<?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-5984036839011364325</id><updated>2011-10-11T09:53:26.105-06:00</updated><category term='catz &apos;n&apos; dogz'/><category term='cancer'/><category term='Anger'/><category term='Beaurocracy'/><category term='Space'/><category term='Baby Loss'/><category term='XKCD'/><category term='Space Shuttle'/><category term='Dogs'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Geek'/><category term='Remembrance Day'/><category term='Rush Hour'/><category term='Politics'/><category term='Government'/><category term='Military'/><category term='Border Patrol'/><category term='Travel'/><category term='Language'/><category term='Cartography'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='Work'/><category term='Wheel of Time'/><category term='Blessings'/><category term='Car'/><category term='Mrs. Spit'/><category term='Legacy'/><category term='News'/><category term='Robert Jordan'/><category term='Chocolate'/><category term='Kids'/><category term='Gaming'/><category term='Grief'/><category term='Illness'/><category term='Pets'/><category term='Formula 1'/><category term='JRR Tolkien'/><category term='etiquette'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Winter'/><category term='house flipping'/><category term='Comics'/><category term='Gadgets'/><category term='Mars'/><category term='Engineering'/><category term='Astronomy'/><category term='Bridges'/><category term='Motorbikes'/><category term='Clothes'/><category term='office move'/><category term='Maps'/><category term='home renos'/><category term='Miscellanea'/><category term='air cadets'/><category term='US Air Flight 1549'/><category term='Star Wars'/><category term='Haiti'/><category term='Southwest Airlines'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Sexism'/><category term='Gabriel'/><category term='Books'/><title type='text'>Spitter's Musings</title><subtitle type='html'>A repository of my musings. Frequency may vary.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>180</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4594532742985578031</id><published>2011-02-10T22:33:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T22:40:09.184-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chocolate'/><title type='text'>Chocolicious!</title><content type='html'>I appear to have been remiss in posting lately. I've been off freezing my brain, literally. -31C plus windchill on Tuesday morning was a rude surprise, especially as I had to work in it. Yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my self-portrait under a highway bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O4GOF910ITA/TVTLaJ6mREI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Ufo2YPC_FSE/s1600/avatar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 135px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O4GOF910ITA/TVTLaJ6mREI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Ufo2YPC_FSE/s400/avatar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572302289162880066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit would like you to know that it is I, not she, who is the big fan of chocolate in our relationship. While she appreciates and consumes chocolate... it would appear that I am a far bigger fan of the confection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this end, I was rather pleased to read that, not only is chocolate a slice of bliss across the tastebuds, it is... wait for it... a superfood! Acai berries? Who needs them - pass the Hershey's Kisses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think I'm joking? Here's the &lt;a href="http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/02/110207073748.htm"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4594532742985578031?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4594532742985578031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4594532742985578031' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4594532742985578031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4594532742985578031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/02/chocolicious.html' title='Chocolicious!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O4GOF910ITA/TVTLaJ6mREI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Ufo2YPC_FSE/s72-c/avatar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2292317974942224746</id><published>2011-02-05T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T07:00:12.998-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Star Wars'/><title type='text'>Star Wars?</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's Star Wars. And thanks to this handy site with links to the videos, you can enjoy a fan made documentary about Star Wars that fans will enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the &lt;a href="http://blog.moviefone.com/2011/02/04/star-wars-documentary/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; to the story, and all 14 youtube vids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's the synopsis from the above story, to get you interested:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Star Wars Begins is an unofficial commentary to Star Wars, offering an  insight into the development and creation of film. The documentary  combines video from the movie itself with seen and unseen behind the  scenes footage, rare audio from the cast and crew, alternate angles,  bloopers, reconstructed scenes, text facts and more to give an in-depth  look at the process which brought the film to the big screen.&lt;/blockquote&gt;Now Mrs. Spit will have something to keep her busy the next time she's stuck in a hotel with work again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2292317974942224746?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2292317974942224746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2292317974942224746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2292317974942224746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2292317974942224746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/02/star-wars.html' title='Star Wars?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1371049484285426279</id><published>2011-02-04T07:40:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T07:44:22.594-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>What's in a name?</title><content type='html'>A friend sent me to this map. If you're interested in the origins of country names, it's pretty cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Map &lt;a href="http://i.imgur.com/ex6Zu.jpg"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to the Canadian Government's commercials of years past, I already knew that we're named for an Aboriginal name for "village".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I'd like to go back to the land of wood and water, it's awesome! (i.e. Jamaica)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1371049484285426279?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1371049484285426279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1371049484285426279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1371049484285426279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1371049484285426279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/02/whats-in-name.html' title='What&apos;s in a name?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-893909068705724978</id><published>2011-02-02T19:27:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T19:32:59.333-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><title type='text'>Groundhog day?