A Budget
Sunday, 14 March, 2004
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A Budget Sunday, 14 March, 2004 Looking for Computer Support Help? Check Out My Resume! |
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Update At 2300 Sometimes it's stuff that's utterly useless. Like my father's old socks. Dad weighs about 150 on a good day and that's with weights in his pockets. Due to the polio that ate away his muscle mass as a child, my father's ankles are about the same diameter as my wrists. I, on the other hand, have ankles about the size of Dad's thighs - which is a sadder commentary on my father's thighs than my ankles, though it doesn't say much either way. Frankly, my father's socks are closer to fingers in a glove for me than something to wear on my feet. Sometimes the pile of crap she has for me is downright terrifying. Such was the case this last trip. It always sneaks in towards the end of loading the car - we've not yet learned not to grab nondescript grocery bags or other unidentifiable bags for "our" stuff - so the bag full of this, that, and the other manages to get in there anyway. I'd like to think it's a desperate cry for help, but I know it's not. It's an utterly misguided effort by my mother to show her love for us - perhaps the German/Polish ancestry precludes the words "I love you" once you pass twelve or so - I'm working to change that in my family, but the one I came from? Good luck. Last night I started poking into the bags. This time there were three. One bag of coloring books - some partially colored, some utterly ignored for many years. Okay. One of catalogs - which is usually fun until you stumble into the scary one. Last night it was on the top of the pile. I pulled out a catalog from the Cherry Tree Toys, Inc. company, and started going through it. Lo and behold, I found many things that could boost my craft business - and the prices were certainly more than reasonable. It didn't occur to me for many minutes that the catalog looked somewhat staid and conservative in it's layout. The grid fashion, the goods scattered all over the page and one spot in the grid (or two or four) taken up with a pricing table. The occasional pricing table that wasn't quite lined up in the catalog. The occasional pricing table that had a bit nipped off one border or another. I finally found the little plastic plugs I'd been looking for for things like salt and pepper shakers. A range of sizes from 1/2" to 1 1/2" in diameter - and all reasonably priced. I could get a hundred of them for about $5. So I looked for the web site. Whoops, no web site. Then I looked at the cover of the catalog. Winter 1991-92. Oh, it gets worse. I grabbed a few other magazines out of the bag - family handyman type stuff. The newest one of those was dated 1998. The oldest was 1985. I got to the loose papers this morning (had to get my shots). Terrifyingly, I found my old green hornet mask (bent to hell and back, sadly), a newspaper picture of Casey Jones from 1969 or thereabouts, a cutting from the newspaper (undated, but similarly colored) which was painful to read, politically (it told of a man who started out in the projects, worked hard at summer camps provided for the youth of those projects, went to public school, went to the small business administration, got a loan, started a business, lobbied for the city to extend services to his location, fought the federal government to have them locate a freeway off-ramp near his new business, encouraged the state and federal government to add a regional airport after he acquired his pilot's license, and then he plunks down and writes to his congressman, criticizing them for wasting federal tax dollars - sounds like a Republican to me). The two pieces of paper which scared me to death were completely different. Some years ago, when I was between 11-13, I had a friend by the name of Chuckie - I'll spare his last name, but he was in my scout troop. Chuck's dog had given birth to puppies, and I'd written my mother a page-and-a-half letter asking for a dog. I was honest about it - I said that I'd been irresponsible, but was working to become more so. I felt that a dog would do me good in that regard. I didn't get the dog. The other one that pushed me over the edge was the article, from Time Magasine, dated March 3, 1967 (how odd - my wife was born on that exact date - oh, er, um, give or take a few years, cough cough, there go my testicles), on making paper airplanes.
