Office Progress

The most frustrating thing about Saturdays is realizing, after working all day long, how incredibly little has been accomplished.

We're going to be spending many, many hours on this office. It's our 'test case', where we try out a few things to see how this basement project will go. For example, the walls are 4x8 modules that can be individually moved. The floor panels are 2x2, again removable. The wiring is done down a middle 'spine' with junction boxes for all secondary circuits.

The price to be paid for modularity is, of course, time. It takes a while to plan it all out so that it's done right.

We ordered prehung doors: one single for the stair entry, and a double set for the den entry. Naturally, they're French in style (i.e. glass-panelled), to maximize the amount of light for that back-basement room.

They were estimated to be delivered within seven to ten days, but it only took five. And since we don't have a vehicle large enough to carry home the double-doors, which are no less than sixty-five inches wide, we had to rent one of the trucks at the hardware store.

It wasn't in the original plan to spend Saturday hanging doors, but that's the way it turned out. Most of the time was spent leveling, of course. The actual opening was eighty-something inches, so there was quite a bit of filler to put in. In fact, we had to put another 2x6 on one side of the jamb to pad it out because there was no way the shims would work otherwise. And then it turns out that the original 2x6 against which we mounted the new 2x6, was twisted so badly that it had to be shimmed as well.

Then of course the doors (and jamb) were too tall. We had assumed when we ordered the doors that the man behind the counter understood that we were giving him the size of the current frame opening; he naturally assumed that we were giving him the size of the doors we wished to order. So we got doors which were 80.75 inches in height, along with jambs of 0.75 inches, to fit in a door frame of 80.75 inches. Which meant that both the doors and the jamb had to be trimmed down a bit.

But that was only additional time. Beginning at nine in the morning, it only took until eight in the evening until the doors were properly hung.

Progress!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Dad's can mean a lot of different things to different people who have had different experiences growing up, and if there is one thing that is difficult to talk about, it's the whole Dad-kid relationship. We've all had our share of uncomfortable moments, but thankfully those aren't the ones we remember after all the dust has settled.

Oddly enough, the first thing that comes to mind when I think of my Dad is not really my Dad, but my grandmother, Frances. I got to know her late in life, but it is a relationship I treasure greatly, not only in coming to know her, but also because she told me a lot of things about my Dad that I'd never known before. And one of the things she told me about my Dad that I've never forgotten, was that he always wanted to be a preacher, ever since he was a little kid. I don't really know if that's true, but it's what she told me, and it's something she believed, and was really proud of, that her little boy grew up to become a minister in the church, teaching and preaching the Truth. Every time we talked about it -- and you can bet we talked about it quite a bit -- her unseeing eyes were just shining, and she was smiling to beat the band.

It must've been true. My Dad gave up a steady job as a public school teacher to go to preaching school, and dragged the family clear across the United States in the process. And my Mom supported him every step of the way.

My Dad made sure we went to church every time the doors were open. We listened to the gospel stations on the way, and we sang along with the radio, and we sang in church, and we learned four-part harmony. We went to all the prayer meetings, and he made sure I got a chance to go up front and lead prayers and lead songs. And when we got to Richmond, he made sure I got a chance to go up front and do a lesson now and then, even if it was just a quick five-minutes on a Wednesday night. And he took me to Men's Breakfasts and Men's Retreats.

He also took me with him on evangelism campaigns, helping out with the door-knocking and with the demonstrations (where he'd be the Bible study leader and I'd be the student).

We spent a lot of time talking in the car to and from various events, and it was always a thrill to talk to him about serious, deep subjects.

I remember being a bit panicky though when he wanted me to go through the Open Bible Study with him. I knew quite a bit about the Bible already, so it wasn't like starting over from scratch. But it would mean the end of goofing around, this coming to accept Jesus in baptism, the beginning of a serious path in my life, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to do that. It would be the start of Growing Up.

==
Growing Up was something that Dad expected of us. He wasn't going to be our babysitter. He was there to make sure we had the tools available to get the job done (so to speak), and he wanted us to have good work and study habits, and he wanted us to understand that we were being given wonderful opportunities and should take advantage of them. And try to enjoy them, find a way to make them fun. He taught me that it could be fun to clean house, to dig ditches, to wire a house, to cut and nail boards, to shingle a roof. Not fun in the fact that there was a lot of hard work involved, but fun in learning a skill and being able to do things for myself.

