Truer Words - A Journal

Still Riding

seth@macrobyte.net — Sun, 19 May 2013 12:05:01 GMT

I still ride a lot. I can't believe it's been five years since I posted my rides here, though.

These days I track my rides on Strava.

The weather has been extremely weird this year, as we've only had a few warm days and it's already the second half of May. That's resulted in less riding than I'd like, but to be honest I think I say something like that every year).

And the current weather report shows rain... rain, and more rain. Starting late morning and lasting through next Saturday. Since the weatherpersons are always right, it looks like I won't be back on the bike again for a week.

La Mort, C'est La Vie

seth@macrobyte.net — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 21:02:03 GMT

It never seems to become any easier.

Like most people, I've said goodbye to my share of pets. Maybe more than my share, since we bred Birmans for a few years. The mortality rate of pure-bred kittens is, sadly, higher than with the mixed breeds. Plus there's the simple fact that they all die, eventually.

Unlike most people, though, I've also said goodbye to a stepson. Almost a decade later, the pain of Shane's death is indescribable. The loss of a child changes you, permanently, providing a perspective on life that isn't available any other way. (How much worse for Corinne, his mother…)

Then a few years ago we thought Lauren was gone, too. That was bad enough that I can safely compare it to the pain of losing Shane. In fact, the two are permanently linked in my mind. On a personal level, they were similar. Thank God she and her parents came back. I nearly lost my mind.

With all that behind me, you might think having to put another cat to sleep would be easier. You'd be wrong. I was wrong.

Z'est La Vie

We called her Lovey, which was the end of her real name (Z'est “La Vie”).

She was nothing but trouble from the moment she came to us. Our first two Birmans died at about a year old from FIP. The breeder owed us replacements, of which Lovey was one. Along with her came ringworm, which swept through the cattery and ended our breeding for good. (Ringworm is nasty. Horrible. Especially with long-haired cats.) Once the ringworm was gone, she developed a sinus infection. She basically had a terribly runny nose for the last… uh… I'm not sure how many years. Too many. It was gross! Sneezing, coughing, blowing her nose all over everything, all the time.

She was also our best mouser.

Lovey was one of the most affectionate cats we ever had. Her breath (due to the sinus infection) was truly gag-tastic, but drop your guard for less than a second and you'd find yourself with a face full of cat giving you a bath, purring so loud that you'd think she's going to fall apart.

She begged like a dog, too. Right up to the end, she'd follow Corinne around the kitchen when she was cooking, meowing loudly until Corinne gave her a treat.

Even with plenty of eating, her weight dropped from 7 pounds two years ago to just 4.5 pounds today. Even seven pounds was light, 7.5 or 8 would have been better.

So, this afternoon, I asked Dr. Turco's office to euthanize yet another of our cats. She was well loved, and it finally came time to prove it the hardest way we know how. I cried a bit on the way home, and now I've spent almost an hour writing about it, because it just never gets any easier.

And Thank God for that, too.

Answering the Question, “Did I Swallow a Baseball?”

seth@macrobyte.net — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 01:17:09 GMT

The short answer to the question, “Hey, Seth, you look like you tried to swallow a baseball and it got stuck! Did you?” is, in fact, "Hah! No."

I don't blame you for wondering, though. The list of weird stuff that people unintentionally or unknowingly swallow starts with spiders and then gets weird. A baseball wouldn't be much of a stretch.

The long answer is as follows.

Saturday I worked at the hall with about a third of the ecclesia, cleaning up both inside and outside. We'd let the brush encroach on the yard a bit (a lot) too much, so most of my time was spent outside.

After stacking all of the chairs in the main room so that Darren and Ravi could vacuum, I went out to help with brush cleanup.

Or so I thought. Instead of brush, I cleaned up trees. I used Frank's chainsaw to cut down one tree to the right of the shed, then I climbed a ladder and cut a large branch from another tree.

After all the cutting, I dragged the trees and branches down to the parking lot, across the newly cleared spot behind the lot, all the way out to and over the stonewall.

I've done a lot of this kind of work. Really.

But I remember thinking, when I was dragging the largest piece, "Oh man this is the heaviest thing I've ever moved." I managed, though there were a few times that I drove my feet into the ground instead of moving the tree.

