I'm so cheap

Our company provides massages (by a licensed massage therapist) a couple of days a week. Many of the people in our office get them and some do it regularly. The company subsidizes the cost so employees only have to pay $10 for a half-hour massage.

Lately, my neck has been bothering me. I can't turn my head to the right very far without getting pain. So, for the first time, I was thinking about signing up for a massage. As I was walking down to the sign-up sheet, though, all I could think about was all the other things I could do with that $10. I could buy a nice lunch or a good book or pay for popcorn and soda when we go to the movies. The idea that the massage therapist might possibly find the reason for my stiff neck and help ease the pain isn't enough to get me to do something I consider an "extra". Of course, all the other things are extras, too. But somehow, a massge seems "more extra". I'm a strange person.

The Worst Day of the Year

The worst day of the year? That would be the day we turn our clocks ahead an hour for Daylight Saving Time (the official name - I call it Daylight Moving Time). Not only do we lose sleep (and no, the effects of gaining an hour's sleep last fall has worn off by now), but now, when we get up at 6 AM, it is dark again like it was in the dead of winter. This morning sunrise was at 6:59 AM but the day before, March 10, sunrise was at 6:01 AM. To get back to having sunrise around 6:01, we have to wait until April 14 when sunrise will be at 6:02 AM.

But it's not only the loss of sleep and the return to darkness that drives me crazy about this. Since I'm riding my scooter to work again, it's colder than it should be and the roads haven't had a chance to dry out from the nighttime dew. Who are the idiots that decided to move an already ridiculous time change even earlier? I'll tell you one thing, they are not morning people!

Learning to learn

I read an interesting article in January that I thought I'd share. It's called Everything You Thought You Knew About Learning Is Wrong. It is from the Wired.com website run by Wired magazine. I think the title is pretty misleading but it is still an interesting article. In it, the author, Garth Sundem, talks about going to a learning lab run by Robert Bjork (the psychology professor, not Robert Bork the legal scholar). The article contains a number of helpful hints including not doing all your studying in one long block. It actually helps to split it up so that there is time between sessions. This forces you to go back and remember what you learned in the previous session. It's that remembering that helps you retain what you learned. Another suggestion is to not take notes during a class or lecture but to write down notes after the class or lecture is over. Again, this forces you to remember what you learned and this helps you retain it. Read the article to get a better explanation. The comments are also informative. There is a lively discussion about whether writing notes after class is really a good idea. I kind of like it myself - within reason. I think it is important to take some notes during the class or lecture. But too often, the taking of notes causes you to miss something else while you're writing (or typing).

An example used in the article brought back a childhood memory. It was of one of my first worries about technology. I sometimes wonder how I ever began to love technology and become an engineer - oh yes, it was my love of science fiction - a story for another day. Anyway, in the article, the author uses an example of asking if you remember the phone number of a childhood friend. I remember the time I first tried to call my best friend on the telephone. I had called my grandparents and my aunts and uncles before but when I went to call my friend, using the number I found in the phone book, I noticed it had a zero in it. I remembered my parents telling me about dialing zero to get the operator in an emergency. None of the other numbers I had ever called before had had a zero! I started to dial my friend's number but when I was about to dial the zero, I froze. What would happen? Would the Operator come on and ask me a question? How did people ever call someone with a number like that?

I don't remember how I got through this. I must have asked my mother for help. At some point, of course, I did learn that dialing a zero while dialing a phone number was no problem but I don't remember that. I just remember the trauma of dealing with it the first time I was faced with it. Technology can be a little troubling sometimes. And there were no manuals for the old phones.

How are you spending your extra day?

I woke up this morning and realized we have an extra day today. It's February 29 and it makes this year one day longer than usual. For all the things we had to do this year, we've got one extra day to do it. For all the things we had to pay for this year, we get one extra day for free. Don't waste it like our cat Henry here.

So, if you pay rent by the month, you get to stay in your apartment one day for free. If you have a project to do (as I do at work), this day gives you one extra day to get parts of it done before March rolls around. It's almost like my supervisor came up to me a said, "I'll give you one more day to add that feature to our product." This lets me take a little more care in doing it right. It gives me time to make sure I don't miss anything. It lets me take a breath and relax and not feel like I'm behind. This is going to be the best year ever!

Well, of course, it doesn't work that way in reality. As software engineers, we use a method called Agile Development which splits a project up into one to four week frames (we use two weeks). You're responsible for doing a certain amount in that time frame and leap days don't give you more time. I still have to be able to read data from an external file and use it to calibrate my data correctly by Friday. Leap day or not. But it's nice to think that you could have an extra day some time. Some day.

Oatmeal

We were driving around the other day and when lunchtime rolled around, we all started wondering about what we would eat. My wife said she'd like to get some oatmeal at McDonald's and the kids had things they wanted there, too. Now, I didn't know McDonald's even had oatmeal but I figured they have some other name for it. While you can order just a hamburger, you could also order a Big Mac, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese or a Big N' Tasty. You don't order a fish sandwich, you get a Filet-O-Fish. You don't order an English muffin with egg, ham and cheese, you order an Egg McMuffin. So, I figured there would be some fancy name for it. As we were pulling up to the drive-through area (called the "Drive-Thru"), I wanted to be ready for the big question and answer period. I was sure it was going to be called McOats or Maple Delight or something like that. I asked my wife, "So what do they call the oatmeal?" and she simply answered, "Oatmeal." Every one (but me) started laughing (at my silliness) and it took a while for the sound to die down so I could order "oatmeal". Sure enough, they know what I was asking for.

