May 2005 Archives

Lots of "had to's" today. I had to drop Steffie's car at the dealer. I had to pick up a disk from my friend Kevin. I had to go to work - not my usual Sunday plan.

That's why I was in the car as we approached the top of the hour. This has always been my time to hit the network news. OK - I'm a living anachronism, but I still listen to network radio news on the hour anytime I'm in the car.

WCBS had the Yankees game, so I went to WQUN. They had a ballgame too. WAVZ, now mostly Air America talk shows and CNN Radio Network news was also in the middle of a baseball game. As I tuned and tuned, I could find no network news!

I can't remember this ever happening before. I've always been able to find a NOTH and nearly always it was CBS.

It has been getting harder to find over time. I remember driving up I-95 in Ft. Lauderdale this past winter and being pleased to hear Bob Hardt's network cast from ABC. I was pleased because of how sparse these newscasts have become.

There was a time when radio stations had to commit to presenting news in order to keep their license. As strange as it seems now, top-40 stations would pause every hour for a newscast. With all the outlets available today it probably isn't as necessary.

Write it down - May 1, 2005. The first day I could no longer depend on network radio news. It's a shame.

For the past few months I've been blogging, emailing, and computing in general on my backup machine. Somehow, my main computer had become unstable, rebooting at any or no occasion.

I'm not sure what made it go nuts. I only know it did. I suspect it wasn't a virus or spyware. I'm very careful about that, but something was bugging it and it was relentless.

At one point I wondered if the problem wasn't caused by the power supply? Considering all the crap I've got shoved in my computer case, it might have been overtaxed. A few weeks ago I ordered a new, quieter, more powerful power supply and a few extra sticks of memory.

This weekend I pulled the old supply and hooked up the new one. Though it looks complex with lots of wires and plugs connected to it, it's really pretty straightforward.

I fired up the computer and - well, it was the same garbage. Right in the middle of nothing the computer would reboot. Maybe the original power supply was bad and a spike of electricity from its strained regulators had put bad data on my hard drives?

I decided to start from the very beginning.

My C:\ drive didn't contain much other than installed programs. All my important data was squirreled elsewhere. I re-formatted the drive.

Next came my copy of Windows XP. In the drive it went and the install process was underway... until it stopped. Randomly, files weren't being copied properly and Windows wasn't shy about telling me.

The message was something like, "Press Enter to try again, skip this file at your peril." I pressed Enter... and Enter... and Enter. Sometimes on the second or third try a recalcitrant file would load, only to hit the another pothole a few seconds later.

Finally there was a file that wouldn't copy, no matter what I did! Was it the CD drive, my hard drive, the Windows CD itself or something I hadn't thought of yet? I kept trying, but never got any further.

Finally, tonight at work while reading through an old Usenet message, I found something that might be the culprit... though it sounded off the wall. Sometimes when mixing and matching memory chips, Windows balks. It just refuses to install.

That, in a nutshell, was what had happened to me.

I'm guessing - actually, it's more like hoping, I'll be able to stick the memory into the PC once Windows is loaded and running. It will run much faster with 1 Gb of RAM than it does with 512 Mb.

As I type this Windows is updating, installing all the security patches that have come out since XP hit the scene. I still have a few more drivers and utilities to throw on before it's time to reinstall my programs.

What a royal pain!

In the long run, all of this anguish and angst will go away. The computer will run like a top. I will be happy.

It's a machine I designed and built myself. Unless something goes wrong from time-to-time I feel I just haven't pushed the envelope.

The strangest thing happened at work this afternoon. The power went out.

Actually, that's an oversimplification. Though most of our lights stayed on, all our computer screens went dark (as did the computers driving them). In the days of film or videotape that might not have been as awful. Today, everything is on a computer. Everything - even stuff you wouldn't expect, like video.

Our engineers started scrambling. They knew part of the station was powerless, but they didn't know why or where the problem was.

Throughout the building there was the incessant chirping of Nextel as engineer called engineer, hoping for some insight or a sign that would lead to a fix.

Where Nextels weren't chirping, UPS (uninterruptable power supplies) were. Their batteries were quickly draining and they were signaling their own death.

I started to think, and I'm sure I wasn't alone, what would we do? How would we, or could we, do the news with only limited electricity?

There have been stations in hurricane and tornado areas that broadcast from their parking lot using a 'live truck' as a mobile control room. Is that even possible anymore when all the video is on a hard drive somewhere?

Someone asked me if I had any magnetic Suns! I've been doing the weather for over 20 years. That era totally predates me.

I watched a production person move through the studio holding a gigantic electrical strip... like an extension cord on steroids.

Our master control operators managed to reroute our feed around the television station, going from Springfield, MA to Mad Mare Mountain in Hamden. We were back. Somehow, with part of our electricity on, another engineer figured out a way to get a camera on live for a news brief. There would be no video from stories, but at least we'd have a live on-air presence.

Soon all the computers returned. I'm not sure what the problem was, but it was fixed.

Back in the weather area I had a dozen or so PCs to bring back to life. Some of them needed to be fired in sequence to bring up the networks that interconnected them.

One by one they came back to life. Little by little the entire building picked up where it had left off. By the time we got on the air at 5:00 PM, it was impossible to know we had been dead in the water less than an hour earlier.

If this was some sort of test - we passed. I just don't want to have to go through it again... though I'd like to play around with magnetic Suns and Magic Markers.

Back in the old days on the Internet people used to do things for the sake of community. Those days are gone. Everywhere you look there are ads... even here! Every good deed leads back to an ulterior motive.

I needed a driver for my printer, having completed a software rebuild of this computer yesterday. I couldn't easily find the manufacturer so I went to a repository of drivers. I can't even remember the place's name

They have drivers for pretty much everything... all free. All you have to do is register.

Call me a skeptic, but I already get enough spam. But, I have a secret weapon. It's called "Mailinator."

This isn't a real secret as 'Mailinator' claims to receive about 600,000 emails daily! It's saved me a lot of grief... and spam.

Blogger's note: Since this entry was written, it has been pointed out that I made a huge error while sending my email to mailinator. It never showed up because it was addressed to the wrong place! Oops. Here's an updated entry.

I mentioned Mailinator this morning, patting myself on the back for the good advice I had given. I have used Mailinator many times.

Of course once I mentioned it, it stopped working!

Fear not. There are other, similar solutions. Try Dogeit instead.

This actually gives me a chance to add something that wasn't in my original post. When you use one of these addresses, there's a pretty good chance the mailbox will already be loaded with spam and other things. No problem. That won't stop you. However, some of the spam might be porn and it can be pretty vile stuff.

Of course it's no worse than some of the spam I get all the time. And that, of course, is why you use these services in the first place.

