Another 'I forgot to mention.' The small string of tests following my annual physical included a visit to a urologist because my regular blood test included higher than average PSA levels. The urologist ran a blood test specifically designed to scrutinize PSA, and just got back to me recently. Result, my levels are perfectly normal, and the original reading was in error.
So that's it. All my health metrics are normal, and I'm good for another year!
Which reminds me, I've got to call my Dad up and find out how his round of tests have been going...
Friday, September 26, 2003
Portland Art Museum
I forgot to mention that we went to the Portland Art Museum Sunday. My workplace negotiated a free day for employees, so the family unit headed into Portland to check it out. It was a nice mild day and I enjoyed walking from our parking spot to the museum. It'd been so long since I last went there I wasn't sure I knew where it was, but we got there eventually.
The visiting exhibitions were the painted sculptures of Joan Miro, and the medicine themed paintings of Norman Rockwell. There were really only six or seven paintings by Rockwell, but the Miro exhibit was pretty big, mostly because the sculptures were.
I was more interested in the paintings, as their American collection included several paintings by Childe Hassam, one of my favorites. In particular I liked "Sunlit Nude in Woods" (bad guess at title from memory). There were many more, and I spent a long time looking. I was disappointed however, that they no longer had the JMW Turner painting I liked.
Kelly vacillated between boredom and fascination, and perked right up at the museum store, where she bought a plastic 'tangle toy'. I didn't buy anything, but had fun looking. The capper was when I lounged in the 'sculpture garden' outside the museum while Jean and Kelly paid for their purchases. I watched the long line across the street at the Historical Society, where the Declaration of Independence was on display. Wish I could have seen that too, but our time was limited.
The visiting exhibitions were the painted sculptures of Joan Miro, and the medicine themed paintings of Norman Rockwell. There were really only six or seven paintings by Rockwell, but the Miro exhibit was pretty big, mostly because the sculptures were.
I was more interested in the paintings, as their American collection included several paintings by Childe Hassam, one of my favorites. In particular I liked "Sunlit Nude in Woods" (bad guess at title from memory). There were many more, and I spent a long time looking. I was disappointed however, that they no longer had the JMW Turner painting I liked.
Kelly vacillated between boredom and fascination, and perked right up at the museum store, where she bought a plastic 'tangle toy'. I didn't buy anything, but had fun looking. The capper was when I lounged in the 'sculpture garden' outside the museum while Jean and Kelly paid for their purchases. I watched the long line across the street at the Historical Society, where the Declaration of Independence was on display. Wish I could have seen that too, but our time was limited.
Sunday, September 21, 2003
Times Tables and Tears
Kelly is enduring the times tables. She's got to know them for the state tests by the end of the school year, and so the teacher is asking parents to help. So far, Kelly hasn't broken out in tears over the ordeal. No, she is much better at passive resistance, audible sighs, and frustrated subvocalized monologues.
She's got my sympathy. One of my earliest memories is of sitting in my maternal grandmother's bedroom in Washington, D.C. while my mother grilled me with flashcards, over and over. I remember the sunlight streaming through the curtains with a subdued light. And I remember wishing I was outside climbing trees with Junior, my friend from across the street. I certainly cried. It was deeply frustrating to me, and felt like an inquisition, rather than a learning experience. Rote memorization is sometimes necessary, sometimes helpful, but rarely enjoyable.
But Kelly seems to get it more quickly than I did, so I'm heartened that she won't suffer too much. Retention is a problem, though, which means that she'll keep getting periodic quizzes long into the school year. Good luck, kid!
She's got my sympathy. One of my earliest memories is of sitting in my maternal grandmother's bedroom in Washington, D.C. while my mother grilled me with flashcards, over and over. I remember the sunlight streaming through the curtains with a subdued light. And I remember wishing I was outside climbing trees with Junior, my friend from across the street. I certainly cried. It was deeply frustrating to me, and felt like an inquisition, rather than a learning experience. Rote memorization is sometimes necessary, sometimes helpful, but rarely enjoyable.
But Kelly seems to get it more quickly than I did, so I'm heartened that she won't suffer too much. Retention is a problem, though, which means that she'll keep getting periodic quizzes long into the school year. Good luck, kid!
Dissonance
I went for my increasingly favorite bike ride yesterday, a loop from home out to 65th via Frobase Road, and back via Norwood. I've gotten so I can do the route in 33 minutes, which is not bad considering that my bike isn't really a road bike.
I was enjoying the fresh air and scenery, and cresting the final hill on Frobase before it intersects 65th, when I saw an old guy driving a tractor from his house out to a field. Feeling friendly and pumped up from my ride, I gave him a hearty wave. He slowed down, leaned out of his seat, and yelled "why don't you stay home?"
