Tomorrow, Stephanie and I (and some other people) are going to go see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
I haven't been to opening night of a movie since Independence Day in 1994.
Should be fun!!
PB
Yes
10 years ago
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Why do I have so many stinking interests. I want to do everything!!
My latest obsession?
<-------------
That's right: Foosball. Brad and I played non-stop foosball this weekend when we were in Wenatchee. It was great fun. Pretty sure I was up 2 games when we left? Right Bradley??
Anyway. I started to think I could get a foosball table. Then the fun would never end. Couple of problems: I don't have 300 bucks lying around waiting to be spent, and I think I would have to sleep or eat on the foosball table to make it fit into my apartment. So...the verdict is...not gonna happen (at least right now.)
Segway to...my lovely wife.
I'm so impressed with the way she puts up with my incessant dreaming. There's always some toy I want to buy, or some hobby I want to pick up. She calmly talks me back to reality and we usually end up making a wise decision. But then there are those times when I whine and constantly try to sneak the toy/hobby into our conversation. Then she has to put the smackdown on in order to overcome my "instant gratification" urges.
A wise and patient woman.
PB
Monday, November 07, 2005
Meek…
…such a simple little word that gets just a little airtime in the WORD. But even so, when it is used, it’s accompanied by a simply strong meaning. And I think it’s something I could strive to be a little more often. I imagine most people consider “meek” to mean submissive and weak. Half right. Submissive, yes. Weak, no.
Moses is called "meek" in Numbers 12:3. I immediately think of his initial unwillingness to go into God’s service and step up to Pharaoh. He was having a hard time mentally ditching his inadequacies and imagining what God could do through him. I think Moses became truly meek when he accepted his own weakness and became confident in God’s power. He was still a humble man…knowing that all the miraculous things surrounding him were not of himself. Then the rock/water/staff thing happened. And God rebuked him. He sidestepped the “power of God” issue and started allowing the great works to go to his head.
My problem applying “meek” is actually the opposite – its really an unwillingness to ditch pride. I have this thing about being right. Sometimes I get so caught up in having the right stance (on any issue) that even if I’m wrong, I can’t see it. And even if I’m right, why do I have to defend my position like it’s the Alamo? I (my flesh) can’t handle it when I make a statement and someone tries to correct me…I usually end up making a fool of myself trying to raise awareness of my “rightness.” Most of the time, when the air clears, the issue has been completely lost, and I’ve made a big fuss about myself…and my pride.
Moses didn’t get offended when Pharaoh said he (Moses) and his God were powerless. He patiently waited for God to bring judgment. I’m not saying that God is going to send plagues to prove my points…just that if I approach every issue a little more meekly, I’ll either be right and have been gracious about it, or I’ll be wrong and won’t have to eat my foot. Either one sounds good to me.
I guarantee it takes a lot more strength and courage to be meek than it does to go with whatever comes into my head. Submitting my own will/pride never comes easy…but I bet if I let it, “meek” will start taking over.
PB
…such a simple little word that gets just a little airtime in the WORD. But even so, when it is used, it’s accompanied by a simply strong meaning. And I think it’s something I could strive to be a little more often. I imagine most people consider “meek” to mean submissive and weak. Half right. Submissive, yes. Weak, no.
Moses is called "meek" in Numbers 12:3. I immediately think of his initial unwillingness to go into God’s service and step up to Pharaoh. He was having a hard time mentally ditching his inadequacies and imagining what God could do through him. I think Moses became truly meek when he accepted his own weakness and became confident in God’s power. He was still a humble man…knowing that all the miraculous things surrounding him were not of himself. Then the rock/water/staff thing happened. And God rebuked him. He sidestepped the “power of God” issue and started allowing the great works to go to his head.
My problem applying “meek” is actually the opposite – its really an unwillingness to ditch pride. I have this thing about being right. Sometimes I get so caught up in having the right stance (on any issue) that even if I’m wrong, I can’t see it. And even if I’m right, why do I have to defend my position like it’s the Alamo? I (my flesh) can’t handle it when I make a statement and someone tries to correct me…I usually end up making a fool of myself trying to raise awareness of my “rightness.” Most of the time, when the air clears, the issue has been completely lost, and I’ve made a big fuss about myself…and my pride.
Moses didn’t get offended when Pharaoh said he (Moses) and his God were powerless. He patiently waited for God to bring judgment. I’m not saying that God is going to send plagues to prove my points…just that if I approach every issue a little more meekly, I’ll either be right and have been gracious about it, or I’ll be wrong and won’t have to eat my foot. Either one sounds good to me.
I guarantee it takes a lot more strength and courage to be meek than it does to go with whatever comes into my head. Submitting my own will/pride never comes easy…but I bet if I let it, “meek” will start taking over.
