Happy Thanksgiving suckas.
Wishing you the best from my warm perch on the couch where I can watch football and smell the smells of our coming feast cooking in the kitchen.
Love ya.
two black eyes
A week ago Tuesday, the week before we left for Florida, which is where we are now, I was on a phone meeting with an employee of mine around 5pm. As we were wrapping up, with another ten minutes or so remaining in our conversation, Sharaun called my cellphone. I didn’t answer. About 50% of the time, when I’m working that is, I don’t. Usually, she’ll just leave a message or send a quick text, assuming I’m occupied and can’t get to the phone. This time, however, she rang my desk number immediately after. When I didn’t a answer that, the cellphone again. Curious, I politely put my call on hold and answered.
“Keaton hit her head really hard on the table and the size of the bump really has me worried,” she said. “OK,” I replied, “Was she unconscious? Did she get sick? Is she acting funny?” With a round of “Nope”s in reply, I told her I’d go ahead and get off the phone right away and come home just to check, but it sounded OK to me.
When I got home I was greeted with a seemingly normal daughter, all but for the humongous bruised and swollen lump over her left eye. Sharaun was helping her ice it when I got there, and a friend who’d stopped by just minuted before I arrived had already given it his best dad’s inspection and “all’s well” report. I took a look myself, poking it a bit and asking her how she felt (you know, the real scientific kind of diagnosis-stuff I learned in computer engineering school). After talking to her and prodding her I myself was convinced she just had one heck of a bump (or “hematoma,” as Trapper John taught me). And folks… it was indeed a large bump… as the picture above somewhat indicates (bad light plus iPhone doesn’t make for superlative photography).
Anyway, as the week wore on, and we got closer to coming back to Florida to see family and friends we’ve not seen in year, the blood in that bump drained down into little Keaton’s face. First, the bridge of her nose appeared swollen; next, small black circles at the corner of her eyes. By Saturday, however, when we flew across the country, she had two fully-developed shiners. We got some looks in the airport, and one flight attendant even stooped to whisper, “I couldn’t help but notice your daughter’s eyes, are they just naturally dark like that?” “No,” I replied, “She took a header into a table.”
Oh well… part of growing up I suppose. I’ll spend the last few evenings before we leave GIMP’ing out the black eyes from all the Thanksgiving photos for family, no biggie.
Maybe later this week I’ll write a bit about being in Florida. In brief though: It’s good to be back and the place feels the same.
Until later.
i just didn’t know
Friday! Here’s hoping we get on our standby flights tomorrow and get to lil’ brother’s wedding reception on-time. Root for us, K? Thanks.
Blog; let’s go.
It was my turn to put Keaton to bed the other night, the first time in a while since I’ve been out of town. The bedtime ritual involves 1) the brushing of teeth, 2) the using of the potty one last time, 3) the washing of hands and face, and 4) the removal of our daytime clothes (remembering to put them in the hamper) and the donning of pajamas. Past that it’s time to lay down in bed, say a prayer, maybe sing a song or talk for minute about the day, and then it’s kiss-and-a-hug and off to sleep.
We began in the bathroom. Keaton brushed her teeth well, and then sat down to use the potty. Afterward she climbed back up on her stool and put some soap on her hands. Turning on the water, she wet her hands and began rubbing them together, soaping them to a froth. Smiling, she looked up and me and began to sing, “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Tyler! No… no… wait…,” she started over, “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Grammy…” I smiled back at her, thinking she was just remembering that we had called Grammy earlier that evening to actually sing to her for her birthday, and she continued with her song.
As she got past the “… dear Grammy” part I began telling her, “OK Keaton, go ahead and rinse now.” At my urging, she became noticeably frustrated, stopping her singing to stammer something like, “No! That’s not the way we do it!” Thinking this just another manifestation of her three year-old OCD, I again asked her to go ahead and rinse. By that time, however, she’d restarted her birthday song all over again. Now I was getting frustrated because she wasn’t listening to me, and I changed my tone a bit. “Keaton,” I said somewhat firmly, “I asked you to rinse please. You’ve been washing long enough.”
With tears in her eyes, and the most pained and frustrated look on her face she once again turned to me and squeaked something like, “That’s not how we do it!! I’m not finished!” Confusingly, she almost seemed torn or conflicted. Once again I figured she was just frustrated that I wasn’t letting here complete what I saw as just another bedtime-delaying tactic – a favorite thing of hers. Standing firm, I repeated myself, noting that I wouldn’t be repeating myself again. “Please rinse Keaton, I’m not going to ask you again and I want you to listen.”
