Turtle recently captured this moment of pure bliss.
06 October, 2007
Boo Boo Kitty
Fuzzy Dependant #1 has lately decided that ear scratches and drive-by belly rubs aren't enough. He's discovered Daddy's Lap and is not shy about demanding his rightful place there, sometimes at the expense of whatever I happen to be typing on my laptop keyboard at the time.
Turtle recently captured this moment of pure bliss.
Turtle recently captured this moment of pure bliss.
05 October, 2007
Incognito
I think we've established by now that my inner child is far too suppressed for me to get too excited about Hallowe'en any more, but some of these costumes are just hilarious. My favorites are the Parade Rock 'n' Roller and the Man-eating Shark.
If you buy one of these, I want to see pictures.
If you buy one of these, I want to see pictures.
Oopsie.
So... I'm sitting here in my cube, with my XML/XSLT/XPath book in front of me, and I just finished rendering one of the exercises. What used to be a fairly innocuous bit of XML has transformed into a giant robot that's now duck walking between the rows of cubicles, trying not to step on the hotline people.
Could I have mis-coded something in my style sheet?
Could I have mis-coded something in my style sheet?
04 October, 2007
Paradigm shift
Ever since the company I work for was purchased earlier this year, the word has been that development on the project I've worked on for the past 10 years would be ending and that our team would be redistributed among several other groups. During my tenure, my primary responsibility had been to find ways to make the application run on the mainframe—a role that had long kept me on the periphery of things and under the radar of the people who hand out cool new things to work on.
Ironically, the fact that I wasn't well versed in some of the more esoteric inner workings of the code worked in my favor when we received our new assignments.
Because much of what I did wasn't very interesting and involved lots of time waiting for programs to compile and link, I entertained myself by learning what I could about HTML, CSS, and various other web technologies that I could get my hands on without having to request software licenses from MIS. All those years I'd spent tinkering, I thought I'd never have any professional use for the things I was learning, but it turns out that my side efforts positioned me well to be assigned to a team that's doing ASP.NET and C# development. And, because I wasn't one of the experts for the old project's core architecture, I was easily released from maintenance responsibilities.
That all sounded very promising, but I've been hearing for years how I was going on to bigger and better things. Nothing had ever changed, so I had my doubts that it would be any different this time—until this past Friday, at least. That's when it all came together. Decisions were made. Schedules were set and briefings held. Training classes were scheduled.
All the tinkering and reading I've done over the years, on my own time, is going to come into play now. My new responsibilities will involve large, steaming helpings of XML, XSLT, XPath, DOM, JavaScript, CSS, etc. and my familiarity with those technologies will make it a whole lot easier to get my head around the new stuff and more quickly make a contribution. I get to work with technology that's not 30 years old, and I'm kind of stoked about it!
Ironically, the fact that I wasn't well versed in some of the more esoteric inner workings of the code worked in my favor when we received our new assignments.
Because much of what I did wasn't very interesting and involved lots of time waiting for programs to compile and link, I entertained myself by learning what I could about HTML, CSS, and various other web technologies that I could get my hands on without having to request software licenses from MIS. All those years I'd spent tinkering, I thought I'd never have any professional use for the things I was learning, but it turns out that my side efforts positioned me well to be assigned to a team that's doing ASP.NET and C# development. And, because I wasn't one of the experts for the old project's core architecture, I was easily released from maintenance responsibilities.
That all sounded very promising, but I've been hearing for years how I was going on to bigger and better things. Nothing had ever changed, so I had my doubts that it would be any different this time—until this past Friday, at least. That's when it all came together. Decisions were made. Schedules were set and briefings held. Training classes were scheduled.
All the tinkering and reading I've done over the years, on my own time, is going to come into play now. My new responsibilities will involve large, steaming helpings of XML, XSLT, XPath, DOM, JavaScript, CSS, etc. and my familiarity with those technologies will make it a whole lot easier to get my head around the new stuff and more quickly make a contribution. I get to work with technology that's not 30 years old, and I'm kind of stoked about it!
25 September, 2007
CSS: IE7 float / italic / background positioning bug
I recently stumbled on a peculiar (but not unexpected) Internet Explorer 7 bug that has caused me hours of head scratching. To the best of my knowledge and Googling, this specific behavior hasn't been documented on any of the usual guru sites, such as Position Is Everything, so I'll attempt to document it here.
Within the content block, I define two more
In IE 7, the
Eventually, I removed the italic style from the
Bingo. Problem solved circumvented.
Update: I submitted this write-up to “Big John” of PIE fame only to discover after several rounds of head scratching e-mails that this bug doesn't seem to occur in all IE 7 installations (including Big John's). I get it on my personal laptop and my desktop box at work, but my work laptop and some co-workers' workstations don't exhibit the behavior. All IE 7 version numbers tested are the same, so it may be related to something in the maintenance levels of Windows XP itself or in the metrics of the fonts installed on a given computer. Very weird.
To see if your IE 7 installation exhibits the bug, try the demo here. For the record, the IE 7 Windows factory at browsershots.org exhibits the centering bug.
Overview
For purposes of this discussion, I've pared my page structure down to the most basic structure required to produced the undesirable behavior. Here you see abody element, which contains a centered div with the id content.<body>My CSS code sets a static width of 500px for this block, gives it a white background, and centers it horizontally in
<div id="wrap">
<div id="content">
<div id="timestamp">Updated 09.25.2007!</div>
<div id="copyright">Copyright © 2007</div>
</div>
</div>
</body>
body. The body has a 1008px x 3px background image that repeats on the y-axis and is centered horizontally. The content div's left and right edges align with the left and right edges of the background's gold "box".Within the content block, I define two more
divs: timestamp and copyright. I want timestamp to appear in italics and line up to the right, so I apply font-style:italic and float:right to it. The complete CSS looks like this:body {
background: #000 url("bg-test.gif") repeat-y center top;
font:normal normal x-small "Trebuchet MS",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;
margin:0; padding:0;
/* IE hacks follow */
text-align:center;
font-size/* */:/**/small;
font-size/**/:small;
}
#wrap {
width:500px;
margin:1em auto;
background-color:#fff;
text-align:left;
}
#content {
margin:0;
}
#copyright {
background-color:skyblue;
}
#timestamp {
background-color:pink;
font-style:italic;
float:right;
}In most browsers (yes, even IE 6), this renders like the following screenshot:
In IE 7, the
content div remains centered, but body's background image position has shifted toward the right.
