Woody–While He Still Speaks With The Little People

Holy crap–he’s in a movie with Steven Segal!

woody-hoyt.jpgMy friend Woody, sometimes seen commenting as Wudzy and legally named Elwood, recently went into semi-retirement in Santa Fe, NM. It’s a beautiful place.

Maybe Woody wasn’t ready to totally retire. He’s sent me his new listing from IMDB! As it turns out Santa Fe is an artist’s community and film production center.

Holy crap–he’s in a movie with Steven Segal!

A Day Without Hot Water

Helaine woke me up around 7:15 AM, two hours after I went to sleep. It only took one look to know, this was not a pleasure trip to the bedroom.

“No hot water,” she said. “Didn’t you hear the heater cycling all night?”

Using methods similar to those Tonto deployed in “The Lone Ranger,” Helaine has hearing and (now revealed) tactile sensory powers far beyond those of mortal men. The water heater is in the basement. Our bedroom is on the second floor, but it’s above the garage which in turn is built over a concrete slab – not the basement! How did she know?

I got out of bed and walked downstairs. My expertise in this sort of thing is limited, but I understand it’s my duty (as laid out in the ketubah&#185) to make like I know what’s going on.

Our heating system is a complex ‘hydroair’ system, powered by oil. The hot water is heated by the furnace which also heats the house. It is virtually impossible to run out of hot water!

The thermometer on the side of the hot water reservoir was pinned on 90&#176 – the lowest it registers. The water was certainly cooler. The furnace was quiet.

I checked the oil tank. We had plenty.

Thirty seconds of looking and I already knew this was way beyond me. I picked up the phone to call my oil man. If you’ve read the blog for any length of time, you seen comments from Woody. He’s my friend and my oil man.

Ring, ring, nothing. I hung up and dialed again. Ring, nothing. Uh oh. Ring, ring, ring, nothing. Even during the height of the summer, I knew they’d be there early. This was a bad sign.

I opened my mail program and started to compose a note to Woody.

Hi Woody –

I’m emailing because your office phone rings once or twice and stops! We have no hot water. Help!

We have oil. The temp in the water tank is as low as it gets. I have no idea beyond that.

Can someone come and help. xxx-xxxx.


I quickly realized, Woody might not be there. He’s bought a home in Santa Fe, NM, which he visits from time-to-time. We needed hot water now… or at least soon.

The oil company office is only a few minutes from here. I had no choice but to drive over and get the process started.

I sleep in pajamas, but they’re not really traditional pajamas. They’re the 21st century equivalent of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I threw on a hat and sneakers, kept my pajamas on, and drove away.

Helaine said, “I smell a blog entry.” Really?

It was only 7:30AM, but the oil company’s office was buzzing. Winston the dog was attacking the office workers, jumping at least five feet off the floor as if he was on a trampoline. Service technicians were getting their trucks ready. Everyone there – living in homes with heated water – seemed happy.

“Your phones aren’t working,” I said as I walked in.

“We know. Was that you who tried calling?”

By the time I drove home, Woody had replied to my email… and obviously had made contact with the mother ship.

i hear you were very handsome in your jammies when i called the office a couple of minutes ago. plus i can’t imagine you getting OUT of bed at 7am.

anyhow, sorry about the phones. they’re semi-operational right now. i have our VOIP provider meeting me there first thing. there will be no bluffing –

an ass kicking is on the agenda. hope your facial problem is better.

The technician arrived a few minutes later and quickly found a clogged nozzle. He replaced it and our filter. We have hot water again.

In retrospect, I can’t believe I drove away to see people while wearing my PJs. I’m starting to get very Britneyesque! Thank heavens I don’t attract paparazzi.

&#185 – A ketubah is a Jewish prenuptial agreement or marriage contract and is an integral part of a traditional Jewish marriage. Ours (as most others) is an ornately printed certificate, mainly in Hebrew – a language neither of us reads nor understands. Over time, both of us have ‘quoted’ the ketubah to try and justify ridiculous things we’ve done or want.

One Day – Two Destinations

From Antelope – Zion

We started the morning in Kayenta, Arizona, just outside Monument Valley. I’m sure the people of the Monument Valley Region are very nice, but I wish Kayenta was more respectful of the natural beauty that surrounds it. There are no nice photos to be taken in Kayenta, because the scenery is interrupted at every vantage.

