Yes, flying ended up taking about as much time as driving, and yes, it was more expensive, but, the point of flying vs. driving was not solely to get there faster or cheaper - it was not merely a method of transportation. In fact, it wasn't primarily about transportation.

The point was - to get there, and to get home. But those were end points, or maybe not even that, just milestones.

The bigger point was to have an enjoyable weekend, with enjoyable experiences embedded into that overall purpose.

From that perspective, flying was not simply a means to an end, but an experience in and of itself. And one which had the added benefit of furthering our overall purpose by getting us from point A to point B and back.

I tend to be so goal oriented that I often miss the enjoyment of the journey. Not only that, but when I find myself at my goal, I sometimes feel somewhat empty, feeling "okay, I've done it, now (and so) what?" I often saw this pattern with my skydiving students. They would be really focused and motivated during student status, but as soon as they completed their student progression, they would lose interest and drift away from the sport. This is pretty much what happened to me with my flying initially. I worked hard to get my license, but then drifted away only a few months after achieving my goal. Granted, there were other factors - the shift from working back to school with the consequent impacts on finances and free time, then a new job which paid little and consumed lots of time, then getting married and having an instant family - even less discretionary money and time. But, maybe most importantly... because I had no new goal to continue to motivate me to fly.

And that was the real issue, wasn't it?

I didn't realize that the real point of flying wasn't to reach to goal I had set - the real point of flying was the flying!

Yes, the goals are nice - they help keep me motivated to expended resources - time, money, energy.

But, it's important to not miss the trees, as I strive to get to the edge of the forest.

And, it's important to think - while I am still in the forest - about what I want the next journey to be when I get to that next destination, and to remember that what really matters is the journey, not the destination.

Plan for tomorrow, but live in today.

Quite a few years ago, I purchased a Soyo motherboard with all sorts of neat bells and whistles (at least for those days) - onboard RAID, onboard 5.1 audio, external USB connections, blah, blah, blah.

One day, the hard drives just stopped working. Not only that, but I couldn't even get them to be recognized by using a PCI IDE controller rather than the controller on the MB.

I eventually just threw the MB back in its box and replaced the PC.

I don't know what gave me the idea the other day to take the MB out of the box and inspect the capacitors to see if any had "blown." Sure enough, 18 were in fact popped!

Seems like many of today's electronic devices are using capacitors that are either flawed, or have such tight tolerances (probably to save space and/or cost) that they can't handle the power spikes that seem to be increasingly typical in residences, with the result being the overall (or selective) failure of the device.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Serene Solstice...

Or my new personal favorite: Chappy Chanumas

Whatever brings you comfort and joy at this time of the year, I wish you great happiness and hope that life is good for you.

I thought computers, and the Internet in particular, were supposed to make our lives simpler, not more complicated!

Now, while I'm not as young as I used to be... hmm, that's a stupid expression, isn't it.... I mean no one is as young as they used to be... anyway...

I'm not old enough to harken back to the horse and buggy days, but it seems like life is much more complicated that it used to be.

Take home mortgages as an example.

How does anyone actually not go crazy in the process of trying to decide with whom to secure a home mortgage? Even when we bought our first home, which wasn't thatlong ago, the process was fairly simple. You either grabbed the real estate section out of the Sunday paper, or thumbed through the yellow pages to find the names and phone numbers of the modest number of mortgage companies, made a few phone calls to inquire about rates for the small number of different loan types - I believe the choices were 15 or 30 years - kinda like "would you like fries with that (Y/N)" - asked what the fees were, and then made a choice. Now, there are literally hundreds of companies with whom you can do business - location is no longer a limiting factor. There are dozens of loan types - multiple flavors of ARMs, fixed, ballon, all with multiple rate options depending on how many points you want to pay, how much you want to put down, whether you want to pay the fees or roll them in, and on, and on, and on... And as if that wasn't enough complexity, the mortgage companies play games with their rates - you can't just compare one's rates to another's, because some of the companies bury various fees into the loan and compensate for that by charging a higher interest rate.

Moving seems to highlight or compound these new complexities of life. You find the similar complexity of multivariate equations involving the selection of a moving company, and insurance. Even selecting which telephone company and technology/plan is no longer simple. In fact, trying to figure out what method, and associated provider, you want to access this thing that was supposed to make our lives so simple (and solve world hunger, end homelessness, bring peace to the world, etc). - the Internet - is wrought with complexity! Do you go with dial-up, or DSL, or cable modem, which provider, what speed, blah, blah, blah.

