<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:04:43.149-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Byvshyj CCCP</title><subtitle type='html'>Downriver, Detroit, Michigan.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>205</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-117290193857126387</id><published>2007-03-03T01:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-03T01:05:38.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I'm done packing...but I don't feel prepared. This trip has more loose ends than I'm used to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-117290193857126387?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/117290193857126387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/117290193857126387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html#117290193857126387' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-117035459086197620</id><published>2007-02-01T13:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T13:36:40.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just bought my tickets for vacation; my brother and I are going to Argentina for the first half of March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The price has been around $1,200 for a month. Lately it shot up to $1,300 and I was getting frustrated trying to score a good price. Today I grabbed them for $1,121.70 ea. including fees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's important to get the lowest price possible because it costs so much to fly within Argentina. The chief sights are widely scattered. We want to see BA (of course!),Perito Moreno glacier, Mendoza and Iguazu Falls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-117035459086197620?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/117035459086197620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/117035459086197620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html#117035459086197620' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-116304443953771277</id><published>2006-11-08T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T22:53:59.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>PSB were on Dancing with the Stars tonight. It was a surprise to hear 'West End Girls' wafting from the living room TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the Dems  took control of Congress last night. W00tz!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-116304443953771277?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/116304443953771277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/116304443953771277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html#116304443953771277' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-116217299852737067</id><published>2006-10-29T20:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T22:58:14.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What a good, extended weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday night I saw the Pet Shop Boys at Detroit's State Theater. A great, energizing show. I was so happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following morning at 6am I picked up my college friend Dave from DTW. We had time to kill until hotel check in. We had breakfast at Bob Evans, drove around an area I'm thinking of living in, spent time in Royal Oak, then headed to Ann Arbor. I showed him the new science buildings they've put up at the University; one was on the spot of the lab he once examined &lt;a href="http://www.degus.org/"&gt;degu&lt;/a&gt; livers. We walked to the river in the &lt;a href="http://sitemaker.umich.edu/mbgna/mbgna.collections/trails"&gt;Arb&lt;/a&gt;. Once at the hotel, I went to see a friend in Northville and hoped to rest a little there. Instead, we ran errands and I got no rest before heading back to Ann Arbor to go out to a club. My day didn't end until 3 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I was sore -- too much dancing (too much age!). Managed to have dinner with Dave and Todd at the relocated &lt;a href="http://www.metzgers.net/"&gt;Metzger's&lt;/a&gt;. We were all pleased with the meal. Then back to their hotel so I could get changed into my Halloween outfit -- Indian wedding clothing I brought back from my trip -- and headed to Northville. The party was hosted by friend's from my community college and had nearly no one I knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I cantored at Liturgy then picked Dave up from his late check-out. He had a hankering for falafel with hummus so we had lunch at &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/maps?num=100&amp;hl=en&amp;amp;hs=CHg&amp;lr=&amp;amp;safe=off&amp;client=firefox-a&amp;amp;rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&amp;q=jerusalem+garden&amp;amp;near=Ann+Arbor,+MI&amp;reviews=1&amp;amp;latlng=0,0,17629053789391170155&amp;sa=X&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;oi=local&amp;amp;ct=reviews"&gt;Jerusalem Garden&lt;/a&gt;, the best cheap eats in town. We bummed around town, then went to Northville. We sampled hot cider at the mill, walked downtown and &lt;a href="http://www.city-data.com/cpicv/vfiles11493.jpg"&gt;Mill Race&lt;/a&gt; Historical Village. Then to the airport. Now I'm ready for my weekend to be over. Good thing it came with an &lt;a title="End of Daylight Savings. I think it's dorky that it's being extended next year."&gt;extra hour&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-116217299852737067?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/116217299852737067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/116217299852737067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#116217299852737067' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-115973335157957082</id><published>2006-10-01T15:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T16:09:11.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Most of yesterday, Saturday, was irritating, but it ended well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, I got a call from a friend that I'd been planning on seeing. I was expecting to pick up some boxes from him and put them in storage. But he calls and says he has to find an apartment &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;today&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;an activity that would take more time than I'd allocated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's known for two months (more actually) that he'd have to leave his present living situation. The absolute deadline was Sunday at noon. The chief problem is that he's unemployed. He'd called friends and friends of friends trying to find a place to stay. His step mom and sister won't take him in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had been putting out resumes in the field he's interested in. But with the minimal response he was getting, he should have been trying retail and other easy to obtain jobs. But he didn't until the last couple weeks. So he has no job, no money and no place to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd told him I'd help him get an apartment, naturally expecting that would be after he got a job. But he asked me yesterday and to my amazement he was able to sign a place the same day. I don't circulate in the "no credit check" part of society but that's where he found a place. He didn't want to spend even one night in a shelter. But if he doesn't a damn job, he will be in November.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I missed my nephew's third birthday, though it was for a good enough reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening, I attended &lt;a href="http://www.alloyorchestra.com"&gt;The Alloy Orchestra&lt;/a&gt; performance at the &lt;a href="http://www.dia.org/dft"&gt;DIA&lt;/a&gt;. They're a trio that does cool, modern accompaniment to silent films. Last night the performed to "&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0016220/"&gt;The Phantom of the Opera&lt;/a&gt;" (1925 with Lon Chaney)   and "&lt;a href="http://www.nosferatumovie.com/nosferatu_story_board1.html"&gt;Nosferatu&lt;/a&gt;." The latter was directed by Murnau in 1922 and is still creepy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-115973335157957082?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/115973335157957082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/115973335157957082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#115973335157957082' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-115609525343155256</id><published>2006-08-20T13:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T13:34:13.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>God I hate Ticketmaster. Look at how they price shipping:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; TicketFast: NOW (Recommended)  US $2.50   The quickest delivery method available. Tickets delivered via e-mail, you print them out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; UPS: 2 - Business Day Morning  US $19.50  by 12 noon in 2 business days - undeliverable to PO Box addresses&lt;br /&gt; UPS: 2 - Business Day Evening  US $18.50  by 7:30 pm in 2 business days - undeliverable to PO Box addresses&lt;br /&gt; UPS: 3 - Business Day Evening  US $14.50  by 7:30 pm in 3 business days - undeliverable to PO Box addresses&lt;br /&gt; UPS: Saturday  US $25.00  by noon on Saturday. Order must be placed by Wednesday prior - undeliverable to PO Box addresses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Standard Mail  No additional charge&lt;/span&gt;  Your tickets will be mailed to your billing address and delivered no later than 48 hours before the event in a plain unmarked white envelope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;highlighting mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they'll mail them to you for "free" but to print them out on your own printer costs an additional two point five bucks?! No wonder they recommend it. Anything to enhance their revenue stream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can only dream of a day when someone comes along to break their back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-115609525343155256?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/115609525343155256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/115609525343155256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115609525343155256' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-115557942183428986</id><published>2006-08-14T13:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T14:17:01.926-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If I could blog work, you would be so entertained. The last few weeks would be rants.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-115557942183428986?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/115557942183428986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/115557942183428986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115557942183428986' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-114339234169959684</id><published>2006-03-26T11:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T11:59:01.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Been attending showings at the &lt;a href="http://www.aafilmfest.org"&gt;Ann Arbor Film Festival&lt;/a&gt;.  A lot of quality programming this year, fewer trials of patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, my sister and I went to a hall party thrown by a guy we went to community college with. It was the first time she'd seen some of them since that era. I last got together with them when one of our number was moving down to New Orleans six years ago. And as infrequent as we meet, it's still more often than I see people from high school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-114339234169959684?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/114339234169959684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/114339234169959684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114339234169959684' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-114222078348948153</id><published>2006-03-12T22:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T13:52:01.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Assisted cantoring at liturgy this morning...but on to better things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was such a spring-like day! Sunny and the first day you didn't need a jacket outside. I had to do something outdoors, so I headed to Lake Erie Metropark. Decided to get the annual pass ($20), because it's likely I'll visit four more times before the year is out (a day pass $4).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had most of the woodland nature trail to myself. The chipped path was dauntingly covered with pools of water, but I made it through getting my feet minimally wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.invasiveplants.net/phragmites/natint.htm"&gt;Phragmites&lt;/a&gt; is really changing the wetland area. It's pushing out the cattails and ruining the views because it grows taller than the elevated walkways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how it looks by the mock boat house. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/1600/DSCF0028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/320/DSCF0028.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Another area with mainly cattails.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/1600/DSCF0022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/320/DSCF0022.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The paper mentioned gizzard shad dying in Ecorse Creek. Some have drifted down this way; you can see a few in the foreground. Officials say that rapid change in temperature causes them to die off. In this industrialized area, others arent' so sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Sean/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-114222078348948153?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/114222078348948153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/114222078348948153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114222078348948153' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-114187385959498249</id><published>2006-03-08T22:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T22:10:59.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to church this evening prepared to read the epistle. Instead, it suddenly fell to me to cantor the whole Presanctified Liturgy. Our cantor has switched to another parish because her husband, a deacon, was transferred. This is going to be a pain for me. There are only two others who can cantor: one is new and needs his confidence built; the other elderly and tuneless. Gaa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-114187385959498249?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/114187385959498249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/114187385959498249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114187385959498249' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113909547607277975</id><published>2006-02-04T18:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T09:24:46.126-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As of yesterday morning I'd been out of work for three days due to an upper respiratory infection. I was feeling better as the doctor gave me an antibiotic and prednisone when I paid a visit on Thursday. I thought it would be a nice idea to go out to breakfast with my Mom, which I haven't done in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We eat at Big Boys, I pay the bill, and step into the lobby. I wait briefly for her to catch up. She steps into the lobby, apparently catches her foot on the edge of the carpet and trips. I turn and partially catch her, but not well enough. Her nose hits the tile and starts to bleed copiously. I get napkins from a slow waitress. The manager comes to help. He offers an ambulance, she declines. Eventually the flow diminishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first hospital we go to isn't in our network, I'd forgotten it switched hands, and as it's not life-threatening we go to the one that is. The second hospital wasn't busy and she was seen right away, though for a broken nose they don't do anything. It was x-rayed and bandaged, that's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not the relaxing morning I'd hoped for. Nor had I expected to drive: I didn't wear my contacts or glasses. I was looking scrubby and didn't think glasses would help any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The image of all that blood on the tile is going to disturb me for a long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113909547607277975?