[Link] Which probably explains why I'm so out of sorts today - well, that and my rash seems to be clearing, just in time to run out of medication. Oh well. |
Update At 1015 I guess it's not clear - I do not hate the man - I'm sure I misunderstand him, and I'm certain that he is smarter than I give him credit for. Of course, I say this of a man who choked on a pretzel, and who, just yesterday, slammed the presumptive Democratic nominee/challenger for his job, in between a rodeo fundraiser and a dinner fundraiser - and yet couldn't find the time to give more than an hour to the commission doing the "very important work" (his words, not mine) of determining just what the hell happened to get us to a point where September 11th surprised us. So, yeah, I'm surprised that the man can read the word "intelligence" - I'm sure he's smarter than I give him credit for. But my problem is his utterly hypocritical attitude. Let's take one simple example - George W. Bush says he's Pro-life. Fine. Let him be so - and abolish the death penalty. My position, just to be perfectly clear, is that I am also pro-life - however, in every garden, there are weeds, and weeds must be pulled. I do not like the death penalty. I do not like giving someone the authority to end someone else's life when there is even the slightest glimmer that the individual may not be guilty. But if that individual has clearly, and repeatedly, and significantly demonstrated their willful disregard for human life, for humanity in general, then, yeah, string the bastard up. As for abortion, we'll deal with that another time. But with Bush, there's obviously some sort of disconnect between what he thinks is the right thing to do and what actually comes out of his administration. He says he wants more jobs and a better economy. Fine - instead of giving across-the-board tax cuts, then, let's target them - specifically, target them to businesses who hire, train, and keep American workers on the payroll. Here's a thought - For each business that hires a new American worker, either from unemployment or out of the void I'm in, the first year of federal taxes (other than the social security tax) is reduced by 50%. Second year 40% - and so on down to the sixth year, where they pay 9% less - until they've employed that person for 15 years. Businesses that outsource production, service, or otherwise hire workers outside the United States remain free to do so. However, if you are an American corporation that expands overseas, then you will need to pay the alternative payroll tax - which will be 70% of the payroll taxes you would have paid to hire that person here in the United States at prevailing wage rates, as determined by the department of Labor. Further, goods or services contracted overseas for reimport to the United States will be subject to a 10% tax on imported labor, above and beyond the cost of the payroll taxes. Are these proposals legal? I highly doubt it. I'm sure the WTO or some such group will be upset with it - and I can't say that it worries me one way or the other. If they're upset, let them BE upset. I don't care what bugs them - I just want to work.
[Link] Of course, now that I see this, not even Google would pull up the story I saw a few months back about the idiot in Texas who took the $200 bill with George Bush's face on it. |
Update At Sunday I e-mailed the parent responsible for Tuesday's den meeting. Did they have any plans for the meeting, or should I arrange something? The parent responsible, a very, very busy man (he's also the Cubmaster) said "sure, what do you have in mind." "Well, we haven't done requirement 3D - make a food pyramid - and I've got some fun ideas..." So away we went. I cut out cardboard triangles, I put together a list of ingredients, and last night, when the kids got off the bus, we headed to the grocery store. Now, folks, in my defense, I also took along the Tiger handbook, with the picture of the food pyramid in it. And I figured I had a great idea. I'd get various dried foods for the boys to glue on cardboard to make a real live food pyramid. I picked out rice, and oats, and cous cous (had to have something different) for the base - breads and grains. Yeah, I thought about flour, but decided against it. I stumbled up to the vegetables - hmm, says I, I can find dried beans, but those are legumes, and fall into the protein group, so I guess it'll have to be popcorn. I got some dried bananas for fruit (they were cheapest), a small bag of beef jerky, and a bag of mini oreos (fats, donchaknow). I also added a desperation measure - parmesan cheese. I figured it was dry, unlikely to spoil, and we'd be OK there. So, there's only one problem - the parent leading the meeting? Also a nutritionist. And I'm informed at the meeting that corn is no longer a vegetable (neither are peas, my wife was surprised to learn), but a "starch". Well, lick me raw and call my mother. It seems the only vegetable I do eat any more (using the now-current definition) is lettuce. It would go a long way towards explaining why "my vegetables" haven't been helping all that much. We managed to make it work, unfortunately three of the five boys left their pyramids behind. One of them was my son, so that means half the boys other than mine were so excited they forgot their activity. I guess that's one bad meeting, then. We'll try to make it up Saturday - we're going to set up a four-hole Frisbee Golf Course. I'll tell you how it went on Saturday (assuming I survive - there will be stakes, and hammers, and rope, and a city park with a pond. I don't like the combination, but it was my idea...)