The Cause
So what's happening here? After a bit of tinkering, I discovered that the layout broke only so long as I floated thetimestamp div. Unfortunately, none of the usual tricks for correcting IE's float bugs had any effect.Eventually, I removed the italic style from the
timestamp text, in an attempt to reduce the code to the bare minimum required to reproduce the problem. Which went away. I put italics back, and it returned. This reminded me of an article I'd seen on PIE, which described a bug in the way that IE handles widths for italicized text. It didn't seem to directly address the background image problem, but it led me to experiment with setting an explicit width for the floated timestamp div.The Fix
I setwidth:10em, which is large enough to accomodate the timestamp text and, because it's in em-units, will expand if the viewer increases the browser's default text size. Then, to make the date text align as far to the right as possible, I set text-align:right.Bingo. Problem solved circumvented.
Update: I submitted this write-up to “Big John” of PIE fame only to discover after several rounds of head scratching e-mails that this bug doesn't seem to occur in all IE 7 installations (including Big John's). I get it on my personal laptop and my desktop box at work, but my work laptop and some co-workers' workstations don't exhibit the behavior. All IE 7 version numbers tested are the same, so it may be related to something in the maintenance levels of Windows XP itself or in the metrics of the fonts installed on a given computer. Very weird.
To see if your IE 7 installation exhibits the bug, try the demo here. For the record, the IE 7 Windows factory at browsershots.org exhibits the centering bug.
17 September, 2007
How did I get here?
This month's search terms:
- sparks are going to fly cause i'm turned on again (see "friction burns")
- "dilated eyes" eye drops Which reminds me that I still haven't made my opthalmologist appointment.
- jessica alba shoulder ride Blasted thought police...
- buy.pickle.juice Not. While. I. Can. Get. It. For. Free.
- i'm singing a song rolling along "Locomotive Breath", occasionally.
- "rear steering bike" I've read the discussions, but I still think this sounds like a Bad Idea.
- zoom foo Yes, but probably not for another week or two.
- a word for people addicted to riding mountain bikes "Mosquito bait". No, wait. That's two words.
- badonkadonk site:blogspot.com Sounds intriguing.
- ladiesladies "flush them" Dial back the mysogyny, dude. You just need to find the right one. And you might try bathing.
- nabumetone dogs I think I get it: an anti-inflammatory punk rock band. Revolutionary (or not).
Now playing: OK Go, Oh No
15 September, 2007
How the Web works
I was Googling to find a web page cross reference of CSS color codes to named colors, which I found at the Color Schemer blog. I stayed around to browse the blog postings and found this posting with a photo of a Mazda 3 hatchback with a clever license plate (Dorian's would probably be "A0A0A0", for those geeks playing along at home).
I followed the photo link to Flickr, where I learned from visitors' comments that the car lives (or works) right next door to my old office, in Dallas. Considering that most Mazda 3 hatches seem to be gray, silver, blue, or white, I figured there was a pretty decent chance that this was the same red Mazda I've seen a couple times over the past few months. One of the commenters seemed to be the car's owner, T. Scott Stromberg, and curiosity compelled me to follow his posted link to his web site.
I don't have the sort of eye for art that some of you have, and Stromberg's style doesn't really speak to me; but the guy definitely has talent. I could easily see his art hanging in some jazz joint or Mexican restaurant. And, if I were working on a festive web design, I might well be inspired to borrow from his palette of colors.
Which would lead me back here, which, if memory serves, is how the world wide web worked before we had all these cool search engines to take us right to where we need to go.
I followed the photo link to Flickr, where I learned from visitors' comments that the car lives (or works) right next door to my old office, in Dallas. Considering that most Mazda 3 hatches seem to be gray, silver, blue, or white, I figured there was a pretty decent chance that this was the same red Mazda I've seen a couple times over the past few months. One of the commenters seemed to be the car's owner, T. Scott Stromberg, and curiosity compelled me to follow his posted link to his web site.
I don't have the sort of eye for art that some of you have, and Stromberg's style doesn't really speak to me; but the guy definitely has talent. I could easily see his art hanging in some jazz joint or Mexican restaurant. And, if I were working on a festive web design, I might well be inspired to borrow from his palette of colors.
Which would lead me back here, which, if memory serves, is how the world wide web worked before we had all these cool search engines to take us right to where we need to go.
10 September, 2007
Hand me my pith helmet, Livingston...
...I'm on Safari.
Ever since I became interested in developing standards-compliant web content, using semantic mark-up and CSS, I've tried to keep a representative sampling of browsers and different versions of those browsers on the various computers to which I have access. All well and good, as long as we're only talking about Windows boxes; but what about the bunch of you Apple devotees?
When Emma first posted about browsershots.org, I rejoiced. Finally, I'd be able to see my pages as they rendered on Safari and other non-Windows browsers. The catch is that lots of web developers (and wanna-bes) rejoiced, as well, the result being that there's usually a long queue of other sites waiting for their screenshots.
Ever since I became interested in developing standards-compliant web content, using semantic mark-up and CSS, I've tried to keep a representative sampling of browsers and different versions of those browsers on the various computers to which I have access. All well and good, as long as we're only talking about Windows boxes; but what about the bunch of you Apple devotees?