PB
Friday, November 04, 2005
This morning I was attempting to find a perfect quote to describe my sentiments regarding our (Becky's and my) friendship with the Posenjaks. I considered Shakespeare:
"I count myself in nothing else so happy, as in a soul remembering my good friends. "
Emerson:
"The only way to have a friend is to be one."
Even Ali - Muhammed that is:
"Friendship is not something you learn in a classroom. But if you haven't learned friendship, you haven't learned anything."
But then I realized I don't need literary or pugilistic genius to back me up. I can say it best myself:
The truest test of frienship is one of resitance: resitance to distance and time, resistance to weaknesses and strengths, resistance to failure and to glory.
I can't wait to drive to Wentachee, Washington, next week and visit Brad and Lindsey (and Elliott and Wesley). I've always been amazed at God's providence in providing the friends at our deepest moment of need. Sometimes, that need is satisfied and those friends may fade away. But other times, those frienships are fired and fortified. They become a integral part of your being...so much so that you feel like an expurgated version of yourself without that connection.
Becky and I had many relationships in college. None of them made an impact or connection like the Posenjaks. Despite the miles and hours between us, the blemishes and health in our natures, the successes and demises in our lives...we will always have a need to be connected to Brad and Lindsey.
See you soon friends!
PB
"I count myself in nothing else so happy, as in a soul remembering my good friends. "
Emerson:
"The only way to have a friend is to be one."
Even Ali - Muhammed that is:
"Friendship is not something you learn in a classroom. But if you haven't learned friendship, you haven't learned anything."
But then I realized I don't need literary or pugilistic genius to back me up. I can say it best myself:
The truest test of frienship is one of resitance: resitance to distance and time, resistance to weaknesses and strengths, resistance to failure and to glory.
I can't wait to drive to Wentachee, Washington, next week and visit Brad and Lindsey (and Elliott and Wesley). I've always been amazed at God's providence in providing the friends at our deepest moment of need. Sometimes, that need is satisfied and those friends may fade away. But other times, those frienships are fired and fortified. They become a integral part of your being...so much so that you feel like an expurgated version of yourself without that connection.
Becky and I had many relationships in college. None of them made an impact or connection like the Posenjaks. Despite the miles and hours between us, the blemishes and health in our natures, the successes and demises in our lives...we will always have a need to be connected to Brad and Lindsey.
See you soon friends!
PB
Thursday, November 03, 2005
As you may have read, this was the “Summer of Completed Endeavors.” Fulfilling, exhausting, and…complete. It’s wonderful to revisit the memories of long dusty days with sweat, mosquitoes, and sunburns. I frequently peruse the collections of photos stored on my hard drive, and change the background of my desktop far too often just to squeeze another second of enjoyment out of those summer trips. But I hesitate to linger in those reflections…lest like Narcissus I fall into the beauty of what I see.
I long to look forward to what pleasures lie in wait…ready to ambush at any moment.
Today’s forecast calls for almost a foot of snow in the mountains. That’s good news for me. Not only will I be diligently pursuing the snowshoeing-caving-toe freezing that has come to be a tradition among the boys, but also, I hope to become proficient at another less “niche” snow activity – skiing. Becky and I have long talked about hitting the slopes, and this winter seems like a good chance for us to do that.
Someone once told me, “It doesn’t get any easier as you get older” when I complained of only being able to get outside once during the summer. I’m glad to say…that person was wrong…sort of. It may not be easy to schedule all the adventures on which we wish to embark. But I’m glad to be surrounded by friends who share the same desire to make outdoor activities a priority. THAT makes it easy.
For the last few days, my favorite website has been http://www.mthood.info/weather/index.html - a collection of webcams showing Government Camp, Mt. Hood Meadows, and Timberline Lodge. It feels good to slip back into habitual monitoring of snow levels. I eagerly await my friends - Gore-Tex, wool socks, and long-johns. They are calling my name!
PB
I long to look forward to what pleasures lie in wait…ready to ambush at any moment.
Today’s forecast calls for almost a foot of snow in the mountains. That’s good news for me. Not only will I be diligently pursuing the snowshoeing-caving-toe freezing that has come to be a tradition among the boys, but also, I hope to become proficient at another less “niche” snow activity – skiing. Becky and I have long talked about hitting the slopes, and this winter seems like a good chance for us to do that.
Someone once told me, “It doesn’t get any easier as you get older” when I complained of only being able to get outside once during the summer. I’m glad to say…that person was wrong…sort of. It may not be easy to schedule all the adventures on which we wish to embark. But I’m glad to be surrounded by friends who share the same desire to make outdoor activities a priority. THAT makes it easy.