</title><content type='html'>Driving down the highway this morning, I heard several times about how this or that or this other rodent is predicting an early spring - with the exception of the mouse (or whatever) from Balzac who saw clear skies and calls for another 6 weeks of winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously? Let me check my calendar... right, we're in the year 2011. I know this is all in good fun, but seriously, are we really attributing the weather to the randomness of clouds around when a rodent is pulled into the open? Talk about the futility of science education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truly annoying part is that for the majority of my life, I've not lived anywhere that has had a winter of less than 5 solid months of cold and snow. And mid-march as the end of winter? That's an early winter almost EVERY winter for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-893909068705724978?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/893909068705724978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=893909068705724978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/893909068705724978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/893909068705724978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/02/groundhog-day.html' title='Groundhog day?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3311853437985707151</id><published>2011-01-31T21:48:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T21:57:19.004-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blessings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Monday?</title><content type='html'>It's the last day of January, and coincidentally it's also Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My day started off slowly, back to work, into the office, etc... get my cup of tea and start my morning work. Mostly going through what I did last week so I could submit the inspections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I heard the first surprising news - my office laid off a couple of my co-workers. That was really enough to take the shine off my shoes, as one of them was a guy I've worked with lately. Personable guy. I talked to my supervisor, who was apologetic about not letting me know last week. Um... the layoffs were Tuesday, and I'm finding out Monday after? That's letting just a little time lapse, don't you think? I had my cell on me all week while out of the office... but anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that, even though I am not swamped with work, the people I work for are looking for work to keep me busy in spite of the lag. Apparently that wasn't the case for my co-workers who were rather light on work (as winter is so light on construction - their area of operations - who knew?) and who were cut loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had the other shoe drop. A friend of mine informed me that a co-worker of hers was involved in an industrial accident at the workplace. He was alive, not sure if he'd have all his limbs once they got him out of the machine he was trapped in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, my life is looking so much better. Really, counting my blessings is suddenly easier to do. Not only do I have the ability to refuse unsafe work, but my company actually makes me be safe in my job. You know, if I had to do maintenance on a major machine, I'd have a lock-out padlock so someone couldn't turn it on, by accident, when I was inside of it. Although not actually part of my job description, at least I know that it would be part of the equation if it were. Not so for my friend's co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I might have had some disturbing news from a couple different directions this chilly Monday in January - holy cow, it could have been a lot worse. My thoughts are, somewhat understandably, on Victor in the hospital with an unknown prognosis for tomorrow, and Garry at home with his wife and toddler with no income for tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3311853437985707151?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3311853437985707151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3311853437985707151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3311853437985707151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3311853437985707151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/monday.html' title='Monday?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4381306691576142165</id><published>2011-01-29T22:16:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T22:19:30.141-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gaming'/><title type='text'>A Facebook game - worth playing?</title><content type='html'>Ok, so as a young boy, I played a lot of computer games. Small surprise that, really - except that I was doing it in the early 80s. This game was apparently first started in 1971... and believe it or not, &lt;a href="http://www.csmonitor.com/Innovation/Horizons/2011/0127/Oregon-Trail-is-coming-to-Facebook.-Caulk-the-wagons%21"&gt;Oregon Trail&lt;/a&gt; is coming to Facebook on Groundhog Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, more time wasted on Facebook - coming your way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except, this one might actually be a game that involves more than clicking away - and it might even involved, scary thought, learning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4381306691576142165?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4381306691576142165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4381306691576142165' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4381306691576142165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4381306691576142165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/facebook-game-worth-playing.html' title='A Facebook game - worth playing?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2754884634005153385</id><published>2011-01-28T22:03:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T22:12:56.513-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Space'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Space Shuttle'/><title type='text'>It's been 25 years... where has the time gone?</title><content type='html'>It seems to me that this day is the Kennedy Assassination of my generation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where were you, when you heard that the Challenger blew up? For me, I had just gotten into my first class of the day at high school, English. My teacher told a completely incredulous classroom that the Challenger had blown up. We thought he was making a bad joke. Until he reiterated it, that he had seen the news before coming to school that day, 25 years ago, today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember going home and gluing myself to the TV, switching through the different coverage, looking for news. It was my first real exposure to a shock such as that, at an age when I was able to start to comprehend the horrific nature of 7 people being blown into a fireball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, the shuttle is on its last legs. Only a few more flights into orbit and NASA hangs up the whole programme, with no replacement in the wings. Sad, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a photo &lt;a href="http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2011/01/challenger_disaster_25_years_l.html"&gt;piece&lt;/a&gt; on the Challenger, with a focus on the teacher in space, who didn't quite make it there, Christa &lt;span class="blogText bigText"&gt;McAuliffe. It truly puts a human face on the events of that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2754884634005153385?