When Emma first posted about browsershots.org, I rejoiced. Finally, I'd be able to see my pages as they rendered on Safari and other non-Windows browsers. The catch is that lots of web developers (and wanna-bes) rejoiced, as well, the result being that there's usually a long queue of other sites waiting for their screenshots.
This morning, I learned that Apple has made available a public beta of its Safari 3 browser for Windows XP and Vista and, although I wouldn't quite say I rejoiced, I did promptly download and install the thing to add to my collection. It probably does not render XHTML/CSS in precisely the same way as earlier Mac-only versions do, and so doesn't replace browsershots.org in utility, but how can I pass up another weapon in my standards compliance arsenal?
02 September, 2007
No accounting for taste
In previous postings, I've mentioned that I've become the caretaker of various family treasures, sometimes under mild protest. At an early age, I had it drilled into me that "It's impolite to beg" and, as a result, I've always been reticent about accepting my aging relatives' possessions. At least, that's part of it. Another reason is that I feel that I'm somehow hastening their departure from this world by allowing them to give away their stuff. I know: illogical.None of which explains the wotsit at right.
During the same visit when my granduncle Carl sent home another of his clocks, we were hanging out in the cellar. It was all pretty much as I remembered it from my childhood. Same slightly musty smell. Same cinderblock walls. Maybe a little smaller than I remembered.
"I've got to start getting rid of some of this old junk," he said. "I'm not going to be around much longer."
At nearly 90 years old, he might have had a point, but I don't even like to think about his passing. In some ways, I'm closer to Carl and my aunt Mary than I was to my grandparents, the last of whom passed in 2000. Still, I know that with no children of their own, they've been sticking name tags on their various treasures for years, so that they could ensure that they found their way to the people they felt would appreciate them most.
"It's just a bunch of junk," Carl repeated. "But if there's any of this you want, I wish you'd take it."
Okay. There was one thing. For as long as I could remember, there had always been this weird cast iron bottle opener mounted on the wall. Kind of a scary thing, to a small kid, with its four wild eyes and bucked teeth, but it had made an impression. I'd always associate the memory of it with that basement, and I told Carl as much. He didn't know what I meant, at first. It had been there since sometime before I was born, and it had long since faded into invisibility for him.
When I pointed it out, he promptly grabbed a screwdriver from the battered toolbox he'd used when he worked as a machinist. Still shaking his head in amazement that I'd pick 'that old thing' as a memento, he placed it in my hand and laughed.
"You'll have to mount that on the wall in your kitchen and think of your old uncle whenever you open a beer," he said. Which is entirely the point.
Except I'm pretty sure I'd never get away with putting it in our kitchen.
But wait. There's more!
I can't remember what I was looking for, but I found a web site the other day that sells reproductions of Carl's bottle opener. And then, because my interest gets piqued by the strangest things, I continued looking. I found an auction site that had a mint condition specimen with its original box. And then, a woman's description of the same bottle opener, which she'd found in the remains of a fire. She's apparently interested in odd things, as well, because she actually took the time to research it.
27 August, 2007
Attention, entities of the earth
My fledgling attempts to learn HTML and create a web site came 'way back in 1995. My goal was to create a web presence for my family's genealogy research. Since much of that research is riddled with German, I frequently found myself in need of umlauts but never often enough to justify the mental real estate to memorize the HTML entities for the decorated characters.
Enter Leftlogic's HTML Entity Character Lookup tool. Now, instead of Googling all over the web for a long list of HTML entities that may or may not give me what I'm looking for, I can now enter a character that kind of looks like the one I want, and the tool shows me a list of candidates. For you fans of the forbidden fruit, there's even a dashboard widget you can download.
Sweet.
Enter Leftlogic's HTML Entity Character Lookup tool. Now, instead of Googling all over the web for a long list of HTML entities that may or may not give me what I'm looking for, I can now enter a character that kind of looks like the one I want, and the tool shows me a list of candidates. For you fans of the forbidden fruit, there's even a dashboard widget you can download.
Sweet.
24 August, 2007
Shadow World
Turtle e-mailed me a movie file this morning, and I enjoyed it so much that I just had to run right out and find it on YouTube so that I could share it with you. The movie was a Raymond Crowe performance of "What A Wonderful World", acted out with shadow puppets.
I encourage you to watch this and be entertained.
Now playing: Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Corelli: 12 Concerti Grossi, Op.6
I encourage you to watch this and be entertained.
Now playing: Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Corelli: 12 Concerti Grossi, Op.6
19 August, 2007
They came from the oil fields
That's right. This weekend, Turtle and I had the pleasure of meeting and having dinner with Janie and her husband while they were in The Metromess for other events.
I'm always just a little apprehensive when setting up a meeting with someone I know from online but have never met before, in the physical realm. That may sound like a strange admission, coming from a man who first met his wife in an IRC chat channel and regularly attended computer BBS gatherings during the early '90s; but a first real-life meeting with an online acquaintance is like a blind date. Or a box of chocolates. Oh, you can get a certain sense of people from how they write and what they write about, but there's always the chance to find yourself in an uncomfortable situation, with Too Much Information or too little to talk about.
Like that time in 1992 when I drove an hour or so to a BBS potluck. I'd had some good results making new friends when I attended a similar gathering from one of the other BBS systems in the area, and I was feeling adventurous. I arrived to find an unusual mix of nerdy, rough, and just plain unusual characters, but the people seemed nice enough. The conversation over dinner was typical computer nerd stuff, but afterwards, when everyone adjourned to the living room for a marijuana-fueled Traci Lords film festival...
Well, let's just say my capacity for new experience had been exceeded. Call me a coward—or a prude, if you must—but I faked the onset of a migraine and fled.
I'm pleased to say that our dinner with Janie and her husband was nothing like that. The four of us fell easily into a wandering, seamless, laughter-filled conversation that was cut short only when Turtle and I had to leave for an appointment before church. No weirdness, and the only hint of marijuana was the fern-like print of my shirt. It was big fun, and I'm glad we had the chance to meet!