For the last few days, my favorite website has been http://www.mthood.info/weather/index.html - a collection of webcams showing Government Camp, Mt. Hood Meadows, and Timberline Lodge. It feels good to slip back into habitual monitoring of snow levels. I eagerly await my friends - Gore-Tex, wool socks, and long-johns. They are calling my name!
PB
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
I sleep. I sleep in the car on the way to the trail. I sleep in the car on the way back from the trail. I sleep on airplanes. I sleep on the couches. I sleep while sporting crampons and an ice axe halfway up the Palmer Glacier. I sleep anywhere, and I sleep everywhere. When the Siren’s song of sleep tempts me, I am defenseless against its allure.
Often elusive on the trail, sleep can make the difference between a bad trip and a great one. Consider the evidence: self inflating air mattresses, closed cell pads, down pack pillows, and sleeping bag contraptions to keep you glued to the mat. The backpacker’s sleep system is big business—and rightfully so! Any summit, trail or face is exponentially easier after a sound sleep.
If I have learned anything about sleeping outside, it is this: the rift between those who can and those who cannot is wide. The majority of my climbing/hiking partners have difficulty bagging a solid night in the backcountry. This fact, though not remotely my fault (I don’t even snore), often causes a great deal of angst to be channeled in my direction. In fact, I would imagine that I’ve already alienated half of you.
After one particularly restful night on a through-hike of the Oregon Coast, I awoke to the smooth sound of a coastal creek. On the previous evening, my buddies and I had discovered a heavenly cove on a secluded public beach. Even if we had desired to continue, the high tide prevented us from passing the headwall to our north. Rather relieved to be blocked in at such an unspoiled location, we pitched camp twenty feet above the beach on a massive outcropping of sandstone. This pristine paradise became the perfect venue for the Pacific’s evening light show. After a long day’s trek through the coastal forest, a shocking dip in the frigid waters, and a hot cup of tea in front of the campfire, the sunset’s sway proved too much to resist. I hit my bag and didn’t move for ten hours.
The morning was heralded by the cry of seagulls, and as my tent began to warm in the tepid July air, I awoke wholly rejuvenated yet pestered by guilt. I was certain my pals had not savored the same peaceful rest as I. Having slept through the surise (an unfortunate corollary of easy sleep), I emerged from my tent to see my sulking companions sitting on the rocks waiting for me to rise from my endless sleep.
We had entered the night harboring the knowledge that our morning departure presented two options: catch the low tide and circumnavigate the headwall, or climb back up the ridge from whence we came only to descend on the other side. The former was a much more desirable option. So when I arose and discovered our passage around the headwall was clear, it seemed only rational to move as quickly as possible and save ourselves the tedious elevation gain and subsequent loss. I ran back into camp yelling, “Let’s go! The tide is out! We can make it around the headwall!”
Let me say, that at this point, I began to recognize the deep-seeded resentment in my fellow outdoorsmen. After waiting for 2 hours for me to regain consciousness, they had no desire, whatsoever, to move quickly. Why would they—dragged from their restless sleep by sore hips, craned necks and cold feet—want to do anything at the bidding of the man who surfaced from his slumber with a stretch, a yawn, and a hearty, “What a great night!”?
But realizing the wisdom of my plan, they begrudgingly packed up their gear—still wet with morning dew. Feeling rather victorious as we rounded the headwall and set foot on the wet sand of the North Oregon Coast, we adjusted our hastily filled packs and set off toward our next stop – a family size, “carb-load” pizza in the next town. Our delicious ambition nearly proved enough to stifle the growing resentment in my companions. However, rather than closing in behind us, the ocean waters continued to ebb for the next four hours, and all hope of forgiveness went out with the tide.
As my understanding of my compatriots has increased, one might think my sleeping pattern would change. Unfortunately, I am not that compassionate. I still sleep. I still sleep in the car on the way to the trail. I still sleep in the car on the way back from the trail. I still sleep on airplanes. I still sleep on couches. I still sleep anywhere, and I still sleep everywhere. I will sleep again while sporting crampons and an ice axe halfway up the Palmer Glacier. But now I sleep on a mattress filled with the endless, good-natured heckling of my friends. Outdoor retailers could make a fortune on this mattress.
PB
Often elusive on the trail, sleep can make the difference between a bad trip and a great one. Consider the evidence: self inflating air mattresses, closed cell pads, down pack pillows, and sleeping bag contraptions to keep you glued to the mat. The backpacker’s sleep system is big business—and rightfully so! Any summit, trail or face is exponentially easier after a sound sleep.
If I have learned anything about sleeping outside, it is this: the rift between those who can and those who cannot is wide. The majority of my climbing/hiking partners have difficulty bagging a solid night in the backcountry. This fact, though not remotely my fault (I don’t even snore), often causes a great deal of angst to be channeled in my direction. In fact, I would imagine that I’ve already alienated half of you.