I took my finals in Thermodynamics and Weather Prediction I early this morning. During the spring and fall semesters there's a quiz due at noon every Wednesday, an extra homework test every third Wednesday and the midterm and final right after weeks six and twelve respectively.

I wasn't worried about these tests, though I'm always interested in doing well - accomplishing for accomplishment's sake.

I continue to surprise myself by the very strong, built-in desire I have to put the tests off as long as I can. They became available to take this weekend, but I waited. Then, last night when I cam home from work, I waited some more. I didn't begin the first test until almost 2:00 AM.

The power to procrastinate, push it back more-and-more, sometimes seems more powerful than my conscious will. I'm not quite sure why. I wasn't scared of these tests. Even in the courses I've been most confident in, I've still been motivated to be non-motivated on test night.

Before the test in Weather Prediction I actually calculated what I'd need to get an "A". All I needed was a 73%. Even that knowledge, that I didn't have to do well to do well, didn't speed me along.

There's not a lot about my college or high school days I remember, but I'm sure this little character quirk didn't just spring up in time for Mississippi State. Back then I just didn't fight it as well - much to my detriment.

With these two finals, my MSU career is now 8/9s complete. All I need are two course this summer (May 16 through the end of July), a three day trip to Alabama¹ for some in-class seminars, and I'm done.

I will 'officially' become a meteorologist. That doesn't mean I'll be doing anything markedly different than I had in the past, I'll just have the title.

Going to school has been more trying because of the discipline needed to complete everything on time rather than the difficulty of the course work. Maybe just as important, I've learned a lot about the procrastinator in me. He is persistent, but can be overcome.

I never knew that until now.

¹ - For some reason MSU makes its students trek to Birmingham, Alabama at the end of their three years. I really wish we could have gone to Starkville, MS so I could have seen the school at least once.

I'm waiting for my instructor to post the grades from the finals and my full course grade. Meanwhile, on the course website there is this posting:

So, I wait.

The phone rang early (for me) this morning. I was asleep and didn't hear the phone ring, but I did hear the message going onto the machine. It was time. Francine, who cuts my hair and keeps an eagle eye on it when she's not cutting it, wanted me in the shop today.

This is always a setup for a little conflict because Francine (and her stylists who wrangle with my hair every day) like it short. My bosses like it short. My wife likes it long.

Given my druthers, I'd probably wear it long and naturally curly. On the other hand, for work, it's easier for me and everyone else to have it short.

There is one part of getting my hair cut I actually enjoy. They shampoo my hair! Though I've usually just shampooed it myself, I'd never stop them - it's just too good.

Hairwise (as well as all the other 'wises'), I want to make Helaine happy. Every time it's cut, she's disappointed.

There was a time, in the late 60s and early 70s, I had hair down my back¹. Now I have hair on my back... and in my ears. Who knew I'd be cutting ear hair!

Hair is considered a sign of virility. Maybe that's the real mistake.

People who no longer have youthful looking hair do whatever they can to fake it. Years ago I worked with a man (you've seen him on national TV thousands of times - that's all I'll say) who had thinning hair. Every day a hairdresser would bring him through intensive (hair)care, darkening his scalp with something that looked like charcoal and positioning each strand for maximum effect.

To see him on TV, you'd never know that he's loosing his hair. Is it his natural color? Who knows?

People accuse me of coloring my hair all the time. The hairdressers tell me they're asked all the time. Every once in a while I'll get email about it, usually chastising me to stop doing it. This is my natural color, and though my gray is mostly invisible on TV, it's getting easier to see in person. At the mirror I'm also noticing spots without quite as much coverage as I once had.

My dad used to wear a hairpiece. He looks better au natural. I know my mom would like him to start wearing the piece again.

Would the others in their South Florida condo think my dad had miraculously regrown it?

¹ - I have a photo of myself taken in 1969. Trust me - I was every father's nightmare.

This is probably the only controversial subject I address on the blog - Global Warming. I think I've made it clear I'm a skeptic, and the others I know who forecast the weather are also mainly skeptics.

It's not a small thing. If I'm wrong, I'm asking you to sit by and doom the planet. If the Global Warming proponents are wrong, they've asked that we cripple our industrial base, allow others to continue to spew 'greenhouse gasses'... and all for naught.

Every time I feel my position is solid, I think of reading things like:

That always gives me second thoughts.

Now there's more... but it's nothing I ever expected. It's an eye opening article in the Telegraph from the UK. In case the link 'expires,' I will place the actual text at the bottom of this entry.

Here's a little excerpt:

I have often feared Global Warming is a politically and not scientifically motivated
campaign.

I'll keep my ears open for more on this.

I came home from work, turned on the TV and began to watch Countdown with Keith Olberman (yes - I'm the one). I wasn't more than 10 or 15 seconds into the show when I heard "pfffft" and the picture went out.

I approached the TV cautiously. There was the very distinct smell of fried capacitor. Without looking, my guess is the power supply is gone.

In the good old days that wouldn't be a major problem. We've progressed beyond the good old days. This TV is now ready to be thrown away! I took a piece of notebook paper and some Scotch Tape so I could attach a hand written sign that says, "TV Dead."

It is a Zenith projection TV, probably 45" picture. In this day and age it's small for a projection TV. The picture is OK, not great. Years ago, not long after we got it, someone scratched a small portion. It's only visible from obtuse angles.

Helaine is prone to watch QVC for hours on end. Sometimes, especially on solid colors, you can see where QVC's standard screen is burned into the display.

Now comes the interesting part.

Back when we bought the TV, maybe 10 or so years ago, we had a cabinet in our family room built around it. They still make TVs with 45" screens, but now they're 16:9. Our is 4:3. In other words, sets are wider and shorter. It will be interesting finding one that fits.

Once we find the proper size, we've got to decide whether to get HDTV or standard definition. Should it be another rear projection or a new technology like plasma¹ or LCD?

The shopping starts later today, I suppose. I really hadn't planned on forking out the cash for a new TV. This sucks.

¹ - It is my understanding plasma is very susceptible to burn in (like our current set) while LCD is burn proof.

When I left you early this morning, I had just discovered the TV was a goner. And then the realization that TVs are now shaped differently - 16:9 rather than the old 4:3. That little change is a huge difference because our wall unit was built to accommodate a 4:3 TV.

We headed out to Circuit City to survey the candidates. The first thing we realized was, with the new aspect ratio anything that would fit in the space would have a smaller screen! Sure, we might be able to find a set as wide as the old one, but with 16:9 it wouldn't be anywhere near as tall.

We searched and searched. Some models were too tall. Some models were to wide. Others were too big in both directions. We weren't panic stricken, but we were concerned.

