drive, Cambridge doesn't look that far away. Trust me, it is.

What you don't think about as you set out to cross a frozen river is you're about to walk on a very big ice cube. Your feet are going to get really cold. And, by the time you find out, you'll be really far away!

We were around halfway across when we heard the voice. It was an MDC (Massachusetts District Commission) policeman, sitting in his warm patrol car, on his P.A. system.

"You two, on the river (he actually said 'rivah'). Turn around NOW and return to the Boston side."

It was about that time we realized we might actually fall in... and, we were probably going to get arrested (though in retrospect what would we have been charged with? First Degree Stupid?). We headed back to Boston.

By the time we got back onshore, the policeman had disappeared.

I guess it's cold enough now, and has been for a long enough time, that the Charles is frozen again. If you know anyone who is thinking about walking to Cambridge, please tell them it's already been done... and we recommend really warm shoes.

I leave here in a little over 12 hours. Over the course of my flight north, I will lose anywhere from 40° to 60°!

The five days I spent with my folks has been wonderful. I spent more time with my dad, nearly every waking hour, but lots of time with my mom too. As sappy as this sounds, every second was a treat. I am so lucky to have had this opportunity.

Tonight, in conversation, my mom told me there were times when I was growing up, when we didn't speak. I don't remember that at all. Maybe I blotted it out. Those days are certainly gone.

My mom and dad have a great marriage. They are excellent companions and good friends. And, for the most part, they are friends with each others friends. That's a bonus in any relationship.

I've said in the past that living here in Florida has been life extension for them. I'm sticking with that. It could also be argued, it's the happiest time of their lives. Even more than happy, they are content.

They have their health... though it's tough to say both parents are in excellent health when my dad has been through a bypass operation, both carotid arteries have been cleaned, he's suffered the loss of one eye and now failing hearing. My mom's a cancer survivor. Still, there doesn't seem to be anything they want to do that they don't do because of physical restraints.

My dad and I have talked about his being 78. It's an age he never planned for - never imagined living to. He doesn't feel like 78, but what should 78 feel like? Both my folks are older than any family member before them. Neither seems old.

Even Steffie has commented on their relative youth, compared to their friends specifically and their contemporaries in general. This is a major compliment coming from someone who does not throw out compliments easily.

The area in Florida where they live is Utopia for seniors. Today, my mom went to ceramics class. She has started painting again - something she hadn't done seriously for decades. My dad has easy access to golf and high speed access on the computer. Their condo complex has social events and shows on a regular basis. John Davidson is coming in a few weeks. They'll be going to a cousin's condo to see Elaine Boozler.

In this part of Palm Beach County, seniors rule. They are mainstream. They are catered to. They are the goose that lays the golden egg - and you think twice before screwing with the goose.

They are surrounded by friends. The group of friends they've had for the past 50+ years - a group that was scattered across the New York City Metropolitan Area - is now here... and in the same town! And they have made Florida friends here in the condo complex.

My dad is a computer guru here. I had always kidded him about that. Friday, a man approached my dad in the condo clubhouse and thanked him for earlier advice. He was proud of his accomplishment, and vindicated, all at once.

Tonight, at dinner, someone talked about a development named "Journey's End." No one in Florida wants to think about the journey's end. I don't blame them. Yet it surrounds them.

My mom attended a memorial ceremony a few days ago. "I didn't know he had done so much," she said. The sound of sirens is often heard along Military Trail or nearby Boynton Beach Boulevard. Their coterie of friends is smaller than it once was. Most have, so far, dodged serious ailments.

Helaine and I talk often about dumping winter and moving here, where it's always warm. After five days here - five days of beautiful weather while Connecticut suffered through cold temperatures of historic proportion - I am more enticed by the idea than ever. It's still too early in our lives, but our day will come.

We should be as happy - as content - as my parents.

My dad, along with my sister's father-in-law, dropped me off at Palm Beach International. It's now a large airport. The West Palm Beach metro is a major growth area.

Saturday afternoon is normally a light travel time, and this was no exception. Who wants to leave Florida on a Saturday to go to the frigid north (it is snowing and accumulating as I write this).

With a little time to kill, I bought a magazine and then went searching for a Cinnabon. No luck again. I am jinxed!

I did stop in a fast food restaurant where I found this 'napkin' dispenser. Is there a better way to tell your customers you really don't care about them then putting in one of these toilet paper dispensers?

I know what they're doing - trying to cut down on people who grab a handful of napkins. And, of course, these lovely serviettes are much less substantial.

Isn't my business worth the extra cost of nicer, thicker, unlimited napkins? I decided not to get anything.

I guess I don't fly as much as I used to, so this was pretty weird to see. The wing tip of my 737-700 was curved - or bent - as if it had brushed up against the hangar wall as it was being moved into position.

