Kenny Smith | blog

Thursday, March 31, 2005

World Cup quality soccer in Birmingham (home of the 1998 Olympic Soccer games, they don't let you forget that). Guatemala was the visitor, and they went home dissatisfied after a 2-nil loss.

Surrounded by Hispanic fans Greg announced he was going to provoke an international incident. The Guatemalans were very nice, so the embassies weren't needed to intervene. They know how to watch a match too. Si es puede. The guy three rows down did not, however, know how to blow the trumpet he'd brought with him. I also learned how to string some words together in combinations of which I hadn't previously thought. No one likes the referee, it seems, no matter the culture.

Lots of fun and I honestly don't know how anyone could say it wasn't entertaining. Of course, this is World Cup qualifying so you have the best of the best. Quality play. Quality pictures, more on that below.

After the match the storms showed up. On the way home I drove through a hailstorm, a first. Thought I was being shot at. Right part of town. Any other night that, and the light show from the storm, might have been the highlight. But this night had CONCACAF.

The end of the month means picture day around here. (Older images can be found on the picture page. Caught some grief a month or two back from Brooke who said I didn't have enough pictures. This month there are 64 for you to pilfer through.

A large portion came from the Mark Olson/Gary Louris concert early in the month. Gary is the one with glasses and curly hair. A few from the Conference Gymnastics meet. I shot these blurry so everyone there looks like someone you know. Actually, the rule is that you can't pop a flash in there for the safety of the gymnasts, so none of those pictures turned out very well. A good time though. Also there are a bunch of pictures from the qualifier last night. These pictures turned out much better. Amazingly so given that my digital camera isn't built for action photography. Some of the random memories of life show up as well. Overall a month that could be on repeat and I wouldn't complain.

And now, you're web site fun for the day: Net disaster (try it) and my friend Mac Thomason has the Early History of Sarcasm.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Finally got around to the task of uploading the current resume. (Find it here.) In doing so I found a great site you might need to hear about. PDF Online converts .doc files to .pdf and .pdf files to html. It is a free web based server solution. And fast; converted files were returned in seconds. If this is the sort of thing you need, go have a visit. The best I can tell the only limitation is a file size when you upload your original. Two documents later and I'm sold! .

Tonight: Soccer. World Cup qualifier as the U.S. hosts Guatemala. Everyone is asking am I going (and offering me several disparaging names in the process) and the answer is 'Yes.'

Worked on some photos today after work and before meeting up with the hooligans. Hopefully they will be posted tomorrow. Promises to be a lot. Some of them might even be interesting.

Comic relief site: Senor Wences. Remember him? Salright.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

"What a glorious day!"

Passed through my lips on the way out the door to lunch. The only thing that approaches a day like today is yesterday. And a day tomorrow.

Decided yesterday afternoon that this is my favorite part of the year. Not spring, but this cross-section of it. When leaves are just pushing out from the tree in that neon green that demands attention. The part of spring where it still seems an impossibility to occur, not an inevitablity to happen.

I say this while enduring the brutal winters of the Deep South.

Pushing 70 on the way to lunch today. Ate with the boss and several others from the office. Rode in the backseat with the moonroof open. Warm sun pouring in, captured heat cooking off, air conditioner blowing into the back. That car ride could have lasted forever. But it shouldn't, because on the other end was the promise of a semi-greasy spoon restaurant that's been in business for 16 years; but no one has ever heard of it. Off the beaten path in the old original side of town. Upwind from all the old steel facilities and surrounded by buildings consigned to winding up their noble lives serving as cheap warehousing there's this out-of-place barbeque place that also serves your meat-and-three fair.

The nice ladies there flirt with you. And offer you chocolate cake. The chicken was delicious. We're going back sometime. I lose count, but we've found at least have a dozen meat-and-threes around the office. The city is known for barbeque, but deserves other dietary reputations as well. Now pardon me while I fight off the yawns.

Days like this, just a short step or two from being perfect, should last forever.
The folks have returned to their home after a week in Hawai'i. Again. Without me. Again. Mom kept me updated with text messages, here's her best:
Just left luau. Rick got to (had to) dance the Hula on stage with a REAL Hula dancer! Can't wait to show you the video of it! He's a Hula genius!!
This should be good.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Colorado: Enjoy the ski slopes, wonder about the judiciary.
The Colorado Supreme Court threw out the death sentence Monday of a man convicted of raping and killing a cocktail waitress because jurors consulted the Bible during deliberations.