One of the most 'impressive' things that we did together, was to tear down and rebuild those Volkswagen engines. I sometimes shake my head these days when I think about it -- nowadays the simplest engine repairs are so complicated. But we used to take those VW engines apart and put them back together in just a weekend, and they'd actually work when we were done (except that time we installed the distributor 180 degrees out!). That kind of thing gives a person confidence.

Perhaps the strangest thing about my whole life was that my Dad gave me my career early on, by allowing me to continue something he'd started but never finished. Long, long ago, he'd started one of those correspondence-school electronics courses, back before integrated circuits had really taken hold, and he did a few lessons but I guess it just wasn't his thing, and he dropped it. Years later, I found it somewhere in the house, and I took to it like a fish to water. It was the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen in the whole world. (Wasn't too long after that I discovered Radio Shack, and the rest is history...) And he let me do it. Right then and there, I knew exactly what I wanted to do as a vocation.


==
Dad has always set the example of a servant. He gets great joy from helping others, making them things, visiting them, sometimes just listening to them talk. And he's always smiling. I've tried to be like that, spreading joy wherever I go, and have been somewhat successful when I can keep my native cynicism at bay. But he's just amazing.

He's always had a garage full of projects he's working on, projects for other people, projects for the family. He's always been incredibly busy, always with something to do, and I can't count the number of church buildings he's built or helped to build.

That's another one of my fondest memories - helping him remodel the church building in Ridgeway, Arkansas. He took all us kids out there and we helped, even though we were very young. Of course, our favorite part was when he took us down to the local general store and let us get soda and candy! But we were still quite impressed at all that he was able to accomplish with four kids running around and getting in the way, and the building looked so beautiful afterward, even with the outhouse in the back.

There are many other great memories - driving up and down the hills of Mariposa, walking through the snow in Yosemite, raising the roof and expanding the attic in Richmond, building the first barn garage there. Driving to California in Bill's VW van. Standing in the middle of a rest stop in the desert in the middle of the night, looking up at the stars and seeing the Milky Way for the very first time, right beside my Dad.

But the best memory of all is sitting in Grandma's living room years later listening to her tell me how proud she was of her son the preacher, and feeling a swell of joy inside knowing that this dear lady was happy because she had raised her son right, and he had brought so much to so many people, and this made it all worthwhile.

Good Friday ... not to work!

So I'm into my normal routine this morning, getting up to fix the kids' breakfasts, putting together some lunches (hotdog-and-peanut-butter roll-up for Mary, grilled cheese for everyone else), signing papers, writing checks to the school for this and that, scooting them out the door, then trying to get myself out the door so I can put in a good day's work. Totally typical. But at least it's Friday, right?

Yeah, Good Friday.

Got to work and saw the weirdest thing. The parking lot was practically empty. Thought for a minute I'd missed a memo or something. Was there a company meeting I was supposed to be at? Shrugged my shoulders (mentally -- I was driving!), parked the car (there was lot of spaces from which to choose), and walked in the door.

Second weird thing: there was a table set up inside the door, stacked with bagels, assorted cream cheeses, and donuts. Wowsers! Free food! But ... hey, what gives? This is the kind of thing they do for people who are working on Saturday! Is this ... could this be ... have I gotten my schedule messed up? Is this Saturday? Did I go through a Time Warp?

Can't be. The kids went off to school, right? And the kids wouldn't go to school unless it was a real school day. Trust me.

Then the crowning event. One of the guys who was standing around the table (aside: there were only GUYS standing around the table; free food is a guaranteed guy geek-magnet) said, "So, are you working on <insert name of behind-schedule project here>?"

"Well, um, no, not really."

A look of puzzlement.

"So, then, what are you doing here?"

"Um, I have some tests to run." Which is true, actually.

He nodded sympathetically and walked on, leaving me to contemplate the mystery. Actually, two mysteries. First, which donut was I going to snag? And second, what was I doing here?

Got back to my desk and checked my calendar and, sure enough, I'd already been paid for today. A paid holiday. Good Friday. Easter. Spring. Whatever. In this part of the country, where the Dutch Reformed Church reigns supreme, these kinds of things happen all the time.