So now I've met Bill and Janie, which makes me 2 for 2 in the Blogger Blind Date "success" column.
I'm always just a little apprehensive when setting up a meeting with someone I know from online but have never met before, in the physical realm. That may sound like a strange admission, coming from a man who first met his wife in an IRC chat channel and regularly attended computer BBS gatherings during the early '90s; but a first real-life meeting with an online acquaintance is like a blind date. Or a box of chocolates. Oh, you can get a certain sense of people from how they write and what they write about, but there's always the chance to find yourself in an uncomfortable situation, with Too Much Information or too little to talk about.
Like that time in 1992 when I drove an hour or so to a BBS potluck. I'd had some good results making new friends when I attended a similar gathering from one of the other BBS systems in the area, and I was feeling adventurous. I arrived to find an unusual mix of nerdy, rough, and just plain unusual characters, but the people seemed nice enough. The conversation over dinner was typical computer nerd stuff, but afterwards, when everyone adjourned to the living room for a marijuana-fueled Traci Lords film festival...
Well, let's just say my capacity for new experience had been exceeded. Call me a coward—or a prude, if you must—but I faked the onset of a migraine and fled.
I'm pleased to say that our dinner with Janie and her husband was nothing like that. The four of us fell easily into a wandering, seamless, laughter-filled conversation that was cut short only when Turtle and I had to leave for an appointment before church. No weirdness, and the only hint of marijuana was the fern-like print of my shirt. It was big fun, and I'm glad we had the chance to meet!
So now I've met Bill and Janie, which makes me 2 for 2 in the Blogger Blind Date "success" column.
14 August, 2007
Nerds and the fashion void
In case anyone is keeping track, it stopped raining a month or so ago. The wet weather and cooler than normal temperatures have given way to the customary hot, dry weather that we north Texans are used to. When I rolled into the driveway after my evening commute, Dorian's in-dash thermometer read 105 °F.
I've been working some long hours lately. That has put the brakes on my after-work bike riding and makes it tough to find time for routine chores like mowing the lawn. Turtle, being in attuned to such things, was waiting for me when I walked in the house.
"You're not planning to mow the lawn, are you?" she asked. When I didn't immediately respond with the 'no' she was looking for, she continued. "I was talking to Mom, and she says you should take it easy, have a nice cold beer or two, and not die."
"Mmm," I said, noncommittally. I knew that the only beer on the premises was in the garage, where it was about 120°.
But what's that got to do with nerd chic? you're probably wondering.
For as long as I can remember, one of the defining characteristics of nerds has been their complete lack of fashion sense.* Thick glasses, held together with safety pins and Scotch brand tape. Highwater trousers. Sweater vests. Not last year's fashions, nor even those from the year before—five years, ten years ago.
I've always felt it was unfair to assume that nerds can't dress themselves presentably. It's just lower on their list of priorities than hacking the Linux kernel or re-watching the entire Firefly series from start to finish (including Serenity) in one sitting. Why blow perfectly good money on a new pair of eyeglasses when it could be spent on a Visual Studio 2005 upgrade?
It's with that kind of mentality that, the minute Turtle's car was out of sight and on the way to her meeting, I went to my closet and grabbed my old red, sleeveless cycling jersey (the one whose elastic waistband was shot). I dug out an old pair of navy gym shorts (the ones whose drawstring had broken) and my old Halo sweatband, dressed, and headed out to mow the lawn.
Sure, the combination of tight cycling jersey and shorts that displayed just how weird a cyclist's tan lines really are would have elicited hoots and jeers from the guys down at the local day labor office. But from a practical standpoint, the wicking fabric of the jersey got me the most cooling benefit from what little breeze there was to be had. The sweatband kept the perspiration (okay... rivers of sweat) from burning my eyes. The shorts... well, let's just say I don't have the flabbiest man legs and bum on the cul de sac.
I was just finishing up when one of those Lexus [snicker] trucks pulled up in front of the next door neighbors' house, and a woman in a tailored white linen suit climbed out. As she made her way up the sidewalk, I saw her eyeing me and imagined that she was horrified by my attire.
Yep, I thought, cracking a grin. Still got it.
That, or she was mesmerized by my tan lines.
* I say "their", but I don't think that's fooling anyone. We're talking about me.
I've been working some long hours lately. That has put the brakes on my after-work bike riding and makes it tough to find time for routine chores like mowing the lawn. Turtle, being in attuned to such things, was waiting for me when I walked in the house.
"You're not planning to mow the lawn, are you?" she asked. When I didn't immediately respond with the 'no' she was looking for, she continued. "I was talking to Mom, and she says you should take it easy, have a nice cold beer or two, and not die."
"Mmm," I said, noncommittally. I knew that the only beer on the premises was in the garage, where it was about 120°.
But what's that got to do with nerd chic? you're probably wondering.
For as long as I can remember, one of the defining characteristics of nerds has been their complete lack of fashion sense.* Thick glasses, held together with safety pins and Scotch brand tape. Highwater trousers. Sweater vests. Not last year's fashions, nor even those from the year before—five years, ten years ago.
I've always felt it was unfair to assume that nerds can't dress themselves presentably. It's just lower on their list of priorities than hacking the Linux kernel or re-watching the entire Firefly series from start to finish (including Serenity) in one sitting. Why blow perfectly good money on a new pair of eyeglasses when it could be spent on a Visual Studio 2005 upgrade?
It's with that kind of mentality that, the minute Turtle's car was out of sight and on the way to her meeting, I went to my closet and grabbed my old red, sleeveless cycling jersey (the one whose elastic waistband was shot). I dug out an old pair of navy gym shorts (the ones whose drawstring had broken) and my old Halo sweatband, dressed, and headed out to mow the lawn.