Next we headed to Target. I had been to the new Target in North Haven once and remembered it had an electronics section. They did - but no big TVs.

Steffie needed something small, so as she and Helaine checked out, I stood in front of the store watching seagulls fly into today's howling wind. They weren't very successful.

My pocket began to vibrate.

There was a call from an unknown number in an unknown location. I answered. It was the central monitoring station. Our burglar alarm had gone off. The police were on their way.

I rounded up Helaine and Stef and headed home. We got there 10-15 minutes later, with the alarm still yelping away. A window in Steffie's room hadn't been properly latched. In today's wind it shifted enough to register a fault.

The police had come, but seeing everything locked up and in good shape, they left. Thank heavens there wasn't a door ajar. They would have gone upstairs, seen Steffie's room and called for reinforcements thinking the house had been ransacked!

As it is, I understand we'll get a warning on the alarm. That means if it happens again, we'll be fined for calling the police.

We re-measured the TV space and had out again. This time we went to BJ's.

They don't have a particularly large collection of big TVs, but unbelievably they had one that fit the bill. It was a Daewoo with a 47" screen. I think it will fit in the space with less than an inch to spare on top. Even then it will have to be turned sideways and cajoled before it will fit in.

BJ's doesn't deliver.

I went to the car only to find the inevitable. It was bigger than the cargo space in the SUV! I couldn't think of anyone with a pickup, which was what we needed.

I called my friend Kevin. He is truly the solver of all problems. Not this time. He had no access to anything large enough to haul a big TV.

Within the same strip mall as BJ's is a Home Depot. They have a truck they rent out by the hour. Unfortunately, as I found out, they only rent it if you're hauling goods of theirs.

Back to the drawing board.

We drove around and pondered. Finally, Helaine came up with a friend we though might have access to a pickup through her business. We called... and then, we hit paydirt.

Tomorrow morning... Mother's Day morning... Rena and Albert and the kids will come over with their trailer and we'll all go to BJ's to get the TV.

Yes, this will leave me with the old one to dispose of. I can deal with that. On the other hand, if I've miscalculated... if there isn't that fraction of an inch to spare... I might go "pfffft" just like the first TV.

Not enough sleep. I just can't go to bed early. Normally Sunday's a day for sleeping in (as is every other day to me). This was to be an exception.

I was in the shower by 8:10. I was dressed a little after 8:40. Five minutes later the phone rang. It was Rena. She and Albert (and the kids) were running late.

No complaints. Albert and Rena are saints. This Sunday morning they are our knights in shining armor. They've got a little trailer they can drag behind their SUV and they'll help us retrieve the TV from BJ's.

As chronicled earlier, with a blown TV and a now strangely shaped space in our family room we were scrambling to find a set. Picture be damned! We were looking for something that fit and found it in a Daewoo projection model at BJ's.

Not only did it look right, it was the least expensive of all the TVs we'd seen! Is there a reason for this which will later come back and bite us in the ass? Right now I neither know nor care. I'm just thrilled.

We tooled over to BJ's and walked in. With a swipe of my credit card and with receipt in hand, we cut the straps that held the gigantic box to a pallet. Albert and I (mostly Albert) hoisted it onto a flat cart and wheeled it into the lot. Three pieces of rope later, we were heading back to Hamden.

I had measured more than once. It looked like there would be about 1/2 inch clearance on the top. On the other hand, the sign above the TV listed a height that was a full inch over what I'd measured. Was there a mistake? Would we go to push the TV only to have to smack into the bottom of the cabinet?

We took the back roads. This thing had a lot of wind resistance. Even tied down, at 60 mph it would surely go airborne. Slow was good.

Albert and I (again, mostly Albert) carried it into the house. After snipping some bands the box slipped directly up and off.

Now the moment of truth. I slid the TV toward the wall unit and it fit! As predicted, there was less than an inch of space - but enough!

When last I looked, Steffie was watching it. She said the color was slightly off. I will attempt to properly align the set later.

We had already had discussions of how we'd like it set for picture coverage. If we allow standard definition TV to fit the whole screen, everyone will be stretched widthwise and look chubby (like me, for instance). On the other hand, if you leave the TV at 4:3 with blank areas at the edges of the screen you're wasting a lot of space.

Hey - at least there isn't this huge hole in the family room anymore.

There's a weather bulletin board I sometimes check out. Today, someone asked about agents. Lots of people in TV use them. I have in the past, though I don't have one now.

I can never figure out if that's been a smart or stupid move on my part. Often your 'value' to a company is directly proportional to their fear you'll go elsewhere.

Like all else in life, agents are both good and evil.

They can be good, because agents often hear of openings before you can and they gain entry in newsrooms where unsolicited tapes are seldom considered.

Sometimes they know who is going to get canned - and when. That's scary, but true.

You are an unknown quantity to a hiring station. An agent brings his credibility and reputation to your name. Choosing an agent whose name you want associated with yours is important. Be repped by a sleazebag and you are considered a sleazebag!

Unfortunately, agents don't always have your best interest as their best interest. In my case, I was up for a job (a long time ago)... a job I really wanted. Something gave the station cold feet (who knows what) and another of my agent's clients got the job. I've always felt, instead of fighting hard for me, he said - "OK, in that case I have someone else."

He made a sale for himself and got his commission. That it wasn't me didn't impact him. Most agents rep lots of weather people. His job is to make a sale - not necessarily make the sale for me.

An agent makes the bulk of his money on the original offer. If a station offers you $100k and you need $110k (hypothetical round numbers), that additional cash will only be worth $600-$1,000 to your agent. How hard will he fight for that? Most people I've spoken to say, "not very."

This is even more true for non-monetary issues where the agent gains nothing at all. How hard will he fight for more vacation... if he even broaches the subject.

When an agent places you well, he's worth every penny you pay. Often, however, it's like making payments on a car you don't get to drive.

I got an email late last week from my friend Bob, newly landed in Austin, TX. He wanted to start a blog and he wanted to know how?

This is one of those good news, bad news stories. The good news is, you can blog easily. The bad news is, if you take the difficult route you've got a lot more flexibility (and work). Since Bob isn't computer-iffic I recommended the easy way out.

Bob is now firmly established on Blogspot, the Google blogging tool. I've added these links to his site because that will help Google and the other search engines find it¹.

I'm pretty impressed with the ease at which his blog was created. I don't think he can do all the tricks I can do here - though I'm not quite sure if that's to my advantage or not. It will be interesting to see if he can continue to post on a regular basis.

In the meantime, in the more established 'blogosphere,' Arianna Huffington's new, mainly liberal, blog community has made its debut. Walter Cronkite, Larry David, Mike Nichols and a host of other luminaries are there. That's pretty impressive for a maiden voyage.