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113909547607277975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113909547607277975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#113909547607277975' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113681812796925838</id><published>2006-01-09T09:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T09:48:47.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've got a four day weekend coming up and I'm headed to NYC. Yeah baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113681812796925838?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113681812796925838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113681812796925838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113681812796925838' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113651603242255082</id><published>2006-01-05T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T21:53:52.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Did the readings for the Old Testament and Epistle at Vespers/Liturgy tonight. It's the feast of Theophany. It lasted an hour and a half!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113651603242255082?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113651603242255082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113651603242255082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113651603242255082' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113616573867523061</id><published>2006-01-01T20:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T14:19:50.446-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be a better year than last, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent a nice evening with Claudia and another friend for the New Year. She made made a nice chicken dish, vegetables, and couscous. Tasty. Champaign at midnight. The Netflix movie I'd selected, "Wet, Hot American Summer" conveniently finished ten minutes before the ball drop. We had some fruit salad with the Saturday Night Live rerun (spoofing Harriet Miers and hosted by they guy in Napoleon Dynamite, a truly awful movie).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113616573867523061?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113616573867523061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113616573867523061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113616573867523061' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113435757538717873</id><published>2005-12-11T22:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T22:19:35.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dean and I went to the &lt;a href="http://www.detroitconcertchoir.org/"&gt;Detroit Concert Choir&lt;/a&gt;'s proformance at &lt;a href="http://home.earthlink.net/~oldstmarys/NewChurch.html.htm"&gt;Old St. Mary's&lt;/a&gt; in Greektown. One of the basses in my church choir sings with them. Then we had a disappointing meal (snapper for me and chicken for him) at &lt;a href="http://www.fishbonesusa.com/Location/Default.aspx" title="At least we got to sit by the waterfall, sorry no picture."&gt;Fishbones&lt;/a&gt;, renowned for its seafood. We might as well have eaten at a diner. Much better to go to &lt;a href="http://www.cameronmitchell.com/restaurants/restaurantinformation/index.cfm?rid=29"&gt;Mitchell's&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113435757538717873?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113435757538717873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113435757538717873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113435757538717873' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113431549927094379</id><published>2005-12-11T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T10:38:19.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We did get six inches out of the snow storm. Since it fell beginning in the evening, the freeways were wide open by morning. Good job, snow crews!&lt;br /&gt;*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend was discharged from the hospital Wednesday. He's staying with his grandfather for a few days. Friday, I picked up a pizza they had ordered, brought it to them. His aunt, a cousin, and his nephews were there, too. As he can't drive, he needed a change of scenery. We went to the Borders in Dearborn so I could start compiling my Christmas list. He had us stop at the Starbucks in Allen Park, the new one built where the veteran's hospital stood. It's a small, poorly laied out store. It's at the corner of a strip mall and most of the limited seating is between two entrances so the wind comes right to the seats. And the seats are only five feet from the order counter. A little more seating runs down the left side of the narrow shop, along large windows that transmit the outside chill. Best to pick up your drinks and continue on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113431549927094379?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113431549927094379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113431549927094379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113431549927094379' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113409607265597829</id><published>2005-12-08T21:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T21:41:12.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Already an inch of snow's fallen in the past couple hours -- only four to seven more!&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be an awful drive tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113409607265597829?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113409607265597829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113409607265597829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113409607265597829' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113366836385842569</id><published>2005-12-03T22:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T22:52:43.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The good news today comes from my friend's surgeon telling us unofficially--the actual report won't be available until Monday--that the cancer hadn't spread to the lymph nodes. So it's only a stage II.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113366836385842569?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113366836385842569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113366836385842569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113366836385842569' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113301890440722579</id><published>2005-11-26T10:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-26T10:28:24.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>On my feet all day at work yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor said my friend's tumor is malignant. The good news is that it hasn't spread and should be fully taken care of by an operation and five days in the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other crappy health-related news from friends, the son of coworker I went to India with is very sick with some kind of virus. He's being transferred today to &lt;a href="http://www.chmkids.org/chm/" title="I was there for an operation as a kid"&gt;Children's Hospital&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113301890440722579?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113301890440722579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113301890440722579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113301890440722579' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113287953573368935</id><published>2005-11-24T19:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T19:45:35.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I worked right up to 4pm today. The dinner wasn't well attended anyway: only Mom, Dad, and Grandma. Everyone else was working or at in-laws. Leftovers were good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I learned that a friend, my age, has a tumor that's likely cancer. :(&lt;br /&gt;If you notice a change in your body, go see a doctor!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113287953573368935?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113287953573368935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113287953573368935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113287953573368935' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-113071627484358016</id><published>2005-10-30T18:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T18:51:14.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/1600/OLChaldeans%20stained%20glass103005.jpg" a="" title="Temptation in the desert. Look at that devil."&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/200/OLChaldeans%20stained%20glass103005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" a="" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/1600/OLChaldeans%20outside103005.jpg" a title="They don't seem to do coffee and donuts after mass."&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6776/131/200/OLChaldeans%20outside103005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I had dinner with a high school friend and a college friend, Todd, at &lt;a href="http://www.jalexanders.com/locations/locations.htm" a="" title="In Livonia"&gt;J. Alexander's&lt;/a&gt;. It was superb, as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a long time my friend Terri and I have wanted to attend services at various exotic rites of the Catholic Church. Now that she's going to be moving out of state the pressure is on. Today we went to mass at Our Lady of Chaldean's Cathedral in Southfield. We were at the noon service which was held in Chaldean (not Arabic, that's at 8:30). The chant was similar to the spooky minor-key stuff that the Greeks use. Afterwards we had lunch at a Chaldean restaurant in Detroit. The area between Woodward Ave and John R on Seven Mile used to be the original center of their culture in metro Detroit. Now it's really run down and they've out migrated to the north.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-113071627484358016?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113071627484358016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/113071627484358016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#113071627484358016' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112959664025660908</id><published>2005-10-17T20:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T20:50:40.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to the gym today and finished with a few minutes in the sauna. There was one other guy in there. He had his tennis shoes on and rubber sweat suit. I'd seen him on a treadmill earlier. He displayed two disgusting habits in the sauna. He'd wipe the sweat from his face and fling it on the coals, sprinkling me in the process. Do we need his oily sweat vaporized? And he'd take a sip of water from a bottle, then another which he'd spit on the coals. I don't care how skillful you are in directing a stream of water: don't do it! Hot as it was in there I felt like making some sharp comment, but I held back. The pig.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112959664025660908?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112959664025660908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112959664025660908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#112959664025660908' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112897541387836272</id><published>2005-10-10T14:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T16:16:53.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I spent the last four days visiting my friend Henry in Washington, D.C. We know each other from the time he was an undergrad, and I a grad student, at Indiana University--Bloomington. My visits to him, and our mutual friend, Rolf, are important in keeping my intellect from completely seizing up now that I'm out of academia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday and Saturday the area had pouring rain, not the best days to visit the Mall. The rains brought relief from the drought and we managed to see the American Indian Museum, the Freer &amp; Sackler galleries, and the east building of the National Gallery of Art. The American Indian Museum has a great cafeteria with a changing menu of food from the cultures. I had a chicken tamale, fry bread with cinnamon and honey, and Mexican hot chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday we went to mass at the Basilica of the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. We then walked through the Adams Morgan and Dupont Circle neighborhoods. Dinner was at an Ethiopian restaurant, a first for Henry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I flew Independence Air, a discount airline based in D.C. The service was good. The preflight safety announcement is prerecorded by professionals. My inbound flight had Allison Janney, CJ of &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;West Wing&lt;/span&gt; cracking jokes as she went through the obligatory points. That was a nice start to the flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nearly missed my flight. I thought that West Falls Church metro station had only one entrance, so I waited a half an hour for the shuttle to the airport to appear. That meant before I called the company, two had already taken off. I had been standing where the local busses and taxis pick up. Luckily I had extra time built into my schedule so everything worked out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112897541387836272?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112897541387836272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112897541387836272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#112897541387836272' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112566669213188751</id><published>2005-09-02T09:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-02T09:11:32.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's very strange to hear the term '&lt;a href="http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/nation/20050902-9999-6n2houston1.html"&gt;refugee&lt;/a&gt;' used for our own citizens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112566669213188751?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112566669213188751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112566669213188751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112566669213188751' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112553702136605430</id><published>2005-08-31T21:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T21:10:21.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In Michigan we expected to get a little rain from Hurricane Katrina, which we did. Less expected was the jump in gas prices. Yesterday morning prices were in the upper $2.50s.  By evening most signs were $2.89-$2.99. I even saw $3.35! What excuse is there for an 75 cent jump? Today most are at $3.15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, paying more for gas is vastly preferable to having one's house flattened. Those poor people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112553702136605430?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112553702136605430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112553702136605430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112553702136605430' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112438353610600517</id><published>2005-08-18T12:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T12:45:36.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Things are going well at work. Two years now and I still think it's interesting. We've also had some good busts lately. While on my trip to India (July 25 - August 5) I reached my maximum &lt;a title="General Schedule in the Civil Service"&gt;GS&lt;/a&gt; level. My pay plateaus but put it's at a pretty nice level.