Some wines you drink as soon as they go on sale, such as a Beaujolais Nouveau. Others you age for many years--a fine Bordeaux, for example. Books are like that for me. Some books, especially mystery series, I read as soon as the next book by a favorite author is published. Some books I hold on to for many years before I'm in the mood for it, or it resurfaces from whatever pile it got buried under. The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn is one such book. I've had it since July 2004. I found it in a box recently and as I was about to read it I noticed it had a BookCrossing label. I had forgotten this book, but it has a very special history. I acquired it at my first London meetup, when the London Renegades came together for the very first time.. I'm reading the book now, and enjoying it very much so far.

Saw this Cathy comic in last Saturday's newspaper. Sound familiar?

I got home early this morning. Like about four AM.

Pulled out the computer to check on things before retiring to bed, opened up the web, and heard a small noise behind me.

And a tiny grey sputter of movement when I turned to look.

There, on the bench beside the stove, up out of the reach of the livestock, we keep a baited mousetrap. One of the sort that doesn't kill, merely captures through an ingenious entry portal that prevents small rodents from shimmying back up with their muscular arms.

And a fresh occupant inside, busy trying futile things to escape.

I was too tired to go outside and release it. And it was cold and dark, too. Significant factors in a large number of university students choosing a cab to make the $8.25 trip from the main rank to one of the colleges after midnight.

Instead I went to bed and cuddled the wife, who assumed a defensive posture, guarding her warmth from those who might leech away some heat whilst feigning deep affection. I told her of the mouse, and she said she'd take it out in the morning.

Kerri's idea of releasing mice consists of taking the trap outside and opening it, whereupon the captive scurries off into the hedge, and is later recycled by the cat, who brings it back inside through the cat flap, plays with it awhile before letting it escape into the kitchen.

I begged her not to, this once.

So when I awoke some hours later, I was able to have my breakfast, sternly ignoring the continuing futile attempts from the benchtop, and then take the trap and occupant outside, down the street, across another street and let it go beside a hedge. I figure it's not going to return across a wide stretch of tarmac, and the cat doesn't range that far.

Problem solved.

After a few hassles, the Apple Time Capsule has been installed and now works perfectly. I've moved the router upstairs (which seems to have resolved a lot of the internet outages, possibly due to the ratsnest of rat-chewed cables which ran under the house to the downstairs office) and the little white Apple box is now sitting under the phone, status light glowing green.

It's happily pumping out a wireless network, an upgraded standard from our regular network. Apparently this is running in tandem with the wireless router, don't ask me how, but it's working and we've got internet all through the house.

It's also hosting the printer via a USB connection, which means that we've finally got a printer everyone can use without the need to have a computer handling it. I can hit the print button and it wirelessly prints. Heheheheh.

And last, but not least, it's a 500 gig hard drive, which is transparently running Time Machine backups for both Macs. Wirelessly.

This is all a huge boonus because our MacBook Airs only have a single USB port apiece, and while Kerri isn't what you might call a power user, I am more along those lines, and I was getting fretful about having to shuffle devices around to do everything that needs to be done (sync the iPhone, download images from the camera, run backups, connect the external optical drive, print...)

Happy Peter.

Happier yet because a new shipment from Levenger arrived today. I now have some jumbo rings, enabling me to get back to work on the travel journal from last year's big trip. I'd gotten to Istanbul, I think, and it was getting to be a battle to squeeze new pages in, especially when I stuck tickets and photographs and blog printouts onto the already generously thick paper that Levenger uses.

So that's another use for my time and space to cut things out with scissors and glue all over the dining room table and write up events for the ages. But fun.

Included in the order was a letter-size project binder, and a starter kit. This is meant to inspire me to creativity and organisation in getting my thoughts about a FaceBook app into some sort of order. I've got a kind of rough notion of where I want to be, but my usual "suck-it-and-see" approach to project management probably won't be up to an application where dozens, hundreds, thousands of users could arrive overnight. I need a solid structure, and management tools in place before problems strike.

I can do stuff like mindmapping, goal-setting, list-creation, to-do lists and other projecty things in one place, in my cab during spare moments. And think about the next step while driving.

And then write up the code in my copious spare time.