I'm sure it has to do with fuel economy... or hitting the hangar wall. Take you pick.

I had mentioned before leaving that my razor was not making the trip to Florida. I held true to that pledge, but the beard didn't last as long as I anticipated. I finally cut it off Friday.

Here's what I learned. The beard was uncomfortable. It was just strange to touch my face and not really get to the face. I can't describe the feeling exactly, only to say I didn't like it.

It really didn't look good at all. Granted, one week isn't enough time to grow a full beard.

It was interesting that even though my hair is mostly dark with a little gray (though significantly more than a year ago), the beard was coming in salt and pepper... with a significantly higher salt content.

My Cousin Melissa asked to see what it looked like, so here it is. Never to be repeated!

All the time I was in Florida, every time I spoke to someone back home, or let someone in Florida know I was visiting from the Northeast, they told me how lucky I was to be there, missing the bitterly cold weather.

It is tough to keep that sort of thing in perspective when you're in the warmth. Hearing about -30° windchills is not the same thing as experiencing them.

A plow just went down my block to try and keep up with the 4-6" we have on the ground today. Now I understand what they were talking about.

Please, don't talk to me about this loss. Devastating.

This is probably going to be my last entry concerning the Florida trip, and the one I least anticipated before I went to visit my folks.

I had played golf Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. By Friday, my dad was a little sore (I was too) and he begged off. It was a lazy day - very quiet around the house. By early afternoon my mom had asked if I wanted to go to Wakodahatchee.

Sure... except, what is it?

Wakodahatchee Wetlands¹ is a man made nature preserve in suburban Palm Beach County. If I understand correctly, it is the product of heavily treated waste water (I'm sure heavily treated and clean are two very different words) which is released into a number of manufactured environments.

The actual wetlands were built to allow for a number of different wet habitats. With no human encroachment, the wildlife is varied and flourishes.

For humans, the treat is the 3/4 mile long boardwalk which winds its way through the preserve. The afternoon we went, it was moderately busy. I would guess there were at least 100 people on the boards.

My luck was stumbling upon a 'prosumer' photographer. He had a substantial Nikon film camera with a long lens. He stood and shot, watching two blue herons building a nest high in a tree. I'm not sure I would have notified them had he not been so intense.

I took his cue and pulled out my Fuji S602Z. This is a great camera - the best I've ever owned. It can be used as a point and shoot camera, but what a waste. Its manual controls allowed me to preset for the shots I wanted, especially with the herons, where I made sure the shutter speed was fast and that I could burst 5 shots in rapid succession with the lens zoomed in fully.

That afternoon, I took some of the best shots I've ever taken. I've put together an album in my online gallery.

My recommendation (if you have high speed access); use the slideshow mode for the first 6 or 7 images (at least). The sequence with the heron arriving at his nest is really captured well.

¹ - The official Wakodahatchee Wetlands website hasn't been updated in over 2 years. A real shame.

Jerry Nachman died overnight last night at his home in Hoboken, NJ. If the name isn't familiar, you might remember seeing him on MSNBC. Nachman was a large man physically and a giant in the business. He was 57, but could have passed for older.

I didn't know Jerry Nachman. - only met him briefly one night here at the TV station. I had some minimal contact with him while he was editor of The New York Post.

It was a major holiday - probably Easter - at least 10 years ago. Helaine, Steffie and I had driven to Philadelphia to visit Helaine's parents. On the way back, we waited an eternity to cross the George Washington Bridge. As we approached the toll plaza, I saw some of the booths (on this incredibly busy travel night) weren't open. I asked, and the toll booth operator offered up, not enough people had been scheduled. The seemed very uncaring on the part of the Port Authority, who runs the bridge.

This was costing people untold hours, and costing businesses money. It wasn't a story for my station, but it did seem like something for the Post. I wrote Jerry - and he responded. It felt like he was listening, interested and involved... and all because he took 10 seconds and put pen to paper.

I know of Jerry Nachman because of his reputation. He was a radio newsman, TV newsman and manager, newspaper editor, writer... you get the idea. If you look at all of his jobs, you get the feeling that people met him, realized he was really smart, and knew he could do whatever he set out to do.

There is a story that I've heard more than a few times. He was news director at WNBC-TV. There was a break in a big story, but no reporter to cover it. Jerry was in an off-the-air position - a management position. But, he told the crew to stop by his apartment on the way, pick him up, and he would report. It's tough not to respect that.

Nachman seemed like the kind of guy you'd want to work for. Aggressive in his approach to the business, as if it were sport to him. Smart enough not be threatened. Skilled enough to command respect because he knew how to do his job... and your job too.

He was not a coiffed pretty boy with a 'ripped' body. In fact, his face had taken on the shape of a canned ham - not uncommon when you're physically immense. He was all skill and little glitter. He died too soon.