[Link] First off, my favorite thug seems to have ended his career - I can hope. My wife seems to think that the on-ice "thug" stuff for Bertuzzi is an act. Frankly, should this fellow spend the rest of his life being dragged behind a garbage truck (however short that may be), I'm all in favor of it. I never liked Bertuzzi. I never liked thuggery in hockey. I think that a good check is fine. Slugging a guy from behind? Driving him into the ice (intentional or not)? That's not a sport - that's assault. However, on the other side of the world (hockey-wise), I was pleasantly surprised to learn that my alma mater, Cathedral High School, will be participating in the Boys State Hockey Tournament (yes, I know, I forgot the Boys Wrestling tournament last weekend - but we did get the blizzard, so that part worked) this weekend. While in High School, we participated in many tournaments - to my memory, we made it to state three times - the first I recall was Girls Volleyball (in, I believe, fall of 1979), then Boys Baseball in 1981 and 1982. We won the boys baseball tournament in either 1981 or 1982, if memory serves correctly. Problem is that our yearbooks were completed before the season ended, so you could get signatures in them. Oh well. And into the "what, he's still here?" portion of today's news, seems that Jayson Blair fella wrote a book. Three questions. First, are you sure he wrote it. Second, while he says it's a true account, how could you believe it, and third, what difference does it make if he's still talking. No, I know, I said questions, but there is no single (or triple) question mark there - that would be the nature of a semi-rhetorical question. The "semi" portion comes from the fact that I really couldn't care less what this fellow says - or doesn't say. Credibility is a valuable coin. Once lost, and lost as spectacularly as Blair's, one may never, ever regain it. Or, to repeat the old oft-repeated reminder, "fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, see my lawyer. See you go broke." Okay, so I added the last two, but still... And the "that's education" department chimes in. Locally, we just opened a can of whup-ass worms (yes, they do exist) in the news that the State Education department "adjusted" test scores before announcing the school performance levels last fall. Now, it does show just how wonderfully the new "No Child Left Behind" system can be worked - one individual in the State Department of Education took it upon themselves to "adjust" the scores so that the schools would maintain "adequate" performance. Checks? Balances? Oversight? Nah. We don't need no steenken oversight. We got scores. Sheesh. And finally, it's rare you'll find me cheering Microsoft, AOL, and Earthlink - at the same time, even - but you go, guys. Or corporate entities, whatever...
[Link] This last weekend, I managed to "acquire" a used but servicable Dremel table saw (4" blade) from my mother. Not a giant in the power category, but it cuts everything I need at a basic level. So yesterday I got wild. I took out a piece of wood I'd bought for $2.99. It's a bowl blank, about eight inches square by two inches thick. I sliced off a couple of pen blanks, and turned one into a cigar pen. There is an unusual grain effect that occurs in small percentages of wood. Sometimes it's called "tiger" and sometimes "flame" - I simply call it a shimmer. Moving the wood - even unfinished - back and forth under the light causes the grain to shimmer or change depth. Some parts seem shinier than others. It seems to indicate that you're looking deep into the core of the wood - when in fact you're not doing anything other than seeing the grain change. I found out that this stuff is absolutely stunning for a big fat cigar pen - and then had inspiration #2. I've got some Corian samples, and perhaps an accent ring of Corian in the middle of all that shimmer... So I glued up a blank last night. And now I'm hesitant to see if it'll turn out. I guess there's only one way to find out... Later... Well, there's one thing for certain. I need to get a new camera...
The front and back pens are the same wood (and the same color, very nearly - there's only the slightest bit of change between the two colors), the front has the blue corian band in it (30-degree angle, for future reference). The wood is "iridescent" oak - sometimes called "flame" or "tiger". The grain literally shimmers in the light. The middle pen is a gray-dyed burl of some sort - lots and lots and lots of voids which needed to be filled and sanded and filled again. Phew. The good news is I am getting quite good at this... Or so I think. Well, others tell me, so I should probably believe them, too... |
Update At 2300 Today's? The car. Again. Tonight, after picking up Ann, on the way home from the bus stop, we were coming around a left bend in the road. There was a loud bang and a screaching scrape that started - I thought hey, flat tire - and pulled to the side. I was aiming for a parking lot, but didn't make it - at least I cleared the train tracks. I pulled as far as I could to the side and got out. No, the tires were fine. The front end seemed a bit low, but fine, otherwise. I checked under the car from all angles - nothing obvious wrong. So I got back in the car, intending to drive it into the parking lot and wait for a tow. No joy. I put it into Drive and nothing happened. All right, we'll try low. No joy. Okay, fine - Neutral, and I'll push. Still not happening. So we got on the phones. I called 411 connect, got connected to the family of