After one particularly restful night on a through-hike of the Oregon Coast, I awoke to the smooth sound of a coastal creek. On the previous evening, my buddies and I had discovered a heavenly cove on a secluded public beach. Even if we had desired to continue, the high tide prevented us from passing the headwall to our north. Rather relieved to be blocked in at such an unspoiled location, we pitched camp twenty feet above the beach on a massive outcropping of sandstone. This pristine paradise became the perfect venue for the Pacific’s evening light show. After a long day’s trek through the coastal forest, a shocking dip in the frigid waters, and a hot cup of tea in front of the campfire, the sunset’s sway proved too much to resist. I hit my bag and didn’t move for ten hours.
The morning was heralded by the cry of seagulls, and as my tent began to warm in the tepid July air, I awoke wholly rejuvenated yet pestered by guilt. I was certain my pals had not savored the same peaceful rest as I. Having slept through the surise (an unfortunate corollary of easy sleep), I emerged from my tent to see my sulking companions sitting on the rocks waiting for me to rise from my endless sleep.
We had entered the night harboring the knowledge that our morning departure presented two options: catch the low tide and circumnavigate the headwall, or climb back up the ridge from whence we came only to descend on the other side. The former was a much more desirable option. So when I arose and discovered our passage around the headwall was clear, it seemed only rational to move as quickly as possible and save ourselves the tedious elevation gain and subsequent loss. I ran back into camp yelling, “Let’s go! The tide is out! We can make it around the headwall!”
Let me say, that at this point, I began to recognize the deep-seeded resentment in my fellow outdoorsmen. After waiting for 2 hours for me to regain consciousness, they had no desire, whatsoever, to move quickly. Why would they—dragged from their restless sleep by sore hips, craned necks and cold feet—want to do anything at the bidding of the man who surfaced from his slumber with a stretch, a yawn, and a hearty, “What a great night!”?
But realizing the wisdom of my plan, they begrudgingly packed up their gear—still wet with morning dew. Feeling rather victorious as we rounded the headwall and set foot on the wet sand of the North Oregon Coast, we adjusted our hastily filled packs and set off toward our next stop – a family size, “carb-load” pizza in the next town. Our delicious ambition nearly proved enough to stifle the growing resentment in my companions. However, rather than closing in behind us, the ocean waters continued to ebb for the next four hours, and all hope of forgiveness went out with the tide.
As my understanding of my compatriots has increased, one might think my sleeping pattern would change. Unfortunately, I am not that compassionate. I still sleep. I still sleep in the car on the way to the trail. I still sleep in the car on the way back from the trail. I still sleep on airplanes. I still sleep on couches. I still sleep anywhere, and I still sleep everywhere. I will sleep again while sporting crampons and an ice axe halfway up the Palmer Glacier. But now I sleep on a mattress filled with the endless, good-natured heckling of my friends. Outdoor retailers could make a fortune on this mattress.
PB
Monday, October 24, 2005
I'm going to be a skiist.
Jim and I went to the REI sidewalk sale for the Tualatin location (our second in a month). Once again, we decided to get in line 3 hours before the sale in hopes of grabbing some cool gear.
Let's analyze the purpose of a line. I feel it is safe to assume that most people...at least in our society...understand the concept of waiting in line (or "waiting on queue," if you're British). Usually, a line forms when something desirable is in short supply or is offered for a limited time. In order to better their chances of receiving that thing, one might come to the location of offering before the time when that thing becomes available. When more than one person comes early, it is generally understood that the person who arrives first deserves the first opportunity to secure said thing.
However, there are cheaters. When Jim and I arrived at REI, there were approximately 15 people in line ahead of us...that is to say, approximately 15 people arrived at the location of the "thing" before we did. It would logically follow that when the time of the offering arrives, we would be the 16th and 17th persons to enter the sale. I would estimate that 40 people entered before us.
Now...I'm not anal-retentive, but something about the nonchalance and apparent lack of conscious haughtily displayed by 25 people CUTTING in line in front of me doesn't sit quite right. Especially when cheap gear is at stake. You might remember the Thompsonian analysis of the "gear-hungry mob" from the last sidewalk sale. Luckily, there were no elbows thrown or curses uttered (at least in my presence) at this event, but said attitude was certainly present.
Jim put me at ease with two simple words, "Gear Karma." Simply meaning, all those rude people would not find anything of note, and we (with Liberty and Justice for all) would find exactly what we were looking for at a price much better than expected. And it came to pass. I finally took the plunge and purchased downhill ski gear. I've wanted to ski since 1987 when my dad's planned winter trip was prevented by a torn ACL. The best part is...I got all I needed for $35.
I can't wait for the snow.