Over the past few years, I had been given the opportunity to roll over vacation that I couldn't use. We were short staffed, time piled up. All this was on top of the vacation time I normally get.

If you're new at your job, or don't work holidays, sit down because this will shock you. With holiday comp days, I get 6 weeks paid vacation a year. Hey, I've been here nearly 20 years! I wonder if the policy was originally formulated with the thought that no one would ever stay that long?

My contract anniversary is coming up soon, so I had to finish off what was left - use them or lose them. That's why I took last week off and will be gone this Thursday and Friday and next Monday.

I wasn't going anywhere special, and then I saw an announcement in The New York Times. An exhibit was opening at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, featuring the work of Chuck Close.

You look at the work of Chuck Close, like this self portrait (a painting, not a photo) and see a weird dirt bag of a man. His hair is matted, greasy and unkempt. A cigarette is hanging from his mouth. Considering the clientèle of big time art, Chuck Close is more than a little odd.

And then, you see his work.

Chuck has had a number of style's he's favored, but what defines his work in my eye is his larger than life, photo realistic portraits. These are 'warts and all' paintings of... well, they look like photos of low lifes.

This current exhibition features prints and is a somewhat different style. Still, it's amazing what he can do.

I caught an exhibit of his work at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City and listened as a docent told the story of a physician who had viewed Chuck's work. The doctor stared into the eye of a painted subject. The piece was so detailed that the doctor actually saw the telltale sign of some disease within his pupils!

I asked my friends Brian and Harold and Peter... actually two friends named Peter... before running out of folks who might go to a museum. So, Friday I will have lunch with a friend and stay in Connecticut. Helaine is having some friends over in the evening, and I'll try and ensconce myself upstairs.

The Chuck Close exhibit runs until April, so I'll have other chances. His work well worth seeing. It astounded me.

The most important thing I learned watching football this year has little to do with football itself. It has more to do with who watches football: men of all ages.

Over the past few months, NFL telecasts have overflowed with ads for sexual performance products. Actually, that's just a guess, because ads for Levitra, Cialis and Viagra never mention what the products are for.

I know that Joe somehow looks different, though he hasn't lost weight, gone to the gym, gotten tan or anything else other than walk out of the doctor's office smiling. In another commercial, a football can't be thrown through a tire on a string until the protagonist has taken Levitra. In the Cialis commercial, a couple is sitting (seemingly naked) in twin bathtubs.

Originally, when the statesmanlike Bob Dole was pitching Viagra, this seemed like help for a small portion of the population who needed it. Now, it's just another ride at the Magic Kingdom!

What bothers me is the frequency with which these ads are presented, and the implication that drugs are somehow necessary in the pursuit of good sex. I'm sure these three potions, and others like them, help lots of people. But the ads seem targeted toward the virile. Otherwise, why not mention exactly what the pills are for? And, why use actors who are younger than the mean age of the most likely affected population?

Truth is, I just don't want it in my face, every few minutes, as I watch TV. I'm finding it more and more distasteful.

A few years ago, my friend Kevin gave me a bumper sticker, "Friends Don't Let Friends Do Tech Support." Yet that's what home computing today is built on.

Try getting support from someone who sold you hardware or software and you'll find you're the last person they want to hear from. Have you ever tried to get in touch with Microsoft?

To much of my family and many of my friends, I am tech support. Don't understand what's wrong, call Geoff. That's good and I enjoy it... though it seems a shame that the company's responsible aren't carrying their own weight in this regard.

Who do I go to? For Linux and OS related problems, it's my friend Bob in Florida. For Windows and hardware related problems (and, thankfully, I seldom have software problems I can't solve on my own), I go to my friend Kevin.

I saw Kevin tonight.

This afternoon, as I was attempting to print 25 sheets of something for Helaine, the Epson Stylus Photo 785EPX connected to Steffie's computer (but which I print to through our home network) decided to ingest about 25 sheets at once. As the paper jammed into a space much smaller than it could be compressed, the printer started to whine. Gears meshed. It wouldn't stop. I swear the printer was crying.

I unplugged the it and removed the paper without much problem. But, when I turned the printer back on, I got a paper jam error message. Uh oh. I absolutely knew there was no paper there because the sheets that had been caught had come out whole, though somewhat creased.

After scouting around the net, I realized it was probably the paper jam sensor, not a jam itself. Three choices, new printer, printer service (at most of the cost of a new printer) or do it myself. I didn't have much choice but the latter.

Being technically inept when it comes to mechanics, I called Kevin on the phone and asked real nice. There was never a question, because Kevin's the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back and because he really enjoys the challenge of fixing something that's not really built to be fixed.

