Summer

Well, it's summer and it's beautiful out. And it's been a long time since I've written.

Sorry.

I know this doesn't excuse it, but I wanted to post some new pictures. I hope you like them - you can see the others here. Oh and a word of warning... there aren't many others. But there are some good ones in the pipeline. Next up is a set of the little chick at her adorable-est.

As In, Dirty Little

I think it's time for a new insult.

Those who know me (which, I guess, is a pretty substantial portion of people who read this) know that I'm not much of a science fiction guy. I liked Lord of the Rings (and before someone with a "Live Long & Prosper" tee shirt tells me that's not science fiction, I know... I just have a tendency to group all things where people dress in costumes to see the movie into one super-category), but that's about as far as it goes.

Still, I've had an idea for a long time, and to celebrate the release of the new X-Files movie, I think it's time to bring it up again.

Scullymulder, as in, "why, you dirty little scullymulder!"

The problem, I guess, is that I've never actually invented an insult before. Honestly, I try not to make insults a very regular part of my speech. But this one, I think, could be different. I plan to try it out at work tomorrow to see how it goes over in French - I've been practicing the accent tonight, and I think it's almost ready.

So, feel free to propagate. And if you're Katie, I expect a link back to the source...

;-)

When I Was Little

We used to kill bugs using a can of WD40 and a lighter... instant flamethrower. Though the wisdom of doing that may be questionable, it sure was fun. There's a bug flying around my apartment now and I find myself wishing that I didn't have this pesky "maturity" thing in the way as I try to decide how to deal with him.

I'm definitely not one who usually longs to go backwards, but I miss those days.

Change Me

Why do people give change as bills first, then coins? If you get the coins in your hand you can hold on to them securely while you take the bills in your fingers. If the coins are on top, you're forced to try to hold the whole thing flat until you can get the other hand free to rescue the coins and airlift them away to safety. This is like the New Orleans disaster plan enacted out in the world of commerce, a billion times a day... we must be able to do something!

You Smell Nice

On the way home from feeding the ducks with the little chick today, I saw a guy driving by on a scooter. That's not unusual - there are a lot of scooters in Geneva. What was a bit odd is that, while he was driving, he was smelling one of those little paper strips that you put perfume on to test it.

I can't help but think that if your cologne smells good while you're driving along a city street at full speed, it may end up being just a touch strong for anyone who ends up in the elevator with you at the other end.

We Should Have Phoned First

There is a mountain (hill) near Geneva called the Salève. It's actually on the French side, but we like to think it's ours. You can go up it in a cable car, and everyone has told me for years how wonderful the views are over the city and the lake, especially at sunset, but I've never been.

I decided, though, that now was the time. First of all, this is my last summer living here. And second, I have kind of a special visitor, and I wanted to share it with her. So we got a picnic ready, headed off across town, walked through the border into France, found the entrance, and....

Closed.


Yeah, turns out that the sun sets at 9:30, and the cable car stops running at 7. Who came up with that schedule*?!? For the record, though, it was still a pretty nice sunset, even from the bottom.

C'est la vie.






* Not actually a rhetorical question - I think perhaps it was this guy.

Blog-Off

I'm hesitant to post this.


I've been, it seems, invited (challenged? entangled?) to a blog-off.

What's a blog-off, you ask? That's a reasonable question. In fact, it's the first one I had, as well. The original format was going to be a topic decided by a third party, with the challenger and I each having 20 minutes to write and publish a post on it, to then be judged by another person. That concept seems to have passed, however, and now I'm not entirely sure if it's based on quality, quantity, readership, or some other factor that I've failed to identify.

But every time I talk to Katie, she reminds me about it. So, whatever it is, it seems to be on.

Katie's blog is babygotbrit. And I've put a link here, but I'm not sure I can encourage you to read it, in case this is being decided by number of hits. I'm also not sure what the prize is for winning.

It's been a while since I've had a good bit of public self-analysis, though, so I may as well continue on in that direction. There are, I think, only two things that really, really make me competitive.