Later, Frank asked me to take down another tree which was already behind the stone wall. This one was much taller but wouldn't have to be dragged. Bonnie requested that I cut it up so they could take it home for burning, so I did, then I threw the logs out to the parking lot so she could gather them. (Nobody had a wheelbarrow or tractor.)

I was surprised at how totally exhausted I was by this point. In fact, I was nervous while cutting up that tree, as I was so tired that my hands felt weak and shaky. I'm comfortable with a chainsaw, but if I had continued to feel that way I would have put it down for the day.

Sunday morning I was still a bit tired, and my back was sorer than I expected. Not very surprising.

Monday morning, shortly after getting out of bed, I noticed that my back was still quite sore. Plus, I had a gigantic lump at the bottom of my neck! (Not *quite* big enough to actually be a baseball, but close enough. Certainly larger than a golf ball.)

Corinne starts trying to find an Ear-Nose-Throat doctor to see me soon. She's thinking I have some freakish cancer that, at the rate this thing grew in, will eat me whole within a couple of weeks. First appointment she gets is for Friday in Mystic, but later she gets one with Dr. Cameron today (Tuesday).

I figured it's a swollen lymph node (which means I have an infection). I've had them a couple of times before, though the only one this big was in my armpit in my early teens. A search on WebMD and eMedicineHealth seems to confirm my Nearly Professional Diagnosis, though I wasn't comforted by the warning that if the swollen node is immediately above the collarbone then medical attention should be immediately sought. (That is when Corinne found the appointment for Tuesday. She didn't like that warning either.)

With my back still hurting and feeling generally weak and maybe feverish, I take my Ibuprofen and try to work.

Tuesday morning my back hurt a little less, but the ball in my throat is as big and hard as ever. I feel slightly clumsy, but I figure that goes with feeling generally weakened. I'm also having a very hard time remembering the words "lymph node," so clearly the fever is affecting my brain.

Tuesday afternoon I go to see Dr. Cameron. He walks into the exam room and asks why I'm there. I lean my head back a bit and point, and he says, "Oh, you have a swollen thyroid!"

"Really? I thought it was a lymph node." He asks me to swallow.

"Nope, it's the thyroid. It's connected to your larynx, so it moves when you swallow. The lymph node would stay put. Same spot, though."

Now I'm worried. My grandmother had some significant thyroid issue at some point, but I don't remember what.

"Have you done any strenuous activity in the last few days?"

Huh.

With that one question, all the stress of the last couple days evaporated. He clearly knew exactly what was wrong with me, and the way he asked the question clearly implied this was a common(-ish) problem.

So I explained what I had done, and he agreed that moving that one tree was probably what did it. I ruptured a blood vessel in my thyroid, and it swelled up with blood. Overnight it hardened when the blood coagulated.

It's called a Chocolate Cyst, because of the consistency of what it contains. Mmmm, like a nice blood pudding!

The treatment? Wait a couple of weeks for it to soften up, which means the coagulated blood has turned into a thick, oily liquid. He'll then tap and drain it right through the skin, in his office. He says it will never go down on its own.

By now you're surely wishing you'd stuck with the short answer, but at least now you can be sure that I did not, in fact, swallow a baseball.

2011 Was a Good Year

seth@macrobyte.net — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 03:55:15 GMT

The year two thousand eleven has come and gone.

It was a good year. Not perfect, but lots of happy memories. Lots of learning, lots of work, lots of time with Corinne and Lauren, even some solid time spent with Mike, and Richie and my parents. Some very weird stuff happened with a friend who's now gone, and some new friendships were started. I spent less time on the bike and behind the camera, but have more resources to take care of my family and to help out where I see the need.

I've learned I can't do everything, but for 2012 I'd like to shift my personal, work-hobby balance just slightly more toward biking and photography and away from ridiculous and impossible project deadlines. I don't want less work, or even different clients... just more realistic goals that will let me better manage my time. (The cycling was affected as much by the work as it was by going bikeless for six weeks.)