I am so upset I didn't bring the camera, because this printer is a mechanical work of art. As you peel away the layers of a mechanical system, you can quickly see how much thought went into doing it right. The cable runs were neatly held in place by guides. Most terminated in nicely keyed plugs. A few didn't have plugs but seemed to end with exposed connectors and were stiff enough to insert cleanly in sockets.

The cover came off fairly easily. That didn't get us to the problem. Next, a rear assembly which drives the paper as it is pushed into the path. Kevin saw this mechanical marvel intuitively and was immediately able to know how it worked and why everything was where it was. There were a few times when I pointed the way, but mostly it was Kevin.

The ability to see how something works is a gift. I think I have it as far as software is concerned. I can look at a program or even look at its code and understand what the programmer was trying to do. Kevin can do that too, and take it one step further by understanding hardware.

The problem was a tiny lever which was supposed to be held taught with a smaller spring. The lever blocked a light sensor from seeing an LED. That's how it knew if the path was blocked by a paper jam. But, the spring, held by tension alone, had disconnected from the lever.

It required removing three separate assemblies and then, putting them back together. On the first try a cam wasn't set right. The printer powered up to the sound of plastic gears gnashing. Kevin and I looked at each other. This could be the end of the repair.

We quickly figured out what the cam was supposed to do and where it should be on power up. Bingo! The printer fired up quietly and the indicator for a printer jam stayed dark.

Because we didn't have the drivers for the printer, that's as far as testing has gone until right now.

I'm going to plug it into the computer.

The computer has recognized it and is loading the drivers. Success. Now, to print.

Wow. No smoke and a perfectly executed print job.

Kevin would be a great friend even if he couldn't fix anything. But, he can.

The Iowa Democratic Caucuses have ended and one thing has been established. This year, at this point in the presidential campaign, news organizations are fixated with the horse race aspect.

That's the wrong way to go. Aren't the ideas of the candidates what's most important? It's not like there's not a wide spectrum of ideology. Could candidates be farther apart than Dennis Kucinich¹ and Joe Lieberman, for instance?

We hear about polls and political stumbles because it's an easier story to cover and it's dynamic - whereas you've got to hope the candidate's positions are static.

I try to stay well informed and read like crazy, but I have a very tough time ascertaining where everyone stands. If we're going to elect the right candidate (if that person actually exists) we need to know.

¹ - In 1973, while at WGAR in Cleveland, I ate dinner sitting next to Dennis Kucinich at a station function. This was before his less than illustrious reign as mayor. We traded small talk, but all I can remember now was thinking how young he was to be a politician.

Wednesday was cold. Thursday was mild. Friday will be cold again. There's no doubt, it's a topsy turvy weather pattern.

Sometimes, the most interesting part of the weather is taking it apart after it's happened.

Take a look at this graph of temperatures at Meriden, CT from Wednesday afternoon through Thursday morning. The temperature plunged, from 22º at 7:00 PM to 5º at midnight. By 1:00 AM, it was back up to 21º.

In total, the temperature swung 33º in 12 hours. Wow. For Connecticut, that's unusual.

If you read this blog regularly, you probably already know I forecast the weather on TV. That's my job and I've been doing it for over 20 years (and about 35 years broadcasting in general).

I am not a meteorologist. There are three others on our meteorology staff at work, and we all do the same thing. I do what a meteorologist does. Forecasting is a skill I've studied over the last 20 years and, hopefully, mastered.

A year and a half ago, the general manager of our station asked if I would formalize my education, become a meteorologist and get the AMS Seal (AMS is The American Meteorological Society). The AMS Seal is pretty much the 'gold standard' for broadcast weather forecasters. I said yes and enrolled at Mississippi State University in their distance learning program. When I'm finished, I will have a certificate in meteorology, not a bachelors degree.

Now, with my Summer '05 completion looming, I see the AMS is changing the rules for broadcast meteorology again. I say again because 20 years ago there was no formal education component of the seal at all.

This time, they will eliminate the seal program and replace it with Certified Broadcast Meteorologist or CBM. In order to receive the CBM, you will need to have a BS in meteorology, not just the core 50+ credits that Mississippi State provides. The seal program will continue until 2008, meaning I will be able to qualify and receive one, though not the CBM.

Why would the AMS care if you have other credits and a degree beyond the core courses? My guess is, the more traditional universities have seen the MSU program and realize the only way they can compete with it, or have their graduates compete with it, is to change the rules and (possibly) eliminate it.

I have just had an email conversation with the director of the MSU program. I don't think he realized how this rule change would affect what they're doing. I think he does now.

The question is, what is the reason for having the AMS Seal in the first place? If it's to help viewers shop for a scientifically based presentation, with this move the AMS has gone too far. Even the current qualifications provide more than enough screening.