Sure, the combination of tight cycling jersey and shorts that displayed just how weird a cyclist's tan lines really are would have elicited hoots and jeers from the guys down at the local day labor office. But from a practical standpoint, the wicking fabric of the jersey got me the most cooling benefit from what little breeze there was to be had. The sweatband kept the perspiration (okay... rivers of sweat) from burning my eyes. The shorts... well, let's just say I don't have the flabbiest man legs and bum on the cul de sac.
I was just finishing up when one of those Lexus [snicker] trucks pulled up in front of the next door neighbors' house, and a woman in a tailored white linen suit climbed out. As she made her way up the sidewalk, I saw her eyeing me and imagined that she was horrified by my attire.
Yep, I thought, cracking a grin. Still got it.
That, or she was mesmerized by my tan lines.
* I say "their", but I don't think that's fooling anyone. We're talking about me.
05 August, 2007
Exxxcellent...
Through The Simpsons' eighteen-year history, we've seen lots of guest celebrities reduced to two dimensions. I've always wondered how I'd look with yellow skin and googly eyes... and now I know.
As part of the non-stop hype for the recently-released Simpsons movie, Burger King has put together a web site where you can upload a picture of yourself, answer a few non-personal questions, and see what the analyzer thinks you'd look like as a cartoon character from the Simpsons. I was frankly surprised by how well this worked.
You can try too. www.simpsonizeme.com
22 July, 2007
Ride report: Tour de Paris (Paris, TX)
The 90-mile drive to Paris in the pre-dawn hour was a little spooky because of heavy fog along the way, but the day dawned sunny and clear. I rolled into the Paris High School parking lot at a little after 7am, started unloading my gear, and immediately started streaming sweat. As I was preparing to leave the house, I couldn't decide between a short-sleeved jersey and a sleeveless one. I was glad I'd brought both and chose the sleeveless.
At a little after 7:30, I'd finished with my preparations—sunblock, HRM, bike assembled—and gave The Stradas a call. They were still about 15 minutes from the high school and unlikely to be ready to go by start time, so I went ahead and began making my way toward the starting line.
A few minutes before 8:00, the organizers made a few remarks and then handed the microphone over to a gentleman introduced as Lance Armstrong's dad. He went on for a couple minutes about how the Tour de France didn't hold quite the same interest for him as it had in years past. The riders laughed, but I was distracted. I seemed to recall that Lance didn't have any kind of relationship with his father and referred to him as "the DNA donor." It seemed rather... uninformed for the Tour de Paris organizers to have this guy as a special guest when Lance Armstrong didn't even acknowledge him. Turns out I was the uninformed one, though. When I got home, I looked it up and discovered Terry Armstrong is Lance's step-father—and one who's obviously quite proud of his adopted son, at that.
Aaanyway... we got off promptly at 8:00 and, because I'd managed to find a spot toward the front of the group, I had very little of the claustrophobia I experienced last year, at the start. Last year, I was toward the back with all the wobblies; this year, I was up with the hammerheads. We took off, and most of the folks around me coalesced into several pace lines. Those who didn't rode in a predictably, orderly fashion, and in no time at all I was in clear air. At least, I was in clear air until I caught up with one of the pace lines, which was writhing back and forth across the entire width of the lane. So I passed them. And then I passed another. I finished the first 10 miles with an average speed of 21 mph.
Between miles 10 and 20, the pace lines reeled me in again. As they passed, one of the guys smirked and said, "Guess you're not as as fast as you thought, huh?" I told him that I reckoned I could keep up the pace just fine, if I'd been sitting on and sucking wheel all day, instead of going it alone. He just grunted and sucked on past.
When I made my first stop at mile 30, I had an average of 20.4 mph, but it was starting to heat up. The roads were rougher than I'd remembered them from last year, and I'd come to the realization that I might have mismanaged my resources on the first half. I hung around at the stop for longer than I normally would have done, hoping to hook up with the bunch of RBENT folks I thought were supposed to be in attendance. Corsa Ken arrived after a bit, but no sign of The Stradas or anyone else, so I took off before my legs got any stiffer.
I could tell I was fading. Though there were no serious climbs on the route (and no rollers of consequence until we hit Rt. 19), my legs felt rubbery on every incline. I went into conservation mode, spinning more and tucking everything in on the slight downhills to get aero and conserve energy. Still, I must have been doing better than some people. Somewhere around mile 35, I picked up a tail and towed a very fit-looking young fellow on a cyclocross bike for about 5 miles before he peeled off at a rest stop. He expressed his appreciation but never offered to take a pull. The moral? Don't let any DF rider tell you that he can't get a draft off a recumbent.
At mile 50, I "had" to stop again. I needed pickle juice and a few minutes off the bike in front of the gasoline-powered cooling fan that was set up there. Corsa Ken showed up a few minutes later, and Steve Strada shortly after that.
Steve was looking strong and only stopped because we yelled at him. So strong, in fact, that when we headed out again, I could tell that I was holding him back. Once we got into the final stretch and the rollers, I admitted to him that I was cooked and that he shouldn't let me hold him back. He didn't. Meanwhile, I continued on in energy conservation mode, feeling every one of the days during June when I should have been riding and getting stronger... but hadn't.
And yet, as I was grinding my teeth and spinning my way up one climb, I passed a DF rider in a Rolling Stones jersey.
"Hey," he said. "I'll toss you a rope and you can pull me, okay?"
"Good luck with that," I told him, but I was thinking, Up yours. This Little Engine That Could is through towing roadies for the day. He passed me, but I caught him (and passed him) once we made the turn on to the smooth straight stretch leading to the high school. "No fair!" he called out, laughing. "You're coasting!"
I dug in and cranked it up to 23 mph, trying to bring my average up a tick from 18.9 to 19, but I never quite made it. That said, "nearly 19" is a new record for me at any distance, so I mark it as a good day. My heart rate monitor showed that I'd averaged 165 bpm (86% of my maximum) for the duration of the ride.