First is going to a concert. I kind of like to be at the front. And when I go, I get pretty... uh, focused. I have a routine I go through that's pretty established, and has gotten me a good spot at a lot of shows. I'm not ruthless, not aggressive, but I have a goal and I go for it.

The only other thing that I've really been able to identify is doing something with someone who really, really wants to win. I remember playing foosball with my friend Fred. I love the guy... he's quiet, friendly, warm... and LOVES to win, HATES to lose. Anyway, I had been playing for a while with a bunch of people and just relaxing, enjoying it, laughing. Fred joined up on the other side of the table, and he got his game face on pretty quickly. Well, I'll tell you... I couldn't care who won or lost, but every time I scored on him (which was, happily for me, pretty frequently) I could see him getting more and more desperate to win. I'm not usually cruel, but there's something about that situation... someone wanting with their whole heart to beat me in something completely trivial... that just seems like an invitation to play with them that's just a little too good to pass up.

So, if you have any suggestion of how I may be able to take the lead in the blog-off, I'm all ears. Wish me luck!

Is That.......? Uh... Never Mind

It's because I love the earth.


I have a habit of shaking my hands rather enthusiastically after I wash to try to get the water off... I use fewer paper towels that way. The problem is that, in summer when I'm wearing light dress pants ("trousers" for those in the UK), those water drops that go flying everywhere make spots on my pants. And those spots really show up.

Really, really show up.

And, as a result, every time I walk out of the bathroom, it looks very much like I've urinated on myself. But I've been doing better on containing that the last couple of weeks, and I'm pretty proud of that.

I think that perhaps now I'm ready to consider that career in politics that I had been putting off.

Third World Country

Okay, I haven't really traveled in one, at least, not extensively. But I'm pretty sure that, if I did, I would find taxi service like Geneva's. I have taken taxis in a lot of cities, on several continents, and I have never encountered service as regularly poor (and often illegal) as I get in Geneva.

I just got home... and I left the office seven hours ago. Yes, it was in another country, but a close one (Germany). Due to a number of factors (none of which, it appears, were the airline's fault), my 7 PM flight was delayed, delayed, delayed, and eventually canceled... and we were all put on a 9:45-ish flight instead. So by the time I got back to Geneva and took a look at the train schedules, I had a pretty strong hunch that my client would probably feel like a taxi fare home was a reasonable trade for almost adding a second work day.

Today, I didn't have much cash with me (I've been carrying Euros), but, in general, I try to find a cab that takes Visa, even if I pay with cash.

"Why," you ask? Why, if I'm going to pay in cash, would I bother asking if they take Visa?

Well, it's because of times like tonight. I started at the front of the line of taxis, asking if they accepted Visa cards. Some looked at me like I was crazy. One man was at least apologetic... he didn't have a machine. But I had to ask more than a dozen cabs, all in a row, before I found one guy willing to actually pull out his Visa machine and drive me home. And this isn't in some back corner of the city - this is at the airport. This is the first impression people are getting of our city and our country.

And that impression, I can only guess, is not a good one. Switzerland, world capital of banking and finance.*

* Cash only

Maybe they're ducking taxes. Maybe they'd rather not pay the surcharge. Maybe they just hate people and have, somehow, chosen a job where they're in contact with them more or less constantly by some crazy mixed-up string of coincidences.

I don't know.

But I know this - I'd rather walk all the way down a line of taxis talking to every single one of them... in fact, I would rather have gone back inside and waited for that next train - then let them get away with it. Would I have walked home? That's a closer call, definitely leaning to the "no" side, but still - I am a pretty firm believer in voting with my wallet.

Come on, taxi guys. Maybe a little bit of time trying out the 20th century will help you get ready in case you ever decide to join us in the the 21st...

Another Wow

Vegan triathletes.

Now, I bet THEY have great parties. Wheat juice and wetsuit talk, anyone?

Anyone?

And for those of you who think advertising is of no use, I found this via a google ad on my email. Definitely worth a click...

One Of The Best Things

... about working from home would be that I can make drummer-face as much as I want, and even do some serious chair-dancing without being disruptive.

I'll need to look into that.