If its purpose is to promote the fortunes of the traditional schools of meteorology, and their students, this change will achieve the goal.

Living here in Connecticut, I'm not far from ESPN, the self proclaimed, "worldwide leader in sports." They are located in Bristol, not far from the tall, narrow building used by Otis Elevators as a test center for elevator technology (really - the vast majority of the building is taken up by shafts).

I had been invited by a friend, for lunch. Working in this market so long, I know a bunch of people there. What always strikes me as odd is that people at ESPN also know me. It was a little unnerving, a few years ago, to meet some of their higher profile talent and have them know me.

I last visited ESPN more than 20 years ago. Back then I marveled at their satellite dishes. That was nothing!

As you approach ESPN, crossing from Southington to Bristol, the first thing you see are the immense dishes... and dozens of them. Since we're pretty far from the equator, and lots of the satellites are really positioned for Europe or the Pacific, most of the dishes are barely pointed above the horizon. It's a Star Wars scene to say the least.

Inside is just as immense. My TV station looks like a Radio Shack compared to what's going on at ESPN! With 10 TV networks (ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic, ESPN News, ESPN Deportes, ESPN-HD, ESPN Atlantic, ESPN Pac-Rim, ESPN Latin America [Spanish], ESPN Latin America [Portugese] PLUS 24/7 ESPN radio PLUS regional feeds PLUS occasional domestic and international feeds... ESPN.com originates in Bristol as well), the place is hopping around the clock. Because weekday sports is a nighttime thing, the most action takes place during what's traditionally 2nd shift.

Wherever you look there are edit booths (they're named by letters of the alphabet, but they recently ran out and had to name the 27th "AA"). Some are traditional with multiple tape machines and possibly a switcher. More and more they are becoming non-linear editing stations where all the audio and video 'live' on hard drives and not tape decks.

Keeping a facility like ESPN up-to-date is exceedingly difficult. As you advance the technology, going digital in what was once an analog world, you have to make sure 'legacy' equipment still functions and that all the equipment plays well together. I don't envy the engineers who deal with that. I have seen, as video and audio paths move through different processes, that they tend to move out of sync... so lips flap before (or after) the words come out.

One of the smallest pieces of equipment I saw was one of the most startling. An engineer was splicing fiber optic cable by fusing it using laser light. As the two ends to be connected approached each other, they were displayed on a small LCD screen. Then, the screen went white. As it faded back to the original scene, what had been two pieces was now one. It looked like something out of a James Bond movie.

With all the networks, and all the programming, moving 'normal' TV signals around the plant is a major undertaking. The 125 channel in-house cable TV system is about to add a digital tier.

Of course I went to the Sports Center studio. Da da dum, da da dum. It was reasonably large for a studio. Most people see a TV studio for the first time and are immediately struck by how small they usually are. This was larger than it would have to be were it not for the fact that the opposite wall was used as a set for the NFL shows. The studio has three cameras on pedestals and another on a 'jib', which enables it to smoothly fly in three dimensions for a little added sizzle. There is a walkway about the flats.

The coloring of the studio and its fixtures seemed a little cold in real life. The desk areas were much too reminiscent of a hip clothing store at the mall. Still, on the air it looks great and that's all that counts.

The most surprising part of the trip, and ostensibly the real purpose of my going there, was the cafeteria. It looked like something from Vegas, with a pasta station, salad bar and open grill. My friend told me, as nice as it is, people still kvetch. That doesn't surprise me - though they're crazy if they do. It is an employees job to kvetch, and most do it really well.

I haven't written about my online poker exploits in a while. I'm not sure why, but it might have to do with how poorly Helaine and I started to do. When I left for Florida, nearly two weeks ago, we were down to $40 from our original stake of $250. We started playing at pokerstars.com about five months ago.

After losing a few games to ridiculous hands (people staying in... calling bets... hoping a 1:100 shot comes through... and it does) Helaine decided she had had enough and 'retired'. I played on.

I took another look at my play and decided to make some small, but hopefully significant changes to my style. I am not dogmatic in my play. There are some variations (though not many) from game to game. But, mostly, I am consistent in when I bet and fold.

My strategy now favors not losing.

Hold on. It's not meant as a joke and that's a sentence with real meaning.

It is possible to set out and bet your cards to win. I found, and it's based more on anecdotal evidence than well designed research, most of my losses came when I was in trying to squeeze out another opponent and he got lucky (or my assessment of my cards was in error). If you go 'all in' five times, and win four (an excellent percentage) you're still knocked out!

Now, I will be less aggressive in those situations. That means I'll win a little less per hand, but I'll avoid some of the significant downside associated with allowing one wrong move to break me.

It's only been two weeks, but so far so good. From $40 in the bank, I'm now approaching $100.