Yeah, yeah, I know, but choice is a good thing you say. Choice fosters competition. Choice is a good thing. Just look at "free choice." Oh, don't even get me started about that!

I think that choice is like most everything else - it is good in moderation. Problems arise when just about anything is taken to extremes. Absolutely no choice is probably not a good thing in most situations, but neither I think, is too much choice. Options are nice - up to a point. Flexibility is good, until there is so much that you lose structural integrity. You get the picture...

So, anyway, somehow we are wading through all of these choices / decisions. On the one hand, the probability that we have not made the absolute best choice - out of every possible option and variation - troubles me. On the other hand, without accepting that "good enough" is good enough, I think we would find ourselves in analysis paralysis.

Oh well, onward and upward - um, technically, both in terms of altitude and what is generally considered up and down relative to north and south, I guess it would be more accurate to say onward and downward.

For most of my life, I remember feeling so "different." I was the shy, awkward kid who never fit in. I was always the last one picked for playground games. I was the wall flower at dances. I was short. I was husky. I was the one the kids teased and picked on.

All I wanted was to be normal. To blend in with the crowd.

Yet, at the same time... I was the bright, cute, teacher's pet. I was the precocious sensitive child that the adults all loved. I was special. I loved the attention, craved the attention, sought the attention.

As a young adult, I still sought to fit in, to be "one of the guys." Yet, I aspired to be something special. I wanted to be a chief, not just another indian. I wanted to be great at something, renowned, "the best."

Strange, huh? I wanted to be average, and exceptional, all at the same time.

I went to a small high school at which I was an exceptional student. Had a good circle of friends, was given some leadership / responsibility roles. I was a relatively big fish in a small pond. Somewhat normal - and exceptional - all at the same time. And, reasonably happy.

Strangely enough, I think the closest I ever came to achieving both of these came during my college years. No, not while at college - that was about as far from either as I've ever been - a lower-middle class kid at a rich kid's school, an outsider loner living in the independent dorms on the fringe of a campus where the cool people lived in fraternities in "the quad" at the center of the campus, a student whose grades helped "lower the curve" because they hovered at the fringe of passing. Definitely a very small fish in a pretty big pond. And, pretty miserable.

But, for those almost two years during which I dropped out - of school - and airplanes - I came close. Skydiving made me feel like I was special, and I felt part of a special group. Not totally at first, and not ever fully, but close. At first, I still didn't quite fit in. Now, I was the spoiled middle-of-the-road rich kid who still didn't fit in with the renegades, the skydiver whose skills were okay - not "shit hot." But, over time, my skills improved, and the complexion of our little core group changed as the "old guard" drifted off, and new folks came in to replace them. I found myself where my skills were pretty good - not the best, but not bad. Where I was liked and respected by many, but not all. And where now, when I visited friends still in school, rather than being viewed as boring and dull, I was viewed as somewhat exciting and dangerous. Again, relatively larger fish in a relatively smaller pond - and relatively happy.

Then I returned to school and "the real world." The return wasn't as bad as the first experience, and was probably the best choice in the long run. Even though I now lived alone, off campus, I didn't feel quite so alone. And even though I shot for "C's" rather than "A's or F's" I felt better about my academics. I still jumped some on the weekends, had my circle of friends.

After I graduated, I got a job at a small company. I made friends, I advanced in my career. I got married, I had kids and a dog. Had my middle class house, in my middle class neighborhood, supported by my middle management job which I performed to above average standards. Even though I had stopped jumping, I guess because of work, I felt somewhat special. Once again, relatively bigger fish in a relatively smaller pond, and relatively happy. Over the course of fifteen years, I climbed my way towards the top of the company. I never made it all the way to the top, or even to the most inner circle, but I came close. Not quite the brass ring, but not too shabby.

Then, the company got sold to a very large corporation. The pot of gold that I had always thought I would share in turned out to be not much more than a tin cup with a few coins. All of a sudden, I was once again a small fish in a very large pond. Strange how one can feel "like a fish out of water" when one is a small fish in a large pond.

My next couple of career changes were to progressively larger companies. Even though each change yielded a "promotion" in absolute terms, in relative (to the company) terms, I drifted down in the pecking order. Now the ponds were oceans with lots of much bigger, much smarter, much more aggressive fish. And work seemed to become more and more the only defining element for me. There wasn't anything else - no hobbies, no sports, nothing "special."

So, here I find myself. Middle aged, statistically average (for America) weight and height (which to my view is short and fat). Average job providing a middle class (i.e. average) income supporting a middle class lifestyle. Making no discernible impact on the cosmos. A pebble cast upon the water that yields no ripples.