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2754884634005153385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2754884634005153385' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2754884634005153385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2754884634005153385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-been-25-years-where-has-time-gone.html' title='It&apos;s been 25 years... where has the time gone?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2649021171034933370</id><published>2011-01-26T22:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T22:09:04.085-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Home for a rest</title><content type='html'>It's another week that has me getting my natural SAD  (seasonal affective disorder) prevention dosage. I'm out and about inspecting culverts and bridges in the fine, and very snow-white province of Alberta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simultaneous with this, I've been suffering from what is probably Mrs. Spit's cold as well. She got it first. I thought I was home free as, after two weeks of her being sick, I was fine. Yeah, that was fun while it lasted. Now I'm chugging Benylin in my hotel room...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while the trip is really good for me - it gets me lots of sunshine in the middle of winter - it's also been really tiring. I was falling asleep while reading tonight. It was only 8:30! Ack. This cold is really wearing me out fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm off to my bed for the week to catch some zeds. Hopefully tomorrow is better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really do need home for a rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2649021171034933370?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2649021171034933370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2649021171034933370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2649021171034933370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2649021171034933370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/home-for-rest.html' title='Home for a rest'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5243482093173922693</id><published>2011-01-24T22:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T22:48:18.997-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motorbikes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Head out on the highway...</title><content type='html'>Looking for adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like good song lyrics. Any takers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surfing through a chat area on a biker forum and saw that several people that live in this city, who have the same motorbike as I am getting, were planning on taking trips along the Pacific Coast down to California, and then circle back here. Rather eerie really, as I am having simliar thoughts and plans to do the same sort of trip later in the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shall see what we shall see, but I can see myself making new friends with this whole riding a motorcycle thing. And really, that's a good thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5243482093173922693?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5243482093173922693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5243482093173922693' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5243482093173922693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5243482093173922693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/head-out-on-highway.html' title='Head out on the highway...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1709908199898978397</id><published>2011-01-23T22:31:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T22:34:15.813-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Poor Kermie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cdn.imgfave.com/image_cache/129556320851067.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://cdn.imgfave.com/image_cache/129556320851067.jpeg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(&lt;a href="http://imgfave.com/view/1100953"&gt;Source&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1709908199898978397?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1709908199898978397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1709908199898978397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1709908199898978397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1709908199898978397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/poor-kermie.html' title='Poor Kermie'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-912460810137700283</id><published>2011-01-23T00:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T00:30:00.037-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bridges'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Legacy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><title type='text'>Those who come after</title><content type='html'>As I sit here, pondering posts that Mrs. Spit has shared with me and which she has yet to post, I came across this poem completely at random. Or not, depending on your outlook of the world and the cosmos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, an Atheist would say that I came across this poem, as stated above, completely at random, with no connection to the poignant words of my dear wife An Agnostic might tell you that they don't know if I stumbled across it due to the vagaries of chance, or whether someone laid it in my path. A Christian, believing in Divine Providence, might say that indeed, this poem was a treasure waiting to be found at the exact time I needed it, and how I needed it, for it is part of a greater plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Times like these, we think outside ourselves, to see where the world will be when we're gone. What is the legacy of what we have done for those who come after us? You think big, powerful, scary questions when you sit with the ashes of your dead son resting on a shelf three feet away. And so, as someone who has built bridges to cross rivers in reality, this poem resonates with me. I find myself blessed for having come to this poem, when and as I did tonight. For, unlike the Atheist, or the Agnostic, I know that my redeemer lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bridge Builder&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old man, going a lone highway,&lt;br /&gt;Came, at the evening, cold and gray,&lt;br /&gt;To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,&lt;br /&gt;Through which was flowing a sullen tide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man crossed in the twilight dim;&lt;br /&gt;The sullen stream had no fear for him;&lt;br /&gt;But he turned, when safe on the other side,&lt;br /&gt;And built a bridge to span the tide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,&lt;br /&gt;“You are wasting strength with building here;&lt;br /&gt;Your journey will end with the ending day;&lt;br /&gt;You never again will pass this way;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide-&lt;br /&gt;Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The builder lifted his old gray head:&lt;br /&gt;“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,&lt;br /&gt;“There followeth after me today,&lt;br /&gt;A youth, whose feet must pass this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This chasm, that has been naught to me,&lt;br /&gt;To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.