Well, I was non-plussed, to say the least. This was a dash of cold water on my happy little trip. Still, I was back in the mood within a couple of minutes, and completed my ride home without incident.
On reflection, I can only guess that he has seen the land around him claimed by McMansions (the stretch of 65th between Tualatin and Wilsonville has several large houses with what I call 'tax farms' on them -- the owners growing a small crop to satisfy zoning regs while allowing them to have a house with a lot of land around it), probably seen his own property taxes escalate, and is bitter.
It reminds me of a farmer with a dwindling plot of land in the middle of Lake Grove (offshoot of Lake Oswego). Jean and I would talk to him occasionally when we lived in the apartments there, and he was unabashedly bitter. He felt the encroaching city which was eating away at his farm was a (capital C) Communist plot, that the local government had been taken over by Reds, and generally ranted until we extricated ourselves.
I'm sympathetic, really. I don't like disruptive change in my own life, and these guys are the epitome of gradual change. Granted that the smart farmer is always evaluating new crop techniques, being a good steward of the land, and more than I have any insight into. But most of these small farm owners are members of farming families. I don't think too many folk today decide to buy a farm and start a business. So if you grew up on a farm, planned to do farming for a living, and got gobbled up by urban sprawl, well, bitter doesn't describe it by half.
My own profession is being encroached on by globalization. I hope firstly that I can continue to educate myself in a way that will keep my skills in demand as many software jobs shift overseas. I hope secondly that if I need to jump to some other job to meet the shifting demands of life, that I can do it without nursing a bitter regret.
I was enjoying the fresh air and scenery, and cresting the final hill on Frobase before it intersects 65th, when I saw an old guy driving a tractor from his house out to a field. Feeling friendly and pumped up from my ride, I gave him a hearty wave. He slowed down, leaned out of his seat, and yelled "why don't you stay home?"
Well, I was non-plussed, to say the least. This was a dash of cold water on my happy little trip. Still, I was back in the mood within a couple of minutes, and completed my ride home without incident.
On reflection, I can only guess that he has seen the land around him claimed by McMansions (the stretch of 65th between Tualatin and Wilsonville has several large houses with what I call 'tax farms' on them -- the owners growing a small crop to satisfy zoning regs while allowing them to have a house with a lot of land around it), probably seen his own property taxes escalate, and is bitter.
It reminds me of a farmer with a dwindling plot of land in the middle of Lake Grove (offshoot of Lake Oswego). Jean and I would talk to him occasionally when we lived in the apartments there, and he was unabashedly bitter. He felt the encroaching city which was eating away at his farm was a (capital C) Communist plot, that the local government had been taken over by Reds, and generally ranted until we extricated ourselves.
I'm sympathetic, really. I don't like disruptive change in my own life, and these guys are the epitome of gradual change. Granted that the smart farmer is always evaluating new crop techniques, being a good steward of the land, and more than I have any insight into. But most of these small farm owners are members of farming families. I don't think too many folk today decide to buy a farm and start a business. So if you grew up on a farm, planned to do farming for a living, and got gobbled up by urban sprawl, well, bitter doesn't describe it by half.
My own profession is being encroached on by globalization. I hope firstly that I can continue to educate myself in a way that will keep my skills in demand as many software jobs shift overseas. I hope secondly that if I need to jump to some other job to meet the shifting demands of life, that I can do it without nursing a bitter regret.
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Ghost In The Machine
Okay, now I know why Primal was on clearance at Fry's. There is a very annoying bug which only crops up when you are deep into the first level. Scree, the gargoyle sidekick, who is necessary for successful play, occasionally eludes a clipping plane and ends up in 'inside-out' world. He seems to be stuck behind the walls of the world, and while every once in awhile he can maneuver into the same space as Jen, he cannot interact with her. He flashes in and out of existance, but he just ain't there man!
I think I'll try to play through the first level, saving frequently so I can go back to the last place where he wasn't stuck, which is tedious but doable. But if I try another level and this sort of thing continues, then it goes on the shelf.
By the way, I've already gotten my money's worth by the movie scale, so I don't feel gyped, or lured into a scam by that low price.
P.S. - Searching the Internet, I found this quote:
And then there were the lovely multiple instances of dropping out into a skybox (all architecture disappeared and I was left with just the background image that�s wrapped around the whole level), once with each character, and once simply by walking up to a wall. The first time this happened, I tried saving and resetting the PS2, but it saved the skyboxed character as well. If for some reason someone happened to save over their only savegame, they�d have to start over from scratch. Clipping issues that result in skyboxes are something that should be caught by QA long before the game ships, and it was utterly frustrating to see a game that otherwise felt very polished end up as such.