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112438353610600517?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112438353610600517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112438353610600517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112438353610600517' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112117931393260652</id><published>2005-07-12T10:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T10:41:53.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've used Google Maps before. Pretty neat, though it the shot of my house is too dark. Today I just used it to look around the world. Whoah! You can see Tashkent. You can see individual trees in Australia's outback. Too cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112117931393260652?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112117931393260652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112117931393260652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112117931393260652' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-112101860275163818</id><published>2005-07-10T14:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T14:03:22.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Had a nice evening a cook-out a coworker held. Turns out he lives around the corner from my sister; a place to crash if needed! We sampled some absinthe, but it was from Germany and couldn't have been the real stuff. I spilled it all over my shirt. Tastes like ouzo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-112101860275163818?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112101860275163818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/112101860275163818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112101860275163818' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111996467630398357</id><published>2005-06-28T09:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T09:17:56.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The subject line of this Classmates.com e-mail intrigued me: "Sean, someone from Richard High School said..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside it read&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Someone from Richard High School wrote this bio&lt;br /&gt;"This is about the 42nd time I've registered for this site, it seems they keep changing things. First of all for those that know me or actually re..."&lt;br /&gt;Think you know who this is? Find out now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. Not the best one for their system to randomly pick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111996467630398357?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111996467630398357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111996467630398357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111996467630398357' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111979204709508186</id><published>2005-06-26T09:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T09:20:47.100-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In preparation for my trip to India, I saw the travel health nurse at Henry Ford, West Bloomfield on Thursday. That visit cost $140 and included a polio booster shot. The also gave me prescriptions for Cipro, Malarone (an anti-malarial), and the oral typhoid vaccine. That was another $40. I visit my doctor to renew my asthma scripts and will also get a tetanus booster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorta grossed out by swallowing a pill as a vaccine. It's a live vaccine. There are little buggies in it. I wanted a shot but the military has bought the whole supply from the sole supplier--a Swiss company, I do believe. For typhoid, you have to take it on an empty stomach and wait an hour before eating. You take one pill on four days, each separated by a day. I finish on Thursday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111979204709508186?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111979204709508186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111979204709508186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111979204709508186' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111799052377173208</id><published>2005-06-05T12:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T12:55:23.776-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was a bit disappointed in looking at my pay statement online this morning. How can it be that I worked 12 hours overtime in that pay period but only have a difference of $200 in my take-home pay? I have a lot of deductions--got to fund retirement--but it seems it should be bigger. Hm. At least I'm paid. Yay money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111799052377173208?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111799052377173208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111799052377173208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111799052377173208' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111750894415526678</id><published>2005-05-30T22:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T23:09:04.160-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Caught the Memorial Day parade in &lt;a href="http://www.northville-michigan-living.com/"&gt;Northville&lt;/a&gt;.  A day of beautiful weather nicely spent with a friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111750894415526678?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111750894415526678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111750894415526678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111750894415526678' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111702609784761172</id><published>2005-05-25T08:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T09:01:37.853-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How can it be that my hand smells like gasoline after filling up the tank? What is it that people do to get gas on the nozzle handle itself? It should flow from the tip into the tank. Simple. I only want go-juice for my car, not hand cancer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111702609784761172?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111702609784761172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111702609784761172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111702609784761172' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111681494753607600</id><published>2005-05-22T22:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T22:22:27.540-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night: a chance encounter with a classmate I hadn't seen in five or six years leads meeting another classmate I hadn't seen since graduation seventeen years years ago. A strange and wonderful night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111681494753607600?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111681494753607600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111681494753607600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111681494753607600' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111608916012688454</id><published>2005-05-14T12:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T12:46:00.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Date  Time          Name           Query  &lt;br /&gt;13 May 00:36:56 www.google.com   cccp &lt;br /&gt;12 May 18:20:12 www.google.com.br cccp &lt;br /&gt;12 May 05:30:18 www.google.dk   metro cccp &lt;br /&gt;17 Apr 01:39:13 www.google.com   gideon yago's tattoo &lt;br /&gt;8 Apr 22:07:00 www.google.com   gideon yago's tattoos &lt;br /&gt;2 Apr 20:10:13 www.google.com   the singlesdetroit band &lt;br /&gt;1 Apr 00:42:34 www.google.co.th  micromedia flashpaper &lt;br /&gt;15 Mar 23:36:22 www.google.com   like those that flow through aeolian harps &lt;br /&gt;14 Mar 07:26:40 www.google.com   gideon yago's tattoos &lt;br /&gt;6 Mar 16:57:04 search.yahoo.com  what did cccp stand for &lt;br /&gt;22 Feb 23:53:32 www.google.com   berlin lounge windsor hours &lt;br /&gt;6 Feb 15:13:38 search.yahoo.com  cccp stand for? &lt;br /&gt;31 Jan 17:58:31 www.google.com   emmanuel boisvert &lt;br /&gt;26 Jan 16:30:50 search.yahoo.com  pas/cal &lt;br /&gt;26 Jan 08:46:31 www.google.com.au undsoweiter dictionary &lt;br /&gt;2 Jan 03:18:12 www.google.com southeast michigan land conservancy &lt;br /&gt;2 Jan 03:18:06 www.google.com southeast michigan land conservancy &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boisvert is lead violinist for the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. Gideon Yago, the bands, and cccp are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;selbstverstandlich&lt;/span&gt;. But why a referral from Thailand about flashpaper that I've never spoken of?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111608916012688454?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111608916012688454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111608916012688454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111608916012688454' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111608794650607322</id><published>2005-05-14T11:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T12:25:46.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm on a three day weekend and my schedule's flipped around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom invited me to go to daily Mass yesterday morning and I accepted. She's become quite active at the parish and has been trying to get us "kids" to join her.  The teacher my sister and I had for Confirmation recognized my face. I'd also had her as a sub for a semester in fifth grade when Mrs. Montrey was out on maternity leave. I spoke a bit of French with an elderly woman from Quebec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had breakfast with Grandma at Piper's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worked out at the Y. Saw one of my supervisors who introduced me to his wife. They joined a month ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went over to Windsor and met up with Nicholas for dinner at &lt;a href="http://www.budapestrestaurant.50megs.com" title="Cheesy free-website but GOOD food."&gt;Budapest Restaurant&lt;/a&gt; which has excellent Hungarian home cooking. Then to Berlin Lounge for a couple drinks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to bed at 3am. It was &lt;a title="No, not from a hangover, just a wacked sleep schedule."&gt;hard&lt;/a&gt; to wake up. My body's not sure what schedule I'm trying for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111608794650607322?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111608794650607322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111608794650607322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111608794650607322' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111560852261368861</id><published>2005-05-08T23:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-08T23:15:22.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Got Mom a card and a box of cherry cordials from Godiva. She's wanted quality cordials for months. A couple days ago I bought some cut tulips. I figured she'd get more flowers today: my brother bought a potted chrysanthemum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of my schedule I was asleep when Grandma, my brother, my sister and her family were her for dinner. My brother set up the new Dell Dimension 4700 my Dad ordered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111560852261368861?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111560852261368861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111560852261368861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111560852261368861' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111525827435785172</id><published>2005-05-04T21:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T21:57:54.360-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fighting a cold on my day off. Damn public. Teh suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111525827435785172?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111525827435785172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111525827435785172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111525827435785172' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111495478782177318</id><published>2005-05-01T09:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T09:39:56.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy Workers Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Happy Easter to the Orthodox.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111495478782177318?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111495478782177318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111495478782177318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111495478782177318' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111204338728463915</id><published>2005-03-28T15:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T15:56:27.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's over 50 and sunny. We've finally shaken winter. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Yes, we may get a little more snow but it won't be a problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111204338728463915?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111204338728463915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111204338728463915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111204338728463915' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-111198044689538851</id><published>2005-03-27T21:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-27T22:27:26.896-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Easter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My four day weekend is coming to a close. Tonight I transition back to midnights so I'm ready to go in tomorrow night. Haven't done anything exciting. Haven't even gone to a club. Did go to services this morning and Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned that the wife of a coworker has died. She was 23. They were married less than a year. There's been too much death at work lately. Monday I went the Rosary for another coworker's mom. She was 48. That was the third unexpected death of a parent in a year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-111198044689538851?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111198044689538851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/111198044689538851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111198044689538851' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110845560951633806</id><published>2005-02-15T03:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-15T03:20:09.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I did take a sick day, but only after showing up there. We were well-staffed so my absence wasn't going to affect anything &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;and &lt;/span&gt;the veracity of my sickness was duely verified.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110845560951633806?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110845560951633806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110845560951633806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_archive.html#110845560951633806' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110842345671459094</id><published>2005-02-14T18:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T18:24:16.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm skipping Arabic class tonight. The cold I caught from my nephew Saturday, which I'd mostly gotten over, flared up this afternoon with an elevated temperature. I still have to go into work tonight. I've had three scheduled days off; I can't call in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I saw &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Finding Neverland&lt;/span&gt;. It's a fine film, gentle and touching. A nice breather from rougher, more vulgar fare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110842345671459094?