Broken, and now fully in tears, she obliged me, quit singing and rinsed her hands. After drying them, she ran out into the living room where Sharaun was watching TV. “What’s wrong baby?,” asked Sharaun. And that’s when I found out what all the fuss was about. Her head buried in Sharaun’s lap, she said tearfully, “Daddy wouldn’t let me sing ‘happy birthday’ while I washed my hands.” “Oh,” said Sharaun, “He wouldn’t? Maybe daddy doesn’t know about the birthday song while we wash our hands.” I perked up.
“Oh, is that a thing, or something?,” I asked. Sharaun replied, “Yeah; we sing the ‘happy birthday’ song while we wash our hands to be sure we have enough time to get all the germs off.” Keaton looked up at me through puffy eyes and snuffled a satisfied sniff as if to say, “Duh dad.”
I don’t know why, but when I realized that I’d forced her to do the opposite of something Sharaun had schooled her to do, I felt pointedly terrible. Now I understood the conflicted look on her face and the frustrated tears. She wanted to listen to me, but she was doing what mommy taught her to do. How could she do right by the both of us? No wonder she was upset; I’d have been confused too. What’s worse, I’d been stern with her when she was only trying to do what she thought we want her to do. It’s a tiny thing, I know, but it made me feel terrible. No really, I almost wanted to cry for putting her between a rock and a hard place.
I knelt down and held her arms so she was in front of me and I could look at her. “I’m sorry Keaton,” I said. “Daddy didn’t know. I didn’t know you sing the ‘happy birthday’ song while you wash your hands to make sure all the germs are gone. That’s a really good idea, and I’m glad I learned about it. We’ll do it next time OK? I’m sorry I made you stop singing and rinse before you could finish. I won’t do it again. Will you forgive me?”
And with a big hug she said, “It’s OK daddy. You just didn’t know.”
Goodnight folks. Talk to you next week from sunny Florida.
Oh, and, I do believe it hit another week wall-t0-wall. Go!
it all leaks eventually
Hi internet. Hope your midweek was well.
I actually wrote, post-posted (that’s like post-dating when writing a check, remember those?… and that?) this entry on Tuesday night. I love getting ahead on a week of writing.
So anyway… I wanted to relate a funny story.
Well, I think it’s funny…
I’ll just jump right in: Recently, a fairly good-sized brouhaha was raised around the fringes of the internet when a piece of software called Microsoft COFEE leaked onto one unnamed-here bittorrent website. What’s COFEE, you ask? Microsoft COFEE stands for Computer Online Forensic Evidence Extractor and is described by Microsoft thusly:
With COFEE, law enforcement agencies without on-the-scene computer forensics capabilities can now more easily, reliably, and cost-effectively collect volatile live evidence. An officer with even minimal computer experience can be tutored—in less than 10 minutes—to use a pre-configured COFEE device. This enables the officer to take advantage of the same common digital forensics tools used by experts to gather important volatile evidence, while doing little more than simply inserting a USB device into the computer.
Oh, so it’s a Microsoft-sanctioned “hacker toolkit” for cops. Maybe something that would’ve been interesting to me back in college, but not anymore. However, this little collection of software tools had become one particular bittorrent site’s coup-de-grace. Sit back and I’ll tell you about it, hopefully in language plain enough that non-nerds can also get a kick out of it.
Maybe a bit of explanation on how some of the “higher echelon” private torrent sites work first (without revealing too much of the man behind the curtain): Most better sites have request systems. Simply put, if someone wants something, like the as-yet-unreleased new Strokes album in FLAC format, they can create a request for it. Once this request exists, other users of the site can add their request to it by voting for it. In addition to acknowledging that other users would also like to have the file shared out to the community, voting on a request also adds to that request’s “bounty.” A request bounty is a user’s “reward” for scoring and uploading the item to the site. It’s a bit complicated here to talk about what the bounty actually is, but those familiar with ratio-based trackers can likely guess that it’s a big ratio-positive. For simplicity’s sake, think of this as everyone in a room putting a dollar (or perhaps more, as you’ll read shortly) on a table and pledging the “pot” to someone in return for them providing something.
Anyway, long ago on this torrent site someone requested COFEE. And, over time, the request garnered more and more votes. In a twist to the standard system, with every vote each user has an option to “pledge” extra bounty towards the eventual uploader (when a requester pledges extra, it comes out of their site “credit,” so to speak) if they are really keen on getting the particular item. As time went by, the COFEE request became laden with more and more votes and higher and higher additive custom bounty from users particularly interested in getting their hands on the then fabled software. In fact, before the events of the next few paragraphs unfolded, the bounty on the item was enormous, easily the highest in the site’s history and enough to keep any uploader in good graces forevermore. It seemed that people, thinking the request would likely never get filled, began pledging ridiculously large custom bounty amounts just to drive up demand and make the chase all the more fun.
Then it happened.