Again, like Bob's blog, it will be interesting to see how it looks in a few months and whether there is enough discipline among her unpaid writers to keep it up.

¹ - Getting links is good. I'm always appreciative when someone adds a link from their webpage to mine.

This is probably the nerdiest thing I can say about myself. I have been a ham radio operator for nearly 40 years. I was first licensed as a Novice class operator while in high school and then went on to my General, Advanced and Amateur Extra licenses.

I can still remember my first contact or QSO¹. I didn't have a radio of my own, so I went to my friend Ralph Press' house. Using Morse Code, I was able to span the globe from Flushing, Queens all the way to Nassau County, a little farther out on Long Island.

His callsign was WN2RNG. I remember that, because in Morse it had a distinctive rhythm: di dah dit dah dit dah dah dit.

Growing up I lived in apartment 5E. It was a building where outdoor antennas were forbidden. From time-to-time early in my ham radio career I strung up 'invisible' antennas of extremely thin, and very flimsy, wire.

Neighbors who knew complained I was ruining their TV reception. They complained even after I moved out and went to college!

It was all for naught. Only as an adult did I being to understand what it took to have a proper antenna and how important that was.

My ham radio career has been through a number of stages. There would be a few years of activity followed by a period of inactivity. I'm in an inactive stage right now. You can blame that on the Internet, which is more efficient than ham radio doing many of the things I enjoyed.

In my last active stretch I became involved in contesting, trying to contact as many other hams as possible in a set period of time, usually exchanging specific bits of information to confirm the contact. I also started toying with QRP or low powered contacts.

I have made contacts to Europe and Asia and everywhere in between with a transceiver I built on my kitchen table, using less power than a flashlight bulb. Once, on vacation, I took it to the Dominican Republic and operated off of D cell batteries with an antenna draped between two palm trees on the beach.

Early on, I used voice for contacts, but I grew tired of that. It was too much like operating an appliance and there didn't seem to be much skill involved.

In my last ham radio incarnation I was 100% Morse. Ham operators call that CW for continuous wave. It is the most simple form of radio communications.

I became pretty proficient, able to send and receive at nearly 30 words per minute. At that speed you stop listening to individual letters and begin trying to hear words or phrases.

Once you start sending faster than 10-15 words per minute you can't use the classic Morse key - the 'brass pounder.' Instead I used a paddle, with the dit and dah on opposite sides and an electronic keyer to translate my little finger motions into properly spaced tones.

Recently, my friend Harold become the Chief Operating Officer for the American Radio Relay League - the ham radio organization in America. It is headquartered in Newington, CT, about 40 miles from my house.

League Headquarters is ham radio's Mecca. I went and visited today. It's been a while since I'd been there.

It's a difficult time for the ARRL because computers have stolen many of the geeky kids, like me, who used to go into ham radio. Restrictive covenants in housing developments have also made it extremely difficult to put up a decent antenna. They still have plenty of members, but I assume they're getting progressively older.

ARRL headquarters is an interesting place because it's a publishing house, membership service center, laboratory where new equipment is evaluated (and those evaluations published) and home of W1AW.

W1AW is to ham radio stations as Yankee Stadium is to ballparks. It is the best known callsign, without a doubt. Today, before I left the league, I sat down and did a little operating at W1AW.

There is, to me, something very romantic and relaxing about operating Morse Code. In a darkened room, with headphones on, totally concentrating, you can pluck weak signals from the ether and have conversations with people from around the world.

Imagine if the simple act of conversing required skill? That's what CW operating is all about.

Many of the people you speak to don't understand English, and I certainly don't speak any foreign languages fluently. That's where the telegrapher's abbreviations come in. It's possible to have a rudimentary conversation without speaking a common language.

I sat down at the W1AW operating position. The transceiver was down on the low end of 20 meters (14.005 mHz to be exact), a wavelength suited for long distance conversations. The rig's coaxial cable connected it to a large multi-element beam on a tall tower. I was loaded for bear with a very recognizable call.

I called CQ - the universal request to chat. Nothing. I called again and Tom in Cardiff, Wales came back. We talked for a few minutes and, as I signed off, Ludo in Slovakia called me. That was followed by Valentin somewhere in Russia.

Harold estimated my speed at about 18 words per minute, well below my old CW comfort zone. My sending wasn't entirely flawless either. A number of times I hit dit when I should have hit dah and had to correct myself and resend.

It really felt good.

Maybe it's time to throw a wire antenna up over the house again and give it another try? Or, maybe, ham radio's time has come and gone for me. I'm not really sure. There's certainly a lot more on my plate right now. Where would I fit it in?

Something to ponder. Who knows?

¹ - Because amateur radio had its beginnings in telegraphy, many Morse Code abbreviations are used, sometimes even when speaking. QSO, QTH, QRZ, QRU - they're all part of the arcane lexicon.

For the past 11 years I've been the emcee for the Connecticut Association of Schools Elementary Program Recognition Banquet. That's a mouthful. Eleven years and I still can't fully remember it without looking at a piece of paper.

It takes place at the Aquaturf in Southington where teachers, principals and other educators feast on prime rib. Year after year they continue to serve the largest portion of prime rib I've ever seen.

I'm impressed by these teachers, because they're down there in the trenches. What they do does make a difference, though often they're only recognized when a parent disapproves of what they've done to his child.

Usually I get to do the weather from the banquet hall. We actually pause the program and I leave the podium to do the weather... and pick one teacher to embarrass.

I was called on often enough by teachers when I wasn't prepared. Turnabout is fair play!

On the way back to work I started to think about my grade school experience. I went to kindergarten and first grade at PS 201. I remember nearly nothing of that experience, except my parents were proud because in first grade I wrote a 'book'. Sure all my 'b's were 'd's and vice versa... and it was only a few pages... but it was a book.

I remember a whole lot more about PS 163. It was housed in an old brick building in a quiet neighborhood. The chimney was wrapped with some sort of straps to keep it from disintegrating. To get there, I had to walk two blocks, cross the Long Island Expressway via an overpass and then walk a few more blocks.

I looked upon PS 163 as some sort of prison. It was a very very unpleasant time for me. I'm not sure it wasn't also an unpleasant time for my teachers, whose lives I probably made a living hell.

Here are some brief bullet points of things I remember.

At the moment I'm watching New York's Mayor Michael Bloomberg conduct a press conference about a collapse in Upper Manhattan this afternoon.

A retaining wall holding back a steep hill gave way, allowing the hill to tumble onto the Henry Hudson Parkway and its access road. Debris was piled up at least 25 feet deep and you could see partially buried cars at the edge of the slide area. This all took place in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge.