Special congratulations go out to dallasbikr, who finished 100K on a fixie with an 18+ average. Dude, you're sick!
At a little after 7:30, I'd finished with my preparations—sunblock, HRM, bike assembled—and gave The Stradas a call. They were still about 15 minutes from the high school and unlikely to be ready to go by start time, so I went ahead and began making my way toward the starting line.
A few minutes before 8:00, the organizers made a few remarks and then handed the microphone over to a gentleman introduced as Lance Armstrong's dad. He went on for a couple minutes about how the Tour de France didn't hold quite the same interest for him as it had in years past. The riders laughed, but I was distracted. I seemed to recall that Lance didn't have any kind of relationship with his father and referred to him as "the DNA donor." It seemed rather... uninformed for the Tour de Paris organizers to have this guy as a special guest when Lance Armstrong didn't even acknowledge him. Turns out I was the uninformed one, though. When I got home, I looked it up and discovered Terry Armstrong is Lance's step-father—and one who's obviously quite proud of his adopted son, at that.
Aaanyway... we got off promptly at 8:00 and, because I'd managed to find a spot toward the front of the group, I had very little of the claustrophobia I experienced last year, at the start. Last year, I was toward the back with all the wobblies; this year, I was up with the hammerheads. We took off, and most of the folks around me coalesced into several pace lines. Those who didn't rode in a predictably, orderly fashion, and in no time at all I was in clear air. At least, I was in clear air until I caught up with one of the pace lines, which was writhing back and forth across the entire width of the lane. So I passed them. And then I passed another. I finished the first 10 miles with an average speed of 21 mph.
Between miles 10 and 20, the pace lines reeled me in again. As they passed, one of the guys smirked and said, "Guess you're not as as fast as you thought, huh?" I told him that I reckoned I could keep up the pace just fine, if I'd been sitting on and sucking wheel all day, instead of going it alone. He just grunted and sucked on past.
When I made my first stop at mile 30, I had an average of 20.4 mph, but it was starting to heat up. The roads were rougher than I'd remembered them from last year, and I'd come to the realization that I might have mismanaged my resources on the first half. I hung around at the stop for longer than I normally would have done, hoping to hook up with the bunch of RBENT folks I thought were supposed to be in attendance. Corsa Ken arrived after a bit, but no sign of The Stradas or anyone else, so I took off before my legs got any stiffer.
I could tell I was fading. Though there were no serious climbs on the route (and no rollers of consequence until we hit Rt. 19), my legs felt rubbery on every incline. I went into conservation mode, spinning more and tucking everything in on the slight downhills to get aero and conserve energy. Still, I must have been doing better than some people. Somewhere around mile 35, I picked up a tail and towed a very fit-looking young fellow on a cyclocross bike for about 5 miles before he peeled off at a rest stop. He expressed his appreciation but never offered to take a pull. The moral? Don't let any DF rider tell you that he can't get a draft off a recumbent.
At mile 50, I "had" to stop again. I needed pickle juice and a few minutes off the bike in front of the gasoline-powered cooling fan that was set up there. Corsa Ken showed up a few minutes later, and Steve Strada shortly after that.
Steve was looking strong and only stopped because we yelled at him. So strong, in fact, that when we headed out again, I could tell that I was holding him back. Once we got into the final stretch and the rollers, I admitted to him that I was cooked and that he shouldn't let me hold him back. He didn't. Meanwhile, I continued on in energy conservation mode, feeling every one of the days during June when I should have been riding and getting stronger... but hadn't.
And yet, as I was grinding my teeth and spinning my way up one climb, I passed a DF rider in a Rolling Stones jersey.
"Hey," he said. "I'll toss you a rope and you can pull me, okay?"
"Good luck with that," I told him, but I was thinking, Up yours. This Little Engine That Could is through towing roadies for the day. He passed me, but I caught him (and passed him) once we made the turn on to the smooth straight stretch leading to the high school. "No fair!" he called out, laughing. "You're coasting!"
I dug in and cranked it up to 23 mph, trying to bring my average up a tick from 18.9 to 19, but I never quite made it. That said, "nearly 19" is a new record for me at any distance, so I mark it as a good day. My heart rate monitor showed that I'd averaged 165 bpm (86% of my maximum) for the duration of the ride.
Special congratulations go out to dallasbikr, who finished 100K on a fixie with an 18+ average. Dude, you're sick!
11 July, 2007
10 July, 2007
A time for Heroes
...and Chuck.
I've been seeing the amusing and slightly mysterious teases on NBC for the last week or so. Tonight I finally took the bait and wandered over to the www.chuckssecret.com web site to see what the deal is.
The fact that I'm now eagerly awaiting the Fall premier of this show probably reveals more about me than I'd like, but I can't wait. Based on the preview, Chuck looks like Get Smart meets Gotcha meets Clerks, with maybe a bit of The Office (if The Office took place in Best Buy and if it was funny).
I've been seeing the amusing and slightly mysterious teases on NBC for the last week or so. Tonight I finally took the bait and wandered over to the www.chuckssecret.com web site to see what the deal is.
The fact that I'm now eagerly awaiting the Fall premier of this show probably reveals more about me than I'd like, but I can't wait. Based on the preview, Chuck looks like Get Smart meets Gotcha meets Clerks, with maybe a bit of The Office (if The Office took place in Best Buy and if it was funny).
09 July, 2007
Lost in translation
I'm often impressed with Google's language translation service. Sometimes, I'm amazed—but not by the accuracy of the results.
I've mentioned in passing that some of the work I'm doing involves Unicode support. Since I don't speak or write Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, or any of the other language that requires characters outside the ISO-8859-1code page character set, I've been tapping Google for some test data.