If you think it ended there, though, you don't know my kids. For days after that, they would ask each other what you call oatmeal. Then it expanded to everything in the house. Evan would ask, "What do you call that?" and Emma would answer, "That's a cat!" Then she'd ask, "What do you call a pizza?" Evan and my wife would shout, "A pizza!" I found out later that the full name of McDonald's oatmeal  is Fruit and Maple Oatmeal but they know what you're talking about if you just call it oatmeal. I'm glad I bring my family such enjoyment.

Quick note about lack of posts

Once again, I'm falling behind on my blog posts. This is mostly due to the high-priority project I'm working on at my job. It's not that it leaves me less time to write these articles. I normally write these in the early morning, at lunch time, in the evening or on week-ends. But with all the mental expenditures at work right now, I can't imagine doing anything requiring thinking when I do have time to write!

I have a few articles that I've started and that I hope to finish and post in the next couple of weeks. I won't list my upcoming posts like I did back in September last year. I'm not sure enough of my schedule. But since I passed a big milestone in this project, I think I will be less tired during my regular blogging time. Also, I took Friday, February 17 off so I have a four-day weekend with my family (with President's Day holiday on Monday, February 20) so this should recharge my mental battery. We'll see.

Not really a Valentine's Day story

This is a true story I wrote up for a Valentine's Day challenge from a web site for bad date stories.


Many, many years ago (probably about 1979 or 1980), when I spent months of my life working on a research ship, I would dream of doing something fun when I got off the ship. Something that would prove the world wasn't bound by steel bulkheads, didn't serve one type of food every day and the danger of drowning wasn't involved. I thought taking a long bicycle trip would fit these conditions. I convinced a shipmate, Marshall, to go with me. He looked more the part of an oceanographer than I with his long hair and beard. He was outgoing and he had a way of helping us meet people wherever we went.

We picked a route called the East Coast Bicycle Trail that ran from Richmond, VA to Boston, MA. We took the train to Richmond and rode our bicycles north. We planned to take a detour at the end to get home to Woods Hole, MA. We were having a great time. When we got to Lancaster, PA, though, we had some minor problems and needed to stop to repair our bikes, figure out where to get some food and where to camp. As we fixed flat tires in the town square, an attractive woman our age stopped by to talk. Beth was a teacher in town, loved to bike and would ride with us for a while to show us an Amish farmers' market (where we could get some good food) and to show us a campground. She was delightful and Marshall and I both fell for her. After a few hours, Beth said she would be leaving. I took a picture of the three of us with our bikes, got her address and said I'd mail her a copy of the picture.

When I got home, I did send Beth a picture with a short note saying how nice it was of her to help us and how much I enjoyed meeting her. She responded with a short note of thanks for the picture. That was it. I think I may have written another note to her but I can't remember.

About a year later, out of the blue, I got a very nice Christmas card from Beth with a rather long message. What had brought this on? Could she have kept the picture I sent so long ago? Had seeing me day after day worked on her? In all my lonely nights during the previous year, had someone been secretly thinking about me? The card had come early enough for me to send her a reply with a long message of my own. We started corresponding and things seemed to be heating up. It seemed too pushy at this point to suggest my traveling so far just to see her. But I had to go to Washington DC for business and suggested that I could "just stop by" to see her on the way back. To my surprise and excitement, she agreed.

The next weeks of waiting and hoping were agonizing and thrilling. When I got to Washington, I had a hard time concentrating on my work. When Friday came and it was time to catch the bus to Lancaster, I felt happier than I had in years. I bought some flowers to give Beth when she picked me up at the bus station. When I arrived, I called to let her know I was there. Beth sounded as happy as I felt. I said, "I hope you recognize me. I've grown a beard since we posed for that picture." I heard nothing but my heartbeats for what seemed like a long time. Finally she said, "OK, give me a little time to get there." When she arrived, I recognized her right away except that it looked like she'd been crying. I got in the car and gave her the flowers. This caused the thin veneer to crack and she started crying again. As we rode along, I wasn't sure what to do. Was she always this emotional? Was she upset that I didn't try to kiss her? Was she upset because I looked like I wanted to kiss her? Were the flowers too much right away? I asked her if I'd come at a bad time. Was anything wrong? Could I help? We drove and drove with only the sound of her little breaths between sobs and the sounds of cars rushing by. Finally, she was able to compose herself enough to say, "I thought you were the other guy. I thought I was writing to Marshall"

Nothing happened for a long time. No cars came by. Beth's car made no sound. The lights by the side of the road went dark. My heart stopped beating. I didn't know what to say. Beth didn't know what to say. Time was passing and we had to do something. I said, "Should I go home?" She said, "How will you get there this late?" We had a problem to solve and that gave us a distraction. Beth had planned things for us to do that week-end. We would go ahead with the plans, "as if nothing had happened." But it had happened.

I ended up having a good time. Beth was very gracious and her friends and family were welcoming. We talked and played games. We drank hot cider around a wood stove. We ate good food and told stories. My hope that she would somehow change her mind and see me as attractive that week-end didn't come true. On Sunday, she drove me to the train station and there wasn't much to say. She had made a couple of sandwiches for me for the trip back. We said we'd write and I think we did write one letter each.

I told my wife this story a while ago and she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me and said she felt so bad for me. But my wife has made all the bad feelings go away.