The court said Bible passages, including the verse that commands "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," could lead jurors to vote for death.

The justices ordered Robert Harlan to serve life in prison without parole for the 1994 slaying of Rhonda Maloney.
Good thing they didn't look up Matthew 18:21-35.
Weekend: Friday saw The Aviator Saturday cut the yard. You're welcome neighbors. Then went to Atlanta to watch Auburn flippy flippy. Meanwhile the Swimming Tigers continue to dominate with their third consecutive national championship. Sunday it rained.

Just found a site that is worth the William Shatner entry alone. Also turned me on to The Encyclopedia Shatnerica, now been added to my wish list. Linky appreciation: Dr. Steven Taylor.

Friday, March 25, 2005

How teacher testing works. The New York Daily News reports:
A Bronx teacher who repeatedly flunked his state certification exam paid a formerly homeless man with a developmental disorder $2 to take the test for him, authorities said yesterday.


The illegal stand-in - who looks nothing like teacher Wayne Brightly - not only passed the high-stakes test, he scored so much better than the teacher had previously that the state knew something was wrong, officials said.
Is it sad because it is funny, or funny because it is sad? Read the whole thing.

Linky appreciation: Gary Cruse.
This just doesn't happen. The Mobile Register reports:
A man thrown from a speeding car as it flipped out of control landed in the top of a 30-foot fir tree Thursday morning in north Mobile County, possibly being saved from serious injury by the cushioning effect of the branches, authorities said.


"I saw the car flipping, I would guess three times," the nurse said. "It was not end over end, but side-to-side flipping."

When she jumped out of her car to provide first aid, the nurse said she saw something "twirling in the air at the top of that tree."

"He was up at the top, and I thought, 'what is that?'," she said. "And as I got closer I could see it was a human, on the side of this tree at the very top, swirling all the way down."
One man was treated and released. The other was in fair condition at last check. No word on which landed 30 feet up a tree.
Someone asked for my opinion about Terry Schiavo. Otherwise I wouldn't mention it because I am of several different minds on the issue. They all involve the word abhor. I'm morally abhorrent, politically abhorrent and mostly journalistically abhorrent.

I've stopped considering the family and the spouse. In the most complex and sensitive social issue of life I can't begrudge any of them anything.

The woman is dying. We all do. That's not news. Let's have a little privacy (to say nothing of the medical/ethical issues involved). The national wire story for the early morning screamed Terri Schiavo shows signs of dehydration. Play by play of someone's death in slow motion. That's perversely morbid and unnecessary. I'm sometimes embarrassed by unscrupulous people in the business, I don't think I've ever been embarrassed of the business before.

It leads to things like this: Man tries to steal gun to 'rescue Schiavo'.
(Michael W.) Mitchell, 50, told deputies he wanted to "take some action and rescue Terri Schiavo" after he visited the Pinellas Park hospice where she lives ...

Randy McKenzie, the owner of Randall's Firearms, said Mitchell pulled out the box cutter and broke the glass on a couple of display cases.

"He told me if I wasn't on Terri's side then I wasn't on God's side, either," McKenzie told The Associated Press.
We had the grief story. We had the evil husband story. We had the court stories. The Congress stories. The President stories. The Governor Jeb Bush stories. The basic right to live/die/kill stories and government out of control stories. She's dying. And so will all of us.

This isn't news anymore. This is pack journalism that has lost control of itself. This is a social lynching; in the group there is anonymity and, in this case, assumed protection for those covering the story. But on this issue everyone has no choice but to watch. A lot of people will conclude that we have played up this woman's slow, inevitable death to sell ads. A hit the perception of journalism can't afford to take right now.

Judiciously, did the system work? The legal activities clearly indicate due process. Humanistically, there are only unsavory questions and no answers.

Socially the one redeeming quality is an increased interest in living wills.

Update: Jeff Jarvis disagrees with my media assessment. Sort of. He, as usual, has a good idea though.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Perfect day. Co-workers laughed at my jokes. Ate at Moe's. Didn't get to work out -- this is perfect when feeling lazy, but I tried so I also feel righteous. Read under an oak tree. Took pictures of squirrels, a woodpecker and flowers. Watched people go by. Phone calls with friends. Professional schmoozing. Figured out a work problem that had been troubling me for the last two weeks. Simple solution too. Perfect day.