PSX2 Reviews
"Skybox", that's a word that's goin' into my gamer's vocabulary, right up there with "gibbed".
I think I'll try to play through the first level, saving frequently so I can go back to the last place where he wasn't stuck, which is tedious but doable. But if I try another level and this sort of thing continues, then it goes on the shelf.
By the way, I've already gotten my money's worth by the movie scale, so I don't feel gyped, or lured into a scam by that low price.
P.S. - Searching the Internet, I found this quote:
And then there were the lovely multiple instances of dropping out into a skybox (all architecture disappeared and I was left with just the background image that�s wrapped around the whole level), once with each character, and once simply by walking up to a wall. The first time this happened, I tried saving and resetting the PS2, but it saved the skyboxed character as well. If for some reason someone happened to save over their only savegame, they�d have to start over from scratch. Clipping issues that result in skyboxes are something that should be caught by QA long before the game ships, and it was utterly frustrating to see a game that otherwise felt very polished end up as such.
PSX2 Reviews
"Skybox", that's a word that's goin' into my gamer's vocabulary, right up there with "gibbed".
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Ring
Ring is finished, in a marathon session this evening. While my clumsy description of the American remake of the Japanese movie adaptation left Jean cackling at it's stupidity, I enjoyed the movie and thought it was both a reasonably subtle story of fear in the face of the unknown, with a frisson of Lifeboat style moral challenge at the end.
Well, the book is about twice as good as the movie version I saw. It still has the classic ghost story notes I mentioned in the past, but it works very well as a detective story, and has a very nice science fiction twist at the end. I won't give it away to those who want to read the book, I'll just encourage you to read it.
Well, the book is about twice as good as the movie version I saw. It still has the classic ghost story notes I mentioned in the past, but it works very well as a detective story, and has a very nice science fiction twist at the end. I won't give it away to those who want to read the book, I'll just encourage you to read it.
Sunday, September 14, 2003
Surrogate Pet
Or, "How Our Tuna Bill Doubled in One Week."
Kelly bugs us on and off for a pet. We say no. Allergies are the main problem, though I for one am still sad about Grendl passing away (even though she lasted a record twenty some years, outrageously long for a cat).
We tried a goldfish, and went through three before we acknowledged that we couldn't figure out the equation. We've talked about potential outdoor pets, perhaps pigeons, maybe a rabbit hutch, but no action has been taken. I really don't want to be stuck with most of these animals, and either Jean or I would end up taking care of them. So I feel, anyway.
We do get visits from the neighborhood cats, though. One in particular is a beautiful orange tabby. Rather large, I don't know the gender as I've not gotten close to it. I expected it to be skittish, so I never put out the effort to go outside and greet it. It has been napping under our apple tree, and whenever I see it, I point it out to Jean and Kelly.
Now Kelly has begun going out and visiting with the cat, and has gotten to the point where she will feed it some tuna, pet it and play with it. Today they were trundling about the back yard, Kelly dragging some string behind her, the cat following and occasionally making a grab for the string.
For now I'm totally happy. Kelly 'gets' a pet, we get to avoid our allergies. I'm hoping this will fulfill Kelly's needs, rather than aggravating them. Crossing my fingers!
Kelly bugs us on and off for a pet. We say no. Allergies are the main problem, though I for one am still sad about Grendl passing away (even though she lasted a record twenty some years, outrageously long for a cat).
We tried a goldfish, and went through three before we acknowledged that we couldn't figure out the equation. We've talked about potential outdoor pets, perhaps pigeons, maybe a rabbit hutch, but no action has been taken. I really don't want to be stuck with most of these animals, and either Jean or I would end up taking care of them. So I feel, anyway.
We do get visits from the neighborhood cats, though. One in particular is a beautiful orange tabby. Rather large, I don't know the gender as I've not gotten close to it. I expected it to be skittish, so I never put out the effort to go outside and greet it. It has been napping under our apple tree, and whenever I see it, I point it out to Jean and Kelly.
Now Kelly has begun going out and visiting with the cat, and has gotten to the point where she will feed it some tuna, pet it and play with it. Today they were trundling about the back yard, Kelly dragging some string behind her, the cat following and occasionally making a grab for the string.
For now I'm totally happy. Kelly 'gets' a pet, we get to avoid our allergies. I'm hoping this will fulfill Kelly's needs, rather than aggravating them. Crossing my fingers!
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