Life with the ecclesia has been good, also. Ups and downs as with everything else. Faith, it seems, is the easy part of spiritual life: relationships are where the work happens. Perhaps that's trite, but perhaps that's why it's easy to forget and let things slip.

I hope 2012 is just as good. Maybe I'll even find a little more time for writing! Hah hah, no silly resolutions, here, sorry.

Happy New Year, everybody.

P.S. This site is in serious need of a redesign. Yuck.

The Friends We Never Meet

seth@macrobyte.net — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 12:47:34 GMT

I have so many things I'd like to say about last night's news. So many people with a more direct connection to Steve Jobs are saying their piece right now that my saying anything at all feels a bit silly.

So be it. I'll keep this short.

My connection was nearly life long — 30+ years — but very indirect. I saw him in person once, but never met him. My first mac was a 512 Ke in late 1985 or early 86, but I fell in love with the 128 when I saw it at a computer store sometime in 1984. MacPaint was on the screen, and someone had drawn an elephant.

For years I'd been programming in basic on a TI 99/4A, then on various Commodores. Seeing my first mac was like... something from the future. Mind boggling, even for an eleven year old.

Anyway, we all knew this day was coming. For most, since the the resignation in August. For others, since the WWDC. That was mine. I'd been watching his stick figure's shaky walking on the stage for at least an hour, saddened at how thin (gaunt) he was…

Then came the moment that told me he was resigned and knew his end was coming. He was talking about how much he loved the company he had built, and his voice cracked, and his eyes got shiny, and he looked very old and frail and sad.

I've watched people — friends — die from cancer. It's horrible. And I saw in his face that he knew, just like they knew.

There's so much more I'd like to say. Comparisons with exceptional people I respect from history and how rarely and brightly their lights shine, so rarely that we can name many of them even hundreds or thousands of years later. Or the fleeting nature of life, and how important it is that we do our best with what time and resources we have.

But mostly, since I learned in a text message from Corinne that "Steve Jobs died", I've been thinking about friends we never meet. People we interact with every day but in a very one-sided way, and how they can be important to us without them ever knowing it.

And how it hurts to lose them, even if they were never really there.

The New BostonGlobe.com

seth@macrobyte.net — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 17:34:16 GMT

I'm beyond impressed with the new Boston Globe web site. It's the best I've ever seen. Congrats to @beep and the rest of the designer/developer team. As +Craig Hockenberry said on Twitter, other newspapers are going to look at it and either realize they need to imitate it, or they'll keep dying.

If you have a big monitor, resize your browser window from very narrow through to full screen. Go very slowly, and watch as the layout adapts to the new size, every step of the way. The images resize, the number of columns will change from 1 to 2 to 3, each column's width changes... it's brilliant.

(What I've mentioned here is just the first-glance stuff. Look around, the attention to usability and detail is intense.)

“Fatten Me Up, Please?”

seth@macrobyte.net — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 19:01:19 GMT

A friend called Corinne today (on her birthday!) and asked, "Please fatten me up?!" (referring to herself). I think she wants to look more matronly.

(Personally, I think the children she's corralling do a fine job of matronizing her, but nobody asked for my opinion!)

1. This may be the best birthday present Corinne ever gets.
2. She came to the right place!
3. This friend may not realize what she's in for. Seriously, buy the larger clothes before she delivers your first meal, or you'll have a major problem.

I Will! I Do! We did! What? That's Love.

seth@macrobyte.net — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 00:28:58 GMT

As of this afternoon, my lovely wife has been calling me her husband for fourteen years.

Fourteen years!!

Happy Anniversary, Corinne. :-)

Understanding Imaginary Numbers

seth@macrobyte.net — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 02:56:33 GMT

I thought I understood imaginary numbers fairly well before today, but reading through this brilliant explanation crystalized it for me.

Imaginary numbers always confused me. Like understanding e, most explanations fell into one of two categories:

It’s a mathematical abstraction, and the equations work out. Deal with it.
It’s used in advanced physics, trust us. Just wait until college.
Gee, what a great way to encourage math in kids! Today we’ll assault this topic with our favorite tools:

The basic idea, just accepting that an imaginary number is the square root of a negative? That's what I had already. But his explanation as rotation through another dimension is amazing, as well as his real-world use for it at the end.