We headed out of Kayenta, west through Northern Arizona toward Page, home of Antelope Canyon, our first destination of the day. As has been the case since Gallup, NM, we were on two lane blacktop with 65 mph speed limits.

This is an Interstate free zone!

From Antelope – Zion

From time-to-time I wanted to pass the car in front of me. That meant waiting for a clear spot, hoping Helaine would cover her eyes, running it up to 85 mph, and swinging into the oncoming lane.

There aren’t a whole bunch of places to do that in Connecticut. Actually, there aren’t a whole lot of places to do that anywhere. It’s a lost art. Thankfully, everyone keeps their headlights on day and night.

From Antelope – Zion

As we sped west, we passed through a bunch of little towns… actually, more like settlements of a few houses. The speed limit would drop to 55 mph for a hundred yards or so and then back to 65 mph. Next.

What kind of life do people have here? We were curious in an anthropological way. Is it a life to be loved, or do kids wait for the day they can escape?

From Antelope – Zion

Forty miles from Page, and driving parallel to its single track, electrified railroad, we got our first glimpse of the gigantic Navajo Generation Station. Two of its three stacks were blowing something white skyward.

I’m hoping it was steam, though I doubt it. There were separate cooling towers for that.

From Antelope – Zion

As we got closer, and the sheer size of the plant became apparent, Helaine started singing, “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn’t belong.”

Whatever I said about Kayenta goes doubly for Page. I know we need to generate electricity. I wish there was a less invasive way. After all, this huge power plant also needs huge transmission lines to take the power away.

We were in Page to visit Antelope Canyon. It is a slot canyon. Don’t worry, until recently I didn’t know what that meant either.

This area of the country gets little rain. What they do get isn’t spread through the seasons, but falls in brief deluges which often cause flash flooding.

From Antelope – Zion

Over the eons, a flooded stream, Antelope Wash, found its way to the Colorado River by boring through a hillside. That channel is the slot canyon we visited.

Because it’s carved through sandstone, the walls have smooth curves and a layered look. At certain times of the year (not now) sunlight streams through to the canyon floor as beams of light.

It was unlike anything Helaine or I had ever seen before – beautiful, mystical, spiritual.

From Antelope – Zion

We signed up for a tour at the entrance to the Navajo Park which contained the canyon. The operation of the tour company was rinky dink. However, our guide Carol was amazing.

She knew all about the canyon and, after all these tours, was a camera expert. She spent lots of time showing people where and how to get great shots, even with little point and shoot cameras.

Carol’s expertise will be felt when returning tourists look at their photos and find her masterpieces.

From Antelope – Zion
From Antelope – Zion
From Antelope – Zion
From Antelope – Zion
From Antelope – Zion

We left Antelope Canyon, headed over the Colorado River at Glen Canyon Dam and into Utah. I believe I’m entitled to another wife at this point.

The road settled into a low area flanked by white monolithic rocks, We were in Glen Canyon.

From Antelope – Zion

I know Grand Canyon is larger, deeper and more well known. However, you usually see The Grand Canyon from the top looking down. Here, we were in the middle of the broad flood plain. The rock faces towered over us. I have never felt smaller nor more inconsequential.

From Antelope – Zion

As with the trip to Page, the roads were good. From time-to-time we’d round a sharp bend or go down the side of a mountain steep enough to warrant a sign listing the grade (6% was our personal best).

Helaine isn’t comfortable with heights. This was not her ideal routing.

From Antelope – Zion

We made a left onto Route 9 in Mt. Carmel, Utah and headed into Zion National Park. Of all the scenery we’ve seen so far, this is the prettiest… the most awesome.

From Antelope – Zion

The park road is a narrow two lane affair – definitely not good for 65 mph! It is also the first ‘redtop’ road I’ve ever seen. I don’t know why it’s red. I’ll try and find out more tomorrow.

The road dipped and curved and hugged the side of steep mountains. As treacherous as the road is, there are two places which must be worse, because two tunnels are bored through mountainsides.

From Antelope – Zion

At the second tunnel there was construction, which set us back twenty minutes. It also allowed us twenty minutes to soak in the scenery.

From Antelope – Zion

We’re staying in Springdale, Utah tonight. Everything that was wrong with Kayenta and Page is absent here. This is a spectacular little town, with shops, restaurants, galleries and a free shuttle bus system!