the little girl who was due at our house in about 25 minutes to help Rhiannon paint for DI - and got their answering machine. So I left a message. Then I called Mr. Rescue - which is now Verizon Roadside assistance. I got through and gave them the particulars, where I was and so forth, and they'd dispatch a tow truck. Ann, meanwhile, called some friends to arrange for a ride home, and then called the garage we normally use to see how late they were open. 6 pm. It was 5:35, so the odds were slim we would see them today. But we tried. Meanwhile, one good friend was on his way home and stopped to pick up Ann and the kids and take them home. I stayed with the car. He came back - and we proceeded to wait for the tow truck. Once the tow truck arrived, the extent of the damage became apparent. "Broken lower ball joint". It meant nothing to me - other, of course, than "car no workie". Now it means "something between $500 and $2500". Or, to put it bluntly - ouch. Big time. So the car is now sitting at the garage. My mechanic friend says "transaxle, ball joint, CV boot" and miscellaneous other parts. Or, in other words, really, really bad ouch. I'm really sick and tired of this, you know? I even had a mostly-good day. I had to go back to my pusher's place to get some tubes - brass tubes are the basis for most of the pens I make - they're inside the wood to reinforce and to insure a stable internal environment for the other hardware. So I'd screwed up a pen and was going to fix it. I happened to have one of my "good" pens in my pocket, and one of the assistant managers took a look at it. He was very impressed, he said, with the work. Then I told him it was from one of the el-cheapo clearance "bowl" blanks from the back. He took me back there and stacked up a couple more blanks - and took a rather large markdown on them as well, for me. So I had that going for me, which was nice. But then this happened. And just before the car broke, I had finally managed to crystalize just exactly what had been bothering me for some months now - I truly, utterly hate what the IT industry has become. I still love working with computers, I enjoy helping people learn how to use the things, and I actually like solving software problems. But I hate the throw-away-planned-obsolensence attitude that extends from hardware through to people. I hate the moments where you put your resume in someone else's hands, and you know it's one of five hundred - and a bored and overworked Human Resources person is forced to thin the herd and they do so - ruthlessly. If you're fortunate, you get a call - or two. You make an interview. Or two. And in the end, you get told "well, we would have chosen you, but ..." The reason is immaterial. The fact that you've not been chosen is enough. I was watching today as a man walked along the sidewalk with a small child. I found myself marveling at their byplay - both wearing hoods, both having to do the "full-body turn" to see one another clearly. The little child barely came up to the adult's hip, and I found myself desperately wanting to go back to that age, retain what I know, and start over. A clean break, a new start, and a chance to do some things differently. Perhaps sticking with my original thought - Human Resources - companies usually need people. Or just a straight business degree. Certainly anything but "Information Technology." Bottom line is that the "other mechanic" (aka "The Expensive Mechanic" - not to be confused with my Mechanic Buddy) won't be able to look at the vehicle until Monday. Let's see. That's an entire weekend - carless. Oh, the horror... |
Update At 2345 All I see is the gaping hole before me. Likely a $1500 car repair with about $600 in the bank. Or a replacement car - same issue. The looming possibility that we'll soon have a "come to Jesus" discussion with the folks who hold the mortgage on the house. They'd like to get paid, and we'd like to pay 'em. Helps to have the money. A friend the other day said "well, have you looked into food stamps or WIC or any other aid?" Yeah. It's called "lower-middle-class". We make too much money to get help, yet not enough to get by. It's not like we live high off the hog. For years, I had this fantasy that I would win the lottery. Then I'd go into a neighborhood that was run down and really suffering, and buy a house. A big old house that was vacant and needed a lot of work. I'd work with the City and county and local businesses to fix it up. I'd wire it and start a computer learning center. I'd devote some space in the basement to a food shelf. There'd be a room on the first floor for a job service. There'd be classrooms with computers in them. I'd hire some professional computer geeks (cheaper now than three years ago)to come in and train some of these kids. Tuition would be about $10 for a class - which the kids could earn off by helping to keep the house and yard clean and helping in the neighborhood. I'd train kids to lead their own classes. I'd have businesses donate their old computers, which could be fixed - by the kids - for their own use or that of their families. I'd work with local businesses to build a foundation that could keep the lights on and the doors open - they'd do the work to find local businesses looking for computer help. When the thing got going quite well, and I'd found the right young man or woman, I'd start turning the reins of that particular location over to them. Then I'd go looking for another neighborhood, with another big old vacant house... I don't think that dream will ever happen.