Some user actually got COFEE and uploaded it. Bam. The site went wild; the uploader basked in fifteen minutes of internet stardom. And then the moderators began thinking. I mean, this tool is meant for the likes of the FBI and NSA… and here they were essentially “offering” a link to it (let’s not get technical about whether a .torrent file in and of itself is illegal or not). Someone with brains came to the conclusion that this would 1) likely lead to some small amount of publicity and 2) that publicity would ultimately be negative for the site in general, as well as any users who might snag the software. In the end, the moderators wrote, in part:
The resourcefulness of our users never ceases to amaze us. Suddenly, we were forced to take a real look at the program, its source, and the potential impact on the site and security of our users and staff. And when we did, we didn’t like what came of it. So, a decision was made. The torrent was removed (and it is not to be uploaded here again.)
Just to be clear: we were not threatened by Microsoft or any law enforcement agency. We haven’t been contacted, nor has our host. This was a decision made by the staff based on our own conversations and feelings about the security impact of having the software here. We know some of you, perhaps the majority of you, won’t agree with it. To those that feel that way, we can only offer an apology and the explanation that we removed it for your security, and ours.
This is not an indication of any policy or rule changes going forward. This is a one-time decision, for a unique situation. This is not something we will do with other torrents or requests. At this point, the software can probably be found elsewhere, for anyone who wants it. We hope you all understand, and will continue searching out those rare items which attract huge request bounties. Feel free to discuss this here, but this decision is final. Thank you, all.
A sound decision, and the right one, to be sure; and the makings for an interesting story which was ultimately covered fairly widely on a smattering of technology blogs and news pages. And, they’re right… once the applications hit the internet the walls came down. COFEE is now widely available, all over the place in fact… so taking it down from the one tracker that ultimately sourced it doesn’t really do anything but remove a single head from the hydra. As they say, it’s in the wild now.
So, why did I write all this? Other than being interesting to me, the whole event got me curious as to what request now reigned supreme at that site, being that COFEE had come and gone and taken it’s insane bounty along with it. So I had a friend who’s a member at this illicit site (and who I don’t really like due to his felonious nature and lack of respect for more-than-fair copyright law) log on for me and check. Know what’s right up near the top now?
Richard Nixon – Missing Watergate Tapes (18½ minute gap tape)
When the White House agreed to comply with a Watergate investigation subpoena and hand over recorded conversations to Chief Judge Sirica, they informed the Court that two subpoenaed conversations had not been recorded, and that an 18½ minute gap existed on a third tape, tape 342, which recorded a conversation between President Nixon and Chief of Staff H.R. “Bob” Haldeman on June 20, 1972. The 18 1/2 minute gap can be heard here.
To me, this request is brilliant. The comedy value is high, and the unspoken nod to the COFEE leak being ever-thought-of as unattainable is nicely relevant. Not only that but, aside from kitsch value, it really is funny to see this request gaining votes and accumulating bounty. I mean, who knows?… perhaps the internet as a collective organism has become enabled to do things far greater than the sum of its parts ever could. Maybe some guy knows a guy who used to know a guy… and bam; Nixon’s tapes leak online. Anyway, I thought it was hilarious. Oh, and, anyone who knows a guy who might know a guy… let me know and I can probably find someone who’s a member at this horrible scofflaw website who’d love to get their grubby red hands all over this thing.
Well OK, it was a funny story if you’re an technology nerd… I promise.
Goodnight.
i know you’re watching
Mmmm hmmm internet.
I smell it on the horizon… wafting over from afar in scented waves. Slightly coastal, faintly deep-fried, with a dash of burning rope and a hint of recent thunderstorms. It’s vacation in Florida, and the smell is just the precursor to the faint strains of fiddle music, slow drawl and electric guitar that’ll begin to wend their way around my head as we fly 40,000ft over Birmingham and begin our final descent.
Monday when I got back to work after a week overseas, I went downstairs to the Starbucks for my morning coffee and was ecstatic to see they are already brewing Christmas Blend. Man I love me some Starbucks Christmas Blend. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, at work, the Starbucks is free… at least for the brewed, non-fancy, stuff; but I’m down there before 8am for the first mug and back around 3pm for an afternoon refresh (not “refresh” in the sense that it takes me from 8am to 3pm to drink my morning’s cup… however). Sometimes I think about how good I have it at work… that place, despite being my prison, is aaaallll-right sometimes.
Switching gears.
A good buddy of mine recently uprooted his family and moved to Taiwan. Unwilling, however, to give up American TV (presumably because it’s just so good) he instead bought a neat little modern-age wonder-device called a Slingbox that allows him to transmit a TV feed from anywhere in the world to anywhere else in the world. So long as you’ve got TV service wherever the Slingbox lives, you’ve got that same TV service wherever you may roam. In this case, the Slingbox was installed at our place. It’s in the closet, it has a dedicated HD DVR receiver and my buddy graciously supplements my cable bill to cover the costs (as well as sponsoring me to the highest speed boadband package to assure the bandwidth required for high-definition streaming is available).