I've been so busy, it never occurred to me to even wonder about it. There's just so much going on, so much work to do.

So I actually worked for an hour or so, running my tests, and then went home. After all, I'm no fool! I've been paid for the day, and I don't get overtime for hanging around the office surfing the net. Therefore, the rest of the day is going to be dedicated to my own projects. And spending time with Cheryl. And working off all this weight I've put on over the last few weeks.

{By the way, I didn't end up snagging a donut. Figured it was too fatty. Got a bagel instead. Without cream cheese.}

Chuck

Chuck Browder was our next-door neighbor back in Lake Stevens. He died this week of Lou Gehrig's disease. They announced it at the school where the kids had attended.

We knew it was coming. He'd known of it a couple years before we moved away, but didn't announce it to the general public for quite a while, not wanting to be showered with sympathy. He was not comfortable with a lot of attention from others, not that kind of attention, especially when there was nothing that could be done about it.

Chuck was a family man, truly devoted to his family. He was hard-working, a man who used his hands - he was in the construction business - and liked to make things for his family, things like backyard playgrounds and frontyard fishponds. He loved pretty flowers, and did a good job keeping his yard nice.

Seems like every Saturday, the Browders would be garage-sale shopping. They found some great bargains, too, and as was typical of Chuck, he always kept his friends and neighbors in mind. He'd come home with a bicycle that was just the right size for one of our kids, and ask us if we'd like it, not with the idea of selling it to us, but just to give it as a gift. He'd find curious knick-knacks that he knew might appeal to somebody, and he'd just buy 'em. He loved to share with people.

Chuck was willing to share a lot of things, including his tools and his truck, which we used on more than one occasion to make trips to the dump. Of course, he'd managed to get a great deal on the truck, too!

One of the nicest things Chuck did for me, was to put together the fence between our yards. The old one was over thirty years old, infested with carpenter ants, and falling down in places. We'd agreed that to share the cost of buying it and putting it up, but as it ended up, I paid for the materials and he nailed it all together - in one day! I thought it was very nice of him not to mention my terrible carpentry skills and just do all the work himself. Or maybe he was just worried that I might accidentally drop the boards into his yard and hurt someone!

I loved to listen to him talk. Oh, he was a talker! He always had good stories to tell, and a lively, exuberent way of telling them, and it was always a joy to wander over to his house and stand between the yards and listen to him go on about the jobs he'd done or the cars he'd fixed or the plans he had for fixing up his yard or his kids. He sure loved his kids, and that's perhaps the most painful part of his passing, that he won't get to see his kids grow up into their adult selves, and develop that grown-up relationship with them.

Well, if they ever ask me what he was like, I'll be glad to tell them. He was a great Dad, and they are great kids. From all the time I spent with them, they were two of the happiest, most well-behaved, polite kids I'd ever met. Can't say how they are right now, as I haven't seen them for nearly two years, but I trust that Margaret will help them get through this rough time; she's a strong, capable woman, and she and Chuck seemed like a perfect match. I just wish they'd had more time to spend together.

Wish I'd had more time to spend with him, too. He was the epitome of the perfect neighbor.

God bless you, Chuck. And may he bring comfort to you, Margaret, and those lovely kids.

On vacation in Iowa

This week is passing quickly. It's Friday already! And what have we accomplished?

Actually, I don't think we were supposed to accomplish anything. We're supposed to be on vacation. But it is difficult to avoid feelings of guilt for not getting something done. So I'm doing a bit of programming -- in Ada -- while we're out here. Working on an Ada training class, and need to remember some of the details which have escaped my memory after all those years.

Had a lovely storm last night. There were hints of tornadoes, but nothing came of it but some high winds and some rain. Saw on the weather report that there were some tornadoes down near the border of Kansas/Nebraska.

Took the boys to Mahlon's Tae Kwon Do class last night, and we were all quite impressed that Mahlon was selected to be the Demo Student for nearly all the moves. He's obviously been practicing a lot. He wants his cousins to attend again tonight, and the instructor said they could participate as well. That should be interesting.

The girls are having lots of fun, too, mostly playing Barbies with cousin Isabelle. And bugging their brothers when they can.