PB
Jim and I went to the REI sidewalk sale for the Tualatin location (our second in a month). Once again, we decided to get in line 3 hours before the sale in hopes of grabbing some cool gear.
Let's analyze the purpose of a line. I feel it is safe to assume that most people...at least in our society...understand the concept of waiting in line (or "waiting on queue," if you're British). Usually, a line forms when something desirable is in short supply or is offered for a limited time. In order to better their chances of receiving that thing, one might come to the location of offering before the time when that thing becomes available. When more than one person comes early, it is generally understood that the person who arrives first deserves the first opportunity to secure said thing.
However, there are cheaters. When Jim and I arrived at REI, there were approximately 15 people in line ahead of us...that is to say, approximately 15 people arrived at the location of the "thing" before we did. It would logically follow that when the time of the offering arrives, we would be the 16th and 17th persons to enter the sale. I would estimate that 40 people entered before us.
Now...I'm not anal-retentive, but something about the nonchalance and apparent lack of conscious haughtily displayed by 25 people CUTTING in line in front of me doesn't sit quite right. Especially when cheap gear is at stake. You might remember the Thompsonian analysis of the "gear-hungry mob" from the last sidewalk sale. Luckily, there were no elbows thrown or curses uttered (at least in my presence) at this event, but said attitude was certainly present.
Jim put me at ease with two simple words, "Gear Karma." Simply meaning, all those rude people would not find anything of note, and we (with Liberty and Justice for all) would find exactly what we were looking for at a price much better than expected. And it came to pass. I finally took the plunge and purchased downhill ski gear. I've wanted to ski since 1987 when my dad's planned winter trip was prevented by a torn ACL. The best part is...I got all I needed for $35.
I can't wait for the snow.
PB
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
I'm extremely tempted to blog, "Oh sweet...beans!" over and over, but I will refrain.
Today is the first in a few weeks that I feel relaxed. Apparently I'm not the only one who plays golf in the winter. I've been overwhelmingly busy of late, and I was getting a little tired of it. But today is nice. I had a chance to wrap up many loose ends, and I even get to leave early to play golf today...albeit in the rain. Luckily, they make gear for that sort of thing, and lucky to another degree am I - working for a golf apparel company. So I will head out in about an hour and hopefully squeeze in 13 or 14 holes before it gets too dark to see the ball.
The best news of all, however, is that LOST is on again tonight. I can't wait to find out what happened to the tail-end Lost-a-ways.
"Oh sweet....Lost!"
PB
Today is the first in a few weeks that I feel relaxed. Apparently I'm not the only one who plays golf in the winter. I've been overwhelmingly busy of late, and I was getting a little tired of it. But today is nice. I had a chance to wrap up many loose ends, and I even get to leave early to play golf today...albeit in the rain. Luckily, they make gear for that sort of thing, and lucky to another degree am I - working for a golf apparel company. So I will head out in about an hour and hopefully squeeze in 13 or 14 holes before it gets too dark to see the ball.
The best news of all, however, is that LOST is on again tonight. I can't wait to find out what happened to the tail-end Lost-a-ways.
"Oh sweet....Lost!"
PB
Friday, October 14, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Man...I like golf. I went to the range last night and hit that borrowed club. It will be difficult to give it back. Anyway...in the midst of long and straight drives, my left big toe started feeling tingly. At first I thought maybe I tied my laces too tight and I was cutting off the circulation to el dedo grande. So I kept swinging. Then...BAM...I hit an especially powerful drive and it felt like someone stabbed the tendon on the top of my big toe.
The heck?? I thought maybe it was just a fluke, so I swung a few more. The...BAM...there it was again. A little disconcerted, I left the range and headed back to the car. As I was stepping up into the driver's seat...BAM! Again with the severe pain! Okay...now I'm a little worried. I took off my shoe to see if I was bleeding. No blood. So I drove home hoping it would be fine by the time I got there. As I stepped out of the car...yep, there it was. Limping in the door I whined to my wife about my semi-severed toe, and proceeded to ice it and watch disc 2 of Scrubs - Season One with Becky.
I thought I'd be going to the doctor this morning, but it seems to be feeling better (though I am walking kinda funny to protect it). Hopefully it will all go away like a bad dream.
PB
The heck?? I thought maybe it was just a fluke, so I swung a few more. The...BAM...there it was again. A little disconcerted, I left the range and headed back to the car. As I was stepping up into the driver's seat...BAM! Again with the severe pain! Okay...now I'm a little worried. I took off my shoe to see if I was bleeding. No blood. So I drove home hoping it would be fine by the time I got there. As I stepped out of the car...yep, there it was. Limping in the door I whined to my wife about my semi-severed toe, and proceeded to ice it and watch disc 2 of Scrubs - Season One with Becky.