What I'll probably do is to get a bare bones application in place. It will work, and there'll be "hooks" all over where I can hang other features into it, but I can get things running one step at a time. And, of course, once the thing is up, new directions will probably suggest themselves.

At the moment, I'm reading programming manuals in the cab between passengers. Oooops, almost time for my shift!

thelifelist
A forum for exchanging lists of things you'd like to have done before you die.

ljsecret
Share a secret through the means of art, under complete anonymity.

mourning_souls
A community for cemetery photographers, dark poets and anyone else who appreciates and admires the beauty of cemeteries.

Hi all,

I have been reading the Pandora Prescription lately. Its a good read, and now theres this treasure thing on youtube about it..

could this be real?


www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbx3qnKKC0Q

Midpoint between the 2008 Anniversary Convention which was in London and the 2009 Anniversary Convention in New Zealand, the Charleston BookCrossers would like to welcome any and all who wish to gather in, to an impromptu get-together here in South Carolina.

Since there is no official or semi-official North American Convention this year, we're taking a page (ha!) from the UnConventions of the UK and are welcoming one and all to a state-side unconvention Charleston style: Redoing the Charleston.

Join us Columbus Day Weekend (Oct 10-12 though people are welcome before and after) here in glorious Charleston South Carolina. No formal daily agenda, but we have some ideas for activities, a party or two, plus a rematch Quiz night. Y'all come on down!

http://charlestonbookcrossing.googlepages.com/redoingthecharleston%3Aballyatthebeach

It has been pointed out to me that I was a day early, even when you consider time zones, in wishing TexasWren a happy birthday.

Mojosmom kindly(?) explained that I live in a very different time zone, and that it was in fact her birthday here in Australia, even if it hasn't yet arrived in Chicago.


Owwwoooooh! Sometimes this timezone business makes my head hurt. Driving a shift that spans a midnight doesn't help me keep track of the daze, neither.

It's Friday here in Canberra.

I remember once, about this time of day, I got on a plane, full of excitement. It was Friday when I left, Friday when I landed in Sydney, Friday late afternoon when I got aboard a Qantas jumbo heading east out over the Pacific. But after that, things went beyond my ken. We crossed the International Date line around midnight, and it may have been Saturday down below. Or it might have still been Thursday as we crossed over. I looked down on the glowing lava in the middle of one of the Hawaiian islands and was confirmed in my excitement as the rest of the plane slumbered on.

And at dawn we neared the Californian coast, and it was definitely Friday morning. Again.

I went through immigration and customs and security, tired, excited, bewildered at my first taste of a truly foreign land. While I'd been overseas before, it was only to New Zealand, where they are just like us except they talk funny. Here, cripes, but they walked on the wrong side, they were in a different hemisphere, they had all sorts of weird laws, they elected their head of state... And they talked funny.

And then after lunch, I got aboard a flight to Washington, and the sun set somewhere over the Midwest, and it was still Friday. I was welcomed by ResQgeek, who, by that time, looked to my tired eyes to be a sainted angel sent to save me from all the weird sights and sounds pouring into my fading brain.

He rescued me, grabbed my big yellow bag, wrestled me into his car where the steering wheel wasn't, and calmed me down by driving around Washington at night. There was the Washington Memorial, the White House all lit up, crikey but here was the fabled Lincoln Memorial and we were driving right by it! G'day, Abraham!!

It took me hours to get back to anything resembling normality. I was introduced to MrsGeek, and we sat up until midnight talking. And it was still Friday!!!

That was the longest, and possibly the happiest Friday of my life.

So, mindful of the weird sort of time they have in the rest of the world, I got confused and went early today. It's Friday, you see.

Never mind. To all my BookCrossing, Livejournal, Facebook and real life friends. I might not remember your birthdays. I might remember them early. I might be six months out of whack.

But every day, I think of you all, I rejoice in your friendship, I read about your joys and tears, and I wish you all love, happiness and the very merriest of birthdays every day of your lives.

Party time!

My friend the Miscellanist and the Fug Girls both posted this pic today. All I can say is, WOW. And ... I can only hope to look half that good at age 63. Either that, or we must immediately start an I Hate Helen Mirren Club. Stat. Are you with me?