My game of choice is still the $5.50 single table, sit and go tournaments. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I sat at a 10¢ - 25¢ no limit Hold'em table (in other words, real betting with real money, as opposed to a tournament with very fixed limits to your possible losses - or wins). I won $9.50 in under a half hour.

I was surprised to find the table very loose. As a tight player, I think that's a good thing for me, and brings lots of early money to the pot as optimists try and hit their dream hand. Sometimes they will. Most often, they don't.

Maybe I'll start playing more of that, though the concept of 'no limit' in this context is scary.

Last night I read a quote from Bill Gates saying spam would be extinguished within the next two years. Then, this morning in The New York Times, an op-ed piece claiming we're already seeing the last of spam!

I keep track. Since January 6, 2004, 57.9% of my email (that's 996 of 1720 received) is spam. In reality I get an even higher percentage, but mail sent to two addresses I never use are automatically deleted before they're ever downloaded.

This doesn't look like spam is going away... at least not at first glance.

When you look at the actual text of the email you get a different impression. Here's part of one I got today:

What's going on? Major portions are misspelled, and for a very good reason. If this email stuck to proper spelling and syntax, it would be filtered before getting to subscribers at many large ISPs and mail servers.

The long list of 'dictionary' words at the end of the message was meant to make the filters think this was an OK email after all. It didn't work. It was filtered by Popfile which I use, love and recommend (it's free too). I'm only seeing it because I needed an example.

If I, as a single user, can implement a filter this good, imagine what the big boys like Hotmail, Yahoo or AOL can do!

Since there are only a limited number of things which can be sold using spam (it's got to be something with an incredibly high markup, because the raw number of responses is so low), the filters are wising up. This is especially true of the Bayesian filters which 'learn' as you get more and more mail.

I wrote, a few weeks back, that it seemed my volume of spam had diminished. I was wrong. But, maybe that day isn't too far away. I can't w@1t.

A few weeks ago, with under $40 in my bank, I figured my online poker days would soon be over. Then I made a small change to my strategy. All of a sudden, I can't lose.

Very possibly this is just luck, or a run of good cards. Call it what you want. All I know is I have $146 to play with when I assumed I'd be tapped out!

I'm still down $104 since August, but considering antes paid in hundreds upon hundreds of games, this is just fine.

Can you tell I can't get over it?

It's funny. This weekend while I was out with Helaine and Steffie, two separate people approached me to tell me they met me when I was at their school (and another met me when I emceed a school function). I sometimes feel I've been to every school in the state.

Going to schools is a good news, bad news kind of thing. They are often difficult to conveniently arrange around my schedule and I have to turn down ones that are far away. On the other hand, the kids are normally attentive and get something out of it (if they're old enough).

Because I do so many charity events with and for adults, I have to turn most school requests down. It's a shame.

Today I had a request I couldn't turn down. Tom Sgro, who's been at the station nearly as long as me, asked me to speak to his daughter's third grade class. That's a little younger than I usually favor, but it turned out great.

This class was unusual because there were two kids who struck me as being quite bright, especially for their age. When I asked about some characteristics of the atmosphere, one offered up the frictional force that burns meteors. That's pretty heady stuff for the third grade!

The one sure fire thing that I enjoy doing in schools is sucking eggs into Snapple bottles. I used to use flasks from a chemistry lab. This is much simpler and easier to obtain.

I'm sure the folks I met at the mall this weekend remember me doing it in their school.

Before I went to bed, I wanted to get a look at the 06Z¹ computer models. The Weather Service now produces the computer guidance I see up to 4 times a day... more chances for agita.

Actually, the accuracy of these models is so much better than what I first used, 20 some odd years ago. Looking back, it's a wonder I'm still sane!

Still, I'm never 100% accurate.

Earlier this evening, I was overly aggressive in my forecast. I called for 12-24"², inland, less on the shoreline, which seemed reasonable... but everything had to fall in line for that to come true and that's just too much to expect.

By 10:00, with a quick look at the 0Z eta and parts of the 0Z GFS (yes - eta is lower case, GFS is upper), I realized the storm would be leaving sooner and lowered my numbers. Now it was 10-15" inland and 6-12" on the coast. That's still significant, but significantly less. Either way, it will fall faster than the plows can handle.

There's no doubt the forecast will change again. No snow forecast is ever 100% accurate. Hopefully, I've been close and all it will need is a little tweaking as newer, fresher, hopefully more insightful data comes in.

Spring cannot come soon enough for me.

¹ - All weather data is synchronized to UTC (Universal Coordinated Time), aka GMT (Greenwhich Mean Time), aka "Z" time. It is 5 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time

² - On my first broadcast at 5:00 PM, bad data from a graphic I made and thought I replaced, made air. It called for 15-30". I made the mistake of not saying it was a mistake, but that I was considering lowering it. I should have said exactly what happened. It was foolish on my part. I know some people saw that number and will remember it even though I 'revised' it a few minutes later. This is my responsibility totally.