I thought I'd be going to the doctor this morning, but it seems to be feeling better (though I am walking kinda funny to protect it). Hopefully it will all go away like a bad dream.
PB
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Harry and the Hendersons is a great movie!! I had completely forgotten about it, and the other day as I was hanging-ten, there it was on UPN. Awesome. I didn't know John Lithgow was in that movie! Crazy.
Aaaanyway. I bring this up because I've got "Bigfoot" on the brain. Nike Golf has a new driver on the market called Sasquatch. It is aptly named, as the size of the clubhead (aka footprint...clever, huh?) is enormous. Somehow they figured out the perfect mix of size, size, and size, and created the SQ 460cc driver. I all probability, I will not own one of these drivers for quite a while, but I was fortunate enough to have one loaned to me for a few days. Yesterday, I wanted sooo badly to go the driving range, but I had to work late, and by the time I got home, I didn't have then energy for anything but a 4 hour Scrubs marathon!
So today after work, I plan to head to the range, bomb some golf balls down the turf, and fight off covetous feelings toward all who currently own SQ drivers.
PB
Aaaanyway. I bring this up because I've got "Bigfoot" on the brain. Nike Golf has a new driver on the market called Sasquatch. It is aptly named, as the size of the clubhead (aka footprint...clever, huh?) is enormous. Somehow they figured out the perfect mix of size, size, and size, and created the SQ 460cc driver. I all probability, I will not own one of these drivers for quite a while, but I was fortunate enough to have one loaned to me for a few days. Yesterday, I wanted sooo badly to go the driving range, but I had to work late, and by the time I got home, I didn't have then energy for anything but a 4 hour Scrubs marathon!
So today after work, I plan to head to the range, bomb some golf balls down the turf, and fight off covetous feelings toward all who currently own SQ drivers.
PB
Thursday, October 06, 2005
This is PB broadcasting live from RG1010B (the cube next to mine).
Unfortunately, yesterday at 3pm, I was cursed with the "Blue Screen of Death." Apparently, I had an "immenent hard disk failure" and could not use my machine for the rest of the day. Thankfully, I was "Priority 1" at the help desk...but that does not mean much, as I sat around until 6 waiting for someone to come give a prognosis.
No one came until 9 this morning. It's now 11Am, and I'm just about to go back to my cube/home. Yipee.
I've yet to see how much data I lost...hopefully, none of the pictures of Eric are gone. I don't think I could handle that loss.
PB
Unfortunately, yesterday at 3pm, I was cursed with the "Blue Screen of Death." Apparently, I had an "immenent hard disk failure" and could not use my machine for the rest of the day. Thankfully, I was "Priority 1" at the help desk...but that does not mean much, as I sat around until 6 waiting for someone to come give a prognosis.
No one came until 9 this morning. It's now 11Am, and I'm just about to go back to my cube/home. Yipee.
I've yet to see how much data I lost...hopefully, none of the pictures of Eric are gone. I don't think I could handle that loss.
PB
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Wow...today is like that scene in that Tom Cruise movie (I think it's Tommy??) where he's caught between two subway trains and holding on to the post...and his hair is all blowy-aroundy...and his face is contorted in concentrated agony...and his fingers are just...about...to slip....off when the trains go by....
First off, I really shouldn't have played golf yesterday. I had way too much to do to leave work early. But who can blame me? You can't turn down free golf at Pumpkin Ridge (unless you're name is James Marr). Also, my knee pain flared up again. I thought I had rested, stretched, and iced enough following our run through "Coastal Temptations" but apparently not. I limped the last 4 holes because the grinding of joints and cartilage is not pleasant.
But today will soon be over, and tonight I will either sing the praises of or utter curses at J.J. Abrams.
PB
First off, I really shouldn't have played golf yesterday. I had way too much to do to leave work early. But who can blame me? You can't turn down free golf at Pumpkin Ridge (unless you're name is James Marr). Also, my knee pain flared up again. I thought I had rested, stretched, and iced enough following our run through "Coastal Temptations" but apparently not. I limped the last 4 holes because the grinding of joints and cartilage is not pleasant.
But today will soon be over, and tonight I will either sing the praises of or utter curses at J.J. Abrams.
PB
Friday, September 30, 2005
"...there's a great chase scene!"
"Have you seen Steele Magnolias? So sad!"
I really hope you have seen that commercial. Also I just needed to set the tone for my entry today. As you might remember, tomorrow, October 1st, was the day set aside for Jim and I to conquer the Timberline Trail. I came to work today intent upon leaving for the mountain as soon as the clock struck 4. However, as Jim and I perused the weather report, we noticed a trend of increasingly nasty weather and decided (reluctantly) to bag the trip. Here's my thought...I've known all along that the physical act of encircling the mountain in day would be difficult slash miserable. I can handle that - the end goal is a efficacious motivator. But the thought of spending 15 hours in the rain slash snow and not really have a shot at finishing the trail...NO THANKS.