One wonders why every day can't be this perfect. And then one realizes that every day is this perfect. Smooth and fresh as newly sandpapered wood. Soft. Crisp. Worked for.

Now the mad Brasilian is talking about Robert Axelrod's The Evolution of Cooperation. Haven't read it, but the Portugese speaking wine-lover insists it is a classic. He cites the author's use of trench warfare in WWI as a "live and let live" strategy among parties (enemies).

"Live and let live." I suppose. That explains the chemical warfare, no man's land and the introduction of tanks and machine guns. I hope Axelrod better explains that the "live and let live" strategy came about only after hundreds of thousands were killed in senseless and foolhardy assaults. Why do the French surrender? A million dead in 1916 alone. Half of that at Verdun. They're still exhausted.

That's how perfect today is: I'm finding reasons to apologize for the French. Not very Red State of me.

Spring has walked back into our lives with its usual gentle, self-assured stride. That makes every day perfect. Davo is getting feeling back in his abdomen and lower back. Perfect news. Bested only by knowing his spirits remain high. And his stories remain hilarious. Read his March 17th post on that page.

Other good Auburn news, and a holy cow moment:
Fred Bousquet became the first individual to clock a sub-19-second 50-yard freestyle this morning and duplicated the feat this evening as he went 18.90 in winning the event for the third consecutive year in a row, the third man to accomplish that feat. After the first night of the 2005 NCAA Men’s Swimming and Diving Championships at the University of Minnesota Aquatic Center, the Tigers lead the overall team race with 172 points and are followed by Arizona in second-place with 130 points.
The swimming Tigers are looking for their third consecutive and fifth overall national championship.

There was this great segueway from Davo being hilarious to the rest of tonight. But I had to throw in Bousquet's time and the team scores. So we'll continue ...

Almost as funny as this class. Do you remember sitting in math classes? Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry. Calculus. Unless you loved it -- and became an engineer -- what was your most common question? When am I ever going to use this? After three repetitive weeks of The Prisoner's Dilemma and Tit-for-Tat I've realized that I'll use that math before I use this. I may build a bridge before using this. I'm not an engineer.

Every now and then he says something interesting. I write that in a separate notebook. Nuggest of wisdom -- usually involving something other than the class -- often phrase I plan on ripping off one day. Tonight: Threats are advertising. Think about it.

We discussed the nuclear arms race. Asked a complex question from a communication standpoint; he dodged it. His brief forays into history and political science are, to me, the most interesting portions of the lectures. Biology, however, allows him to talk about sex. That's what he really wants to discuss.

And now we're holding forth on natural human lifespans. Thirty years, he says. How do we know? That's when the teeth start to fail. And then he asked, "Why do you think Christ died at 33? Because that's how long we were designed to live." I know the good professor is a non-believer -- and while I'm certainly no Biblical scholar -- Christ died at 33 because he was beaten and then hung on the cross.

Being the Son of the Lord offers good dental. I doubt that was a concern. Speaking of which ... what's up with this? And this?

I seem to be getting distracted to night. The rought draft didn't have the Jesus links. But it did have the 33 bit. After all, if I can't be irreverent about a professor while recalling Our Lord and Savior ... we'll its just not worth getting up in the morning.

Anyway ... The mad Brasilian can't get me down. Even as he -- veteran of four divorces -- attempts to explain how men might best play "the game" (of life) with women. Ironic and ... well, ironic, on so many levels.

Also: Someone made a comment about how Bill Clinton couldn't have Hillary in the Oval Office, thereby depriving him of power and notoriety. A classmate says, "Heaven forbid a woman have the spotlight."

Don't forget, I say to her, about the most powerful woman in the world, the most powerful woman of color the world has seen since Cleopatra. My dear, charming friend then says "The most powerful black woman in the world is Oprah."

Oprah hasn't been black since The Color Purple. Laughter ensues.*

For the record: This was a conversation with a very sweet and funny black woman. This conversation was intended and taken as a joke, nothing more. I have the utmost respect for Oprah, her position of influence in the world and how she uses it. Nothing to be offended at here, move along.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Spring is here. The sun and the clouds got that memo late yesterday, but around noon the appropriate season was on display in all its splendor. Saw the first robin yesterday. Drove through Vestavia Hills' dogwoods. This morning the clouds were airbrushed high into the sky; a soft, horizon length pillow.