Totally awesome.

White Porsche, Bronze Corvette

seth@macrobyte.net — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 17:24:10 GMT

This morning I was on Airport Road, sitting at the traffic light waiting to cross over Route 1 onto Route 78. There were six or seven cars in front of me (left lane), and three or four cars in the right lane.

At the front of the right lane was a white convertible. It looked like a Porsche Carrera? I'm not sure, I was too far back and don't know the cars well enough. It looked new. Behind it was a copper/bronze, late model Corvette, very shiny. Neither were out of the ordinary for this area in the summer.

My window was down, and I was looking at them because they were both quite striking, and quite a contrast in styling.

Route 78 ahead of them was wide open, as nobody had turned down it while we had the red.

Red turned to green, and everyone in at least a quarter mile radius heard the Corvette's engine scream in full fury. (Wow, seriously, what a beast.)

Both cars took off from the light at full throttle. There were no squealing tires or tire smoke: they were nailed to the road, and rocketed straight ahead. The Corvette stuck to the Porsche's bumper like he was being towed, it was really a strange thing to see. The Corvette danced left just for a split second like he was going to pass, but then jumped back again and they disappeared over the hill.

Nobody else had moved. The rest of us had the same green light, but we sat there for another couple of seconds processing what we'd just seen (and heard). Looking around, I saw that everyone was waving their arms around or just staring with their jaws dropped.

I wouldn't want a car like that even if I could afford one, but... wow.

RE: Heading to North Carolina

seth@macrobyte.net — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 03:06:59 GMT

Made it to about halfway through NJ and stopped for the night in Westampton Township at a Best Western. It only took us two hours to pack the truck!

213 miles to drive tomorrow. I figure we'll be back home by 1pm.

Good trip so far.

Heading to North Carolina

seth@macrobyte.net — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 17:46:50 GMT

Mike (Lauren's dad) and I are flying to North Carolina Monday morning to pick up all of their stuff. They moved back up here almost exactly a year ago, but they came with what fit in Shannon's Jeep.

We're flying down early in the morning, renting and packing a small truck, and heading back up here immediately. It's a long drive, but I'm hoping we can be back by early Tuesday afternoon.

This has been planned for ages, but of course it happens to fall on the busiest work week I've had in years. One weekly project has it's annual double-delivery this week, a new module was due for another client over a month ago, and a big iPhone app is due to be beta-ready by the end of the week (it's pretty much there now).

Oh, and I'm teaching mid-week class for the ecclesia for another two weeks.

I've scheduled an hour for breathing on Thursday morning, eating for Friday, but no time for thinking until next Monday.

(Did I mention that we moved in mid-April? Just five miles from the old house, but we love it here. First place Corinne and I have both really liked since we met.)

Trot Trot to Boston (Trot... with Lauren?)

seth@macrobyte.net — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 01:48:54 GMT

I sent a text to Shannon at 8am asking if she could have Lauren's hair "pretty" for Bonnie, and then picked Lauren up at her house at a few minutes before 8:30. She hopped from their deck, past the car, and all the way down the driveway. "Lauren, the car's right here." "Oh yeah, I forgot."

Our first stop was at Snoopy's Diner in North Kingstown for breakfast with Rich, as I do every week. (Don't worry, I'd warned him that she'd be with me!) We arrived at 9:10, about twenty minutes early. Lauren hopped from the car, across the parking lot, up the stairs, and to her seat in the booth.

When contained in a small space (like the car or the diner's booth), she'd talk non-stop. When not so constrained, she hopped.

Corinne called at 9:30 to talked to Lauren. Lauren was loud, and had everyone in the restaurant laughing at her silliness. (“HELLO OMA!”)

(Thank you, Rich, for being so patient with Lauren's constant interruptions.)

Our next stop was the South Attleboro, MA, commuter train station. The commuter lot was FULL so we had to park at the far end of the mall's lot, past McDonalds. I think Lauren hopped at least a third of the quarter mile from the car to the train stop.

Lauren loves trains, and this was her third ride (the previous two were just short, fun trips from Westerly to New London). She watched the land zipping by most of the time, or chatted with our neighbors, or with the conductor. Or me. Or her Minnie Mouse. Or the train itself.