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110842345671459094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110842345671459094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_archive.html#110842345671459094' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110571366343496126</id><published>2005-01-14T09:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T23:19:18.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went with my father to the funeral of a grand-aunt. At 95 she was the last of her generation to go. Such dear, strong people have become rare in the world today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prior day I purchased the Pet Shop Boys DVD of all their videos and &lt;a title="She may not be at the top of the pop game, but I love how she melds Hispanic and Arab music and I like her vocal style."&gt; Shakira's&lt;/a&gt; greatest hits album in Spanish. It was a good music day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110571366343496126?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110571366343496126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110571366343496126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110571366343496126' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110549346023652172</id><published>2005-01-11T19:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-01-11T20:31:00.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had to change my tire &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;. Mom noticed it going flat yesterday. A screw was boldly sticking its head up from one of the treads. Are the roads really that full of debris or is something else afoot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It snowed 2"-3" overnight. I waited for the temp to go up and melt what was in the street. At home I have the luxury of using a real jack instead of the mini that the manufacturer includes in the trunk. With the donut on I made what I hope to be my last tire-patching visit to Belle Tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wait patiently for two hours, reading my biography of Howard Hughes. With an hour left until they close, I ask the clerk if my car will be seen today. "Oh. Is this your key?" he asks picking one up from the keyboard. "I forgot to put it in the line up. Sorry, man." Dolt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110549346023652172?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110549346023652172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110549346023652172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110549346023652172' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110536823103276515</id><published>2005-01-10T09:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T09:43:51.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.dearbornschools.org/Department/AdultEd/registration.html" title="Like, only years later than they should have."&gt;Finally&lt;/a&gt;! Dearborn Public Schools has their Adult Ed catalog available in PDF. It also displays using nifty Micromedia Flashpaper (which I haven't seen before).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110536823103276515?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110536823103276515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110536823103276515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110536823103276515' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110528254365026391</id><published>2005-01-09T09:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T10:40:57.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I went to my first &lt;a href="http://www.detroitsymphony.com/" title="Detroit Symphony Orchestra"&gt;DSO &lt;/a&gt;concert in three years. I had a main floor seat, a lot closer than in the balcony, though I like the view up there. I had to stop by work beforehand so I walked in just as they were tuning up. An usher said I'd have to stand in the back until intermission. I had no objections to that; it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;rude to take one's seat after that point. Emmanuel Boisvert, first violin, featured in the Concerto in D minor for Violin &amp;amp; Orchestraby Sibelius. During intermission I was able to view the &lt;a href="http://www.detroitsymphony.com/max/"&gt;extension &lt;/a&gt;they've built. It's classy and more &lt;a href="http://www.detroitsymphony.com/_img/news/kit/DSO%20Lobby%204.jpg" title="a big photo"&gt;expansive &lt;/a&gt;space than what they had before. The second half was Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 2. That's a good piece for modern audiences: it's never too slow and the volume fluctuates. It was funny to watch the older man in the next row cover his ears at the crescendos. I'm protective of my hearing but it wasn't uncomfortably loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting at three a.m. yesterday morning we began to get a gentle snow. It fell more heavily and we had 2" at work and 6" at home. It reduced the roadways by one lane: I-75 had two and surface streets had one. Roadcrews knew it was coming but the volume was greater than expected. Today it's warming up and the streets are no problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110528254365026391?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110528254365026391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110528254365026391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110528254365026391' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110482239051623620</id><published>2005-01-04T02:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T02:06:30.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Drove out to Claudia's (to her parent's, actually) where it was snowing. Spent the evening with her, first at an empty café, then a Thai place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming back home I learn they weren't able to put the stent in Grandma; she has some internal bleeding that has to be addressed first. She actually fainted yesterday. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110482239051623620?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110482239051623620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110482239051623620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110482239051623620' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110468416255013154</id><published>2005-01-02T11:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-01-02T11:42:42.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I found out today why my car has had a pull to the right: the front tire was leaking. I completed my shift and found it entirely deflated. I'm proud that I put on the donut all by myself. That's more down and dirty than I've ever been with a car. Completion was delayed when the jack fell as the tire was tugged off. I had to find a suitable spot to place it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just made plans to see Claudia tomorrow. She flies back to France the following day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110468416255013154?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110468416255013154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110468416255013154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110468416255013154' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110415945086284602</id><published>2004-12-27T09:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-27T09:57:30.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I had the flu. During the day yesterday I didn't feel right. By 9pm I had chills, aches, a temperature and nausea. I went to bed, preparing for contingencies by placing extra tissues, a bucket, and a drinkbox alongside it. I slept fairly well and the fever broke by 5am. Now I'm feeling alright but for some rumbling in the stomach. I'll decide in the evening whether I should call off work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dropping a mini-poinsettia at Grandma's and showing pictures of my trip, I saw &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Napoleon Dynamite&lt;/span&gt; at the dollar theater. Ugh. So little was the enjoyment from that film that a busload should have been able to see it for $1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110415945086284602?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110415945086284602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110415945086284602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110415945086284602' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110408364635898865</id><published>2004-12-26T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-26T12:54:06.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Made it to church this morning, too. My appearing there is sufficiently uncommon as to rate hugs from people. :)  They're so dear, these couples married 45+ years and there at the founding of the parish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110408364635898865?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110408364635898865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110408364635898865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110408364635898865' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110402903955148195</id><published>2004-12-25T21:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-25T21:43:59.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Went to Liturgy at 10 this morning and read the epistle. Did fine. The cantoring, done by a back-up, was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;schrecklich&lt;/span&gt; and makes anything I do look good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We celebrated yesterday. Mom, Dad, Gram, sister and her family went to 4pm Mass. It was the first time her little heathens were in church. They behaved well. The priest joked with Trent, pretending to walk off with his mittens. My brother joined us for a dinner of ham, marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes, broccoli, pineapple-mandarin salad, and rolls. Grandma made a pineapple upside down cake that was ridiculously sugary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gifts were relevant. I had only asked for "something to keep me warm around the house" to replace the raggedy coverings I'm using now. I received several nice candidates including a soft Old Navy pull-over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No snowblower for Dad. Going to ask what happened to that. Did they save it for the house they just bought?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110402903955148195?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110402903955148195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110402903955148195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110402903955148195' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110381295400004432</id><published>2004-12-23T09:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-23T09:42:34.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Eight inches of snow in the driveway. Why didn't my sister and her husband give my Dad their gift of a snowblower a couple days early &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;"&gt;when it would be useful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110381295400004432?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110381295400004432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110381295400004432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110381295400004432' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110359389996197550</id><published>2004-12-20T20:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-23T09:43:15.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I have been to the mountain top, I have seen the Promised Land&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:georgia;" &gt;O why did it take me so long to get to the west coast? More specifically, to SF?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:georgia;" &gt;It was only three days but I love the city. And Lands End. . .95% of the world's available beauty must have been spent there. I could swoon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Thank you David for hosting me. Thanks &lt;a href="http://www.prosaic.nu/now/index.shtml"&gt;Chris &lt;/a&gt;and &lt;a href="http://www.contrasts.net/"&gt;Jessie &lt;/a&gt;for dinner and the night out.  Nice to know you as more that pixles on the screen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110359389996197550?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110359389996197550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110359389996197550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110359389996197550' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-110273782989257699</id><published>2004-12-10T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-10T23:03:49.893-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ooh! &lt;a href="http://www.romanticair.com/debut-release.html"&gt;Pas/Cal&lt;/a&gt; has Christmas release coming out &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;on vinyl&lt;/span&gt;. I ordered it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-110273782989257699?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110273782989257699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/110273782989257699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110273782989257699' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109941404246325557</id><published>2004-11-02T11:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-02T11:54:36.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I walked out the door of my polling place an hour and a half after I arrived, casting my ballot for Kerry. I was number 245 in my precinct at 11 am. The line was at least as long as when I arrived, not that I walked down the two hallways to see its end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were three vote challengers (observers?) there. The Republican woman, in her early 60s with a bouffant 'do, checked our names off a listed titled "GOTV list#1" as the election official highlighted our name in the official register. She was the only challenger wearing a tag that identified her by name as challenger officially selected by the Republican party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the Democrats were the Asian man and the white guy in his sixties. The after we had filled in the circles on our paper ballot, an election official (who were all women) verified it was the ballot we were assigned, tore off the numbered tab at the top , and let us feed it into the counting machine. Then a worker took the slip we'd written our name and address on, wrote our names into a log and put the slip on a spike to collect them. As she did that the Asian man highlighted our name on a page titled "[mytown] phone list."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entering the actual voting room, the young couple behind me had to be told to cover or remove the "Viva Bush" stickers they had on their jackets. They did so without fuss. They also had a question on how to vote a straight ticket, which, if they followed the incomplete directions of the worker, would have invalidated their ballot. A thought that made me happy, but I know the counting machine would catch that and reject their ballots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109941404246325557?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109941404246325557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109941404246325557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109941404246325557' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109703599705482989</id><published>2004-10-05T22:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-10-06T00:13:17.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Saw two films tonight: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bright Young Things&lt;/span&gt; set in the British high-society of the 1930s and &lt;a href="http://www.goingupriver.