Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Passwords One of my work projects is to sign up users worldwide for a type of software we use.  In order to access it, they need a user name and a password, both of which I provide to them.  The usernames are set by the system, but I am free to establish the passwords.  We have thousands of users, which means that I have to come up with a lot of passwords.  Most are just number strings that I generate, but some are words, whatever I happen to be thinking of at the time.  I've used all the NBA, NFL and baseball teams, all the members of the Beatles, Zeppelin, and even the Cars.  I've done bird species, planets (and even moons of planets), even bone names.  ("My password is xyphoid?") Today I was thinking about Outkast, so I sent two users in Tennessee the passwords "Andre3000" and "Bigboi".  I do it just to alleviate my own boredom, but sometimes I wonder if the people on the other end recognize these names. 2:12:39 PM    Say what?[]

Happy Birthday, Dad My Dad turned 54 yesterday.  Hope those penny slots gave you a little something back last night, old man. 1:10:38 PM    Say what?[]

Center For American Progress Loyal Pipeline Reader Mike B. turned me on the the Center for American Progress's daily email report.  Eric Alterman refers to this on a pretty regular basis.  I highly recommend signing up for it.  It always has great links and a concise synopsis of a few major political stories.  1:08:33 PM    Say what?[]

Fortunately, I got to this Cooper's Hawk before my dog did I Saved A Hawk Saturday, I stepped out into my backyard and immediately noticed a small hawk flopping around in the snow.  My dog Maxine noticed it, too, and ran over to investigate.  I was sure she would just snatch the thing up and start ripping it around from side-to-side, but that didn't happen.  I managed to get her away, which allowed the bird to hop up our hill and into some low-lying branch cover. With the dog safely inside, I was able to approach the bird.  For whatever reason, it wasn't able to fly, and appeared to be disoriented and favoring a wing.  I called the U of M Raptor Center, a great place that helps injured birds recover for re-introduction back into the wild.  They told me to try to capture the bird by throwing a blanket on it, putting it into a box, and bringing it in.  Simple. Turned out, there were some complications.  The bird was still in the branches, so I had to flush it out into the clear before I could throw the blanket on it.  I did this by gloved hand--and the bird promptly lashed out at me with its talons, and swiped the glove right off my hand.  (It didn't let go of the glove until we got to the Raptor Center, and let me just say that I'm glad it was the glove and not my finger, or it might still have my finger, too.) Eventually, I flushed the bird (and my glove) out into the clear, and then I wrapped it up the blanket.  I actually had to check and make sure I had it; despite the fact that it was strong and muscular and about the size of a large crow, the damn thing couldn't have weighed more than two pounds.  There's just nothing to birds, weight-wise. One reason for the blanket is that they will clutch it with their talons and not let go, which removes the largest safety issue from play.  As such, once I got the bird up by the house, I was able to take the blanket off and hold it like a trained bird, albeit one that was hissing at my and making threatening movements toward my face, all while still clutching my glove and a blanket in its talons.  After a few quick photos I put it in the box and took it to the Raptor Center.  As a birder, it was great to see a Cooper's Hawk this close, but I was hoping I wouldn't see it any closer while we were actually driving to the place.  My box had no lid, so the bird just layed in the box and hissed at me.  Some thanks! All they can tell me as of yesterday is that my bird is a female Cooper's Hawk, and they think she may have suffered a concussion by flying into something.  Also, she had suffered a broken leg at some point in her life, but it had healed up.  Kind of makes me wonder what that bird has been through. In any event, I want that hawk to come back to my yard, which I believe they will do when they release, if they can release it.  I love seeing the Hawks fly through the yard, and the fact is there must be something back there for them to eat, and I'd just as soon not know what that is. The bird's case number is 04-028, which tells me they have had 28 raptors find their way into the Center in a month and a half.  They do great work there, and it's a unique place to visit to see all manner of hawks, eagles, owls, vultures and falcons.  As I stood waiting for help on Saturday, I watched a Red-Tail Hawk they have on exhibit there.  (Some birds that can't be re-introduced to the wild are kept on permanent display and go on educational trips.)  And let me tell you, seeing that huge hawk compared to my little Cooper's Hawk made me wonder how the hell people manage to catch those birds and bring them in.  As Scott from Base Camp said, in his best Roy Scheider voice: "We're gonna need a bigger blanket!" 11:45:49 AM    Say what?[]