This website's importance on Google, which had risen to 7 (on a 1 - 10 scale), is now back down to a 5. That 7 was probably more than I deserved - but I'm still disappointed.

Nothing is different. Nothing has changed. If anything, there's more content and a higher count of page reads.

Will I become a Google importance obsessive? Let me think about it (every waking hour) and get back to you.

I am now 100% fixated on the upcoming snow. It does become an obsession, which probably isn't healthy. But, it's the most important work I do - certainly the most memorable to viewers. It's important I do it well.

The 12Z model numbers are in and they are lower than last night's runs. It's not a significant difference run-to-run, but the trend has been slightly lower, so anyone not following on an hour-by-hour basis will see a more significant shift.

My thinking now is to do one accumulation number for most of the state, maybe 8-14". I should probably break out the Northwest Hills for a bit more.

The heaviest liquid should fall in the south, but there will be a higher 'fluff' factor as you go north. So, each inch of rain will produce more snow the farther north you go.

What makes this storm so unusual is that it will dump a significant amount of snow in a very short period and then be gone. The bulk of the snow will fall between midnight and 5:00 AM. But, during that time we could see some 2" per hour periods!

I'm still not sure if I got it right... and won't know until the last flake falls. Until then, I won't be pleasant to deal with.

I finally decided 6-12" for Shoreline and Western Connecticut and 5-10" for the rest of the state. The snow has started, and I'm watching the traffic cameras in Lower Fairfield County as if this were some sort of riveting drama - which it is to me.

Downstream, there has been some heavy snow. But, I am also looking at the western, trailing, edge of the system. It is moving too fast. At this rate it won't last all night.

I hate snow on so many levels.

As the new 0z eta starts dribbling in, it is backing off precipitation. Now, only around 25" liquid equivalent. Two days ago it was over an inch. That's a huge drop off.

On the other hand, it doesn't look like the initial conditions that were fed into the model were totally accurate. Maybe the model is poisoned from the outset!

I hate snow even more.

With 35 minutes to go until the news on WCTX, I am going to stick with the earlier forecast, in spite of the new guidance. But, I will express my concern that I've over predicted.

What a mess. And, what a mess I am.

For the most part, the snow is over. I'll check the DOT numbers in the morning, but my forecast (even lowered) was too high.

This is very painful. No matter how hard you work the forecast, sometimes, it's just not meant to be.

There's still the possibility of a little additional accumulation, but most everything is on the ground. This is certainly less than my early predictions, but not quite as bad a bust as I thought last night.

I've given myself a little time to calm down and step back, which helps.

And now, there's the possibility of another storm early next week. Where's the Valium when you really need it!

Click here to see a graph of Connecticut snowfall totals from the Department of Transportation.

It's around this time, every year, that I start getting antsy for Winter to end. Someone asked this afternoon, and a friend with the right computer program up and running quickly calculated 52 days (now 51) until Spring begins on March 20, 2004 at 1:49 AM EST (Not that I'm anxious or anything).

As with last year, this has been a gruesome winter. Cold spells have persisted. Snow has been plentiful. Those perennially cheery people who claim to "love the four seasons" have clammed up.

More than anything, for me at least, winter means being housebound. It's not like I'm a jock or anything, but I like to get out. That's so difficult to do. It is much easier to wear less when it's warm than it is to wear more when it's cold.

I'm not sure what the coldest day of my life has been, but I have a candidate that comes quickly to mind. I was working in Buffalo, hosting PM Magazine/Buffalo. It was the last shoot on the last day before we shut down for Christmas break.

My co-host and I were doing "ins and outs" for a show featuring a story about a "real" M*A*S*H unit. We went to Niagara Falls Airport, stood in front of an Army helicopter, painted in a camouflage khaki green, and did our stuff.

There were a bunch of elements we each had to do, standing outside in the frigid cold. You quickly learn, on the open airport tarmac nothing stops the wind!

After a while, my lips began to malfunction. I know that sounds silly, but it's the best description of what happened. It got so cold that I could no longer properly shape my lips to form the right sounds.

Recently, one of our reporters at the television station seemed to suffer the same fate while doing a live shot on a brutally cold evening. I felt her pain.

As is often my custom, as the onset of Spring seems reachable, I fantasize about golf. I don't think about my play - though I'd certainly like that to improve. I think about the first moderately mild days in March, taking my bag from the garage and walking the course. I live 5 minutes from a very pretty public course, where you can play on the cheap and walk if you choose.

How can I not get into shape by walking 18 holes, plus whatever extra distance is added by chasing after my (many) errant shots?