&lt;br /&gt;He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;&lt;br /&gt;Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Will Allen Dromgoole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-912460810137700283?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/912460810137700283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=912460810137700283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/912460810137700283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/912460810137700283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/those-who-come-after.html' title='Those who come after'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6002809106848474972</id><published>2011-01-22T00:42:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T00:46:23.072-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Seeing Red</title><content type='html'>I'm not talking about this as a metaphor regarding bulls in the bull fighting ring. Rather, it's about the movie, Red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the closest I've seen to a comic book made into a live action movie, without looking like a comic book. At least, there were scenes. I understand why Marvel stamped its name at the opening credits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never since the A-Team have so many rounds been fired with so few visible wounds / casualties. Come to think of it, it makes the A-Team movie sit up and watch the adults play! Lots of funny bits, mostly due to implausible action scenes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit and I both enjoyed it as pure, utter, complete escapist nonsense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6002809106848474972?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6002809106848474972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6002809106848474972' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6002809106848474972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6002809106848474972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/seeing-red.html' title='Seeing Red'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7461792004302380315</id><published>2011-01-20T21:09:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T22:27:54.225-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='XKCD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cartography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Mappily amused</title><content type='html'>I will freely admit, I'm an addict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love maps. I know, of all the things, I pick inanimate depictions of the world. But it's true, I just really love to sit with a map and explore in my mind. It's interesting for areas that I don't know. It's a trip down memory lane for areas that I have travelled through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google Earth. It's a terrible, terrible program. For me it's like placing a 40 pounder in front of an alcoholic and saying "Have all you want, there's more in the back." I was using it to map out the locations of a bunch of bridges that I have to inspect later this year. Once that was accomplished, I zoomed in and looked at all of the bridges, where the resolution allowed that of course. And then the bender started. I spent altogether far too much time wandering around the two provinces that I've lived in - British Columbia and Alberta - just exploring, following roads to their destination, recalling driving through scenery, seeing a glacier and going "Aha! Source for the Athabasca River!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to close the software, just to keep from being tempted. Sure, it was helpful to visualize my work plan for about 4 weeks of work this summer. Gallivanting around central and southern Alberta, coming within 10 km of Montana (note to self, get a photo of Mount Poe), going to a several bridges I've inspected before, only this time in depth. Yeah, I had a great trip in my own mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't even have to be topo maps or road maps. Give me maps with demographic information and I'll peruse that, mentally correlating information with locations and seeing interesting... stuff. I even went cruising around the Cayman Trench earlier today... underwater, it was kind of different. I can point to where my enjoyment of maps started. It was those nefarious people in the Royal Canadian Air Cadets teaching me how to read topographic maps. Yeah, yet another part of my life interests that is influenced by Cadets :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I mentioned that maps are entertaining? And in that sense, I'll finish off with a fun map for the rest of you, who aren't as mappily amused as me. The evil geniuses at XKCD have done another one of their comics, this time showing the world... well, I'll let the comic explain it better than I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://xkcd.com/850/"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 740px; height: 569px;" src="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/world_according_to_americans.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click-through to view the page, and of course, as with ALL XKCD comics, check out the mouse-over text! (on their page, not this one). I do enjoy the Boxing Day quip...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7461792004302380315?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7461792004302380315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7461792004302380315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7461792004302380315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7461792004302380315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/mappily-amused.html' title='Mappily amused'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3859552395304526722</id><published>2011-01-19T23:09:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T23:12:11.894-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>To dream...</title><content type='html'>It's a wonderful thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching the Speed TV live coverage of the Barrett-Jackson Classic Car auction for a bit tonight while Mrs. Spit is off having coffee and conversation with a friend. And wistfully thinking about how much fun it would be to go down there after winning a large lottery prize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then reality strikes, and I realize I live in an early 1900s house, with a tiny garage, in an area of the country that gets far too much winter every year - not to mention my bank account is rather small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's still fun to dream about being the guy who shows up on tv for having the winning bid on a really cool classic car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3859552395304526722?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3859552395304526722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3859552395304526722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3859552395304526722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3859552395304526722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/to-dream.html' title='To dream...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-587821093064778325</id><published>2011-01-18T18:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T18:41:39.726-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Bond... James Bond</title><content type='html'>In case you missed it in the news jungle, this news has come out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James Bond, in the yet unnamed 23rd film, is set for a release date of November 9, 2012.