Daddy Daycare I was home with Linus and Lily yesterday.  It was a planned vacation, a part of Jane's birthday present which allowed her to go thrift store shopping with friends on a day when Linus's daycare was closed. Linus slept in, which gave me and Lily a chance to do some funny dances together.  Our favorite song to dance to is "M'Lady", by Sly and the Family Stone, although we like to change the words to "M'Lily".  After the dancing, it was time to change her diaper, which weighed about a pound or more because of it's super-saturation abilities.  A one pound diaper can't be much fun when you don't even weigh 15 pounds.  That would be like me or you wearing a wet, ten pound pair of underwear!  Soon, I was playing zone defense and trying to entertain them both.  Lily spent time on the floor, working on her crawling.  She also made intentional forward progress in her walker yesterday, which may have been a first.  Lunchtime came, and all we had to eat was Kraft macaroni and cheese.  This was just fine with Linus, but he also requested that we have garlic bread with our lunch.  Why not?  Mac & cheese is pasta, after all. After lunch, Linus and I spent most of our afternoon playing games while Lily napped.  Ah, naps.  I wanted one, and I wanted Linus to have one.  I call for a national Siesta policy.  We started with Candy Land.  I had Candy Land when I was a kid.  The game is the same, but they changed the way the board looks, like they do with all the games.  Lord Licorice is just all wrong on this new board. Anyway, Linus is a Candy Land assassin.  We played two games, and in neither game was I within 30 spaces of winning at any given time.  I decided that part of the problem with the game was that we weren't actually eating any candy.  Since we were in a post-birthday, post-Valentine's Day Chocolate Honeymoon, I asked Linus if he wanted some candy.  He gave me a blank look, like he was trying to tell if I was just joking, but he saw soon enough that I was deadly serious about the candy.  "OK!" We did a taste test of two different kinds of almond bark that we bought Jane at a fine chocolatier.  One was milk chocolate, the other was dark.  Both were delicious, but as I savored the chalky-smooth bite of the dark chocolate, I learned something remarkable.  That is: I much prefer dark chocolate.  Why is this remarkable?  Because I've been eating chocolate enthusiastically for over 30 years, and only yesterday did I realize that I actually prefer dark chocolate, at least as far as your higher-end chocolates go.  Dark chocolate just has more initial and lasting bite and flavor.  Certainly, milk chocolate goes better with certain things, like peanut butter or caramel.  But as a single item, dark chocolate is just superior, and with certain nuts or mints it can't and won't be topped. I emerged from my dark chocolate haze by wondering what Linus preferred.  We did a taste test and an interview, and he, too is a dark chocolate man.  I told Jane about all this last night, and then she thoughtfully sampled both the milk and dark chocolate, and she agreed that after years of loving chocolate, the dark is actually better.  Why did this sneak up on us in this way?  I remember when I was a kid, my dad would always get the Hershey's Special Dark bar.  And I would always get mad at him, because it was that weird chocolate that I didn't like.  Which meant he got more of the candy, which was probably not much of a coincidence from his point of view.  Ah, if only I could time-travel, I could recoup my fair share of that Special Dark chocolate. After Candy Land, we played some Toy Story 2 Yahtzee Jr., a bastardization of the Yahtzee game we all know and love, but one which works pretty well for kids.  More or less, you only concentrate on the top section of the scorecard, and the dice only go up to five, with the sixth side being a wildcard (the "Woody").  At one point in the game, I switched what I was going for, from "Potato" to "Buzz".  This didn't sit well with Linus at all, even though it's a perfectly legal move.  In the past, if something went wrong like that, he might say nothing, he might get angry, or he might even cry, depending on his mood.  But yesterday, he did something different and hilarious.  He picked up the rules sheet, and he said, "You can't do that.  It says so right here."  And then he pointed at a random spot on the instruction page, as though he had looked up the rule and was doing me the courtesy of showing me my error. Naturally, I laughed. That didn't go over well, but instead of getting angry, as he usually would do if I laughed at something he did when he was trying to be serious, he got even more serious.  He turned the page on the directions and scanned them carefully; as he "read" them he kept saying, "Let's see here...".  Then he pointed to the part of the directions that said, "Warning: Contains small parts.  Not suitable for children under 3 years of age."  And he said, "No, Daddy.  It says so right here in the instructions.  You can't do what you did." I loved the appeal to authority and the respect for the rule of law, but I was confused about how I should handle this.  Do I tell him he can't read?  Do I encourage him to learn to read so that he can be a Rules Bastard for real someday?  I ended up just telling him to trust me, it was OK, and he was kicking my ass anyway so why did he care?  That worked. After that, we shot some hoops on our Fisher Price rim.  I showed him what a finger roll was and introduced him to the "airball" chant and the "toilet bowl" shot, also known as the Esther Rolle. Then Lily woke up, happy and ready for more Cheerios and more floor time watching the boys bounce balls. It was a great way to spend a day, but I don't know that I could do it every day.  The kids would be great; it's the managing of the household that I wouldn't be able to do.  If I had to entertain and feed them, all while doing housework...it just wouldn't work.  I couldn't do it every day.  But it sure was fun having so much time with them together.  By the next time I do it, they'll be completely different little people. 11:13:39 AM    Say what?[]

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