We disembarked at Ruggles Station, and she hopped all over the place while I waited in line to buy a sandwich at Dunkin Donuts ("Opa I'm hungry again!"). After we ate, we went out to catch a cab.

Waiting for a cab took thirty minutes, five hundred hops, and about twenty loops around the square, raised flower box on the sidewalk that she pretended was a "balancer" (balance beam). In that time I flagged down six full taxis and two police cars before finally finding an empty ride.

Bonnie was surprised to see us! I was sure Frank or someone would have told her we were coming up, but that wasn't the case.

She put a pillow over her stomach as soon as we walked in. I thought she was just being self-conscious, but later I realized it was self-preservation, as Lauren patted the pillow to ask if that's where "she was cut".

Lauren prattled, hopped, pestered, skipped, chattered, and dumped water the whole time we were there. (She wasn't being naughty, just young and easily bored.) Oh, and she kept pulling the dividing curtain further and further, because she couldn't understand that she was also pulling it away from the wall at the other end.

Bonnie looked good, and seemed to be rather eager to get out of there and go home.

The original plan had included leaving the hospital for a trip to the observation deck at the top of the John Hancock building. Towards the end of visiting Bonnie, though, I noticed little bags developing under Lauren's eyes. Instead, we visited Au Bon Pain in the hospital lobby (after making one mandatory trip up-and-down the "stairs you don't have to walk on"), and then grabbed another taxi to take us back to the train station.

Where... we waited. For almost an hour.

No, let me rephrase that. I waited. Minnie waited. Lauren hopped. All around the platform. By the time the train arrived there were forty or fifty people waiting with us, but she was oblivious. Hop hop hop around the big bench installation, then lunge for my leg and hang on to it, panting, catching her breath... and hop hop hop to the big, aluminum trash can and back to my leg, pant pant pant, catch her breath, and then back to hopping.

She wasn't the only kid on the platform, and she wasn't being embarrassing. Lots of people would stop what they were doing and just watch her, smiling and shaking their heads. Not once did she ever bump into anyone (though she came very close to ramming her head into a large man's butt at one point, she caught herself just in time). Finally, she hopped back to me one last time and stumbled onto her stomach. She wasn't hurt, but ran straight to me blushing and just huddled with me to warm up for a minute, and then the train was there.

Apparently that stumble came when her gas tank finally ran dry. Five minutes after we boarded the nearly full train, she was fast asleep on my lap.

She didn't wake up when we switched to an empty bench after lots of people left at the next stop. She didn't wake up when we left the train, nor as I carried her all the way back to the car (and thought my arm was going to fall off).

She woke up (a little) at one point on the highway, yelling, "I never want to see that bad train again, it wanted to hurt you!" Seconds later she was out again. Mike came out to get her when we pulled into their driveway, and she barely woke up enough to give me a hug.

Web Development Class with Ethan Pride

seth@macrobyte.net — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 19:33:10 GMT

For a few months now I've been teaching Ethan how to develop a web site, including HTML, CSS, JavaScript (soon), and content management systems.

We meet once a week.

(This post was a demonstration for him on the benefits of a CMS.)

Happy New Year!

seth@macrobyte.net — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 06:08:20 GMT

Ten years? Really?

In 2001 my work life was all about Conversant, my personal life was all about Corinne, Shane, and a house full of cats and birds.

I don't remember much about 2002, except that I reconnected with Steve Davis, someone I've known practically since I was a baby. We've always had our faith in common, and found that now we also have our bikes.

Two years later Shane was gone. That's all that year (2004) was about. Nothing else mattered. Hanging on to Corinne, propping her up, making sure she understood how much I love her and need her still, and trying to help her cope with a pain that defies belief.

2005 was a pretty big year. It included the release of Firefox Hacks (my first time in print!), tutoring the Pride kids (Avonlee and Ethan) in math, the PMC and its software auctions, the main author of Firefox Hacks (Nigel McFarlane) committed suicide, Corinne and I met the crew of the Atlantia, Jed moved in with us, I made friends with Jimmy Lehn (morning DJ at a local radio station), and we celebrated Thanksgiving at the Westerly WARM shelter. Finally, 2005 was the year I first started playing with Prototype. (Wow, i can't believe it was that long ago.)