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Going Upriver: The Long War of John Kerry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. The latter shows his involvement in, then opposition to, the war in Vietnam. It explains what the swiftboats were doing, what the Winter Soldier Investigation was, and his role at the veterans' demonstration in 1971. Kerry displays his conviction and poise throughout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The film brings together an amazing amount of archival stills, film, and video footage. I didn't know so much showing him existed, even if one of his &lt;a href="http://www.goingupriver.com/filmmakers_qa1.html" title="He knew back then Kerry was a significant man"&gt;friend&lt;/a&gt;'s was doing some of the documenting. kdk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109703599705482989?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109703599705482989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109703599705482989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_archive.html#109703599705482989' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109537637028392182</id><published>2004-09-16T19:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-09-16T19:12:50.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I bought gas at Meijers because I noticed the two stations on the nearby corner had jumped to $1.99 and Meijers was still at $1.76. I filled mine and my mom's car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I drive by and see one of the two gas stations has closed (the Mobil).  All the signage was stripped from the building and lot, leaving only dirty outlines of where the lettering once stood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109537637028392182?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109537637028392182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109537637028392182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_archive.html#109537637028392182' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109419499920191655</id><published>2004-09-03T02:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-09-03T03:03:19.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Piggy, our dog, was eager to go on her first late night walk. I felt like a walk myself and also wanted to tire her out: she'd been sniveling at Mom for attention. We took a route two times as long as her usual but shorter than my exercise course . I was surprised by how few houses have their front porch lights on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Houses with porch lights on: less than 10%&lt;br /&gt;Houses with any external lighting: 15%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm up at this hour because I received midnights when we had our shift bid in July. I'll be on it at least through the end of the year.&lt;br /&gt;%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I signed up for a month's trial of Netflix.  I've watched eight movies this past week. I like the e-mail notifications for the receipt and shipping of titles. I'm wondering where they are for the most recent film. Did they get routed into the Bulk mailbox?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109419499920191655?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109419499920191655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109419499920191655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_archive.html#109419499920191655' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109418503515887836</id><published>2004-09-02T11:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-09-03T00:17:15.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A couple days ago Mom and Gram were in an accident at the traffic light near our subdivision. The worst injuries were a chipped tooth for Mom and possible cracked ribs for Gram. They both have bruising from the seat belts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I visited Grandma today to check the effect of the prescription pain-killer and see that she's eating properly. She has some pain in the upper left ribs but otherwise seeks OK. She's dropped the analgesic, not wanting to be too reliant on it. I went out for soup and sandwiches from Tim Horton's, so I know she had a decent lunch. My cousins were playing Monopoly on the kitchen table. I brought them back cherry and apple danishes, lest they feel left out of our lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[note: posting time  adjusted 20 minutes so 'today' refers to Sept. 2nd]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109418503515887836?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109418503515887836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109418503515887836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_archive.html#109418503515887836' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109210116458380127</id><published>2004-08-09T21:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-08-09T21:30:25.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Another qualifying day at the range, under perfect weather. I shot what appears to have become my post-training average. I know I'd do better if I'd simply practice more. I wouldn't necessarily have to go to a range; I could try dry-firing like my brother-in-law advised. At least I felt relaxed; that is, apart from the blood rush that comes from doing something that counts. And the loud banging noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We bid on "permanent" schedules that will last us until the end of the year. I got my second choice (of five). My day will be flip-flopped. But I do like the people on it. Surprisingly, I've heard less kvetching about the permanent schedule than I do about the schedule most weeks.&lt;br /&gt;*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We celebrated Mom's birthday yesterday. I orchestrated it for the first time. I found the Hercule Poirot DVDs she mentioned, went shopping for steaks to grill (not cheap!), and coordinated the arrival of my siblings and grandma.  Mom was pleased and I could see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109210116458380127?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109210116458380127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109210116458380127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109210116458380127' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-109060518601512075</id><published>2004-07-23T13:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-08-09T21:17:56.686-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Beautiful sunny, cool day with cumulus clouds. Welcome after days of humidity.  Excellent weather to mow the lawn, which I did today for the first time this year. No matter what schedule I'm on, work cuts into the time I once spent on household and yard upkeep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-109060518601512075?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109060518601512075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/109060518601512075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109060518601512075' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108985699289217236</id><published>2004-07-14T21:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-07-14T22:03:12.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I did a phone interview with a reporter I met going through customs in Tashkent. She had been in the country to stories on politics, the economy, and tourism. She had trouble finding people to interview in the Silk Road cities. It seemed many were sick in their hotel rooms.&lt;br /&gt;*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regained the weight I lost on the trip within three days of returning. I don't imagine that kind of yo-yoing is good for the body. I ought to avoid going to countries that do that to me, but those are some of the most interesting ones. I already have an invitation to go to another developing country next spring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108985699289217236?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108985699289217236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108985699289217236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108985699289217236' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108896476112999753</id><published>2004-07-04T14:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-07-04T14:12:41.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I came back from my trip 8% lighter. Weight I couldn't spare to lose. I really need to find vacation spots that are easier on my body.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108896476112999753?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108896476112999753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108896476112999753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108896476112999753' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108752502327155662</id><published>2004-06-17T22:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T22:19:48.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Putting the 'CCCP' in the 'Byvshyj CCCP'&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm off on my two week vacation to sun-drenched &lt;a title="No, I'm not kidding."&gt;Uzbekistan&lt;/a&gt;. Ta ta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108752502327155662?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108752502327155662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108752502327155662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108752502327155662' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108692138150691714</id><published>2004-06-10T22:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T22:38:08.183-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to the optometrist to see about getting my lenses replaced. They have minor scratches (on polycarbonate!) and in the past few days one mysteriously picked up some spots that won't wash off with any solvent I tried. They wanted $145 for new lenses! Yet they have pairs of complete, basic glasses for $59. I'll go see what Lenscrafters is asking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108692138150691714?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108692138150691714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108692138150691714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108692138150691714' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108562717598591045</id><published>2004-05-26T23:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T23:08:19.263-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I qualified at the range today for work. The score was _lower_ than that freezing day back in &lt;a href="http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_formerussr_archive.html#107472814531248023"&gt;January&lt;/a&gt;, and I do mean freezing: it was 20 degrees that day. In any case, that's off my mind for another three months. We also did a fun tactical exercise, something we could all use more of and may finally be getting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was the last of the Arabic classes this semester. I'm not sure how I'll pursue it in the fall. Right now I have to delve into Russian since my trip to Uzbekistan is coming up within a month.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108562717598591045?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108562717598591045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108562717598591045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108562717598591045' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108433692061078796</id><published>2004-05-11T23:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-12T00:42:00.613-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tonight's my 'day' off. I slept from noon 'til 10pm. I've had too many days with 3-4 hours sleep, followed by hours lying in bed after overheating or waking from noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our shift, I went out to breakfast with two coworkers for the first time. It was one of those diners that serves a big plate for a small price: $3.55 got me three eggs (scrambled), hash browns, toast (wheat), and three slices of ham, cut straight from the hock standing by the grill. I ate nothing else 'til getting up this evening. The coworkers have started the Adkins diet--it's popular at work--and had Greek omelettes, forgoing the toast and potatoes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108433692061078796?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108433692061078796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108433692061078796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108433692061078796' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108393920178111677</id><published>2004-05-07T10:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-07T10:17:42.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to visit Grandma at the hospital after work yesterday and ended up taking her home when they discharged her. We went lunch before returning to her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In sad news, a 19 year old cousin of my brother-in-law committed suicide by hanging yesterday. There doesn't seem to be any identifiable reason for it.  He ran a successful business which he had started in high school.  He was polite and well-liked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108393920178111677?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108393920178111677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108393920178111677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108393920178111677' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108381299388981686</id><published>2004-05-05T23:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-05T23:14:12.903-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to visit my grandma at the hospital after Arabic class but she was asleep. She had a catheterization this morning. I wonder about the doctor. He did the same thing a year ago and took no corrective action this time either.  The only good thing is that he looked at the heart bypass this time and said it's good for another fifteen years. I'm really getting the idea that he's into collecting Medicare dollars since he didn't fix anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108381299388981686?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108381299388981686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108381299388981686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108381299388981686' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108253020844082063</id><published>2004-04-21T02:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-21T02:54:08.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went into work tonight, was there a few minutes listening to coworkers chat about what they'd seen on the shift, when the supervisor called me over. "What are you doing here?" I'd come in on my night off. D'oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I work midnights it's almost useless to have time off. I'd rather work. Since I'm not going to throw off my sleep schedule for the sake of a single day, I stay up watching DVDs or dry my eyes out from the hours spent in front of the computer monitor.  I can't do anything that takes sustained concentration: balancing my check book or studying a foreign language. I'll either make computational errors or have my attention drift. Note: this is not to imply, ahem, that I'm of no use on the midnight shift. There I have coworkers to interact with, listening to their stories and trying the food they bring in perks me up.  At home I'm the only one awake.  Maybe I'll go read &lt;em&gt;Details &lt;/em&gt;magazine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108253020844082063?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108253020844082063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108253020844082063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108253020844082063' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108238454212209649</id><published>2004-04-19T10:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-19T10:26:19.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I finished my second night on the midnight shift, remaining alert the whole time through.  I'm switching with someone to get a whole month on this shift.  Otherwise, if I move to afternoons next I won't be able to continue with Arabic class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends who's Russian Orthodox was &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.google.com/images?q=tonsure&amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;oe=UTF-8&amp;hl=en&amp;btnG=Google+Search"&gt;tonsured &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;this weekend.  