Now the storms are rolling in. Spring is here. Lighting strike radar is impressive. The rumbling thunder is threatening to make me sleepy. Going to be a long day of weather-watching. Fun stuff.

What if we spiced it up and, as the meteorologist is on the air talking, we played polka music to go along with it.

Some people like a good polka in the spring.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Want to go to the North Pole? No? Then live vicariously through these explorers as they're trying to validate Robert Peary's 1909 controversial expedition.

The TAG Heuer table is good stuff.
But speeding is half the (albeit) stupid fun:
Cameras targeting speeding trucks soon will be installed on four ramps in Malfunction Junction.

But first, motorists will see radar detection signs on the ramps where tanker-trucks have wrecked and destroyed two bridges in the past three years.


The cameras will photograph speeding vehicles and the radar signs at the same time.
State law, apparently, doesn't allow for tickets unless the infraction is witnessed by an officer. The policy of mailing photographs of trucks and radar signs to the company will only encourage more reckless driving. Imagine the inner-office contest to get the best verified speed. To say nothing of potential postcards. "We're rushing to wish you Happy Holidays."

Sunday, March 20, 2005

I've apparently become a minimalist. The weekend: basketball, sleep. Sleep, basketball.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

If you turn the headphones up really loud, you can hear such a crisp 12-string.

That's the kind of day it has been here. All of the outside world is as thick as a slurpy and getting colder. The incidental points of life, however are being winnowed down to acute points. The fineness of things often overlooked are demanding attention. Small things, the unnecessary accoutrements of life, are somehow worth an increasing appreciation today. There's the richness of music, fast fingers on the keyboard, being able to breathe (and being relatively pain-free) for the first time in more than a week, nervous energy and on and on goes this list of small things. Also, seeing the Black Crowes again this summer is a treat. No links, but I have it on good authority (and they are never wrong) that the brothers Robinson will bring their reunion tour to City Stages this June.

The bigger accomplishments of life are also being reveled in today. Saw her picture, hope I look and feel half as good as she does today.

Watched the second half of the Alabama basketball game at a restaurant with friends. That was ugly enough that the Bama grad of the bunch gave up on them. So, instead, it became story telling time. All these people have better stories than I do. I'm OK with that.

Stephen Green, over there on the left -- did you even notice I brought back the box of links? -- is on vacation in Mexico. He left the inmates in charge of the vodka punditry it seems. The nice thing about this is that I've discovered Andy and World Wide Rant. It was his line, to this story, that sold me: "Irony is so wasted on the young." Indeed. My personal blogging community grows. Its like life, in microcosm.

Assimilar to life is my other favorite aspect of the Internet. Randomness. Just stumbled onto this guy's site. Don't read the text. Just look at the layout and the picture. What would you guess Damien du Toit does? He looks more like a musician than a web developer. Sweet layout though.

This is the charming, and slightly depressing, aspect of the Internet, Washington D.C. and the world as a whole. No matter how long your online time, (or more importantly) vacation or life, you can't possibly take it all in. How utterly heart-breaking to think of all the things you won't see because of silly things like entropy and mortality.

Someone should do something about this.

Monday, March 14, 2005

The sickly week in review. Sinus problems started Monday night. By Tuesday I felt bad enough to skip class. Fortunately I coordinated that with the illness of the professor's children. Didn't miss anything there. Wednesday I'd recovered a tiny bit. Didn't go to class though, but for a show like this it is excusable. (Meanwhile there's the promise of a new album.) Pictures will be up soon.

Thursday was class with the Mad Brasilian. For about 45 minutes it was interesting. And for the second time of the semester seemingly relevant. Mid-class I got a call from Mom visiting in Fort Worth, Texas. Told her about going to the show. "How can you do that, get up early and work all day and then drive to a show and then get up and do it all again and go to class?"

I used to do it a lot better.

Thursday night dinner with friends. Thai. Yum.

Friday I began to feel better. Friday night went out with friends for basketball, music, talk. Saturday morning I woke up with a chest cold. The weekend was timed perfectly for its recuperative abilities.

And that's pretty much everything.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Why I haven't been here: I've been sick.

Sinuses mostly. Leading to no sleep. Felt better this morning than all week. And not just because it is Friday. Five hours of sleep last night, almost equalling the previous two nights. A new man, I am. Just six-and-a-half hours of sleep between Tuesday morning at 4:30 and Thursday night at 10:45.