Sometimes the results are rather interesting, as in the case of this Arabic translation of a well-known children's rhyme:
ماري كان قليلا الحمل. عن ابتزاز الابيض الذي كان الثلج. في كل مكان ذهبت ماري، انالحملكان متأكداان نسلكه.
...which Google translates back to English as...
Mary had a little pregnancy.
The blackmail was Snow White.
Everywhere I went Mary, that the pregnancy was sure to go.
I know we're seen as infidels and all, but that spin seems just a bit cynical, even to me.
More disturbing, perhaps, is the fact that the phrase "I like monkeys because they taste like chicken" makes the round trip from English to Arabic and back with no problem.
Now playing: Spock's Beard, Snow
I've mentioned in passing that some of the work I'm doing involves Unicode support. Since I don't speak or write Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, or any of the other language that requires characters outside the ISO-8859-1
Sometimes the results are rather interesting, as in the case of this Arabic translation of a well-known children's rhyme:
ماري كان قليلا الحمل. عن ابتزاز الابيض الذي كان الثلج. في كل مكان ذهبت ماري، انالحملكان متأكداان نسلكه.
...which Google translates back to English as...
Mary had a little pregnancy.
The blackmail was Snow White.
Everywhere I went Mary, that the pregnancy was sure to go.
I know we're seen as infidels and all, but that spin seems just a bit cynical, even to me.
More disturbing, perhaps, is the fact that the phrase "I like monkeys because they taste like chicken" makes the round trip from English to Arabic and back with no problem.
Now playing: Spock's Beard, Snow
08 July, 2007
Ride report: RBENT club ride (Celina, TX)
On the RBENT forum, one of the members commented on his disappointment with the Mesquite Rodeo Ride, noting that one of his usual routes had better roads with less traffic, and he didn't have to pay to ride on them. One thing led to another, and before he knew it he had gotten roped into organizing a Saturday club ride showcasing 50+ miles of his favorite route.
It's been tricky finding time to ride during the past couple months, what with all the rain we've been having. As the date for the ride approached, we all watched the weather reports very carefully and hoped that we'd catch a break in the weather, and we did—sort of. There was no significant chance of rain in the forecast, and by 8am when we headed out from the quaint little town square at Celina, it was sunny with blue skies and fluffy white clouds. It was humid and was going to get hot, but I was slathered in sun block and carried nearly two liters of water, as well as a bottle of Accelerade. No problem.
We got our legs warmed up and before long were cranking along the wide shoulder of FM-289 at around 20 mph.
Finally, we were back on the road, heading west along FM-121 toward Lake Ray Roberts. Traffic was a non issue, for once, as our route had been chosen expressly for its scenery and wide shoulders or low traffic.
Finally, we... well, you get the idea. We turned south on FM-377 toward Pilot Point. More nice scenery and great company. As we entered Ray Roberts State Park and passed over a thin finger of the lake, we were all amazed at how high the water was. Last year's many exposed tree stumps were hidden, and the water level was into the canopies of trees that normally stand on the bank, well up from the usual water line. We wondered what we'd see when we crossed the dam, further on in our ride.
We headed west on FM-455 toward the dam. By this time, we had spent so much time stopped by the side of the road that the heat had caught up with us. In the heat of summer, a successful ride is as much about staying on the move and completing the ride before it gets hot as it is about going the distance. The combination of heat, distance, and having to warm up our muscles after every repair stop was starting to wear on everyone, and our pace had slowed by a few miles per hour. Chip seal that hadn't seemed so bad in the early stages of the route was now drawing complaints from a couple of the riders who had lost their happy thoughts.
And then the remaining DF rider (see mechanicals 1 and 2) flatted.
A cell phone rang. It was Mr. Strada. "Um... we need a 700c tube. Does anyone have one?"
Most DF road bikes use 700cm rims, and so there's usually an abundance of spare tubes of the correct size. Unfortunately, on this day, the two other DF riders had had to turn back, and most of the remaining bikes were Bacchettas with dual 650cm wheels. Fortunately, one of the recumbents was of the big rear/little front wheel variety, and its rider pedaled back to donate his spare 700cm tube. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but on a ride like the one we were having, the generosity of such a gesture was huge and was not lost on me.
Meanwhile, we waited, baking in the sun. We re-applied sun block. We finally decided that the best way to keep cool would be to keep moving, so we headed out at a leisurely pace across the dam. Halfway across, the cell phone rang. The flat was fixed and we were ready to move on. We returned to where the mechanics were waiting and were just about to roll out when...
"Damn," the DF rider said. "I just flatted again."
He hadn't even gotten back on the bike. Out of options, he found himself some shade to sit in and called the DF riders who'd turned back earlier to come and pick him up.
At Aubrey, we turned east on FM-428 for the home stretch back to Celina and a series of rolling and not-so-rolling hills. One of the guys, who normally rides a fast, sexy lowracer was having a tough time. "Anything less than a 20 mph average just isn't worth bringing the racer," he'd said earlier in the day. It was a decision he had come to regret, I suspect.
I was feeling a bit beaten down too, but I concentrated on pedaling in circles and remembering to drink often, all the while watching my average speed fall. When we rolled into the town square, my computer showed 60.17 miles. All it would take is a few leisurely laps up and down the lightly-traveled streets to complete two more miles and a full metric century—but I was done. I had developed a thousand-yard stare, and my legs felt rubbery. I needed air conditioning and food.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been a really fun ride (instead of a pleasant epic). The company was great, and it was fun riding with a bunch of fast recumbents, but the heat, the bad luck, and the fact that I really haven't been on the bike for a month made for a long day. I'll be ready to try it again when the rain stops and I've had a chance to get acclimated to the heat.
I'll bring more than my usual two spare tubes, however.
It's been tricky finding time to ride during the past couple months, what with all the rain we've been having. As the date for the ride approached, we all watched the weather reports very carefully and hoped that we'd catch a break in the weather, and we did—sort of. There was no significant chance of rain in the forecast, and by 8am when we headed out from the quaint little town square at Celina, it was sunny with blue skies and fluffy white clouds. It was humid and was going to get hot, but I was slathered in sun block and carried nearly two liters of water, as well as a bottle of Accelerade. No problem.