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Commence the fandom love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-587821093064778325?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/587821093064778325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=587821093064778325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/587821093064778325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/587821093064778325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/bond-james-bond.html' title='Bond... James Bond'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4998151147318038506</id><published>2011-01-17T20:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T20:10:00.121-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Pak'd it in</title><content type='html'>We arrived home tonight, after fighting some epic traffic snarl in the downtown that left us pulled into a parkade and enjoying Ye Olde Spaghetti Factory instead of driving home. Once again, the wee dogs left us a surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TTUDBOXstkI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/BIUgFIBq2eg/s1600/IMG_1017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TTUDBOXstkI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/BIUgFIBq2eg/s400/IMG_1017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563356234258363970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes, It was silly of me to leave a pair of shoes in their area of operations. Ask Mrs. Spit just how many pairs of her footwear have been sacrificed to the altar of doggie chew toys. Should have known better, but didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say that these particular feltpaks owed me anything though. I bought them something around 14 years ago to wear with snowshoes while I was trudging around the northern B.C. wilderness doing surveying in the depths of winter. They've been a trusty pair of winter boots since then. Of late, they've been most useful in helping to dispose of this inordinate amount of snowfall we've been having, keeping my feet cozy and dry while I pitched shovel after shovel over the neighbour's fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe tomorrow a visit to Mark's is in order?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4998151147318038506?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4998151147318038506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4998151147318038506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4998151147318038506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4998151147318038506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/pakd-it-in.html' title='Pak&apos;d it in'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TTUDBOXstkI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/BIUgFIBq2eg/s72-c/IMG_1017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2650554085483278573</id><published>2011-01-16T17:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T22:01:48.341-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>So much for parity</title><content type='html'>The last I saw, our dollar is right around par with the American dollar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why is it that I can buy a helmet online from a US source for $315 that retails around here for over $500?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody is making some good profit I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2650554085483278573?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2650554085483278573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2650554085483278573' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2650554085483278573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2650554085483278573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/so-much-for-parity.html' title='So much for parity'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3185874054289237451</id><published>2011-01-15T07:40:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T07:56:08.686-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>It's too early for this</title><content type='html'>The dogs called. They want me to go back to sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that we are taking care of our friend's wee ones, including a sleep-over last night. And there's the rub. Into bed early means, go figure, out of bed early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delta is lying on her bed, cracking some pretty big yawns. She is just as used to getting up at 7:00 on a Saturday morning. She's monitoring play-time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least the older sister was adamant about doing her homework immediately. Let's see if that habit is still in place in 10 years! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their mom was able to have a quiet night, which is a good thing for a woman wading through the 'stuff' she's had lately. We're glad to help out. Even if it means I'm up far too early for a weekend off!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3185874054289237451?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3185874054289237451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3185874054289237451' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3185874054289237451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3185874054289237451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-too-early-for-this.html' title='It&apos;s too early for this'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2478039549999266852</id><published>2011-01-14T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T07:00:13.070-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Astronomy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='JRR Tolkien'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='XKCD'/><title type='text'>Two of my favourite things</title><content type='html'>Tolkien and Astronomy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/stingray_nebula.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 557px; height: 908px;" src="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/stingray_nebula.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you just love &lt;a href="http://xkcd.com/847/"&gt;XKCD&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2478039549999266852?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2478039549999266852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2478039549999266852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2478039549999266852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2478039549999266852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/two-of-my-favourite-things.html' title='Two of my favourite things'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3269160913394926715</id><published>2011-01-13T18:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T18:00:01.107-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Spit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><title type='text'>Would that people knew</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A Man in Grief&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Eileen Knight Hagemeister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It must be very difficult&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be a man in grief,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Since "men don't cry" and "men are strong"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; No tears can bring relief.