I ought to know what that means beyond getting a haircut, but I don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108238454212209649?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108238454212209649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108238454212209649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108238454212209649' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108181848768099189</id><published>2004-04-12T21:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-12T21:11:56.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Meijer's has a  sale on wine now. I bought three bottles of merlot, the better to appreciate the differences between vintners within a single variety (and one was $4 off!), and one of a cheap cabernet (sale at $2.99,  more in the range I usually buy--&lt;strong&gt;no &lt;/strong&gt;I do not drink Mad Dog). Now I look forward to the task of sampling them by the end of the sale on the first of May, so I know which to get more of. &lt;em&gt;Skol&lt;/em&gt;! (Sagt man das mit vino?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108181848768099189?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108181848768099189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108181848768099189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108181848768099189' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108119932836290415</id><published>2004-04-05T17:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-05T17:13:06.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I saw &lt;em&gt;The Battle of Algiers&lt;/em&gt; at the Main Art Theater. It's about how the Algerians brought about their independence from France through strikes and a terrorism campaign. The French response was brutal. It's filmed in a documentary style and pulls you in--Ennio Morricone's score had my heart pounding from the tension building up just before the action scenes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also made it to church for the first time since &lt;a href="http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_formerussr_archive.html#107396464830683614"&gt;January&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I met Nicholas across the border at a business he's now the owner of. Then we had Thai someplace on Oulette, followed by drinks at Berlin Lounge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108119932836290415?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108119932836290415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108119932836290415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108119932836290415' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-108070145561418139</id><published>2004-03-30T21:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-30T21:55:42.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday was an emotionally draining day at work. I spoke a lot of Russian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it to Arabic class last night, after missing or skipping over two weeks of classes. One of my coworkers may be interested in signing up for the class when the next session starts, so I brought him a course catalog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-108070145561418139?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108070145561418139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/108070145561418139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108070145561418139' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107972127929197529</id><published>2004-03-19T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-19T13:37:55.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There was a light fluffy snow falling after I made my bread purchases at &lt;a href="http://www.zingermans.com/Index.pasp" title="The best, most fun place for bread and deli-type food"&gt;Zingerman's&lt;/a&gt;, it made for a pretty walk through town. I met Jeannie and her husband Matt in front of the &lt;a href="http://michtheater.org/" title="I've seen so many good movies here...and Philip Glass, too."&gt;Michigan Theater&lt;/a&gt; and we decided to have dinner at the Earthen Jar, which they hadn't tried. For $3.99/lb you can load your paper plate with delicious, vegetarian Indian food. I picked the spicier offerings. I also ordered a piece of naan and a smooth mango lassi drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeannie and Matt only went to the 7p showing, but here's the list with my comments in italics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday 18 March 7pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CARELESS REEF: MARSA ABU GALAWA&lt;br /&gt;Gerard Holthuis, The Hague, Netherlands. 35mm, 12 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental. A deep dive under the surface of the sea, searching for the places where man normally does not go. Under water everything looks the same- Egypt, Florida, Mexico, Asia, The Maldives. Coral is coral and a Lionfish looks the same. Everywhere.  &lt;em&gt;Psychedelic flashes of red filter against fish in the blue sea, of schools of fish and coral, timed to a spirited performance of Arab popular music.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WORST CASE SCENARIO&lt;br /&gt;John Smith, London, England. BetaSP, 18 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental. "Worst Case Scenario" starts out as a series of still photographs depicting daily life on a Viennese street corner. But as Sigmund Freud casts his long shadow across the city, the static world slowly and subtly comes to life and an increasingly improbable chain of events and relationships starts to emerge. Black &amp; white. &lt;em&gt;Slowly the stills become animated, some with funny results. The soundtrack includes the British filmmaker creaking in his wooden chair, taking a call on his cell phone, and shuffling papers. Near the end there are shots of him filming from his 3rd storey apartment and people on the ground taking note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FORTRESS&lt;br /&gt;Potter-Belmar Labs, Ann Arbor, MI. 5 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental. The establishment condemns the visionary. &lt;em&gt;Boring, overlays scenes from an old Joan of Arc movie.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLUE LIKE A GUNSHOT&lt;br /&gt;Masoud Raouf, New York, NY. 35mm, 5.5 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental animation. The visual transposition of a powerful poem about the barbarity of our world.  &lt;em&gt;Very nice. Paint swirls on glass to tell the story of a poem shown in French, Arabic, and English.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GLASS CROW&lt;br /&gt;Steven Subotnick, Providence, RI. BetaSP, 6 min. 2004&lt;br /&gt;Experimental animation. In 1618, some Protestant nobles angrily broke into a meeting in Prague Castle two Catholic ministers out a window. But the men were saved when they landed in a pile of waste in the castle moat. This was know as the Defenestration of Prague. &lt;em&gt; Nice. Paint or water color on paper. The silhouette of one of the crows has b&amp;w film of woods and other settings playing in it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RESORT&lt;br /&gt;Anna Abrahams, Netherlands. 16mm, 14.5 min. 2002&lt;br /&gt;Documentary. A precise film about housing of asylum seekers in the Friesian towns of Joure and Drachten. &lt;em&gt;Opens with aerial shot of a compound showing rows of identical, new, trailer-sized housing units. Then shots of people getting their passes stamped, doing laundry, sitting around, eating, kids playing. There's no narration and the people seem aimless.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GEOSOPHIST'S TEARS&lt;br /&gt;Peter Rose, Philadelphia, PA. BetaSP, 8 min. 2002&lt;br /&gt;Experimental. Shot during a seven-week cross-country road trip in the aftermath of the catastrophic events of Sept. 11, 2001, this video offers unstable metaphors for the state of the union and a respectful homage to the traditions of painting. &lt;em&gt;That this may have been filmed after September 11th is irrelevant. It's a bunch of Southwest landscape shots broken up into  two, three, four, bars on the screen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JOURNEYS&lt;br /&gt;Vinayan Kodoth, Ahmedabad, India. 35mm, 37 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Documentary. What does it mean to be part of a desperate crowd of seven million commuters to whom the suburban train journey between home and work place has become the survival of the fittest? Using sound and visual juxtapositions the film builds up a surreal picture in the city of Mumbai (Bombay). &lt;em&gt;The trains are miserably overcrowded. If you thought Japan was bad, look at this. They bolt inside as the train slows down. Men climb on the roof and hand off the sides (where are the women?).  The narrator says there have been plans to improve things but they just get forgotten. Even car traffic is overburdened. How does anyone plan to get anywhere on time? A dozen people die daily from train accidents--we do see a bloody sheet covering a body--whether from falling off or getting hit on the track is not clear. Both are shown to be possible.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday 18 March 9:30pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RED THINGS&lt;br /&gt;Max Porter, Port Washington, NY. BetaSP, 9.5 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Animation. A mysterious phenomenon overtakes a small town, wreaking havoc with all things red. &lt;em&gt;Funny. This one should win an award, or at least be one of the films to go on tour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOCTURNAL ADMISSIONS&lt;br /&gt;Kara Blake, Montreal, Canada. 3 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental. A 153-year-old house collects and reveals the traces its inhabitants have left behind. &lt;em&gt;Set to a Connie Francis (?) song, interior shots of a house have moving images projected on them, without any notable tie to the room shown. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DOWN ON THE FARM&lt;br /&gt;Alfonso Alvarez, Berkeley, CA. 16mm, 6.5 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental. Amid the rolling flatlands, west of Toronto, there is a place they call the Film Farm. It is an ancient Mennonite farmhouse and barn, and it is here that loyal pilgrims journey every summer to make hand-crafted films. This short work is my story of a week's worth of exploration and inspiration.  &lt;em&gt;B&amp;W. I liked the soundtrack with a beat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOUNTAIN STATE&lt;br /&gt;Bill Brown, Lubbock, TX. 16mm, 19 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental documentary. A brief history of the westward expansion of the United States as told by 25 roadside historical markers in West Virginia.  &lt;em&gt;The filmmaker injects incidental humor into the tale of the violent, westward expansion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAR&lt;br /&gt;Jake Mahaffy, Roanoke, VA. 35mm, 86 min. 2003&lt;br /&gt;Experimental narrative. This film reveals the internal struggles of three isolated characters amid the rural ruins of a disappearing America. &lt;em&gt;B&amp;W. After 20 minutes of boredom, I left. It was after eleven o'clock and I had a hour's drive home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107972127929197529?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107972127929197529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107972127929197529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107972127929197529' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107881351007608817</id><published>2004-03-09T01:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T01:29:28.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For something I did a few days ago, I was personally thanked by a manager two levels higher than my supervisor.  Notice of my commendable action will be placed in my permanent record. W00t!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107881351007608817?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107881351007608817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107881351007608817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107881351007608817' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107855513044175106</id><published>2004-03-06T01:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-06T01:41:48.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Martha now.  Martha always. Viva Martha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107855513044175106?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107855513044175106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107855513044175106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107855513044175106' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107749524630190725</id><published>2004-02-22T19:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-22T19:17:25.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night to dinner with Nicholas at "&lt;a href="http://www.threeatastingbar.com/detroitnews0306.htm" title="Alister &amp; Kathlen served us.We had 'Three Ways to Dip,' lamb medallions and the duck. MmmGood."&gt;Three, a Try Bar&lt;/a&gt;," which is a tapas-inspired restaurant in Windsor that serves not only trial-sized dishes but samples of wine. I think we tried five different ones. The local ones were actually drinkable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then night before was a well-attended birthday celebration at an Irish bar in honor of a coworker. We were turned out  earlier than expected after one of our number patted some girl on the tush. Then a few of us went to the "gahzino," played roulette (lost $20 and have as little desire to try again as I did going in), and got home at a &lt;em&gt;mucho tarde&lt;/em&gt; 4:30a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107749524630190725?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107749524630190725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107749524630190725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107749524630190725' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107619534300871806</id><published>2004-02-07T18:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-07T18:22:36.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A week ago I requested a ballot for Michigan's Democratic caucus be sent to me. I was scheduled to work the entire time the caucus was open today, so I cast my ballot  via the Internet. I was leary at first--there's been bad press on those Diebold machines that also connect to the Internet--but told myself 'it's only the primary' and that I'll actually go to the polls in November. So I voted for Dean. I'm not one of those who switches whom he supports because of a change in the front runner. What did Kerry do to attract the swell in support? &lt;em&gt;Nothing&lt;/em&gt;, other than not being Dean.  It shows people have only the shallowest of reasons for supporting one or the other candidates at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, I switched shifts with a coworker and took his midnight. I caught six hours of sleep before the transition and made it through the shift with plenty of energy. It was actually easier than getting up at 4am for the 6am shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did play chess on Thursday and lost both games. I was invited to stay for dinner by his roommate (also a coworker) and we had pierogi and &lt;em&gt;three &lt;/em&gt;kinds of sausage. They introduced me to some videogame 'Bond' which they obsessively play. I don't even know what system  it was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't make it to the funeral home. Now I feel I owe her a handwritten note at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107619534300871806?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107619534300871806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107619534300871806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107619534300871806' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107594354872797930</id><published>2004-02-04T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-04T20:15:13.