I’ve only been here a few hours, but I’m loving Zion National Park and Springdale.

Tomorrow we’re going to take the shuttle to the park for a little exploring before hopping in the car and heading southwest to Las Vegas.

From Antelope – Zion
From Antelope – Zion
From Antelope – Zion

The Strange Drive to Kayenta

The guide books say 332 miles from Albuquerque to Kayenta, Arizona. What they fail to mention is the trip also crosses millions of years in scenery. At one point, Helaine asked me to look out for dinosaurs.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I couldn’t sleep last night. When I can’t sleep, Helaine can’t sleep. We were in the car and heading west by 5:50 AM MDT.

There were scattered showers overnight in Albuquerque. It was still dark and spitting as we merged onto I-40. The speed limit is 65 mph in urban areas, but as soon as we left civilization (in this case a perfectly apt characterization) it went to 75 mph.

I’ve got a lead foot, but since I found the majority of cars doing the speed limit, I set the cruise control at 80 mph and hoped for the best.

Other than an Indian casino and a few truck stops (one at the Indian casino) there was nothing – 130 miles of nothing – until we got to Gallup.

Gallup, New Mexico is one of those places you see and say, “Why?” It is a nondescript little outpost with the normal collection of gas stations and franchise food joints.

We slid into Denny’s where everything I thought of Gallup was dashed. The staff couldn’t have been nicer, friendlier or more attentive. Could I take a sip of coffee before the waitress came back to freshen it?

From Driving to Ka…

Denny’s is located on US 491, though signs said it was formerly US 666! When you name a road 666, it says something about you. I’m thinking you don’t want to screw with these people.

We cut across New Mexico on two and four lane roads, into Arizona and then north on US 191.

From Driving to Ka…

What began as rolling scrubby hills in Gallup, led to a pine forest and then a succession of rocky vistas.

From Driving to Ka…

Every once in a while we’d pass a small community, often with cows or horses lazing along the side of, or in the middle of, the road. What was surprising is, often the cattle were on the road side of a fence, not the other way around!

From Driving to Ka…

We continue north as the scenery turned weird. I’m not sure how to describe it, but some of what we saw looked prehistoric. Imagine rugged rock monoliths draped in a primordial soup of clouds.

I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

From Driving to Ka…
From Driving to Ka…
From Driving to Ka…
From Driving to Ka…
From Driving to Ka…

After the Eagles game (priorities are priorities) we head to Monument Valley for sunset and more photos.

Full Day And The Glowdeo

After the morning balloon session, Helaine and I returned to the hotel for a while. The Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta has distinct morning and evening sessions (with separate admissions).

From Albuquerque F…

After a brief nap it was off to the tramway which climbs Sandia Peak. Only one problem. Everyone else in Albuquerque had the same idea. The Friday afternoon wait was two hours! Helaine wasn’t going to take the tram to the top anyway, so we left.

Even from the base of the tramway, over 6,000 feet above sea level, the view was excellent.

Next destination was Old Town Albuquerque, a picturesque area of artsy stores and native craftsmen. We walked around for a while and Helaine found something for Stef.

The Fox Family Secrecy Act of 2006 prevents me from disclosing what she got.

From Albuquerque F…

By the way, parking near Old Town is interesting. The parking lot has a series of boxes at one end. Each box has a slot where you put your money for parking. I slipped two dollars in the space marked 122.

We ended up overstaying our time, but got no ticket. I suspect it’s not heavily enforced. In fact, it sound like my money went all the way to the bottom, not my individual ‘cash cubby.’

Old Town is conveniently located next to Albuquerque’s museums. Helaine asked if I wanted to go to the Natural History Museum? I would have, had I not spied a small building, previously used for something else. It was the National Atomic Museum.

From Albuquerque F…

The signs outside made it look a little off center and not afraid to poke a little fun of itself. Was this a real museum or a sly museum takeoff?

From Albuquerque F…

The first thing I noticed inside was a collection of slide rules. I stopped to gape. This was my kind of place. Before calculators, I was a slide rule expert.

In the history of atomic energy, New Mexico stands tall. Remember, there’s a lot of space here… lots of room to do things you don’t want found out. Our first atomic test was held not far from Albuquerque.