Seriously.

I'm not usually noted for noting birthdays, but this one popped up at me.

Happy birthday, dear Texaswren!

Account Structure Update
Back by popular demand, Basic Accounts will be available to all users again by the end of the (northern hemisphere) summer. More information on the decision-making process and proposals relating to the future of Basic Accounts are in lj_2008.

New Themes
Two attractive and all-new Flexible Squares themes, "Circular" and "Circular Brown" are now available.


L to R: Circular and Brown

New V-Gifts
Give someone you care about the gift of enticement. With the new Chocolate Ice Cream, Vanilla Ice Cream, Tea, Coffee, Curry and Sushi v-gifts, all the significant people in your life will be able to share in the longing for the tasty edibles below. Plus, it reminds loved ones you think they're really sweet, really savory or just plain satisfying.


L to R: Chocolate Ice Cream, Vanilla Ice Cream, Tea, Coffee, Curry and Sushi

Ж-Men...but not the ones you might expect!
This week LJ Russia launched Ж-Men, a new comedy series about superheroes, inspired by the LJ communities dedicated to superheros, comics and cartoons. The title's "Ж" comes from ЖЖ, the nickname for LiveJournal in Russia.

Ж-Men's script is written by a group of LJ enthusiasts who also happen to be television professionals. Who knew? Following the premiere, five more episodes will be broadcast over the next two weeks. We hope you find the series fresh and enjoyable.

This is, of course, an experiment for LiveJournal. As always, we'd love to hear what you think!

I haven't been around bookcrossing much during the last couple of months, actually avoiding the fora tbh and rather spending my time in the Austrian BookCrossing forum but when I heard of the latest news I was shocked.... and ashamed that I acutally do have wings...

I don't like what bookcrossing has become, away from the altruistic fun thing to do to a membership based business. If I had no wings I would have left now. Instantly... but since I do have them I better use them to promote a "riot" against the new system.

WE SAY NO!

(due to an update, an apology and the u-turn

I made the pic unaccessabke for anymore part from me.)

I have created a nice wee picture, not the best but it should do for now, I am way too annoyed to be able to concentrate now but I'd love you guys to use it everywhere and anywhere! If downloading that from flickr doesn'T work, please go to that link and do the following:

(1) http://bookcrossing.diinoweb.com/files/, the pic is the folder promo material.
(2)Open the folder and right click the name (we say no) and say save link as: -)

Maybe a little of both. Today is both trash day and recycle day*, so I put the bins out with the garbage can this morning.

On last night's NBC Nightly News, there was an entire story about (roughly paraphrasing here)childhood obesity. They talked about how kids under 9 just naturally want to play, and play outside. The number of hours of physical activity they get was really high. But basically, after age 9, the numbers start dropping dramatically. As I recall, the numbers dropped from hours per week to minutes per week, really quickly, and kept dropping rapidly after that. Basically, once you hit age 9, you become an XBox-playing, computer-using couch potato.

So it's this morning before 8:00, and it's a beautiful summer day. I hear what can only be described as rummaging in our recyle bin, followed by the unmistakable sound of pop cans being crushed by stomping :)

I sneak over to the window in the loft, a great vantage point from which to watch two enterprising boys digging delightedly through our recycle bin with a bounty of Diet Pepsi Lime and Cherry cans. They are first of all impressed that we crush our cans already (the stomping is just for fun and to ensure ultra-flatness), and second excited at how many! Their excited comments totally charmed me :) But alas, trouble shortly sets in. There are TOO many! Their bag is full! The older brother instructs the younger brother to stuff them in his pockets, while he is still shoving as many as possible into the bag, which is now overflowing right back into the bin. It's like watching a comedy show, where clowns try to stuff something into something that's already full.

It made me think of something my own brothers would have done (a gazillion years ago) to make money. Oddly though, today, it seems fraught with danger. Those cans all have rough and sharp edges from being squished. Those boys could have been cut a million times. It's also gross to think of going through someone else's recycle bin. And then when I told Unk about it, he reminded me that a bottle broke in the bin earlier in the week. He was pretty much convinced that they cut themselves on the glass.

So which is it?