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It must be very difficult&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To stand up to the test,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And field the calls and visitors&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she can get some rest.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They always ask if she's all right&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what she's going through.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seldom take his hand and ask,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My friend, but how are you?"&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hears her crying in the night&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thinks his heart will break.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He dries her tears and comforts her,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But "stays strong" for her sake.&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must be very difficult&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To start each day anew.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And try to be so very brave-&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lost his baby too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://fathersgrievinginfantloss.blogspot.com/2011/01/poem-for-fathers.html"&gt;Tim Nelson&lt;/a&gt; for posting this poem. Thanks to Lisette, for commenting and posting the following information about Eileen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Lisette said...   This poem was written by a compassionate woman, Eileen Knight  Hagemeister, who saw the difficult issues regarding men and grief. She  wrote this poem to her son‐in‐law after his baby girl was stillborn. &lt;/blockquote&gt;This poem transported me, with tears in my eyes, instantly backwards in time three years to when we were still heavily mourning the lost of Gabriel. I've lived this poem, which is sadly very true. Notwithstanding my baby-loss support group, I can count on one hand the number of people who asked me how I was doing after Gabriel died, as opposed to the numerous others who were only concerned for &lt;a href="http://mrsspit.ca/"&gt;Mrs. Spit&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to help a grieving father feel even more isolated and marginalized, please, continue to ignore that they too lost their precious child at the same time as their beloved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3269160913394926715?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3269160913394926715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3269160913394926715' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3269160913394926715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3269160913394926715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/would-that-people-knew.html' title='Would that people knew'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3080073389895542313</id><published>2011-01-12T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T23:00:02.203-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pets'/><title type='text'>What cat?</title><content type='html'>Mrs. Spit and I have two very friendly cats. Brothers, but you'd never know it to look at them. The little guy is a 10 pound basement cat - i.e. all black - while the bruiser is 20 pounds of tabbyness. Honest, he's only 20, though we thought he was pushing 30 until we weighed him the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I ran across a rather fascinating image, showing a break-down of cat colouration pretty much from A-Z, and then some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/catstut6.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TS5_b-Q6j0I/AAAAAAAAAxw/KTqCDzWLxjA/s400/catstut6.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561522708396281666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(Click on the image to embiggenate)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is the following:&lt;br /&gt;1. I had no idea of the variety in cat colouration.&lt;br /&gt;2. I have no idea where our tabby falls in that mix!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly someone had some time to figure this out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3080073389895542313?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3080073389895542313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3080073389895542313' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3080073389895542313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3080073389895542313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-cat.html' title='What cat?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TS5_b-Q6j0I/AAAAAAAAAxw/KTqCDzWLxjA/s72-c/catstut6.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6232666610251400970</id><published>2011-01-12T22:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T22:00:05.747-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Spit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home renos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pets'/><title type='text'>"We just let a random stranger into our house!"</title><content type='html'>Last night we went shopping at Costco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me rephrase that slightly. In the unwavering conviction that we didn't want to get burned by the often experienced "Costco Conundrum", we went back to Costco last night, a scant four nights since we had first seen a nice looking bathroom vanity in the aisle at Costco last Friday night. The "Costco Conundrum" is, of course, that experience by which you see something you want at Costco, but can't afford it at that time; some time later, you return to purchase the item, only to find that it is no longer carried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit wanted, I think in a fit of madness, to go back on Saturday to pick it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Costco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surely I'm not the only one who sees the folly in this statement. Heck, we make a point of NOT going to Costco on a weekend because it's always a somewhat frenzied hive of activity, with the crush of humanity who has driven into town from afar for the sole purpose of loaded up three carts and a flatbed with supplies for their corner store in Outer Armpit, Alberta - or worse, Beyond Nowhere, Northwest Territories. Would that I was making this up, I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reason and sanity prevailed, and we returned with our mostly great little Jetta station wagon to pick up the vanity. This is, almost, the last piece we need before we can do our little bathroom renovation this winter. It would have been the last, but the faucet we bought a few years ago is, I believe, a single unit with supply pipes at 4 inches on centre. The vanity we picked up is made for a faucet with holes 8 inches on centre. &lt;a href="http://www.signaturehardware.com/"&gt;Signature Hardware&lt;/a&gt;, here we come again. But then, they are an absolutely amazing online retailer that I will continue to frequent as long as I need hardware. Sure, they're not free, but the service? Excellent all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After paying for our new acquisition (a box weighing 165 pounds counts as more than a mere purchase, don't you think?) we were asked if we wanted some help loading it. After a short pause, we nodded our heads thankfully. We were directed where to pull up with our car and we were off. When we pulled up to the loading area, there was a questioning look to