I was told this morning that I'd been grumpy recently. I resented that, only mildly, until the comment was rescinded. Bad word choice she said. Though tired -- and unable to breathe -- my spirits have been fairly high, which is always nice. Life's more enjoyable that way kids, that's your lesson for the day.

So there are a few things to fill in here and there. Let's play catch-up this weekend, shall we?

Sunday, March 6, 2005

Weekends lately are realizing their designed purpose. I like the characterization of being busy doing a whole lot of nothing. Precious little was accomplished. Scant bits of philosophy were dreamt up and summarily discarded. The best parts included sleeping, staring at clouds and laughing. Just as it should be.

Saturday, March 5, 2005

When they make the sitcom based on my life this will be the themesong.

Forty-six seconds of goodness that I this evening cut down from a three minute song. My apologies to the Beach Boys.
I offer you my embarrassing moment of the day as a public service.

Something I just learned about the Mamas and The Papas: If you act out California Dreamin' you can very easily split the seam to your slacks at the "Well I got my knees and I began to pray" part. That is all.

Friday, March 4, 2005

Overheard while shopping:
Little girl: I want to touch it. Why can't I touch it? Josh gets to touch it.
Dad: Because Josh is 18 and you are five.
Little girl, muttering: Just because I'm five doesn't mean I'm not grown up.
Dad looked tired.
It happened, ironically enough, over pie.

Lemon icebox, that is.

After taking two pages of notes from this book I recently checked out from the library there's the realization that I'm absorbing as much from the early goings of this text as I have from my classes. And then it dawns on me: I have a thesis project.

Here's a nod to the randomly divine nature of life. This book, it turns out, doesn't have anything to do with the project I got it for. May or may not work for another. Turns out to be an accidental library pick. Today I fished it out of the back of the car for leisure reading because it has an interesting cover.

So at least I think I have a thesis. Need to run it by some people before I get too in-depth here (and you're welcome for that). It is, however, closely related to some questions and concepts I've had in recent months. If you've had to be bored with me in half-cooked philosophical conversations recently, or even been reading here on the right day you could probably take a decent guess. Things have been percolating and now Dr. Whillock has helped me complete that thought process. Having been concerned since August about coming up with anything that I'd find both interesting and defensible I am pretty happy right now.

Incidentally: Sage Publications wants $45 for the paperback, Amazon lists it at $18.
I'm proud to say the balloon talk carried through the afternoon. Rare is the day when one of mine is the running joke of the office. To say the conversation turned juvenile would be giving us too much credit. But with material like this what could one expect?
Just stumbled onto this piece:
Journalists think they know everything, a somewhat fair assertion since many of them do ... (Never play Trivial Pursuit with a journalist, unless you're lucky enough to have him or her on your team, in which case you will win.)

Because they (kind of) know everything, journalists make very good friends and the worst kind of enemies: the kind you can't convince otherwise. Not only do journalists like to argue, but they tend to excel at it (if not in theory, then in form) ...

(T)his makes journalists come off as being arrogant and opinionated. They always talk about work because for them work is the stuff of life.
Not much to the rest of the piece, I just found that part amusing.
We're talking, for some reason, about making balloon animals. "I bet you could learn that in an afternoon," Justin says.

We can find a site online and knock this out by lunchtime.

So we surf. And sure enough, about 350,000 hits come up. The internet never ceases to amaze. Anyway, the first hit looks promising. Until you look at the author's name. I'm sure he's a fine guy, but somehow the name Magical Balloon-dude Dale just gives one pause.

We decided to go with the second hit which proved my answer to the question: What kind of animals can you make? As predicted dog is number one, followed closely by giraffe.

No word on if it is an evil herbivore.
First story of the day comes from Idaho. Wild ride ends happily.
He seemed to be attempting to relay some message. He kept pointing to the car roof, and he had a really strange expression. She couldn't read his lips, but he motioned for her to pull over ...

It's a good thing she skis and had that rack on top of her car. And luckily, she ignored that little voice in her head, warning her it would be foolish to pull over for the stranger.

The frantic man ran up to her car shouting, "Your cat! Your cat!" He reached for the roof of her car and handed her an orange tabby.
The cat held on for some 10 miles of interstate.

Thursday, March 3, 2005

I get in political debates. Most recently about the power of the president. The public, I was told, is disenchanted because they are too far removed from power. Fair enough, and thank you President Roosevelt.