I have driven by this particular spot dozens, maybe hundreds of times, over the years. It is a physically impressive part of Manhattan, because of the steep rise of the land adjacent to the Hudson River.

A little farther south of this site are buildings, seemingly perched on nothing but spindly columns. Their front entrances are at street level. The backs of the buildings are way above the ground. Underneath, the ground plunges away from the basement.

At the moment, it seems no one was injured. That's pretty amazing considering the traffic this road handles (there's actually significantly more traffic just south of the collapse where traffic can exit from the George Washington Bridge or Cross Bronx Expressway - I-95).

It's possible the hill gave way slowly, or possibly in a few disjointed slides lead to the major crash at the end. It couldn't be blind luck that no one was underneath.

From the photos I've seen, there are construction 'canopies' where the slide took place. Undoubtedly there was work going on - maybe trying to prevent what ended up happening.

In a situation like this, the most obvious culprit will be water. Unfortunately, there's water seeping all over Manhattan. The water mains, some well over 100 years old, leak like crazy underneath the streets. No one really knows how much, but it's substantial.

I heard the mayor say there might have been seepage from a park on the top of the hill. More will come out with time.

As a frequent driver in New York City I have seen other signs of water damage and seepage that have worried me in the past. Portions of the brickwork along the side of the Cross Bronx Expressway have eroded away. The mortar is still there, but much of the brick is gone.

Some underpasses show the same or similar problems. There looks to be water flowing and carrying away parts of the facade.

You always hope this damage is superficial, that New York City has a handle on it. Maybe not. Hopefully, this is a wake up call that the water has to be put under control and damage repaired.

One mile south, this same slide would have been a huge catastrophe. The potential would have been there for casualties in the hundreds, or more. Tonight it's just a head scratcher.

Word came out this morning that the submarine base at Groton will be closed as part of a nationwide military base realignment. That this is a firmly 'blue' state probably didn't help Connecticut, as those boats are moving to Virginia - a red state.

My first remembrance of Groton is back when I was a college student. I worked part time at WSAR in Fall River, MA, so I would often drive I-95 past the base. There were signs along some of the bridges admonishing drivers not to stop.

That was the height of the cold war. I'm guessing there were few warm and fuzzy warnings, especially to a 'long hair' like I was.

I became more conscious of the base when I moved to Connecticut. As the economy of Eastern Connecticut slacked critically (in the pre-casino days), it was the one constant. Submariners were often out to sea for extended periods, but their families were in Connecticut, spending money.

I've taken two submarine 'rides' from Groton. One was on the USS Providence. I can't remember the name of the other, except to say it was a Los Angeles class fast attack submarine.

Though I'm not sure of the significance of the words "fast attack," they sure do sound impressive when used together.

My first trip left the dock on a very foggy morning. Rather than bring the sub down the river in bad conditions, the passengers for this 'fam trip' piled onto a tug and were ferried to the ship.

As both slowly moved in sync (to maintain steerage), a gangway was set between the ships. I crossed onto the deck of the sub only to be greeted by a frogman with a sheathed knife on his leg. He was there to rescue anyone who might fall off. Going below was accomplished by climbing into a hatch and down a ladder.

I said this then and I'm sure it's still true now. The submarine itself didn't impress me. Well, maybe that's an oversimplification. It didn't impress me as much as I thought it would. It wasn't anywhere near as high tech as I had imagined. That is probably because the procurement procedures at the Defense Department take forever!

I remember looking at a PC being used for some task and thinking, "Wow, I've got a much more powerful one at home."

On the other hand, I was blown away by the officers and crew. The real secret weapon of the US submarine fleet are these people. They were bright and disciplined and well trained to do their job and others as well.

The crew was just as much a positive surprise as the equipment was a disappointment.

It was interesting to talk with the men on board and watch them do what they did. Like every job, I'm sure it gets a little stale after a while. Still, they could tell what they were doing was impressive to others and they seemed to bask in that.

Part of the trip was submerging and sailing through Long Island Sound. People ask if I was scared. I was not. These trips were as gentle as could be.

On the way back to port I got to climb another ladder to the top of the sail. This is not a passage designed for the claustrophobic. It was well worth it. It might very well be the most macho place any human can stand.

Given half a chance, I'd hop on a sub again tomorrow.

Having a major base, like Groton, adds importance to a place. It's a reason for being. I'm a so scared this closing will be a major disruption to all of our lives here in Connecticut. The economy, especially in Eastern Connecticut, doesn't deserve to take this hit.

Yes, I'm selfish about this. My opinion has been formed irrespective of the big picture. I hope they can find a way to keep the base open.

I didn't go to the prom in my long ago, far away, all boys, high school. If you saw me then, you'd understand. Geek did not begin to describe me. I've always looked young, and when I was 18, I looked about 12. I was transparent to girls.

That's why, in many ways, I'm experiencing things for the first time through Steffie. Tonight was prom night for her school.

It's my understanding women already know this, though guys do not. The prom doesn't just happen on prom night. There's a lot of prep. A lot of angst. A lot of shopping.

Steffie was equal to the task and Helaine helped out. My biggest contribution, as far as I can tell, was the Sunday I tried to sleep in the car so they could shop at Roosevelt Field Mall.

Tonight, Steffie looked beautiful. As a father, I'm biased. I'll try to be impartial. She was radiant.

Her date, Sean, came to our house at 6:30. We all drove to the limo pickup point.

This is an interesting part of proms. As much as parents are excluded from a teenage life, at least on prom night, parents are needed for photography. Whoa! I've never met a photo that didn't need to be shot.

Four couples were leaving from the house of one of the boys. It was actually the perfect location, a large home on a very large piece of land in Woodbridge. Photographers kill to shoot at locations like this where the backgrounds are soft and lush.

Though I'm normally not very happy with a busted forecast, our gloomy morning turned into a partly cloudy afternoon and mostly sunny early evening. The light was golden and the couples were beautiful.

Helaine cried a little on the way back home. I'm not saying that to embarrass her, because it's a common reaction.

Soon, our daughter will be leaving us to go to college. For nearly 18 years we've been responsible for nearly every part of her life. Now, we'll only be responsible for the cash. Tonight was a well marked signpost in that journey to adulthood.

This morning Stef asked if she could have some friends over after the prom. We said yes, but not without restrictions. No alcohol. No drugs. Anyone who left couldn't come back.

As an adults, Helaine and I have responsibilities we can't take lightly. Stef has said she'll hold up her end, policing her friends as best she can. As much as I want to trust her - and I do - I'll still stay vigilant tonight. That's what a dad does, I suppose.