We paid our admission, walked in, and quickly walked into the theater where a movie was about to start; “Ten Seconds That Changed The World.”

Narrated by Richard Basehart and produced by the legendary David L. Wolper, this was a collection of grainy black and white footage which traced the real history of the atomic age, all the way to Hiroshima.

It seemed like it was originally cut for TV with distinct fades to black for commercial inserts. Whatever the case, it was fascinating. It was jam packed with historical film I’d never seen before – really good stuff from the 40s.

As we left, Helaine said, “That was worth the price of admission.” It was.

We only spent a few more minutes in the museum before heading back to the hotel and then the park-n-ride bus to Balloon Fiesta Park. There sure is a lot more traffic on a Friday evening than a pre-dawn Friday morning.

It was still light out as we approached the park. A dozen or so balloons floated about the area. The real action was shaping up on the field.

The Sun went down. The balloons lit up. The was a “Glowdeo.”

From Albuquerque F…

Tethered balloons were kept inflated enough to float up, while their attached baskets sat on the ground. Lit from the inside, the balloons glowed in the fading twilight.

I can’t imagine there’s anything else like this anywhere. There were dozens… maybe hundreds of balloons. Most of the time, each was dark, sometimes illuminated by neighboring balloons. The scene was constantly changing and since the balloons were all cheek to jowel, walking a few feet changed the perspective.

I decided to leave my tripod in the car and take my monopod. The monopod provides plenty of support, but not the rock solid steadiness you’d get from a tripod.

In a perfect world, the tripod would have been a better choice. With a few hundred thousand of our closest friends it would have been a significantly more cumbersome one.

To make up for the monopod’s shortcomings and the fact that the gas jets on the balloons were constantly going on and off, I overshot. Sometimes I shot 4,5,6 snaps of the same thing, hoping one would work.

I also kept the shutter very slow, having it open for a quarter second at times. That kind of setting almost guarantees some blur, but most of my shots are very sharp.

From Albuquerque F…
From Albuquerque F…
From Albuquerque F…
From Albuquerque F…
From Albuquerque F…

As the “Glowdeo” came to an end, we grabbed some tasty junk food and waited for the fireworks… but this was the end of a very long day. About two thirds through the fireworks I turned to Helaine and said, “Let’s head to the bus.”

From Albuquerque F…

We caught the spectacular display at the end from the bus stop, but there was little strength left between us to get excited. As the only event of the day the fireworks would haev been great, but we were well into sensory overload.

In the morning we fly… or at least we’re scheduled to fly in a balloon. The forecast has a chance for showers and lots of clouds. It’s iffy, but I’m cautiously optimistic.

Helaine’s never flown in wicker before. It’s a great experience. I’m really looking forward to it.

Blogger’s note: This is my 2,000th blog entry.

The Balloons Fly

Photo from my Motorola RAZR cameraphone

13 Oct ’06, 9.46am EDT

Originally uploaded by Geoff Fox.

More to come. This is from my cellphone, taken in Balloon Fiesta Park in Albuquerque, NM. The mass ascension Friday morning was beautiful.

On Our Way

Greetings from Gate 6 at Bradley International Airport. Our plane is listed ‘on time’, though there’s no plane at Gate 6 right now. We fly to Baltimore, stop for dinner, then board another flight to Albuquerque.

The Albuquerque airport is called the “Sunport.” A little too cute for an airport.

I pulled up at the curb, took the bags out of the car and milled around, hoping no policeman would ask me to move along. The idea was to get the bags checked, then drop off the car at long term parking. It worked.

We passed security unscathed. If I would have removed any more clothing, I could have been arrested for indecent exposure.

Some folks were being sent through a ‘puffer.’ I don’t know what it does, but I feel no more secure knowing it’s there. I’m sure GE, whose large logo is festooned on the side, is thrilled.

As we removed our sneakers, a steady beep came from a line of passengers nearby. A fierce looking 80 year old woman was being given the once over. Something she brought through the X-Ray machine wasn’t making the screeners happy.

Considering my feelings about the screening process, you might think I’m making this up. I am not.

As we continued through the screening area, I flashed back to the first real estate closing I ever had – the one for our condo when Helaine and I moved to Connecticut. That morning I looked at all the people sitting at the table and thought, “I’m paying for all these people. Why?”