First Day of "Vacation"

I'm not really into vacations, as they are traditionally proscribed. My idea of vacation is doing computer work, but at home instead of at the office. And, in fact, that's what I've been doing most all day: sitting down in my basement, surrounded by my computers, happily tracking down one problem after another.

With occasional breaks to work on the new console for the Corolla.

Most vacations are an excuse to pile the family in the car and "go somewhere". I love to do this on vacation, go for a long drive and see the countryside, spend some time with the relatives or friends we haven't seen in a long time, that sort of thing. But when I get back, there's always this huge pile of things to do, and it always makes me feel guilty - like I should've been attending to those things instead of gallivanting off into the wild blue yonder.

It's difficult for me to accomplish anything in short bursts of time. It usually requires uninterrupted hours, if not days, to accomplish the smallest of tasks. (Not simple tasks, like vacuuming or cleaning or folding clothes; I'm talking the serious debugging-a-computer-problem or fixing-the-car problems).

Take today, for example. A whole day to work on stuff around the house, and what have I accomplished? Nothing, really. The basement construction project didn't get touched. The Corolla got a little bit of attention (re-installing the delay-wiper circuit), the computers got a little bit of attention (trying to figure out why my proxy server was blocking the blog updates). Other than that, not much was accomplished.

Why?

Distractions. Lots of distractions. Five of 'em. Family. Wife. Kids. Living, breathing, speaking, walking, being.

I need to be alone to get anything done. And I can't stand being alone. I hate it. When I'm downstairs working on something, I revel in the ability to concentrate on one thing, to put a wall together, to wire a socket, to set up a computer. And the whole time I'm wondering - what are they doing up there? Do they need me for anything? Are they mad at me for being down here by myself?

And then I get mad at myself because nothing is getting done.

It's difficult to relax and enjoy a vacation when these obviously conflicting thoughts are going on inside one's head: the desire to be alone and work on things that need to be done versus the desire to be in the company of those one loves. One of the reasons that it's easy to go to work every morning is because I have to go to work, that's how the money comes in. It's easy to rationalize my absence because it's necessary. But on the weekends, or on holidays, or on vacations, that just doesn't wash. I want to be with my family. I don't want to miss out on their company. I don't need to get this or that done, I can work on that when the kids have gone to bed, or when Cheryl has gone off to the store, or some other time.

But then that time never seems to come, not in the long, un-interrupted portions required.

Oh, well. Who needs a finished house anyway? And what good are all these computers going to do me? They're just hunks of metal running silly programs. My family is flesh and blood, growing, changing, learning.

Whoa! Look at the time! I'd better get upstairs and see if anyone needs me. I've been down here all by myself for nearly an hour!

Success!

Finally got this proxy server running so we can all share the same DSL connection. Which means I can be downstairs updating the blog while Cheryl is looking for more Harry Potter sites. Or checking email.

I had hoped to get the proxy running on the Linux (Ubuntu) computer, but it just wasn't working. Got it passing packets back and forth between all the local PCs, but the DNS requests weren't making it out of the local net to the internet, even after I'd set up the Linux box as a DNS server. Followed all the HOW-TOs and posted tips and tricks, but it just didn't want to work.

So then I went to http://www.handcraftedsoftware.com, picked up their FreeProxy product (free!) and installed it on my old Windows 98 machine. Simple to use. Got internet access and email up and running in a matter of minutes, and the only problem after that was the fact that I couldn't browse "modern" sites on the old Windows 98 machine because it came standard with IE 4.01, and most sites don't support anything less than IE 6.0 these days. Or FireFox, if you're so inclined.

Tried to run runescape on the Win98 machine but ran into some problems with loading files across the internet. It kept stopping and forcing a restart of IE. Took three or four attempts to get it to work, and then all of a sudden it completely trashed the display, and I had to reboot the whole machine.

I'm only going to use the proxy when I need to use the internet downstairs. For most occasions, it'll be OK just to leave the main XP machine running with a direct connect, since it has the built-in virus protection and firewall. But when I'm down here putzing around, or if the kids want to run runescape or something, I'll set up the proxy so we can share.

For now, we have 3 Windows 98 boxes, one XP box, and one Linux box up and running. After I figure out how to set up the Linux proxy correctly, I'll redo the Win98 boxes with Ubuntu Linux and have only one XP machine.

At least, that's the plan.