In 2006 I met Greg Pierce years after he had worked for me at Macrobyte, my friend Darren and his wife Angi brought home their adoptees from Nepal, I wrote the "custom events" code for JavaScript that is *still* being used on Apple's web pages, attended the first Rails Conf, and I finally got to meet and begin forming a friendship with Rich Siegel and started working on language modules for his company's main software product, BBEdit. Jed left us, and headed for British Columbia and the woman he would eventually marry. Finally, we met Mike and Shannon late in the year.

2007 was unreal. If not for the pictures, most of it would be forgotten. I helped man the booth for Bare Bones at MacWorld Expo. Mike and Shannon moved in with us. Lauren was born! Mike and Shannon went away for a while. We did our best with Lauren and truly, completely fell in love with her. Visited her parents a lot. Finally met Jim Roepcke and Sean McMains at the second RailsConf (while Corinne stayed home with lauren). Jed married Alycia (and I got to attend, way out there in B.C., while Corinne AGAIN stayed home with Lauren), my grandfather turned eighty, Jed and Alycia came out for a visit (and haven't been back since), Corinne and I celebrated our tenth anniversary, and my sister and brother-in-law had their third daughter.

Shannon came hom again in January of '08. Lauren started walking and talking, and turned one. We got news (on the day Shannon came hom) that the house was being sold so we'd have to move (after ten years). Corinne, Ellyn and Lauren went to FL (Lauren's first plane ride). Richie (Shannon's eldest) came to live with us. My parents came to live with us, for a few months. I went to FL in October with Ellyn and the grandparents to pack them up and move them to Ellyn's house. The year ended with a terrible sprained ankle and a move from Mystic to Westerly.

In January of '09, Mike came home and the family was all back together. Unfortunately, in June they all left again. The relationship slowly thawed, but then in September they disappeared to North Carolina without warning and we thought they (especially Lauren) were gone forever. We got a ten day visit with Lauren in October, but taking her home was the second most difficult and painful thing I've ever done.

2010 started out with a brief visit from the Deanes, but after that the contact (via Skype or telephone) dwindled to nothing within a few months. I entered a serious depression (my first), which I tried to fill or bury with World of Warcraft. In March a rainstorm tried to wipe RI off the map, and in May I was brutally attacked by some blood clots that came from nowhere and landed in my left lung (killing part of it). In June, the Deanes moved back to the area, and we got regular visits with Lauren again. It took her a few minutes to remember us, but once she did it was like we were never apart.

As I write this, Lauren and Corinne are sleeping in my bed, above my office, just a few feet right over my head. I don't know what changes are coming our way next, but right now we have joy and I'm taking nothing for granted.

Happy New Year, everybody.

Bike Performance vs. Lung Infarction

seth@macrobyte.net — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 19:32:52 GMT

I had my monthly checkup on Tuesday (follow-up to my ICU stay back in May). My blood clotting speed is good, all is well as far as they can tell.

I asked about my performance issues on the bike, wanting to know if Coumadin/Warfarin has any known negative effects related to athleticism. I'm much slower than in previous years, and it's frustrating me.

The clinician (and pharmacist) just shook his head, at first. Then he said, "Most of the people who come to this clinic due to blood clots and lung infarction need help getting across the parking lot, and have to stop for breath in mid-sentence. You're asking this question because your 35 mile bike rides aren't as fast as you'd like."

Humbled and reminded of how narrowly I dodged my bullet, I left happy. Slow on the bike is so much better than being dead.

There's No Celebrating This Anniversary

seth@macrobyte.net — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 16:53:18 GMT

Six years ago today: March 12, 2004. Much of that day is like a broken mirror, every tiny shard a piece of shattered memory and lost life. Every sliver seems significant, but none of it making much sense on its own.

What I remember most clearly is sitting with Corinne on the front steps of our house in Mystic. Waiting.

We'd spoken with a police officer from Norwich who told us only that "something happened with Shane," and "I can't tell you this over the phone."