The TSA’s secure area is now plastered with signs printed on 8 1/2 by 11 inch paper. Take off your shoes. Are your gels in small see-through plastic bags? Are you packing fireworks? It’s beginning to resemble the DMV with its institutionalized surliness.

Where are the good old days when the only signs you saw warned you about Murtala Mohammed Airport?

Oh, there’s one more thing about the airport. At least at this gate, the PA system is set at stun level.

At last check, the weather forecast for our Saturday morning balloon ride was still iffy. I’m hoping for better news.

See you from New Mexico.

Amazing Technology

My friend Farrell is moving from Washington, DC to California. Currently, he’s somewhere close to nowhere – in New Mexico, just east of Gallup. There’s a lot of nothing in New Mexico. Some of it is beautiful nothing, but it’s nothing nonetheless.

Farrell and his wife, Vered, are driving cross country. Maybe I’m getting too old. I don’t hear of friends doing that anymore, as I did when I was in my twenties.

They left DC and headed to Memphis. From there it was off to Amarillo. Who knows how far they’ll get tonight before stopping and resting.

Here’s what makes this so interesting for me. We’ve been talking for much of the trip. Sometimes it’s on the phone. Mostly it’s on Instant Messenger.

Farrell has a Blackberry (aka – Crackberry) permanently affixed to his hip. So far, reception’s been good.

Between the Blackberry and satellite radio in the car, he has all the advantages of travel without the really awful parts – horrendous local radio and no communication.

He’s probably near one of the few places I was ever stopped for speeding. It was on I-40 in Quay County, NM. I was moving from Phoenix to Philadelphia, so 1975 sounds right.

I was stopped for doing 65 mph in a 55 mph zone. Of course, before the ‘gas crisis’ of the early 70s it was a 75 mph zone! Farrell tells me it’s a 75 mph zone again.

This October, Helaine and I will also be driving through New Mexico, Arizona and Nevada. My chats with Farrell have further gotten me in the mood.

I’m hoping there’s a statute of limitations, because I’m not sure I paid that speeding ticket.

How Vacations Are Born

We have plans for the fall – to go to Albuquerque during the Balloon Fiesta. Helaine has been there once. I’ve been there twice. Clicky (my camera) has never been there.

That makes Clicky sad.

Somehow my parents found out and said, “We’ll come too…” until they couldn’t. Something going on with their condo neighbors. I’m not totally up on my Floria happenings.

We were thinking the vacation would be Albuquerque followed by Las Vegas. We could fly to Vegas, or maybe drive. It’s a l-o-n-g drive.

Today, some modifications began to take shape. “What about Monument Valley, I said?” We could drive to Monument Valley in Southern Utah and stretch the one day drive to two.

You might not know Monument Valley, but you’ve seen it. It’s been in a zillion movies with its iconic road driving through the nothingness toward red monoliths rising from the valley’s floor.

Nothingness is the perfect description – Monument Valley is near nothing! If you zoom in far enough on Google maps, you end up with a solid colored background and nothing else.

The closest ‘real’ town is Kayenta, AZ, about a half hour’s drive away. Helaine has already made a reservation in one of their motels.

As long as we were going, she wondered, what about the other scenic stops along the way? If you check out that part of the country, there are many more National Parks and scenic outlooks than people.

We now have reservations in St. George, UT for another night.

What was going to be a point-to-point drive is now going to be two days and three nights through parts of New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, more Arizona and Nevada. To someone raised in a Queens, NY apartment, this part of the country is as foreign as the surface of Mars.

Sometimes a wife indulges her husband. This part of the trip is much more for Geoff than Helaine. It’s not set in stone, and we’re very unsure of where to go and what to see, but it’s all coming together.

Well, at least it is in June.

Blogger’s note: My two photos are “Creative Commons” licensed and come from Flickr.com

The Ad In Wired I Could Do Without

I’m a Wired subscriber. This is actually my second time around. I got the magazine early on, before the dotcom bust. It was amazing back then.

I get it now because of some weasel deal (which I can’t remember) that brings it to me for free. I read it. I enjoy it. I’m not sure I’d pay for it (though it is the perfect ‘long flight’ magazine).

Wired takes advertising from cigarette companies. This is a magazine for adults, so I guess I’m not going to object too strenuously.