[Link] My wife keeps saying "it could be so much worse". Yeah. It could. I'm quite ready, however, for it to start getting so much better...
[Link] The "good" news - while test driving after the first repair, the thumping under the front end was to the point where the second front ball joint (if I ever hear that phrase again, it had damned well better be describing a house of ill repute) was preparing to fail. Add $200 to the situation. Total damage? $1078.33. Checking account? $600. Ah. Ouch. For want of $500. Guess I'll think of something...
[Link] |
Update At 1730 So the missing pages are up there now, along with a new one I turned out last night. I really like the rollerball pens - they look even better than the cigar pens. This WILL be fun. Other than that, today's been quite the rat race. I awoke at 8 am (instead of 7) to rain and sleet - lovely time to take the tigers out. I quickly printed the abbreviated rules we'd come up with for non-professional disc golf, and got ready to head to the park. I had a hammer, dowels, string, and ... oh, yeah - Frisbees. I went into the back yard, and it was raining - actually a combination of rain and sleet. All four of the other parents in my den had called and asked if we were still on - I said heck, yeah. Three of the four came. Our "abbreviated rules" of frisbee golf were quite simple.
There were some others not really necessary, and rule five was added "on the fly" due to one poor kid using an ultra-light frisbee in the teeth of a thirty-mile-per-hour gale. If you've thrown a frisbee at even a five-degree angle up into the wind, you know which direction the frisbee tends to fly - it ends up behind you. So the modifications helped somewhat. We played four holes, and when done, I was asked "so, now are we going to watch a professional frisbee tournament?" "No. I wanted to show the boys that with some simple rules agreed upon ahead of time and stuff found around the house, they could make their own sport, and they could have fun." Lots of nodding after that one. So we're near-done. Thank God. We came home to a house in crises - there was much cleaning required, and I wasn't exactly helping - so I did that for a while. Then I finished the web stuff (including shooting new pictures for some stuff), and now I'm about to head to the garage to start production on a couple of pens people have ordered. If this works out, this could be quite a lifesaver... Thanks again!
[Link] "send a message to everyone who is afraid of HIV to let them know that they are just like everyone else." Yeah. Butt-ugly when naked. |
Update At 1325 Other than that, someone from Indiana won the lottery - it sure would be nice if it's a feller I know, but I'm thinking the odds of that are fairly slim (well, slimmer than the 1 in 120 million, or whatever they are for powerball). One can hope, however. Meanwhile, back here at the "ranch" we've been to church (good friends stopped by to give us a ride - good thing, Rhiannon had to sing in Choir, and she's missed only one date all year. We're home, the kids have lunched (I veer between not hungry and vaguely naseous), and we're waiting for ride #2 to pick Rhiannon up for her school practice thing. Tomorrow, God Willing (and friends helping), I shall retrieve the vehicle, and be able to put in a stop at a couple of stores. You folks that have already ordered pens should know that the second price I've listed in that chart will also be my wholesale price to other places. And yes, never fear - those second-tier prices will be going up - not before June, me thinks, but you have been warned. And now would probably be a good time for me to mention that if you ARE interested in personalization, I've got a line on a place that might be able to do it. Sounds like they can even do logos and the like. So there's another thing I've got going for me, which is nice. And while I'm at it - yes, hopefully by the end of the week I'll have a decent box to ship larger pens in. I have a bunch of plastic tubes which are working well for smaller-diameter work - cigar and rollerball pens just aren't fitting in them well.
[Link] My prime complaint is the fine dipshits at Sorbs.com. Someone, somewhere, connected a server to these people, and now half of my address book is rejecting because of those numbskulls. Yes - I know - there are valid reasons to block spammers. But, folks, there's a problem. Blocking an IP doesn't necessarily block the spam. If the spammers decide to do so, they change IP addresses. Switch to different providers, different ISPs, whatever - and the original IP address is given out to some poor schlub, and we're stuck.
[Link] Lacking an anemometer (I think that's the one), I can't tell you how fast the wind was blowing. I can tell you that it picked up a small plastic sled and blew it across the yard at a rather high rate of speed. Jack went out to make sure his sled (which we've yet to use outside the yard) was still in the yard and came back across the deck at a rather pronounced 30-degree list to forward. A bit young to be imbibing, I assure you, but hey, you gotta start somewheres. Udder Dan Dat, more pen workings today. Not much more to tell, really - though there's more to show. |
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