Every year I want to do it. Every year I say I'll do it... but, I don't. By the time I get into the swing of things (if I ever do) it's too late.

So again, this year, I pledge to walk and get fit. I want Spring so bad I can taste it.

It's always nice to be called upon as an expert. I got a little mention in the Norwich Bulletin today, though they goofed and said the historical average for January was the actual average.

It's also funny how irony is sometimes difficult to translate into the printed word. My comment about global warming, as spoken, reflects my somewhat skeptical view of the doomsayers.

I work in New Haven, Connecticut. It is a smallish city - just a bit over 100,000 people. The downtown, though decimated by years of decay and neglect, is starting to show some bright spots, including restaurants and residents.

Yale University shares land with New Haven - not much else.

For a small city, New Haven has a lot of history. Our current president was born here (though he hides it well - claiming to be a Texan). He and his predecessor went to school here. The cotton gin, first assembly line using interchangeable parts, telephone switchboard and phonebook, Erector Set and Lionel trains all originated in New Haven.

However, if you were to ask a native New Havener which first was most important... it would be none of those. That's because New Haven is the birthplace of the hamburger.

How weird is that?

There's a legend... and it's probably true... but I'll leave that to the proprietors of the place where I had dinner tonight, Louis Lunch.

Louis' (pronounced Louie's) is a tiny place, so well hidden that I had driven by it hundreds of times over the last 20 years and had never seen it! The walls are brick. The booth I sat in was minuscule with carving on the wooden table (the same kind of carving often left by students on their schoolroom desks). Sitting against the outside wall I easily felt a cold draft against my legs.

The action at Louis' takes place behind the counter, where burgers are broiled vertically, over an open flame, in three cast iron grills. The grills themselves are ancient - actually dating from the 1890's!

You can have onions, cheese and tomato, but no ketchup! No French Fries either. At Louis' it's their way or no way, and that includes toast, not a bun.

There are two reasons Louis' is still around. First, it's the burger, of course. It is unbelievably tasty. Second, and more important, Louis' is an anachronism. In this Wal-Mart, McDonald's, Amazon.com world, Louis' operates without consultants and accountants and p.r. flacks. There aren't rounding errors or spoilage. Each individual burger counts.

I'm amazed it took me 20 years to get there.

Blogger's note: I have no clue where, when, or even whether to use an apostrophe when referring to Louis'. If you're an etymologist, my apologies in advance.

I spoke to someone I've known for a long time today. We were close once. Our paths have gone in separate directions.

When you speak with someone like this on the phone, the first thing you try and do is catch up. How's work? How's your family? Are you in a relationship?

That's when I found out for the first time she was gay. That sounds a little weird, only discovering this today, since I've known her a long time and even remember her dating a very nice guy. It was something she stumbled upon, out of curiosity. And, for her, it is the right thing.

I would have expected this kind of news to jar me a little. Maybe I'd have an "Oh my God" moment. I did not. In fact, there was nothing.

All I could think of was how happy I was she was in a relationship and how good being in a relationship is. I really don't care that it's with another woman, as long as that woman is good to her. It's the same hope I would have were she in a relationship with a man.

As we continued to speak, I was worried I'd say the wrong thing. It's easy to be trite - as I have proved on many occasions.

I'm not trying to sound accommodating or open or modern or liberal. I'm just saying, if I would have ever thought of this situation arising, I would have expected my reaction to be different.

I know there are gay people around me every day. Some say so, others hide it. I've always thought, if I were to know, I wouldn't care... wouldn't be judgemental. I'm glad, when I was totally surprised, that I did just that.

Recently, we have started using a new system for displaying our weather graphics on the air. On paper, this system is amazing. It allows a great deal more flexibility, and looks great doing it.

Of course, reality hardly ever matches what you're actually sold.

There are a bunch of unfinished elements within this system which are set as traps. It works the same way you'd snare an animal, by hiding a trap in plain sight.

Buttons that turn off guides (useful for creating graphics - ugly on the air) sometimes work. Sometimes they don't.

As you change things, like the elements of a forecast page, memory is taken from the computer but never returned. Run through a sequence of maps and charts, see it works, change one little thing and watch it crash on-the-air.

Thought you made a change? Not so fast. Look on TV - it's back!

With this computer, we also bought a system to run our own computer forecast model. And, it's pretty neat... though it too crashes for reasons that are beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.

Because of the way it's set up, it doesn't crash while you're watching. That would be too easy. The glitches happen after a little time, or like today, after hours and hours of crunching numbers. This afternoon I waited 4 ½ hours for data that an off air machine could read, but an on air machine couldn't.

By 11:00 tonight, I was ready to ditch it all and go back to magnetic clouds and dry markers. It's a love/hate relationship. I'll calm down over the weekend and try and make up with my PC's Monday.