Yesterday and much of today has been dedicated to the prom. In fact, it wasn't until mid afternoon that the last of the partygoers left our house (and I could finally go downstairs in my pajamas).

I got to thinking about the modern technological conveniences that were in play this weekend. As soon as Steffie allowed me to take a photo of her in her dress, I ran it upstairs, popped it in the computer, into Photoshop for cropping, and then into Thunderbird to be emailed to my folks in Florida.

Later, from the car, I called them to make sure they'd seen it.

Think about that for a second, because it has become so commonplace that we've already stopped being amazed. Within ten minutes of taking the photo, it was in my parent's hands in Florida! This is a luxury never before available.

Even the wealthy didn't have access to this kind of technology - and yet it's there for everyone now (though mastering the technology probably keeps a lot of people from using what they've got).

The same goes for printing the photos. Stef and I sat in front of the PC this afternoon. She picked the shots she liked, I ran them through Photoshop, took them to the photo store¹ on a CD I quickly burned. A half hour later she went to the photo store and picked them up.

When I was a kid photo finishing was done at some off site plant. It took days to get pictures back and then you never knew if they would be good, bad or indifferent. As a young adult, one hour kiosks and places like Fotomat had begun to spring up. It was convenient, but expensive.

Now we only process the shots we really want and even get a chance to improve on what the camera saw before we print them!

¹ - Interestingly enough, this photo store (part of a change) does have a facility where I can upload photos top them. This technology doesn't work, or doesn't work well, because when suggested they always discourage me from using it.

I had to do some scanning last night, but the scanner's been off line for a while - a victim of continuing problems on the 'main computer¹.' With new drivers in hand, I installed it on the back up machine and then proceeded to do some calibration and tests.

I've always been partial to scanning money when setting up a scanner. Money is a good test because of its intricate design. That's especially true now that bills are designed to be somewhat more difficult to counterfeit.

I found a new style twenty in my wallet. In this twenty, Andrew Jackson is no longer pictured inside an oval frame. There is also a line drawing of an eagle, in blue, on the left side of the front, and the stylize words "TWENTY USA" under the Treasury Department seal.

I threw it on the scanner and then ramped up the resolution. My scanning software said 9600 dpi, though I doubt this scanner is actually capable of resolving detail that fine. I was surprised at some of what I found. In order to make it a little more visible here, I have added contrast and played with levels and colors.

The microprint, which is one of the anti-counterfeit tools, was found in two places. Some was found between Jackson's arm and the "20" in the lower left corner of the bill. Inside the "0" itself is "USA." Farther to the right it says "THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 20 USA 20 USA."

There is also writing which borders individual letters in the "TWENTY USA" detail under the Treasury Department seal (see photo above right). In this case, as with the writing in the borders, you'd never notice it unless someone told you. Even knowing, the print is nearly impossible to see and certainly impossible to read without a magnifying glass.

I'm not sure how this helps thwart counterfeiting when the front line of enforcement, cashiers and clerks, can't see it's there!

I was surprised that these teeny letters look hand written, as opposed to a formal font. I'm not sure how the plates that produce currency are made, but that probably enters into this equation.

If you look at the word "TWENTY," also over the seal of the Treasury Department, its interior hatching also looks hand done, as if someone had sketched up their idea for a twenty dollar bill and then filled the detail with a pencil.

From afar, bills look totally finished and exact. It's only when you really see them up close that you realize they are the product of an era when man created things by hand, not by computer.

¹ - Though I continue to replace parts, I still haven't found what it is that is causing the computer to spontaneously reboot. I am perilously close to buying a different motherboard, in essence a soul transplant.

I got this link tonight from my friend Harold. Last week Jay Leno pitted Morse Code versus cell phone text messaging in a speed test. Considering I wrote about the mystique and romance of code last week, I thought this would be a fun link to post.

I was on the sofa last night, playing poker and watching Keith Olbermann on MSNBC. The show was nearing its nightly end, the time it tends to be a little more off center. Keith turned to the camera and said, "Keep your knees loose."

Holy s***! He was quoting a catch phrase from Jean Shepard.

Actually, I said the very same thing in public back in 1965. It was at the AT&T pavilion at the '64-'65 New York World's Fair. I was a participant in a picturephone demonstration. As a wise ass teen, "keep your knees loose" were my parting words. The AT&T employee running the show had no clue what I was talking about and looked mortified.

But Keith is on national TV.

When I was growing up, in the sixties, I listened to Jean Shepard every night from 10:15 to 11:00 PM on WOR. He was a monologist - he alone spoke for the entire 45 minutes. There is nothing on radio or TV like this today.

Shepard was willing to talk to his engineer or anyone who might be around (though they were never heard). Usually though, he just spoke directly to the audience, as if you were there in the studio with him.

He wasn't political or particularly interested in most current events. His stories often went back to growing up in Hammond, Indiana and his friends, Flick and Schwartz. Sometimes he'd joke about his military career in a mess kit repair unit.

He was always irreverent. He always bit the hand that fed him. As a kid with a transistor radio under my pillow, he represented the adventure that awaited me. He was the cool part of being an adult.

I met Shep twice. Once was a personal appearance at a big and tall men's clothing store on Long Island. I think I rode my bike, though it was quite far. I also saw him do his show at the Limelight in Greenwich Village¹.

Even today, these are unforgettable moments. He meant that much to me.

I sent Keith Olbermann a note, letting him know that there was at least one person who understood what was going on. Though he made this arcane reference, he wrote back claiming radio allegiance to Bob and Ray.

I know lots of people who thought they were funny, but their humor aways evaded me. I am a fan of Bob's son, Chris Elliot.

The most interesting part of Keith's reply was his pointing out some of Shepard's old airchecks are now on the Internet.

Wow, they are. I haven't listened to much of the collection yet, but they're on the Podcast site... dozens of airchecks. What I have heard so far holds up, even though it's nearly 40 years old.

There's more for real Shepard fans. Keith said Flicklives.com might end up being my new favorite site. Maybe that's overdoing it a little, but it will demand a few hours of perusal.

Before he died, Jean Shepard turned into a mean spirited man who tried desperately to disassociate himself from the radio work I loved so much. That was a real shame, because his effect on me and many of my contemporaries was profound.

¹ - I was taken to the Limelight by Bob Weiss, my friend from summer camp, and his parents. I have no idea what ever happened to Bob. If you run into him, please tell him Geoff says hi... and tell him to keep his knees loose.

When I was a kid, there was a 'young' comedian named London Lee. Considering I'm in my mid-50s, he's probably in his mid-60s... maybe 70s.

Alas, he has disappeared off the face of the earth. Well, he has as far as the Internet is concerned - he's virtually a non entity.

There is one reference to him I can find and one London Lee story quoted:

That's comedy!

