Month: November 2002

So Kyra’s sitting at the dinner table cracking jokes.

Alex turns to her and says, “Kyra, you don’t make any sense. But I do.”

Today I installed a garage door opener.

You’d think that someone in good health, with a college degree and a full box of tools wouldn’t have much problem doing something like that. Of course it took me the bulk of the day. After about four hours following the instructions verbatim, I reached the triumphant moment when I could press the button on the wall and watch the results of my labor.

MMMMMMMM… BRAAP!

The door moved about a foot and then ground to a halt. Whee! The joy I felt can only be expressed in four-letter words. I spent the next half-hour trying to troubleshoot the thing…

“Okay, if I hold the button down it goes almost halfway.”

“Hmm, it isn’t quite hitting the ground.”

“The light sensors work because they blink when I stick my foot in the way…”

And so on.

In the end, it was the little thing that did it: adjust the teensy little knob that says “open force”. Crank that baby up and make the engine scream as it drags the garage door, kicking and screaming, upward.

So I triumphed in the end, and now Laralee doesn’t have to pull into the driveway, turn off the car, take the key and unlock the garage door, climb back into the car, start the car, and drive into the garage. Yessss!

Whee! There’s nothing quite as joyful as having two vacuum cleaner salesmen show up on the doorstep just as you’re making dinner.

No, wait– the one thing more exciting, more thrilling, than that is to have your wife say “sure, c’mon in!”.

Argh.

I just got a new video capture card. The idea, of course, is to take five years’ worth of 8mm tapes and convert them to digital format (mpeg?) so I can make VCD’s or even DVD’s. Sweet.

But reality sets in, and I’m learning that Linux isn’t the easiest place in the world to get video capture software running. I’m downloading and compiling (“grepping tarballs”, as a friend would say) but so far haven’t had any luck. I can SEE the dang picture; I just can’t SAVE it. Grrr.

I got some new speakers for my office yesterday. The old ones I had weighed about half a ton, took up a huge amount of floor space (which is at a premium in my basement corner here), and had been punched in by my kids years ago. Oh, and they originally came from a trash pile across the street, when our neighbors decided to upgrade their speakers to something manufactured after 1978.

So these “bookshelf” speakers (13×15″ is pretty big for a bookshelf, IMHO) are awesome. They truly to justice to my basement locale, because I can crank them and not bother the rest of the house… well, not TOO much anyway… and the sound is great.

Crank the trance music, baby.

What is it about clients?

It seems like every day I have a Client Moment, when something truly amazing happens with a client. And I’m not talking about “WOW, that’s cool” amazing; I’m talking about “HUNH?” amazing.

Take today. For weeks I’ve been waiting to finish the installation of a computer network for a client. I asked several times when the wires might be in place, so I could come in and hook everything together, and heard absolutely nothing in response.

Today I get a call around noon. “Jeff, all those network wires are in place. Can you come in this afternoon and hook them up?”

(Their office is about 45 minutes away.)

Uhh, no guys– I’ve got things to do today. Maybe if you’d given me more than a FEW HOURS of notice, I could’ve arranged something. Guess you’ll have to wait.

Ahh, clients.

So Laralee sends me a picture that’s scanned from a 1950’s-era magazine. It includes “instructions” about how to be a Good Wife when your husband comes home from work. It includes such gems as:

“Remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.”

“Prepare yourself. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair, and be fresh-looking.”

“Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity.”

It goes on; suffice to say it’s hilariously anti-feminist.

Of course my friend Steve learned (through who knows how much online research; he doesn’t appear to do much at work during the day) that it’s a hoax.

But the best part was my friend Stef’s response:

“I don’t know what you mean, Jeff… You know me…

I NEVER question Derek’s actions or judgement – I have no right to!

I know that his topics of conversation are MUCH more important than mine
are.

I always speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

I always put a ribbon in my hair so I can look fresh for him.

… I have to go now… Oprah is on and I haven’t taken my
medications…”

Okay, so maybe you have to know Stef.