the Costco employee's face when I started rearranging the car seats. I think it was the "trunk" aka retractable cargo cover behind the back seats. He didn't think that the huge box would fit in the small car - being that we live in the province o'pickup trucks and all. Once that obstacle was surmounted, we were in business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tipping the box up and sliding it into the car, with some shuffling around of sundry items, we were loaded and ready to take off for home. Our wagon was mostly full, but it swallowed it. I don't know how people manage with sedans, no cargo capacity! On getting home, it stayed in the car as Mrs. Spit was a touch under the weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening, Mrs. Spit was to go meet up with her mother for some shopping. And could we unload the wee box? Grudgingly, we got dressed for the weather and proceeded to unload the box. I was trying to get one end of the box arranged so she could lift one side. A bit of a hiccup almost left the box - marked fragile in several places - tumbling to the snow-covered pavement. At that time, a random guy walking down the sidewalk asked us if we wanted a hand. Gladly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs were quite put out when the saw a stranger walking backwards up our front steps, carrying the rather large box. After Mrs. Spit opened the front door and corralled the dogs, who were barking furiously, away from the front entrance, we got it inside and into the front room. We thanked the stranger, who managed to avoid getting nibbled on by the English Mastiff, and saw him off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is how we ended up, standing in the front entrance, with Mrs. Spit commenting to me in some minor discomfort that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"We just let a random stranger into our house!"&lt;/span&gt; After consideration that there was nothing visible worth stealing, and that we very obviously had two dogs who would delight in greeting an intruder, the moment of distress passed and we were able to continue with our evening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6232666610251400970?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6232666610251400970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6232666610251400970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6232666610251400970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6232666610251400970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/we-just-let-random-stranger-into-our.html' title='&quot;We just let a random stranger into our house!&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5346324493285537730</id><published>2011-01-12T21:38:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T21:46:09.187-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Southwest Airlines'/><title type='text'>Another airline pilot needing Kudos!</title><content type='html'>A Southwest Airlines pilot held the plane back so that the grandfather of a boy who was murdered could make his flight. 12 minutes it was delayed, so that the poor man could get his harried and grief-stricken soul through the soul-sucking morass that is modern airport security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The epic line of the story is at the end of this little quote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The pilot held the plane that was supposed to take off at 11:50 until 12:02 when my husband got there.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As my husband walked down the Jetway with the pilot, he said, “I can’t thank you enough for this.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The pilot responded with, “They can’t go anywhere without me and I  wasn’t going anywhere without you. Now relax. We’ll get you there. And  again, I’m so sorry.”&lt;/p&gt;Read the article here: Story &lt;a href="http://www.elliott.org/blog/southwest-airlines-pilot-holds-plane-for-murder-victims-family/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only more people would understand that the grief of losing a child, or grandchild in this case, is beyond comprehension. This pilot deserves all the praise that we can send.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5346324493285537730?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5346324493285537730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5346324493285537730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5346324493285537730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5346324493285537730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-airline-pilot-needing-kudos.html' title='Another airline pilot needing Kudos!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2086560026043870322</id><published>2011-01-12T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T10:00:06.739-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Haiti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='News'/><title type='text'>A year later... Haiti</title><content type='html'>It hardly seems to seem real, that a year ago Haiti was rocked by a massive earthquake. I know, it's all over the news right now, as the media only seems to care about sensationalist new stories, or remembering great tragedies on the anniversaries of their occurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these remembrances is a photo &lt;a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703791904576076423002170688.html"&gt;slideshow&lt;/a&gt; from the Wall Street Journal. Pretty sad that a year on, so much still remains to be done in that beleagured country. Yet, the photos show people going about their regular lives despite the event's scars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a sobering reminder that, even when events slip off the headline news, people are the ones who live and deal with the results.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2086560026043870322?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2086560026043870322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2086560026043870322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2086560026043870322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2086560026043870322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/year-later-haiti.html' title='A year later... Haiti'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5230548797446193551</id><published>2011-01-12T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T23:32:25.957-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Beaurocracy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Border Patrol'/><title type='text'>Note to self</title><content type='html'>The next time I go to visit Big Brother to the South (aka the United States), do not, even if sorely tempted because they would make really neat gifts for little people, go to Costco and buy that box of Kinder Surprise chocolate covered eggs with a prize inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this could lead to a $300 fine and lots of beaurocractic hoop-jumping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was kidding, but thanks to the fine folks of &lt;a href="http://www.cbc.ca/canada/manitoba/story/2011/01/10/man-kinder-surprise-border.html"&gt;CBC&lt;/a&gt; breaking this case open to public scrutiny, I am now informed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously? That's what the Customs and Border Patrol are worried about? Seizing 25 thousand Kinder surprise eggs is somehow making the nation a safer place for kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5230548797446193551?