Because of the consistent traffic to this page, it's reopened for comments.

Our station's promotion department was wondering, would I be able to go to WPLR and be on the radio with Chaz and AJ... and, oh - can you be there by 7:00 AM?

I so wanted to say "no," but decided it was better to be a team player. Seven in the morning is early for lots of people, but I normally don't wake up until the crack of noon. This would be way before my normal waking time.

I got home and went to sleep 'early' last night - around 1:00 AM. By 3:30, my body said, "nice nap" and I was awake. A little time on the couch, on my side and I was back to sleep until the alarm went off at 6:00 AM.

If you normally wake up that time of day, I do not envy you.

I hit the road by 6:30 and stopped at Starbucks before getting on the parkway. Memo to Starbucks: You are not Dunkin' Donuts. I'm sure you're nice people, good to your parents, but your coffee is too strong. Above and beyond that, I don't want to have to say "grande" to get a medium¹.

WPLR is located in a nice mid-rise office building in a quiet area in Milford. They are owned by Cox and share space with Star 99.9 and WYBC (though much of WYBC's programming is syndicated and doesn't originate in Connecticut).

The studios are very nice and modern. AJ and Chaz sat on opposite sides of the console with Chaz 'driving.' Billy Winn, who had come downstairs to let me in, was at a corner of the desk.

I've known Chaz for years since I used to go on his show over the phone when he did nights there. We sat and schmoozed for about an hour. I thought it went pretty well. During a break Helaine called to tell me if I wanted to sound hip, I'd need to stop making references to people who were famous forty years ago.

Why is she always right?

As is always the case when I'm in a studio, I became enamored with the freedom to speak your mind on the radio - especially morning radio. It's not that I said anything profound or controversial. It's just that I could say anything with little forethought.

When my hour was up, I took off the headphones, said goodbye and began to make my way out of the building. It was then I decided to see if I could have a "Bob Hope moment."

Back in the Johnny Carson Tonight Show era, every once in a while, right in the middle of an interview, the band would begin to play "Thanks for the Memories" and Bob Hope would stroll out to the set. It wasn't planned. Johnny never knew. If Bob was in the neighborhood, he had carte blanche to walk right in.

I walked into the Star 99.9 studio.

The morning show with john Harper and Randye Kaye was in progress. There was no "Thanks for the Memories," but without missing a beat John started talking to me (even before Randye realized I was in the studio) and we were off to the races. I probably stayed for 15-20 minutes.

I'll admit it. I'm still a sucker for radio. Heck, I would have walked into WYBC if not for the fact that Tom Joyner's show comes from Chicago.

¹ - Forcing me to speak your language also goes to the rootin' tootin' folks at Denny's. Sorry.

I think this is being sent to you via my next door neighbor's high speed Internet connection. I'm not 100% sure. I've scrambled around, looking for a signal and found one... if I sit in the corner of the bed with the edge of the laptop facing Dubuque. It won't work any other way.

Next door, in my office, the cable light on the cable modem is off. Bad sign.

I called Comcast and spoke to a Canadian woman (based on her accent). Dealing with the first level of tech support is the part that makes me want to pull out my hair.

Before I call I unplug, replug, reset, double check - you get the idea. I am not without some knowledge in this arcane subject. Yet the first thing she had me do was unplug the modem (again) and the router.

The router is behind the cable modem. Only through a thorough repealing of the laws of physics could it be causing my trouble. It would be as if my pipes didn't work, so the plumber checked the glass I was thinking of drinking from.

Helaine points out this has happened more frequently lately. She's right. And, the fact that this technology, though getting more mature, is failing more is a very bad sign. It's also not good that my neighbor's connection (also via Comcast) is fine.

A problem limited to an individual account is going to be harder to fix and slower to fix than a widespread outage.

Meanwhile, back on the phone, she couldn't find my account, couldn't find a way to schedule my appointment, and often seemed to be talking to herself! None of this is reassuring.

I continue to fear the cable connection will fail right when I'm taking some pivotal timed online test for school. Until then, I'll be popping back into my office every few minutes looking for a lit cable modem light.

Helaine reports the cable modem service is back.

It is astounding to me that each and every time it's gone out, the problem has been on their end! And yet, when dealing with their service techs, I am always the one asked to go out of my way to troubleshoot it first.

What is wrong with this picture?

Mars Odyssey was launched on 7 April 2001, and reached Mars on 24 October 2001. Mars Global Surveyor left Earth on 7 November 1996, and arrived in Mars orbit on 12 September 1997. Both spacecraft are in an extended mission phase, both have relayed data from the Mars Exploration Rovers, both are continuing to return exciting new results from Mars and both are in somewhat different orbits for safety's sake.

That makes the photos just in pretty exciting!

They're the first pictures of a spacecraft orbiting Mars taken by another spacecraft orbiting Mars. In April 2005, the MOC aboard Mars Global Surveyor (MGS) was used to take pictures of the other two spacecraft currently operating in orbit around Mars: NASA's Mars Odyssey and the European Space Agency's (ESA) Mars Express.

As I came down this morning, Helaine said, "your website isn't there." That's not good. There is a nagging fear in the pit of my stomach that someday my website will go down and never come back.

Other websites hosted by the same company were down (my friend Bob's http://www.coolwx.com, for instance) and the customer service chat was unresponsive. On my host's backup site:

It's back now, but I suppose this weekend will be the right time to do a full backup. Long overdue.

I'm not a fan of Saddam Hussein. He is as bad as it gets - a man willing to kill to eliminate or intimidate his enemies in the most vile ways. I do not shed a tear for him or his fate.

Sometimes, however, I think we lose sight of the fact that we are judged by the world for our actions, not his. Whoever thought it was a good idea to take photos of Saddam in his underwear and then pass them out like some high school prank, has injured all of us greatly.

Make no mistake, it doesn't take Saddam off the hook, but we are losing... maybe have lost... the moral high ground. This is not the first public display which reflects badly on America.

Having morality on our side won't help us with Al Qaeda or other terrorists, but it is important with much of the rest of the world.

The photos are an embarrassment. It is a shame.

As of 11:35 PM tonight I will have completed 21 years here at the TV station. That's unreal.

On my way in the door on day one, if you would have told me 5 or 10 or 15 years, I never would have agreed. Twenty one is unfathomable. It's a number that can't be reached if it's a conscious goal.

There is no one else on-the-air here who was on-the-air when I arrived.

It didn't go in the blink of an eye. I certainly can feel the passage of time. Still, twenty goes faster than you might imagine.

I often wonder where my career would have gone if I had taken some of the opportunities presented to me early on? Maybe I should have been more aggressive is seeking out larger markets. There's no guarantee of success, but that never scared me.