We got our legs warmed up and before long were cranking along the wide shoulder of FM-289 at around 20 mph.
Mechanicals 1-3
About ten miles up the road, at Gunter, there was a problem. One of the DF (a.k.a., "normal bike") riders who had joined us had a flat. A couple people stayed back to help while the rest of us went on to wait at a convenience store a short distance up the road. And wait. And wait. (We later found out that he changed the first flat but didn't get the tube seated correctly and immediately flatted again.) While we were waiting, one of the guys noticed that his rear tire had a bulge. After some discussion, he decided it would be best to turn back.Finally, we were back on the road, heading west along FM-121 toward Lake Ray Roberts. Traffic was a non issue, for once, as our route had been chosen expressly for its scenery and wide shoulders or low traffic.
Mechanical 4
We were enjoying the sun and the scenery when someone called out "FLAT!" We pulled off, and the victim set about replacing his punctured tube. Mrs. Strada and I stood baking in the sun while discussing the luck deficit that was developing, and the cruel twists of fate intertwined with a career as a professional bowler.Finally, we... well, you get the idea. We turned south on FM-377 toward Pilot Point. More nice scenery and great company. As we entered Ray Roberts State Park and passed over a thin finger of the lake, we were all amazed at how high the water was. Last year's many exposed tree stumps were hidden, and the water level was into the canopies of trees that normally stand on the bank, well up from the usual water line. We wondered what we'd see when we crossed the dam, further on in our ride.
Mechanicals 5 and 6
About a mile from FM-455, where we'd turn and head west over the dam, I heard the dreaded "FSSSsssSSSsssSSSsss!" that signaled yet another puncture. This time, it was me. I called out "Mechanical!" and rolled into the parking lot next to a strip mall while there was still a little air in the tire. I think I pulled off the fastest tube change of the day, but maybe it only seemed that way because I was busy. Still, it was long enough for our bad luck to find another one of the DF riders, who broke his chain. I'm not sure how he managed to repair it, but he'd already headed back home by the time I finished changing my flat. Or maybe someone came and picked him up. I didn't find out about the problem until we were all back on the road.We headed west on FM-455 toward the dam. By this time, we had spent so much time stopped by the side of the road that the heat had caught up with us. In the heat of summer, a successful ride is as much about staying on the move and completing the ride before it gets hot as it is about going the distance. The combination of heat, distance, and having to warm up our muscles after every repair stop was starting to wear on everyone, and our pace had slowed by a few miles per hour. Chip seal that hadn't seemed so bad in the early stages of the route was now drawing complaints from a couple of the riders who had lost their happy thoughts.
And then the remaining DF rider (see mechanicals 1 and 2) flatted.
Mechanicals 7 and 8
The poor guy. Mr. Strada stayed back with him while the rest of us rolled slowly on, in search of some shade. There was none.A cell phone rang. It was Mr. Strada. "Um... we need a 700c tube. Does anyone have one?"
Most DF road bikes use 700cm rims, and so there's usually an abundance of spare tubes of the correct size. Unfortunately, on this day, the two other DF riders had had to turn back, and most of the remaining bikes were Bacchettas with dual 650cm wheels. Fortunately, one of the recumbents was of the big rear/little front wheel variety, and its rider pedaled back to donate his spare 700cm tube. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but on a ride like the one we were having, the generosity of such a gesture was huge and was not lost on me.
Meanwhile, we waited, baking in the sun. We re-applied sun block. We finally decided that the best way to keep cool would be to keep moving, so we headed out at a leisurely pace across the dam. Halfway across, the cell phone rang. The flat was fixed and we were ready to move on. We returned to where the mechanics were waiting and were just about to roll out when...
"Damn," the DF rider said. "I just flatted again."
He hadn't even gotten back on the bike. Out of options, he found himself some shade to sit in and called the DF riders who'd turned back earlier to come and pick him up.
Denouement
We made it through the return trip without any further mechanical mishaps, but by this time everyone was dragging and feeling the effects of the heat. I continued to drink from my water bladder, but my breakfast was long gone and the snacks and energy gel hadn't done much to perk me up. Our pleasant ride was rapidly turning into an epic.At Aubrey, we turned east on FM-428 for the home stretch back to Celina and a series of rolling and not-so-rolling hills. One of the guys, who normally rides a fast, sexy lowracer was having a tough time. "Anything less than a 20 mph average just isn't worth bringing the racer," he'd said earlier in the day. It was a decision he had come to regret, I suspect.
I was feeling a bit beaten down too, but I concentrated on pedaling in circles and remembering to drink often, all the while watching my average speed fall. When we rolled into the town square, my computer showed 60.17 miles. All it would take is a few leisurely laps up and down the lightly-traveled streets to complete two more miles and a full metric century—but I was done. I had developed a thousand-yard stare, and my legs felt rubbery. I needed air conditioning and food.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been a really fun ride (instead of a pleasant epic). The company was great, and it was fun riding with a bunch of fast recumbents, but the heat, the bad luck, and the fact that I really haven't been on the bike for a month made for a long day. I'll be ready to try it again when the rain stops and I've had a chance to get acclimated to the heat.
I'll bring more than my usual two spare tubes, however.
04 July, 2007
Long may she wave
- 3 half-inch screws - 30¢
- 3 lead screw anchors - 15¢
- 4 hours hammer drill rental from Home Depot - $41.75
- 5 minutes of my time (not counting the 45 minutes I spent trying to drill the first ¼" of the first hole in the brick and the 1½ hours spent running to and from Home Depot for drill rental) - FREE
- Seeing Old Glory flapping in front of the new house - Priceless
Happy Independence Day!
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