When the Slingbox is active, meaning my buddy and/or his wife are halfway across the world watching TV from the receiver in our closet, there’s a little upside-down U-shaped series of LEDs that pulses, chasing one another from end to end. Sometimes, early morning here, I’ll walk by the open closet while it’s still dark and I’ll be able to see that light pulsing on the shelf, casting a flickering red light a small ways out into the hallway. Every once in a while it pulls me in and I’ll stand there watching the thing pulse for a few seconds, knowing. Watching the LEDs snake their way around that U-shape sometimes feels like second-degree voyeurism or something. Somewhere, thousands of miles away, someone is watching TV that’s originating from my closet. At that exact moment.
I know you’re watching… you can’t hide.
Goodnight.
so i think i might puke
Hold on. Slow down. Let’s take a breath and blog.
Our schedule this week is about to give me a nervous breakdown, y’all. Tonight Sharaun dragged me to the So You Think You Can Dance live show. Let me tell you, that’s four hours of my life (counting transit to and from) that I’ll never get back. Tomorrow I’ve got Keaton as Sharaun’s at volleyball. Wednesday night we’re doing a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving-style meal with a big group of friends from church. Thursday night we’re doing a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving-style meal with a big group of friends from not-church. Friday night we’ll have to pack for the sunrise flight to Florida the next day.
Oh, and the flooring guys will be here tearing the place up the whole time.
Meanwhile, I think we’ve found the only possible solution to the Thanksgiving flight problem I mentioned yesterday. Well, not truly a solution, as we still haven’t managed to change our flights – the costs are just too high to do so. But we are able to do same-day standby for free on a slightly earlier itinerary. It’s by no means a guarantee, but it’s about the best we can ask for without auctioning off the farm. We need three seats on each leg, and right now there are nine left. So… maybe it’s more like an outside chance… but it’s what we have. Here’s hoping.
Goodnight.
better late than never
Back from the other side of the Earth (if this side is your side, leastways), and not long here before we have to hit the road again this weekend for the Thanksgiving week in Florida.
Yeah, our trip to Florida. Turns out there as some fairly major complications with our itinerary. Apparently, the communication wires got crossed and Sharaun’s family thought we were set to arrive on Friday, whereas we’ve always been scheduled to come in Saturday. Unfortunately, with them thinking we’d be there a day earlier, her brother and newly-wed sister-in-law had scheduled a fancy late reception bash for their wedding earlier this year – inviting all the family and basically scheduling it around our visit home. Thing is, they scheduled it for Saturday evening at 6pm and our flight doesn’t get in until Saturday evening at 6pm. Since the airport is about an hour from where the party will be going down, this means that, even if we can find a ride (all the family will be at the reception), we’ll be at least an hour and a half late. Sigh…
This news really has Sharaun bummed. Like… really, really bummed. I can understand why, I mean the whole crew thinks we’ll be there and now we won’t. It was only Saturday night that the issue dawned on us, reviewing arrival times and dates. I did my best to look for a way out, or around, the problem. We called the airline but our tickets aren’t “full fare” (when you pay two grand to go anywhere in the continental US, I’d argue that should, by default, be considered “full fare”) and are completely not refundable or transferable. Just for the luxury of changing them we’d be socked with a $450 charge, not to mention any difference in fare to the new tickets – and, of course, everything available for Thanksgiving week at this point is more than dear. We looked for other flights we could take and just “skip out” on the outbound part of our round trip, but the airline assured us they’d cancel us out of the return trip if we tried.
So, after all the trying, it looks like we’re stuck. I mean, maybe we’ll be able to get there late… and maybe folks’ll still be around… and maybe it won’t be that bad… but I know it’s really under Sharaun’s skin and I don’t blame her. Stupid airlines really are stacked against the consumer, in my opinion. And after all the dough I’ve poured into them going home and elsewhere around the globe. Better late than never, in the end though.
And, maybe not quite on par with Sharaun’s frustration about the reception mixup is my own frustration over our spotty time at home since Mexico. I mean, not that I can really complain, since the time has been (and will continue to be) broken up by all sorts of fun things – but having onesy-twosey days at home here and there between travels is really detrimental to “getting things done.” Just not enough time to finish fixing the things I need to fix… and it frustrates me to continually come home to undone work. Again, no room to complain in honesty… but it’s been busy enough lately that it’s just gotten to me. Just too much unfinished. Even this week before we leave, every night is booked with something or other and any time I could’ve used to tool around the house is already pre-assigned to something else. So it goes.
OK, enough whining. I’ll have to save the cheer for another entry though, ’cause I’m done for tonight. Until tomorrow, love ya.