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The long-delayed  chess match with the coworker is penciled for tomorrow, though time and place are still to be worked out. I expect he'll make mincemeat of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma's heart doctor told her she needs a vascular stent in her neck. She told him no. She doesn't trust him anymore and dislikes the hospital stay. Because she hasn't had a primary physician in decades, he referred her to a general M.D. but now tells her she doesn't need to see that guy anymore, just him. Which is what the other guy says about &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;. Must have had a falling out (or desperate to pump up their incomes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a message that the father of a former coworker died. I'll go to the visitation tomorrow before the chess match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[sigh]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107594354872797930?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107594354872797930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107594354872797930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107594354872797930' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107534381471695090</id><published>2004-01-28T21:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T21:39:03.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Arabic class has a new teacher and is held in a new school.  It looks like we'll be reading more Arabic script and covering more grammar, though still in a casual way. I expect I'll be able to generate simple sentences in the past tense and maybe the present (past tense is simpler in Arabic). This teacher is also Lebanese.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107534381471695090?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107534381471695090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107534381471695090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107534381471695090' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107524354400773932</id><published>2004-01-27T17:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-27T17:47:51.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The place I get my hair cut is at a little strip-mall set close to a main road. There are a couple of telephone/electrical poles between the single row of parking spots and the street. As I was backing up I managed to bump into one of them. It put a bit of yellow paint on the bumper and partially popped out on the left side. I could possibly just snap it back but I don't know of there are any clips that hold it in place on the inside. I have an oil change coming up at the dealership, I'll let them deal with it.  It's another reason I may end up buying the car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107524354400773932?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107524354400773932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107524354400773932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107524354400773932' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107472814531248023</id><published>2004-01-21T18:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-21T18:46:47.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I &lt;a title="I'm talking marksmanship here"&gt;qualified&lt;/a&gt; for work today in 20 degree weather &lt;em&gt;in the snow&lt;/em&gt;. Luckily, no wind. Couldn't they have found an indoor place to rent? We were partially sheltered, we stood on concrete and had heaters above our heads. Despite the disadvantages, I scored 19 pts better than the last time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched the State of the Union address last night, while simultaneously keeping up with &lt;a href="http://www.dailykos.com/story/2004/1/21/15554/5321" title="Daily Kos"&gt;blog &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.democrats.org/blog/display/00010330.html" title="The Dem's site had point-by-point rebuttles up within minutes"&gt;commentary&lt;/a&gt;. This year's left field proposal was to eliminate steroid use in sports. Umm...this needs the President's attention? Last year's odd proposal was to fund research into hydrogen-powered autos. Good idea, but it didn't fit the rest of the speech (Iraq bad, attack soon) nor did anyone believe it was close to George's heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107472814531248023?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107472814531248023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107472814531248023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107472814531248023' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107465210200776514</id><published>2004-01-20T21:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-20T21:30:20.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>With barely a pause, I set the interior doorhandle's lock as I leave to go on errands. I take two steps before realizing my keys are still on my desk.  Dad is at a meeting. Mom just left to get a little exercise by walking around a store.  It's sunny and pleasant, but the temperature is 20 degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could tolerate waiting for Mom to get back, but knock at the neighbor's house hoping they have a key (we've long had theirs).  Their daughter is there and welcomes me in. She calls her dad to see if they have a key. No (quite possibly it's disappeared over the years).  So it turns into a little visit. She offers something to drink. I decline the cranberry juice when I spy a fleck of mold floating on it. It's been stored on the counter. We are grossed out by this. I take ice water. She has to get ready for an afternoon class. She leaves and I'm alone flipping through C-SPAN and Michigan's version thereof. I spot my representative and others from Downriver. Her brother pops in ten minutes later. He's a very nice boy who looks a bit like Prince William. He offered me some of the McDonald's he had. I accept some fries. We talk about my job, my brother's work in the computer field, and see a bit of the History Channel's program on &lt;a href="http://www.thehistorychannel.com/barbarians/"&gt;barbarians&lt;/a&gt; (funny that part two runs at the same time as Bush's State of the Union address).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I check to see if there's a car in the drive of my house. After an hour and twenty minutes, there is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm able to start my errands: picking up drycleaning, signing up for Arabic again, buying a present for Erik's birthday, and  checking out a controlled-climate storage spot that Erik and I might rent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107465210200776514?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107465210200776514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107465210200776514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107465210200776514' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107430765880462727</id><published>2004-01-16T21:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T21:49:32.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Good fortune, then, that I went with Matt to practice at the range last night: I'm scheduled to qualify for work on Wednesday. I think I'll score better than last time but not as high as at training. Let's say at least 300/360.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The roads are clear again, thanks to the sun and salt, though the temp reached only 18 degrees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107430765880462727?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107430765880462727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107430765880462727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107430765880462727' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107414169660973483</id><published>2004-01-14T23:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-14T23:43:27.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>One thing about snowstorms is that it's often easier to clear off a car that hasn't moved since the storm began than one which was driven and has less accumulated on it. The snow that fell today was powdery and brushed off my mom's car easily. My dad had been out running around in his Sable during the afternoon.  The heated interior made the snow made the snow melt, then refreeze as a layer of ice as the interior's temperature equalized with the outside. That required a scraper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At work maybe 5" fell; at home 4"+; in part of the northern exurb an entire foot. Traffic was sluggish but the conditions manageable if you weren't crazed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107414169660973483?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107414169660973483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107414169660973483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107414169660973483' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107405619347578953</id><published>2004-01-13T23:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-14T00:04:29.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning when I passed Meijers I thought "What cheap gas. It's a dollar forty." Tonight when I come back to get some it's $1.67. How does gas go up 27 cents in a day? Are they anticipating tomorrow's snow storm? Or did they get resupplied today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicholas met me at Jacoby's where we had beers and dinner. We walked a few blocks west to &lt;a href="http://www.cobocenter.com/" a title="And mayor Kwame wants to build a new one for $1 billion. No effin' way."&gt;Cobo Hall&lt;/a&gt; where the &lt;a href="http://www2.naias.com/" title="In other words, the Detroit Auto Show"&gt;North American International Auto Show&lt;/a&gt; is underway. It was in the twenties, so not a bad walk. Not like a few years ago when we freezed our nads off because it was in the teens and a wind was blowing off the river. Usually the liquor fortifies us but I was not prepared on that count tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got discount tickets for $9 from some association at GM. I'm not that into cars, but it's still fun to go. With all that good lighting everyone is more beautiful. ;) I like looking at how they design the displays. Many of them incorporated water, either in sheets falling from the ceiling (Jeep's is the fanciest because it can spell words and make designs), or cascading down textured glass, or in arcing jets. Some had nice floral arrangements: calla lily in tall, clear, curving vases; arrangements with the stems wrapped by a large leaf (banana?) to hide the ends; spare arrangements of twigs at &lt;a title="The also had this huge bed you could relax on. It reminded me of a club with a chill out room."&gt;VW&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked through in about two hours. Going on a weekday is the best idea: weekends it's shoulder to shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before parting, we finished off with a drink at &lt;a href="http://www.metrotimes.com/metropolis/restaurants/place.asp?id=5442" title="The clientel had, hm, _changed_, since I was last there. More of a crowd that appreciates hip-hop."&gt;Sweetwater Tavern&lt;/a&gt;. He was hungry again--some metabolism he's got--and ordered a Reuben. I had caramel topped apple pie, a la mode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107405619347578953?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107405619347578953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107405619347578953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107405619347578953' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107396464830683614</id><published>2004-01-12T22:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-12T22:35:04.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I meant to go to the gym after my dental appointment, but I ended up at a &lt;a title="I got an exellent book covering all Dali's paintings"&gt;Borders Outlet&lt;/a&gt;, a &lt;a title="I got some blank books for journals"&gt;Borders&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="The gloves I bought before Christmas were TOO big. There goes another $26.50."&gt; Wilson's Leather&lt;/a&gt;,  Mervyn's, and the only Middle Eastern restaurant with a &lt;a href="http://www.restaurants.com/US/ReviewPage.asp?RefNo=3135824849&amp;Pg=1" title="Cheap sandwiches but my shawarma was tough &amp; not very seasoned"&gt;drive-thru&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking for black or brown leather belts made in the US. I would also have accepted Argentina, a first-world country down on its luck. But none from China. They don't need to make everything we buy. I found a brown one. Now I need brown shoes. It's hopeless to be particular about where they're made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be going to the Auto Show with Nicholas tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sloppy joe lunch went well, but not as many showed as could have. The pews were fuller than usual. Maybe Father should have mentioned take-outs were available. We took in $165.75, IIRC.  A lot less than the ~$350 from the cookie sale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my brother shoot a few minutes of video on Grandma's birthday, as I was the one carrying the lighted cake to the table. The "Happy Birthday" was more tuneful than I've heard in ages; we're not a musical family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I went to an evening showing--an uncommon time since I loathe paying the maximal ticket price--of &lt;em&gt;The Last Samurai&lt;/em&gt;. It's a cut above many movies but not Oscar material. I have cinematic quibbles (the "schwing" on the sword when it was drawn in the final battle matched implausibly with reality; the depiction of his Zen moments seemed a little clumsy, and in one case, confusing; they slowed ever so slightly the footage of the boy catching the practice sword in the rain) as well as doubts about the plot (How many American soldiers questioned the necessity of killing off the "savage Indians?").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It made me think about how we conceptualize other cultures. Japanese culture is respected in the US. People admire their decorative style, gardens, orderliness, and industriousness. But does appreciation of some things lead us to ignore problems? Maybe the wack a Zen master gives a student isn't to spark enlightenment or correct bad &lt;em&gt;zazen&lt;/em&gt;, but is sadism.  Or maybe the smiling peasant is terrorized by the &lt;em&gt;daimyo &lt;/em&gt;who is supposed to be protecting him. I'm sure this topic's been covered in multiple grad school theses I could find if I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may go ahead and look for a book covering Japan's transition to the modern era. Someone must have written a good one by now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107396464830683614?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107396464830683614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107396464830683614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107396464830683614' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107377938472838708</id><published>2004-01-10T19:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-10T19:04:50.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm trying to prune my bookmark file. In the blog/LJ "Evaluation Bin" there's seventy-six. Time to prove themselves or get out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107377938472838708?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107377938472838708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107377938472838708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107377938472838708' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107377369509446316</id><published>2004-01-10T17:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-10T17:45:56.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to a pistol competition today for the first time.  