However (when a paragraph begins “However,” watch out), they carry ads for “Natural American Spirit” cigarettes which I find totally and wholly objectionable. And, again, it’s not just because they’re advertising cigarettes.

Let me quote from the copy on their ‘card stock’ ad, bound in Wired:

Santa Fe Natural Tobacco Company was established in Santa Fe, New Mexico in 1982 with the mission of providing the world with the highest and purest quality, 100% additive-free, natural tobacco products.

In larger, bold letters at the bottom of the page, it says:

the additive free alternative.

Of course, on the back, in what I believe is called a tombstone disclaimer, they write:

No additives in our tobacco does NOT mean a safer cigarette.

The emphasis is theirs, by the way.

OK – so the stuff on the front is puffery (pun intended) and it’s taken away by the stuff on the back. Fine – we all know cigarettes are bad and it’s an adult magazine.

Speaking of their products, the ad continues:

You may think our colors are a bit unique. But we are a company who has always done things our own way. We chose our pack colors to reflect the unique colors found in the earth and sky of our home in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

So, you’ve got these free thinking tobacco merchants from Santa Fe bucking the tide by being earthy while they sell their smokes… except… Santa Fe Natural Tobacco Company

Santa Fe Natural Tobacco Company, Inc. is a wholly owned subsidiary of Reynolds American Inc. (NYSE: RJR). Santa Fe Natural Tobacco Company, Inc. manufactures Natural American Spirit cigarettes and other tobacco products, and markets them both nationally and internationally.

That last quote isn’t in the ad. I found it on their web page. And Reynolds American – you remember them?

My Camera Goes To The Hospital

I’ve written, on more than one occasion, about my camera and the obsession I have for taking pictures. I’ve taken over 6,000 since getting my Fujifilm Finepix S602Z. In fact, Sunday is the first anniversary of its purchase. Which brings us to today’s little quandry and journey.

Sometime in the last month, my camera developed a very small problem. One pixel, the smallest photo element it resolves, became stuck in the on mode. So, in every picture, there is one miniscule red spot. If I didn’t tell you about, you would never see it within a picture. Since I post process nearly every picture in Photoshop anyway, it was easy to work around. Still, once I noticed it, it was tough to dismiss.

I discovered the problem is February, and since the camera has a one year warranty, I wasn’t too worried. That is, until I couldn’t find my receipt.

I called Bangalore, India (I didn’t know that’s where I was calling at the time) to speak to Circuit City’s support folks. About 10 days later the receipt appeared in the mail, having been mailed from an office in the states.

I wanted the camera for my Chicago trip. Unfortunately, after I returned, I forgot all about the camera’s illness. Yesterday Helaine asked when I was sending it in, and I got a box to prepare it for shipping today.

When I went to finish the project I noticed the one year anniversary of the purchase is Sunday. I couldn’t get it to the repair depot before Monday! A quick phone call verified my concern… If it wasn’t in today, forget the warranty.

So, early this afternoon, I hopped in the car and drove to Enfield. Connecticut is a very small state, but I live in the far south and Enfield is all the way north – over 60 miles in each direction.

I found Precision Camera Repair without too much trouble (only one wrong turn). It is in a low slung building in an office park, across from Enrico Fermi High School. I parked at the end of the lot and walked past one glass door with an arrow pointing to another glass door. Looking inside the first, I saw men, sitting at work benches, working on cameras. Curled tubes on each bench probably supplied compressed air. This is demanding work where dust… and bad eyesight, aren’t very helpful.

Once inside the lobby, I looked into an office with four women sitting in separate cubicles. The cubicles met at a center point – sort of like the spot where Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah meet. A young woman in the back section saw me and stood up to walk my way. She was pretty, and was made more so by the fact that she was wearing a formal dress… as if she were going to some nighttime affair.

It would later turn out that she worked a second job, as a deejay. She was at job number one, but dressed for job number two.

She took my camera, typed a few pertinent notes into a computer, and gave me receipt. She said they’d mail it back to me.

Meanwhile, for the next 15-20 business days (why can’t they just say 3-4 weeks?) I will be without my camera. I still have an older Casio QV-2000UX – but it’s just not the same.

There is a way to check the status of my repair, using their toll free number. Like a sick friend in the hospital, I will call to see how my camera is doing.