I've achieved all that I had initially wanted - to be normal. I guess I never quite understood back then that "normal" also meant "just average" and "mediocre."

So kids, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it...

Cell phone guns have been discovered in Europe. This video clip shows how cell phone guns operate. These phones are not in the U.S. yet, but they are in use overseas. Beneath the digital phone face is a .22 caliber handgun capable of firing four rounds in rapid succession using the
standard telephone keypad.

European law enforcement officials are stunned by the discovery of these deadly decoys. They say phone guns are changing the rules of engagement in Europe . "We find it very alarming," says Wolfgang Dicke of the German Police Union . "It means police will have to draw their weapons whenever a person being checked reaches for their cell phone." Although cell phone guns have not reached the U.S. yet, the FBI, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms and the U.S. Customs Service say they have been briefed on the new weapons.

All U.S. ports of entry have been alerted. These covert weapons were first discovered in October of 2000 when Dutch police came upon a cache during a drug raid in Amsterdam . In another recent incident, a Croatian gun dealer was caught attempting to smuggle a shipment through Slovenia into Western Europe. Police say both shipments are believed to have originated in Yugoslavia . Interpol sent a warning to law enforcement agencies around the world. "If you didn't know they were guns, you would think they were cell phones," said Ari Zandbergen, a spokesperson for the Amsterdam police. "Only when you have one in your hand do you realize that they are heavier than a regular cell phone."

Be patient if security asks to look at your cell phone or turn it on to show that it works. They have a good reason!

Note: I figured this might be an urban legend, so I did a little fact checking before posting this. Considering that the existance of cell phone guns has been reported in Time Magazine, I'm afraid this story appears to be real.

Scary...

Let me start out by just confirming that I feel extremely blessed to have been born in the United States of America. And relative to many (most?) of the other countries on this planet, we have great political and legal systems.

However, with that said, I think our political and legal systems could be better.

To me, a classic example is Howard Dean's "yelling" after the Iowa caucuses. Now granted, I have not seen the entire speech, but from what I saw, it did not appear that he was angry or "out of control." Instead, it appeared to me that he was attempting to give a pep talk to a bunch of tired and disappointed campaign workers and supporters. If you look at his facial expression, he was smiling and laughing.

Why then, did the media choose to characterize it as they did? Was it just that it was something they could play up on an otherwise slow news day? Or, was it more sinister?

The reality of the American political system is that it is money driven. As a reminder, media (TV, radio, newspapers, etc.) is a business. Now, given that we are a capitalist country (and I am all for capitalism), it is not totally unreasonable that money would be a factor in all aspects of our society. But, it has to make one wonder... were there powerful economic forces which swayed how this particular incident was reported?

Given the power that money wields, and given the reality that a candidate needs LOTS of money to get elected to major offices, one has to wonder how much the winner ends up beholden to the interests that provided the money to his campaign...

Unfortunately, I think that there often fundamental conflicts between the interests of big money, and what is "right," where "right" reflects social interests, or long term consequences. I am afraid that in a society that is so focused on the next quarter's earning report, or the next election which is two, four, or at most six years away, that we often prostitute our future for our present.

Without term limits, rather than politics being a short term public service, it becomes a career. So, politicians are strongly motivated to do those things that will enhance the chances for them to keep their job. Things that are likely to be highly biased toward monetary or short term results.

Yes, I know there is no Utopia. No, I don't buy the "love it or leave it" mentality of blindly supporting the status quo. Just because something is already good, and just because nothing is perfect, does not mean that you shouldn't strive to achieve the ideal.

My thanks to Pink Floyd for the intro...

Money is such a strange thing.

$5.00 can be an absolute fortune. It can literally be the difference between life and death for some people.

Or, it can be almost meaningless.

One person, in one circumstance, can agonize over the decision to spend $5. Another person can spend $500 with no thought at all.

And then there is the whole question of saving vs. spending...

Wouldn't life be so much simpler if you knew from the outset exactly how long you would live, and what major expenditures you would face along the way?

Some days I feel like I should save every penny I earn so that I can retire "comfortably," and not want in my "golden years." Or so that I can have a "cushion" "...just in case."

But then I think, what if I were to die tomorrow? Should I do without today, for a tomorrow I might never see?

Usually, I would say, "strike a balance." But even knowing what the "balance" is would take a fortune teller.