Would I have been happier in New York or Los Angeles? Would they have been more professionally satisfying? Would they have even wanted me?

After 21 years I'm sure I'm looked upon as a lifer. Though I have no place to go or overwhelming desire to go elsewhere, it's just an uncomfortable label to wear. I don't want my bosses to look at me that way. I don't want to look at myself that way.

I've always thought there's a career sweet spot, after which you should leave. Too soon and you look flighty and immature. Too long (like 21 years) and potential employers wonder what they've missed that everyone else saw. If he never made it out of New Haven after all this time, how good can he be?

I'll take my 21st anniversary day off and be back Sunday night. Life goes on.

A major Saturday for Helaine and me - we went out to dinner with another couple. This is huge in the general social scheme of things as we're normally stay-at-home types.

We were having dinner with Amy and Rob. Amy is Helaine's friend and I had never met Rob. Helaine and Amy met online through a project they were both involved in and then, through Rob's work, Amy and Rob moved to Connecticut.

We chose to take them to Tony and Lucille's on New Haven's Wooster Street. Wooster Street is the heart of New Haven's "Little Italy." Many of the residents and business owners trace their roots back to Amalfi. It's no surprise that Amalfi is New Haven's sister city.

Helaine and I have been going to Tony and Lucille's for over 20 years. It is a family restaurant in the truest sense of the word. Parents are in the kitchen. Children are on the floor waiting tables. In many ways, we are treated as if we're part of the family.

When Steffie was born, it was the first place we took her! Sitting at a small table in the corner, we put Steffie's carrier on the floor next to Helaine. Lucille, in her pre-grandma days, took Steffie and carried her around the restaurant while we ate.

Did I mention the food is really great?

We met Rob and Amy at 7:00 and sat right down. The restaurant was crowded. Local colleges, including Yale, are in the midst of their graduation frenzy. Parents are in from all over the place often celebrating with their graduating children.

Speaking of which, the governor of a nearby state was there eating. Included in his entourage were his family and what I assume were state troopers, standing watch. They were ensconced in a side room - private but visible from the main room.

Memo to the gov - I won't mention your name here, but the folks who waited on you were less than thrilled with your attitude. Would it be so difficult to be gracious? These people were working hard for you.

During dinner people cam up and said hello. I've been here a long time. I enjoy that. But I was irked by one woman - and she probably didn't mean to upset me.

She sat near me and told me she liked me but that she thought I was wrong most of the time. Grrrrrr. I'm certainly not right all the time, but that was an exaggeration on her part - and why? What was she trying to accomplish?

If she knew how hard I work trying to be right and how upsetting it is to me when the forecast doesn't come in as predicted, she probably would have chosen her words differently. I guess knowing those things isn't her obligation.

We ate our dinner and walked across the street. I'm sure it's somewhat sacrilegious, but we had dinner at Tony and Lucille's and walked across the street to Libby's for desert. Libby's is an old style Italian bakery.

The line out front was as long as we'd ever seen, stretching out the door and on to Wooster Street. As we snaked our way inside, we caught a glimpse of what was there. If you're on a diet or watching carbs... hell, if you're watching anything, this isn't the place to go.

In order to get people to eat things that are so bad for them they've got to be delicious!

I don't remember what anyone else had, but mine was a chocolate mousse concoction. Somewhere there is a cardiologist who did not sleep last night because he dreaded I was eating this thing. It is the proverbial heart attack on a plate.

It was so amazingly good!

We came back to the house where Steffie was waiting, dessert in hand. Steffie really likes Amy, so she was happy to be home on a Saturday night to say hi (and start the coffee while we were in the car).

All-in-all a very enjoyable night.

I am limited in what I can say here because of contractual obligations. This blog makes money. There are ads. Today is exactly one year since the ads began.

I am averaging $1.02 per day. Let me repeat that. $1.02 per day.

It basically pays for the website, but certainly doesn't begin to pay for my time and effort. It was never meant to. It is interesting to track - something I do entirely too often.

There seems to be no rhyme or reason why the dollar amounts (actually, penny amounts) vary from day-to-day. One day I'll make $4.50, then next $.12. There is little in the way of detailed accounting so I can't tell the exact way this cache of cash is being accrued.

This does say, with tonnage nearly any website can be a reasonable profit maker. This site will never draw enough of a crowd, but maybe there are other ways?

A few weeks ago, I fell off the diet wagon. What the heck. Can't I take a respite from time-to-time?

It didn't take long for the pounds to start to reestablish themselves around my middle. I haven't had the guts to climb on the scale but I'm guessing I'm up 5-6 pounds in only a few weeks.

This brings up an interesting point that most adults have to face. Is it a diet I'm on or do I have to eschew anything fattening for the rest of my life? It's starting to seem like the latter.

I'm not thrilled by that proposition.

The fact I have no willpower probably doesn't help. Put something carbolicious in the pantry or refrigerator and I'm all over it. Sometimes the time from last bite to guilt is measured in the milliseconds. When I throw out the wrapper to something and move it below the top layer in the trash can, so it isn't easily seen, is a sign I'm in denial.

A lot of it is my clothes. As soon as I put on a little weight I can feel it in the way things fit. And, let's face it, vanity is involved when you're on camera every day. I don't like seeing suits pull against my girth - and they have in the past.

Helaine has asked if I'll forget Atkins and go a little more mainstream. Atkins was very easy for me. Just munch on cow or lamb any time I'm hungry.

I'm going to attempt South Beach, which is similar but adds a lot more fruits and vegetables (though not in the first few weeks). I'll still pass on pasta and baked goods and nearly everything that is sweet. Thank heaven for Splenda.

Whatever it is, I have to realize that the days I could sit on the couch and eat a sleeve of Hydrox cookies, then wash that down with a Coke, are gone. I did that through my twenties and into my thirties without adding an ounce. God is such a tease.

Watching what I eat has to become a way of life. It's just another feature of growing up... getting older... that sucks.

Let me bring you into "Weatherworld" for a moment. Here in New England, we're having a stretch of cool and damp days as a low pressure system waffles around the area.

The meteorological term for what's controlling our weather is a "cutoff low." That means the low pressure system is cutoff from the force of the jet stream - there's nothing to push it on its way.

Short term forecasting is fairly simple. It will stay lousy.

Longer range forecasting is much more difficult. These cutoff lows stay stable until something unclogs the pattern. Unfortunately, that's often impossible to predict until the moment it happens.

I'm forced to forecast a continuation of what's going on, knowing that might not necessarily be the case. It's the best forecast, but it's not my most confident of forecasts.

With Memorial Day weekend a few days away, I'm hoping something happens sooner rather than later.