Impressive? A couple of boys up before 8 on a summer day, collecting cans to make money?

Or

WHERE ARE THE PARENTS? The kids did have bike helmets on (!), but no gloves or anything to protect their hands, and they were, after all, digging through my trash.

And also, although the trash/bins were at the end of the driveway, they were still on our property. It's a little odd to see someone going through your trash while it's still in front of your house ...


*In Chicago, recycle day was every week, with the trash. Here in Colorado, trash pickup is every week, but recycle is every other.

Christianity turned my shift around last night. I was on the downhill slope to the taxi shift from Hell, and a saint stepped into my cab. It wasn’t Heaven at the end of the night, but I had definitely been blessed.

I’ve changed my week to Monday to Friday, so that I can get a whole weekend with my family. What am I working for, I used to wonder, if the end result was that I only had a few hours of quality time each week. My family shouldn’t have to tiptoe around the house on their own days off so that I can get my sleep.

I flew back from Queensland on Saturday, had the Sunday off - a productive day of shopping, housework and just enjoying the company of my wife and children - and then on Monday afternoon I got dressed and turned up for my shift. After an hour, I guessed that my regular cab had been reassigned, and I texted the owner for an alternative. Not that I mind having a night off if a cab isn’t available, of course.

I’d make no sort of manager. Administration, juggling drivers and cabs and shifts, sorting out money and paperwork and government regulations - these hold no charm for me. But the owner must thrive on such stuff.

After a while I was given an address, and the phone number of my new day driver. I drove out, waited, texted, and finally, an hour and a half after I should have commenced work, my cab arrived. I think that the driver had been enjoying a long shift, stretching his day out to cover the afternoon peak as well as the morning, not expecting a night driver.

Not a Silver Service cab, in fact it was a bit of a rattley old taxi, but reasonably clean, and all the important bits were working.

Trouble is that there wasn’t an afternoon peak today, or at least if there had been one, I’d missed it. Parliament is not sitting, not for another six weeks, and in school holiday time a lot of Canberrans are absent. The public service workshops and conferences aren’t being held, and consequently the large floating population of carless transients aren’t around to be shuttled between office, restaurant, hotel and airport.

By seven o’clock it was dark and quiet, and I was working my way along the main city rank. Very slowly.

Finally I was at the head of the queue, and a young man walked around the corner out of the gloom - our taxi rank is now adjacent to a building site, and it’s a picture of grey desolation - and sat down beside me.

“Camp Copper on the Coppins Crossing Road,” he said.

I goggled a little. This was right out in the sticks, and although the love of money is the root of all evil, you could almost hear the dollar coins chinking as I estimated the fare.

We had a pleasant ride out, the lights of the city and then the suburbs fading behind as we entered kangaroo country and I kept my eyes peeled for bounding shapes ready to leap out at me.

“What’s the best way to arrange a cab back?” he asked, “Do I ring for one when I’m ready, or can you have one waiting?”

“Ah, what time, would that be?”

“Nine o’clock.”

“Sure, I can be waiting for you. It’s kind of slow tonight and I should be free to drive you back in.”

We pulled off the main road, down a gravel track to a series of new buildings replacing the old Camp Copper destroyed in the 2003 bushfires, and he proffered a credit card.

“I’ll see if we have coverage out here,” I said, running it through the machine.

“Processing, processing, processing... DECLINED: NO NETWORK”

Ooops.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “When I pick you up and take you back to civilisation, we’ll have radio coverage.”

I made a note of the fare amount, and took down his details just in case I was tied up elsewhere at nine o’clock and had to call for another cab. Mind you, with over forty unpaid dollars riding on this passenger, and another similar fare to be had for the return trip, I was going to make damn sure I was there to pick him up at nine.

It was slow, but I got a few local jobs to fill in the time. Bought a bottle of window cleaner when I gassed up. The fuel gauge on this taxi was misbehaving, and I didn’t want to be stuck out in the bush with no fuel.

I headed back out with a nice cushion of time. If he was early, I could pick him up, and if he was late, the cab could use a bit of polishing.