I am blessed in that all of my basic needs are met. Even many of my wants are met. But, I believe (and hope) that I am somewhat modest in my wants - at least relative to where I am in life. For example, I have two cars - extravagant, no? But, the newer of the two cars is eleven years old! Now, there are many people who would sell their soul for even the older of the two cars. But there are also many people who wouldn't be caught dead even in the newer of the two. Every now and then, I think that it would be nice to have a sporty new car. But, then I think "I don't really need a new car" and I wouldn't want to start making car payments again. And then I think "shouldn't I have enough in savings to buy, outright a new car if I wanted?

And what about charity? And helping your kids?

What is the proper amount to give, and to keep?

Just to reiterate... I am by no means complaining. I am incredibly fortunate. To even be able to have the time to wonder about such things, and to have the means to do so in this venue, demonstrates just how blessed I am.

Things would just be so much easier if I knew the answers...

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like Mother of Pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"

"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered. "Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open. "Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there". The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.

"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is Heaven," was the answer.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind."

Soooo...

Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word, maybe this could explain:

When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes.

When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.

When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.

And to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get? A forwarded joke.

So my friend, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you've been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile...

Have a great day

the best rapper is a white guy,

the best golfer is a black guy,

the hottest basketball player is Chinese,

France is accusing the US of arrogance

and Germany doesn't want to go to war.

those who understand binary numbers and those who do not.

I am one of those (rare?) folks who actually likes the IBM track point notebook mouse control (as opposed to a touch pad).

For some reason, touch pads and I just don't get along. Every touchpad I've ever tried - and I've tried many, from many different vendors - seems to be possessed when I try to use it; the mouse cursor randomly jumps all over the screen, either clicks or missed, or occur spontaneously.

On the other hand, the track point does exactly what I want - no more, no less.

The only issue I have - and this occurs with every notebook I've ever used that has a built-in palm rest (which is a requirement for me) is that my heel of my hands (base of my palm) sweats profusely.

Maybe I should invent some sort of absorbent, replaceable insert... some nice terry over gel thingie that could be replaced / washed whenever it gets nasty. Sure would make typing on the notebook less messy.

I had forgotten how painful a slow dial-up connection is.

My current 24k connection has served as a reference to remind me of just what a blessing high speed access is.

It has also reminded me of the impact of lots of graphics on a web (like this one) page.

Now granted, most folks accessing this site should be connecting at more like 48k, but, I wonder... do I need to remove some of the "fluff" to make the page loads faster for those who have slow connections?

It has also confirmed that should I loose my job, I will forgo food before I give up my cable modem ;-)

My goal is that within 12-24 months, my managers, peers, and customers will say:

"Holly smokes! You are absolutely amazing. We sure are glad you are on our team."

Poor Diego.

Cali can't have anything to eat tonight.

To help prevent fights, and to keep Cali from feeling like she is being punished, I'm not giving Diego anything to eat either.

But poor Diego doesn't understand that we need to do this because his sister is having surgery tomorrow.

All he knows is that he's hungry.

Poor baby.

PS. Pardon the pun in the title.

I just figured out what religion I am:

OWINSBIG

Only When I Need Something Believes In God

Or maybe it's:

BIGOWINS

Believes In God Only When I Need Something

I was just thinking about Cali's upcoming surgery, and said a little prayer asking for God to keep her safe during the operation. And I was thinking about my last entry, and the grades I received in college, and the time when, totally out of character, for want of a miracle, I stepped into the chapel and asked for divine intervention to allow me to pass a test which by all rights I should have failed - and, somehow, I not only passed, but passed comfortably.

I guess every now and then I talk to God when I don't want something. Sometimes, on a particularly pretty day, I will give thanks for the beauty of that instant. And sometimes, I'll think to say a prayer for someone who is ill, or for world peace and an end to hunger.

But, I guess like most college kids (though I am long past that time myself), about the only time I have a conversation with "The Father" is when I need something from him.

Doesn't seem like and additional 2 1/2 pounds should make that much of a difference, but it sure does.

I'm glad I found those little plates. I don't think I could have handled an extra 5 pounds per dumbbell.

In a tangential vein, it once again highlights to me just how important relativity is in our lives.

2 1/2 pounds of weight gain for the average adult wouldn't be that significant a change.

2 1/2 pounds of additional weight for a blue whale wouldn't even be noticed.

2 1/2 pounds of additional weight for a regulation Chihuahua would be massive.

The significance is all in the frame of reference...

As I reflect on events, my inner voice often speaks as though I were reading/writing a blog entry about them. I roll the words around in my head, constructing a mental entry as I go.

Rather than reviewing the events in a linear, non-stop fashion, my reflections have fits and starts.

I ponder an aspect, write a phrase in my head, re-word it, view it from different perspectives, and then when I'm satisfied with that fragment, I move along in time.

Strange...