Denial. We sat, waited, and denied in the mid-afternoon sunshine.

I held her, we talked. "Maybe he just got in trouble." "It could be anything."

Three of them came that day. Two officers. One priest-type, whoever was on call that day. We knew as soon as we saw him, and there was no more denying.

Somehow we were in the house, no longer on the front step. The officers tried talking to us, Reverend Badnews tried to be something other than what he was.

Corinne stormed into the kitchen and slammed the door. Her breaking heart sounded like shattering dishes and crashing cutlery. (Looking back now, I think, "How apropos.")

I tried to hear the men, let them tell me what happened so I could share it with Corinne when her storm had passed. If it would ever pass. I got that he fell from a balcony and hit his head. There wasn't much more to tell. The storm was raging, all I could do was shoo these helpless messengers out of our hell.

"Why are you here?" I asked Reverend Badnews, looking him in the eye. "I, I... to help." "You need to go."

The officer gave me his card.

Shattered slivers of memory from the day Shane Michael Ray Kilhefner, my wife's only child, died at 23.

Fifty One Days Later

seth@macrobyte.net — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 11:49:17 GMT

It's been fifty one days since I dropped Lauren off at her grandmother's house in North Carolina. I haven't talked to her since.

I did finally get around to putting up my last batch of pictures from her visit at the beginning of October. You can find them at the end of this set.

They're not responding to email or phone calls anymore. Lauren was really upset when I dropped her off, so I guess they've decided it's better if she forgets about us (rather than missing us).

Sudoku

seth@macrobyte.net — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 19:47:34 GMT

I used to do Sudoku all the time, but I lost interest around the time Lauren came into our lives. Coincidentally (?), I'm back into it again.

(Oh, what's Sudoku? It looks something like a crossword puzzle, but it's all numbers. 9x9 grid, divided into nine 3x3 sections. To finish the game, every row, column, and 3x3 section must have all of the digits 1-9. There's no math involved, other than being able to count to 9. There is some real logic involved, though.)

When at my computer I use Verek's Sudoku Companion. It's freeware, though it didn't used to be: I had to pay for my copy. (Verek is no longer in business, though, so I'm glad they're giving the app away.)

Sudoku Companion gives you all the options I think you might need in a computer-based version of the game, other than an "I give up just solve it for me" button. It offers six levels of difficulty: Easy, Medium, Hard, Fiendish, Insane and Sudoku of the Day. I'm not sure where the Sudoku of the Day comes from, but everybody running the app gets the same one on the same day, so it's a nifty way to have a little friendly competition. A timer at the bottom of the window tells you how long it's been since the game started, and the timer pauses if the game isn't frontmost (so if you take a break, the timer stops). You can also create your own sudokus, and save/share them. (It's very difficult to create a good one, though.)

I can usually complete an 'insane' sudoku in about thirty minutes. The dailies are usually forty minutes to an hour.

If you like sudoku and you're on a mac, go get a copy of Sudoku Companion (that's the direct download link). Do a couple warmup games, and then try Sudoko Companion Daily.png. It's the most difficult sudoku I've ever played, and took almost two hours to complete!

Recurring Dreams

seth@macrobyte.net — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 17:27:48 GMT

As I drove Corinne to work this morning, she casually mentioned the recurring dream she has about Lauren.

…

Sigh.

There are two for me. Or I should say, one recurring dream and one recurring daydream.

The night-time-while-I'm-sleeping dream is quite silly, and in fact it's more of a memory than a dream. She's been potty trained, and has just used the toilet. At just two-and-a-half years old, she needs help pulling her pants back up. She looks up and asks me to help, I lean down to help her, and our foreheads (our "twoheads," as she says it) bonk. I look into her eyes, those crazy-big, brown, anime eyes, and am transfixed.

That's it, my dream-memory. Every night, over and over.

The daydream is entirely different. Every night when I go to bed, I can't help but seek her out. I see her, sleeping either on her right side with her arms by her side, or on her stomach, curled up but not quite fetal. Her head is always on the sheet instead of the pillow, her hair everywhere. I see every detail, and I savor them. I watch her breathe for a while, and then lean in to kiss her cheek near her ear.