Taylor Pistol Club holds their &lt;a title="Police Pistol Course???At training it meant Practical Pistol Course"&gt;PPC&lt;/a&gt; Match over four days in January. Matt invited me, as it's something he's done with his family for a long time. It cost $35 which includes hot dogs and snacks for lunch  and a dinner Sunday night where they give out awards and many door prizes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't able to use the jacketed, hollow point ammo that work gave me for practice. Luckily, Matt has some .40 that he'd previously got as a door prize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't do well. I had six magazines where ten would have made it much smoother. I had to frantically reload them during the brief period of target change. Then I didn't get all the shots off; I was at least six short. Also, I'd never fired from sitting and prone positions: on those I hit low. I was a little embarrassed that someone else would score my target.  After, Matt's dad and brother had me compare the amount of trigger pressure needed for their guns--much less than my H&amp;K (i.e. easier). Still, I'm glad I've had at least this practice before I have to qualify for work again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trent, Alex, and Mikey were there. One girl working the registration held baby Alex for an hour and a half, which was a real help (Nicole, his mom, works a double today). He either slept or looked around wide-eyed. I though the noise of the range would hurt the boys' ears, but most their time was spent in the registration room upstairs. Even downstairs it was probably muffled enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a little odd for me to be with NRA members doing their thing, a group I've very much disliked in the past.  But they were so. . .normal.  I heard no political talk. Some illustrated hunting stories, yes. Being non-confrontational, it's not a place I want to step out of my liberal closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt, his brother, his dad, and the kids continued on to the Detroit Auto Show when they were through. I could have gone, too, but did not want to brave the opening day crowds. I'll probably go later with Nicholas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is Grandma's birthday (84!) which we're celebrating in the afternoon. It's hard to buy her gifts other than little knick-knacks or flowers. She usually gets a lot of gift cards to &lt;a href="http://www.mediaplay.com/" title="Yeah, it's not primarily a bookstore but she finds lots of books for cheap there"&gt;bookstores &lt;/a&gt;and movie &lt;a href="http://www.star-theatres.com/"&gt;theaters&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But before that I have to help with the Guild's sloppy joe lunch.  I'm pretty sure other people have worked out the details, because I haven't been around. I imagine they've figured out that even though I'm back from training, I can't be counted on like in the past; work being one reason.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107377369509446316?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107377369509446316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107377369509446316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107377369509446316' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107370862788203707</id><published>2004-01-09T23:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-09T23:33:54.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;BOOKS READ 2003&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;annotated, not summarized&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All The Names&lt;/strong&gt;. Jose Samarago. Translator Margaret Jull Costa. Harcourt: New York, &lt;br /&gt;1999 (trans). 1-6-03 A timid civil servant, like Akaky Akakiavitch, becomes obsessed to learn more about a woman whose birth certificate he came across at random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Inventing the Middle Ages&lt;/strong&gt;. Norman F. Cantor. William Morrow and Co.: New York, &lt;br /&gt;1991. 441p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Typee&lt;/strong&gt;. Herman Melville. In the Modern Library collected edition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz: Living on the Brink of Disaster in Mobutu’s Congo&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Michela Wrong. Harper Collins: New York, 2001. 327p. 1-27-03 Very readable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Leaving a Trace: On Keeping a Journal: The Art of Transforming a Life into Stories&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Alexandra Johnson. Little Brown and Co.: Boston, 2001. 240p. 2-3-03 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;King Leopold’s Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror and Heroism in Colonial Africa&lt;/strong&gt;. Adam &lt;br /&gt;Hochschild. Houghton Mifflin Co.: New York, 1998. 306p. 2-4-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Arabic Alphabet: How to Read and Write It&lt;/strong&gt;. Nicholas Awde &amp; Putros Samano. Lyle Stuart book, Carol Publishing Group, 1996. 95p.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memoirs&lt;/strong&gt;. David Rockefeller. Random House: New York, 2002. 499 p. 3-5-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Gentle Madness: Bibliophiles, Bibliomanes, and the Eternal Passion for Books&lt;/strong&gt;. Nicholas A. Basbanes. Henry Holt and Co.: New York, 1995. 533 p. 3-5-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friends &amp; Apostles: The Correspondence of Rupert Brooke and James Strachey 1905-1914&lt;/strong&gt;. Edited by Keith Hale. Yale University Press: New Haven, 1998. 287p. 3-21-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Crime of Olga Arbeyelina&lt;/strong&gt;. Andrei Makine. 4-10-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jennifer Government&lt;/strong&gt;. Max Barry. Doubleday: New York, 2003. 320p. 4-12-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood&lt;/strong&gt;. Oliver Sacks. Knopf: New York, 2001. 320p. 4-23-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At Swim, Two Boys&lt;/strong&gt;. Jamie O’Neill. Scribner: New York, 2002. Ó2001 by author. &lt;br /&gt;572p. 5-5-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When Smoke Ran Like Water: Tales of Environmental Deception and the Battle Against Pollution&lt;/strong&gt;. Devra Davis. Basic Books: New York, 2002. 282p 5-29-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jarhead: A Marine’s Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles&lt;/strong&gt;. Anthony Swofford. Scribner/Simon &amp; Schuster: New York 2003. 257p. 5-31-03 Very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Frozen-Water Trade: A True Story&lt;/strong&gt;. Gavin Weightman. Hyperion: New York, 2003. 247p. 6-8-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Degree of Mastery: A Journey through Books Arts Apprenticeship&lt;/strong&gt;. Annie Tremmel Wilcox. Minnesota Voices Project No. 88. New Rivers Press : Minneapolis, 1999. 6-12-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan&lt;/strong&gt;. Giles Milton. Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux: New York  2002. 324p. Refers to “Jesuit Monks.” The English Factory in Japan 1613-23 (pub. British Library)  has Adam’s letters and logbooks. Diary kept by the head of the English factory in Japan—Diary of Richard Cocks, 1615-22 (3 vols. Historiographical Inst. Tokyo, 1978-81. Few copies printed). Articles on Cocks in Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan 3rd series, 20, 1985 and 3rd series, 17, 1982. 6-18-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chicago Death Trap: The Iroquois Theatre Fire of 1903&lt;/strong&gt;. Nat Brandt. Southern Illinois University Press: Carbondale and Edwardsville 2003. 147p. 602 people died. 6-19-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Macaire le Copte&lt;/strong&gt;. Francois Weyergans. Gallimard, Collections Folio : France, 1981. 173p. Vocabulary and style suitable for high school students of French. 7-14-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daily Life in Ancient Mesopotamia&lt;/strong&gt;. Karen Rhea Nemet-Nejat. Geenwood Press: Westport, CT, 1998. 307 p. Could use an editor to fix some repetition and unclear sentences. Otherwise a decent overview of the area. 7-18-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;American Terrorist: Timothy McVeigh &amp; The Oklahoma City Bombing&lt;/strong&gt;. Lou Michel and Dan Herbeck. Regan Books, HarperCollins: New York, 2001. 388p. 11-30-03&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107370862788203707?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107370862788203707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107370862788203707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107370862788203707' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107362220358716234</id><published>2004-01-08T23:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-08T23:25:06.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I made a budget for the year. It's the first time since '01 I've bothered; now I have a good job so it's worth it again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107362220358716234?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107362220358716234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107362220358716234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107362220358716234' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107353021929260402</id><published>2004-01-07T21:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-07T21:52:01.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We didn't end up with that much snow, maybe 3". But it bring a curtain of frigid air: the next day's high was 15 degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get to see Claudia while she was here. I have to send a card for her recent birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just checked my bank balance and see an extra $460 deposited to cover expenses during training. I was wondering about that. I thought maybe they tossed my request because I didn't file it within 5 days of my return like I was supposed to. You never know rigid they may be with rules.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107353021929260402?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107353021929260402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107353021929260402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107353021929260402' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107327799854379748</id><published>2004-01-04T23:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-04T23:48:15.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I opened a bottle of Fazi Battaglia &lt;a title="I'd previously tried Sangiovese at *ahem* The Olive Garden"&gt; Sangiovese&lt;/a&gt; yesterday and thought it was much too dry and had the flavor of having been open for days. Today I sample it--having &lt;a href="http://www.epinions.com/fddk-review-78CE-87A1CE6-391A82D4-prod4"&gt;vacuum corked&lt;/a&gt; it--and it seems acceptable. I don't get it: wine is never better the second day. Maybe my body needed the alcohol more today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought it at Meijer's--which, in a later post to explain, beats the hell out of Wallmart--where no less than four of tags hawking particular wines, with ratings from &lt;em&gt;Wine Magazine&lt;/em&gt;, were for the vintage &lt;strong&gt;previous &lt;/strong&gt;to the one actually on the shelf. One description had persuaded me to get a bottle, then I checked the label. I don't think they were being deceptive, just sloppy. So watch out for that, OK?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoo hoo tipsy toasting...er, posting.&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're having a snowstorm now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107327799854379748?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107327799854379748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107327799854379748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107327799854379748' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107308250415213075</id><published>2004-01-02T17:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-02T17:29:58.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Saw &lt;em&gt;LOTR: Return of the King&lt;/em&gt;.  It was good, as everyone has been saying. I wasn't quite as emotionally wrapped into it as the last one but that has to do with matters outside the film. I like how it  portrayed strong friendships: Sam and Frodo, Merry and Pippin.  The went to such lengths for each other. Annie Lennox provided a pretty song to close the film.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107308250415213075?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107308250415213075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107308250415213075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107308250415213075' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107294766274451074</id><published>2004-01-01T04:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-01T04:02:35.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>New Year's Eve in Windsor. A good evening at Berlin Lounge. Some girl saw me bobbing in my chair and asked me to dance. We were the only ones most of the time. She invited me to sit with her friends and acquaintances she made that night.  I think I'd seen her husband before in passing. Nicholas actually left before me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107294766274451074?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107294766274451074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107294766274451074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107294766274451074' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107238227061878024</id><published>2003-12-25T14:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-25T14:59:14.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Christmas -- apex of an irritating season. Grr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107238227061878024?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107238227061878024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107238227061878024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107238227061878024' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107193499268260345</id><published>2003-12-20T10:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-27T12:09:58.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ugh. One of the trays of Lemon Trees burnt. Mom made five (5!) batches of the backup, cherry bonbons, which she or I will bake today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'll be able to meet up with Claudia while she's relatively close. On Monday she's going to her parents through New Years and that's a 90 minute drive away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107193499268260345?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107193499268260345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107193499268260345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107193499268260345' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046678.post-107177403747914592</id><published>2003-12-18T14:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-18T14:01:52.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Up the Christmas card count by two. The mailman brought me one from Claudia, who will be in town for the holidays, and one from Todd-the-linguist (who's really Todd-the-high school-teacher, but I'm going by when we were in class) who wants to know if I'd like to join his trip to Uzbekistan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046678-107177403747914592?l=formerussr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107177403747914592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046678/posts/default/107177403747914592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://formerussr.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107177403747914592' title=''/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16254067194583484749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