I spent about an hour pondering this decision, sinking lower into the Slough of Despond. Here, therefore, I wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and I, because of the burden that was on my back, began to sink in the mire.
Then Jim had a brilliant idea. Instead of going to the mountain, we could hit the beach! Last year we did a 25 mile hike along the coast, and it would be the perfect substitution for our challenge. So tomorrow we will depart. It's not as lengthy, and it's not as prestigious, but we're doing something we've never done, and it will definitely be a significant accomplishement. Plus, there's this great pizza place in Canon Beach...can anybody say "Family Size!"? Woop, woop!
So let's foucs on the connotative meaning of that commercial (funny guy making a fool of himself), rather than the denotative meaning (actual sadness).
PB......out!
PS - Remember Brian Dunkelman??
"Have you seen Steele Magnolias? So sad!"
I really hope you have seen that commercial. Also I just needed to set the tone for my entry today. As you might remember, tomorrow, October 1st, was the day set aside for Jim and I to conquer the Timberline Trail. I came to work today intent upon leaving for the mountain as soon as the clock struck 4. However, as Jim and I perused the weather report, we noticed a trend of increasingly nasty weather and decided (reluctantly) to bag the trip. Here's my thought...I've known all along that the physical act of encircling the mountain in day would be difficult slash miserable. I can handle that - the end goal is a efficacious motivator. But the thought of spending 15 hours in the rain slash snow and not really have a shot at finishing the trail...NO THANKS.
I spent about an hour pondering this decision, sinking lower into the Slough of Despond. Here, therefore, I wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and I, because of the burden that was on my back, began to sink in the mire.
Then Jim had a brilliant idea. Instead of going to the mountain, we could hit the beach! Last year we did a 25 mile hike along the coast, and it would be the perfect substitution for our challenge. So tomorrow we will depart. It's not as lengthy, and it's not as prestigious, but we're doing something we've never done, and it will definitely be a significant accomplishement. Plus, there's this great pizza place in Canon Beach...can anybody say "Family Size!"? Woop, woop!
So let's foucs on the connotative meaning of that commercial (funny guy making a fool of himself), rather than the denotative meaning (actual sadness).
PB......out!
PS - Remember Brian Dunkelman??
Thursday, September 29, 2005
"Could it be? Yes, it could.
Something's coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something's coming, I don't know what it is,
But it is Gonna be great!"
Word to the West Side. I have a love/hate relationship with the show LOST. It's tragic that I have a relationship with a television show, but true nonetheless. With mounting anticipation, we watched the encore run of the season premier last night, and at 9pm the new episode came on. Here's the problem - It wasn't really a new episode!!! Literally until the last 30 seconds, the show repeated the timeline of the season premier. Sure they added some meaningless crappola (accent on the first "a" - i.e. Francis Ford Coppola) about Michael (or Mike as nick-name-boy calls him) and Walt. Blah!! Give me some action. Finally we see something new. And Michelle Rodriguez appeared in the credits again but she was a no-show...unless you count the "next-week-on-lost" segment. This is why I hate the show...A good producer/writer would understand my needs. MY NEEDS WERE NOT MET.
I need some suspense...some action...some intrigue. Kate almost getting shot and Michael and Sawyer fighting on a little boat does not count!!! I've said it before, and I'll say it again - if they don't do some major revealing soon...they're going to LOST me!
I have hope however - next week looks pretty cool. So, review the song lyrics at the top of the page and you will understand how I feel.
PB
Something's coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something's coming, I don't know what it is,
But it is Gonna be great!"
Word to the West Side. I have a love/hate relationship with the show LOST. It's tragic that I have a relationship with a television show, but true nonetheless. With mounting anticipation, we watched the encore run of the season premier last night, and at 9pm the new episode came on. Here's the problem - It wasn't really a new episode!!! Literally until the last 30 seconds, the show repeated the timeline of the season premier. Sure they added some meaningless crappola (accent on the first "a" - i.e. Francis Ford Coppola) about Michael (or Mike as nick-name-boy calls him) and Walt. Blah!! Give me some action. Finally we see something new. And Michelle Rodriguez appeared in the credits again but she was a no-show...unless you count the "next-week-on-lost" segment. This is why I hate the show...A good producer/writer would understand my needs. MY NEEDS WERE NOT MET.
I need some suspense...some action...some intrigue. Kate almost getting shot and Michael and Sawyer fighting on a little boat does not count!!! I've said it before, and I'll say it again - if they don't do some major revealing soon...they're going to LOST me!