"People in Burnt Corn, Alabama don't feel like a politician cares about their problems" was the sentiment. True enough. The Executive, over the years, has stolen far too much significance from the Legislative branch. The best part came next when I was told "The problem is that they're all rich, white, fat cats."

Your Congressman is black.

Things just went downhill from there.

The larger issue is that through a variety of techniques we've come to think of the President as the chief problem-solver and problem-causer. Clearly the person in the Oval Office doesn't have that much sway over the economy (local, national or global) no matter who that person is. There are a variety of influences involved in the economy and any number of national concerns. Sometimes the model becomes so complex that even the financial experts don't comprehend what's going on. Blaming one person, no matter the ideology or political banner, is easier than understanding dozens of more powerful and external influences.

This problem is, in part, one made of the media. Driven to produce understandable content in a tight format we've simplified everything for public consumption. Or unscrupulous members of the media unfairly slant stories. It is a particularly interesting question to consider from a campaign standpoint. How do we create a more educated electorate in an increasingly fragmented and rushed society content with soundbite news and bumper sticker politics?

Wednesday, March 2, 2005

The first goal, last night, was to be in bed by 10. Then by 10:30. Some time around 11 last night I finally get settled. Happily, I realize, I still stand to get about five-and-a-half hours of sleep. It was then that I realized the absurdity of it all.

Maybe in the next life I'll learn to get more sleep.

Happy late birthday to the brother. Matt turned 18 yesterday. He's getting ready to go off to Ball State in the fall. We were talking last night, "Between finishing up the college paperwork and a senior paper to write I feel like I'm already in college." Heh. I warned him of what grad school is like:
I woke up this morning, went to work, left work to study, stopped studying for class, had two-and-a-half hours of class and now am headed to a meeting with other students. Welcome to what you have to look forward to for the next four or six years.
Get ready sport.

And I'm not in a particularly challenging graduate school. Keeps me busy though. Or is it the fussing, oh-so-important to schoolwork, that keeps me busy? Who can say anymore?

Speaking of college, the race story at the alma mater is getting "serious." For some, the more things change the more they stay the same.

At what point does a group of local black officials write back to Sharpton and Jackson asking them to stay away? Is theirs even a good kind of publicity any longer? Such a shame too. Jackson marched with Dr. King. Sharpton ... well, he does dynamite guest appearances on SNL and The Daily Show. This is what a movement has become. But I digress.

Wish I could speak with some certainty on the brewing story in Auburn. I tend to side with the official line here, if only for one reason. Surely no one is thick-headed enough to make changes for such reasons in such a high-visibility arena without thinking there wouldn't be a backlash. More probably, this is the trimming of ties to an older era. Bad form, but it is going to happen.

This is heartening though.
"I've been at LaGrange for 16 years and coaching a lot longer than that and I've never seen any evidence of any kind of racial discrimination in the athletic department at Auburn," Pardue said. "... But I know those coaches and the people at Auburn. I know they are not only good coaches, but good people. It would be a surprise to me if things like this would weigh into what a recruit might think or if there is anything to these kind of allegations."
Wouldn't it surprise us all if there weren't a need to be having these conversations? Perchance to dream. I wonder what Marvin Julich has to say. No one seems to be standing up for him. You know, the white guy that got fired?

There is another neat little story from Auburn today. Remember Gollum? War Eagle. Meanwhile, we learned last week that the creator of Wikipedia is an Auburn man too. Lots of talented 21st Century thinking coming out of the place.

Since I'm on the semi-regular Auburn kick today: Keep Dave Denniston in your prayers. He's finding, for the rest of us, a tremendous point of view. "I encourage all of you to take a walk around the block today and realize how truly great it is just to be outside." Get better Davo.

February pictures are up. Some 25 in all. You can find them on the pics page. Or, if you don't want to leave this bloggy goodness, open them in their own window here.

Tuesday, March 1, 2005

In a show of solidarity with a friend who's going "off the sauce" I am once again giving up sodas. Did this after college. Weened my way off, stayed off for almost two years. Then I kicked them again, though with only moderate success. Just about six months that time.

This isn't the hardest thing to do, but to remove what is essentially a staple from your diet does take a bit of willpower. Caffeine: the closest thing to an addiction I have.

So now, despite working early mornings and once more in school (the original reasons I drank so many) I have quit again.

Cold turkey.