The camp was buzzing. Teenagers running around, soft drinks in their hands, hanging out around the hut doors, talking in groups, just enjoying each others’ company. There were some flags hoisted near the admin building, and they didn’t look like the Boy Scout symbols. Heavy on crosses and Latin mottos.

The penny dropped then. This was one of the staging areas for World Youth Day, a periodical Catholic Church gathering. The Pope had landed in Sydney earlier that day, and huge open-air masses were planned. Young pilgrims from around the world were assembling, and doubtless tomorrow the buses would pull up at the camp, the young folk here would climb aboard, and in a few hours they would be praying with the Pontiff.

I polished up the windows while I waited. Normally the young people I see as a taxi driver revel in alcoholic spirits before rolling in carnal congress, but these teenagers weren’t following this well-worn path. Just good friends and orange fizz.

My passenger, just a few years older than his flock, appeared from the well-lit buildings, his short beard and steady walk marking him out from the youngsters swirling around.

“You know the Roman Catholic cathedral in Manuka? St Stephens? That’s where we are going.”

Perfect. Manuka on a Monday might be quiet, but it’s still a nice place on a winter evening. Maybe Artoven would still be serving cappuccino. And I would be eighty dollars and more up on a slow shift. certainly enough to put me over my target for the night if I worked until three.

He talked about the young people. Their songs and dances and t-shirts, friendships made in the cold mornings and warmed around the campfire. Years later they would remember these times fondly, and I felt him slipping back into the Nineties as he talked.

I was kind of sorry to set him down beside the red brick cathedral in Manuka. It’s pleasant to have an amiable companion to share a piece of Canberra’s night-time with, and I’d be lonely while I waited for my next fare.

It’ll be a busy time for taxidrivers in Sydney over the next few days, I reckon. They’ll make small fortunes while we Canberra cabbies ride out the cold, quiet nights.

Artoven was long closed. I put on St Germain, good chill-out music, and pulled out a book, wondering who would be my next passenger.

Safely ensconced in the Qantas Business Lounge after a late departure form Wellington. 
S-i-l collected us at 3.30 and we were on the road by 3.36. despite a detour through Newtown because the Mt Vic tunnel was cloesed we were skirting the back of the airport by 4.06. Hardly any traffic on the road at all.   Quick check in then we breakfasted on bananas and mandarins that we'd taken along with us.  Waited until Whitcouls opened so we could get a ten week Lotto ticket which we'd forgotten to do the previous day.  I'd been so keen to ensure that the mobile phone being couriered to Telecom in Upper Hutt had arrived and to collect it before the shops shut that Lotto had slipped from my mind.
All on board without mishap. Once we were all seated and almost leaving the Captain advised ft that there was fog in Sydney and rough weather so they would have to change their route which meant they would need to load more fuel!! Great!   So we settled down, MrFan with a newspaper and me with a chilling gripping book.  Then there was announcement that at they were loading fuel all electronic equipment should be turned off. AND that if there was need to evacuate the plane the staff would show us which way to go.  Nothing like giving  an air of cool and calm. NOT.  We were 50 minutes late taking off but that didn't worry us as it would minimise the long wait in Sydney.  As it turned out there was no turbulence and a smooth landing with no fog at all. 
No problems with a kind man on the counter in the Qantas lounge agreeing to there being three of us in the lounge instead of the two that our single membership of the Qantas Club allows. GS L was delighted to find that Wifi would work for his Ipod; MrFan collected the daily paper and I still had the good book.

Some one asked about length of time away - it will be about 9 1/2 weeks because we had difficulty getting seats on   a day we wanted.   The legs from either Singapore or HK were very heavily booked.  Don't know if that would be because of people travelling after the Olympics.

Better have a look at the Duty Free shops.
LATER
Nothing that tempted except a new lipstick. Tried to get  T-shirts for the French boys using L as an adviser without success. L is definitely not a shopper and we couldn't agree on anything so gave up on that. MrFan has sussed out a flashdrive that will allow for programmes as well as data  files and has earmarked that for possible purchase in Singapore.
The afternoon is stretching out in a tedious fashion  It is about half past 12 now and we depart at 3.25.  L determined not to sleep so he "can sleep when he gets home" and back to normal time but there are a lot of hours to do yet.  He did doze off on the previous flight.