She stirs, though. Even in my mind she stirs. “Opa?” “Go back to sleep, baby girl, I was just saying good night. I love you.” Then I'm gone, back in my own bed.

Mike and Shannon — and probably Brenda, too — would take even this away from me if they could. I'm sure of it, just as I'm sure they'd deny it.

Happy Birthday Little Brother

seth@macrobyte.net — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 12:30:47 GMT

Jed is 35 today.

I haven't seen him since his wedding two and a half years go. Corinne hasn't seen him since he moved out of our house almost four years ago. (This was wrong, forgot about his visit a few months after the wedding. So it's been a little over two years for both of us.)

Along with his wife Alycia, her little horse and his big dog, he lives in a wigwam on the top of a mountain just outside of the arctic circle, about 10,000 miles from here. I get carrier-eagle messages from him every few months, and last I heard he was doing fine. (In fact, last I heard he was going on an Orca hunt with his brother-in-law, Nanook. We're not worried, though as Jed is the careful type who rarely suffers any sort of injury.)

Another correction: Jed tells me they live in a longhouse, not a wigwam; also they were hunting Narwhal, not Orca. At least, that's what they're telling people.

Three Legged Stool

seth@macrobyte.net — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:50:51 GMT

Retail software is a three legged stool.

User Interface
Engineering

Right?

Oh, what? There are only two legs there? Huh. What's missing?

Marketing is the third leg. Very rare is the product that can succeed without it, no matter how well crafted. (Yet so many try.)

More on this soon. Something very big is brewing.

Lauren is Home Again

seth@macrobyte.net — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 06:29:06 GMT

Tonight (er, last night, since it's now 2 am) I had to break a little girl's heart. And mine. Again. She cried. She begged me to stay or take her back to "Oma's house" or just give her one more hug-and-kiss (a dozen times). I won't embarrass her (future self) by telling everybody how bad it was or what else she did, but it was bad.

By the time I left her grandmother's house (in NC where the family is living), I was weeping openly too. I finally just handed her to Mike, told her I love her, and went out the door.

I wonder how much more this would have to hurt to convince me to stay out of Lauren's life (not there yet, that's for sure). Is that the idea here? Or am I being tested to see how much I can take or what I'll sacrifice for the ones I love? Something else? Is this character-building, character-testing, or just a bed of my own making?

Anyway, I'm at a hotel somewhere in VA now, and need sleep before I finish the long, lonely drive home tomorrow. Er, today.

2009 PMC Fundraising is Complete

seth@macrobyte.net — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 01:21:48 GMT

I posted about this on the project's news page, but I should mention it here, too: my goal was $10,000, but we (not I) raised closer to $22,000. Follow that link for details, including some cool stats about the bundles and the project.

miss lauren

seth@macrobyte.net — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 05:12:52 GMT

opa lay down with me

tonight I miss her tears

her smile

her laugh and the way

she runs

pumping for all she's worth

which is a lot

everything

opa I have a present for you

a rock

or a blade of grass

sometimes one of oma's chocolates

or my keys, a penny

sometimes a kiss or a hug

always something priceless

opa I miss you

you hurt my feelings

how my darling?

you made me live at grampa cowboys

I want to stay with you

oh dear god what have I done

Life Never Does

seth@macrobyte.net — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 18:27:31 GMT

Shane would have and should have been twenty-nine years old today.

Life never does what you think it will, what it should. You never think you'll lose a child. Then when you do, you think life and the world will stop, maybe forever. But it keeps… it just keeps going. On and on. Then you think you'll never have another, you're too old or it's just not in God's plans... and here comes another baby, from out of nowhere, to raise as your own. You can't believe it happened, and how good it is, and she'll never replace the first but she expands your heart and teaches you to love again.

Then she's taken away, too. Almost as far as Shane was, but not quite, and it hurts almost as much but now it's the "not knowing" that burns so hot. It'll never be right again, you know she's gone forever just like him.

But now she tells us she loves us again, almost every night, and her sweet little face blows us kisses while her mommy and daddy smile and tell us they miss us and hope to see us soon. But never soon enough.

We miss you, Shane.