I have hope however - next week looks pretty cool. So, review the song lyrics at the top of the page and you will understand how I feel.
PB
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
It's about time.
It's been a while, and I know all of you have been perched on the edge of your mental seats...ready to be blown away by the next piece of dramatic, dynamic, another "d-word adjective" prose uttered from the lip-slash-fingers of PB. Well here it is.
I'm sitting in my Sister's living room listening to Carson Michael wimper. I think he really wants to cry, but there's really no reason, so he is containing himself. He's a cute little guy...as you've seen in Jim's pictures. Jen and Trent are excited beyond belief, but also really tired right now. They're already great parents, and I'm sure they will get better every day.
Speaking of another set of good parents, Brad and Lindsey came to visit this weekend. We had a blast! Friday night we met at the Clark County Amphitheater to see Third Day - Lindsey's favorite band. Thanks to a parent at Becky's school, it was a free gig, and we chillilly (sp?) enjoyed the music from the grass. Saturday was a nice day to relax and play video games. Sunday was the kicker!! I've always heard that pro golfers think bunker shots are easy...I wouldn't go that far, but I've got to mention I had 4 amazing bunker shots when I played 18 at the Reserve with Jim, Brad, and Eric. Brad and Linds left on Monday morning, and we're stoked to visit them next month in Wenatchee. WooHoo. We were glad to hang out with them, but we sorely missed Elliott and Wesley, their two stellar boys.
I have to say that work sucked today...but I hardly remember it. Isn't it nice that meaninglessness disappears in the light of the true joys we experience in friends, family, and new nephews?
PB
It's been a while, and I know all of you have been perched on the edge of your mental seats...ready to be blown away by the next piece of dramatic, dynamic, another "d-word adjective" prose uttered from the lip-slash-fingers of PB. Well here it is.
I'm sitting in my Sister's living room listening to Carson Michael wimper. I think he really wants to cry, but there's really no reason, so he is containing himself. He's a cute little guy...as you've seen in Jim's pictures. Jen and Trent are excited beyond belief, but also really tired right now. They're already great parents, and I'm sure they will get better every day.
Speaking of another set of good parents, Brad and Lindsey came to visit this weekend. We had a blast! Friday night we met at the Clark County Amphitheater to see Third Day - Lindsey's favorite band. Thanks to a parent at Becky's school, it was a free gig, and we chillilly (sp?) enjoyed the music from the grass. Saturday was a nice day to relax and play video games. Sunday was the kicker!! I've always heard that pro golfers think bunker shots are easy...I wouldn't go that far, but I've got to mention I had 4 amazing bunker shots when I played 18 at the Reserve with Jim, Brad, and Eric. Brad and Linds left on Monday morning, and we're stoked to visit them next month in Wenatchee. WooHoo. We were glad to hang out with them, but we sorely missed Elliott and Wesley, their two stellar boys.
I have to say that work sucked today...but I hardly remember it. Isn't it nice that meaninglessness disappears in the light of the true joys we experience in friends, family, and new nephews?
PB
Friday, September 23, 2005
Carson MICHAEL!!
That's too much. My family is soooo sappy. I thought it was weird that everyone I talked to yesterday (before I got to the hospital) was a bit vague....Even my dad lied to me and said "Ummm...I don't know his middle name." Come on! So then when I did arrive, Jen showed me the request for SSN form and there it was!! Carson Michael, etc.
I almost lost it (see above reference to sappy family) but just managed to catch myself and give my sister a hug. It's crazy: I already felt love for this little baby...even before he was born. Then when I held him at the hospital it was even more real. But THEN I saw that paper...and it was like automatically, I will always be a part of his life - guitar lessons, camping trips, beer and cigarettes, shotguns...wait, got a little carried away. Crazy...
Oooohhh..I just figured it out. It's a ploy to get me to babysit more often!! They are so smart! Well it probably worked. I can't wait to hang out with him.
PB (Uncle Mike)
That's too much. My family is soooo sappy. I thought it was weird that everyone I talked to yesterday (before I got to the hospital) was a bit vague....Even my dad lied to me and said "Ummm...I don't know his middle name." Come on! So then when I did arrive, Jen showed me the request for SSN form and there it was!! Carson Michael, etc.
I almost lost it (see above reference to sappy family) but just managed to catch myself and give my sister a hug. It's crazy: I already felt love for this little baby...even before he was born. Then when I held him at the hospital it was even more real. But THEN I saw that paper...and it was like automatically, I will always be a part of his life - guitar lessons, camping trips, beer and cigarettes, shotguns...wait, got a little carried away. Crazy...
Oooohhh..I just figured it out. It's a ploy to get me to babysit more often!! They are so smart! Well it probably worked. I can't wait to hang out with him.
PB (Uncle Mike)
Thursday, September 22, 2005
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