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5230548797446193551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5230548797446193551' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5230548797446193551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5230548797446193551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/note-to-self.html' title='Note to self'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6730625731861744383</id><published>2011-01-11T22:44:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T23:05:08.320-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clothes'/><title type='text'>It's about the coat</title><content type='html'>Two winters ago, I saw this great deal on a new coat through an online retailer. I was in the market for a new winter coat that didn't come with a big corporate logo on it - i.e. that came from the company I worked for. Instead of paying the 'listed' price of $300 USD for it, I had a great e-coupon that let me purchase it for about $130. Score!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus began my enjoyment of what Mrs. Spit smilingly calls my "Paddington Bear Coat". Yes, it's true, I'm being compared to a character famous for his appearance in &lt;a href="http://www.paddingtonbear.com/"&gt;children's literature&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The coat in question is an English Duffle Coat, authentically made by the fine folks at &lt;a href="http://www.gloverall.com/"&gt;Gloverall&lt;/a&gt; of England. It's made of thick wool, with buffalo horn toggles, covers me to my knees, and truly makes for an excellent winter jacket. I can wear it with jeans or with a suit with equal comfort and suitability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was thinking about my coat, as I had worn it to work for the first time this winter. Mrs. Spit was home feeling under the weather (she's much better now, she's not dead yet!) and I needed to take the light rail to work. As winter has returned with force and it was a balmy -23C this morning, it was going to be a bit of a brisk walk to the station. With no more layering than wearing a light fleece shirt, I was comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the all-knowing folks at Wikipedia, the duffle coat was first brought about in 1890. That would explain why it has two pockets, and the fleece jacket by &lt;a href="http://www.scottevest.com/v3_store/Fleece_Jacket.shtml"&gt;Scott eVest&lt;/a&gt; of modern design has about 24 pockets, including pockets for my iPhone. Sadly, no such ammenities in the duffle coat. However, given the choice, I'll take warmth over convenience and pocket storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can certainly see how, given some thick sweaters and such, the duffle coat was the standard issue for the Royal Navy during both World Wars. It's a warm piece of kit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While my coat might lack modern fabrics, might be heavy, might not be completely wind proof at the opening - I'll take it over the modern winter coat any day. It's got panache. And more to the point, it's warm, which is a quality much regarded in the dark, cold winter that we're soldiering through at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.vetementsmarins.com/boutique/images_produits/GLOVERALL312FC80.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 600px;" src="http://www.vetementsmarins.com/boutique/images_produits/GLOVERALL312FC80.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6730625731861744383?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6730625731861744383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6730625731861744383' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6730625731861744383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6730625731861744383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-about-coat.html' title='It&apos;s about the coat'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2998828729352940249</id><published>2011-01-10T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T21:00:00.924-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Spit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rush Hour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Rush Hour... on pause</title><content type='html'>This afternoon I left work, elevator down to the main floor and out the door. Short walk to the light rail station (one of the reasons I like working downtown) to catch a ride home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit was working from home today, so I offered to not make her drive into the downtown core to pick me up. It's different when she's at work about 15 blocks from my office, but it's less enjoyable for her to drive into the core in rush hour to pick me up. We texted back and forth and she left home to be at the nearby station waiting for me to arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into the station to see a train just leaving. No worries, right? It's rush hour, they come along at least every 5 minutes. So I set about listening to my iPhone (Bon Jovi, memories of last summer's concert dancing in my brain). A couple of songs later, I've noticed that two trains have headed through the station southbound, yet nothing northbound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Commence confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another train goes through the station, southbound. By now the traffic is starting to get backed up on the platform. People keep coming down the stairs... and coming... and coming... and the music played on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSvUAL_vLqI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/d3wkDFIWFCQ/s1600/IMG_0998.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSvUAL_vLqI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/d3wkDFIWFCQ/s400/IMG_0998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560771264604221090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;By now Mrs. Spit is starting to wonder where I am, as she's been waiting at the station for a while. I'm starting to wonder if I need to leave to call her to come pick me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the sixth train went through soundbound, with no northbound, you could see the frustration waves running through the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then came the PA announcing a northbound train. I didn't hear it, but all of a sudden people moved past me towards the platform edge. Here comes the train! Much general excitement as people who are far outside their comfort zone are yearning to get home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The train pulls in. My first though? Yeah, I'm taking a miss on this one! Packed. About 30 people offloaded, and 60 crammed into it. I'll wait, thanks. People running for the door - only to realize that they and 100 other people are not going to fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSvUAtCtZ9I/AAAAAAAAAxY/I33pAt3fOnM/s1600/IMG_1001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSvUAtCtZ9I/AAAAAAAAAxY/I33pAt3fOnM/s400/IMG_1001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560771273475057618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second train arrives, and there are not only empty isles, but empty seats! So I get in and have lots of room. Until the next station, which is still packed with sardines... erm... people that is. My train car is now full, with everyone getting really familiar with their neighbours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the train cleared onto the above ground tracks, I get a text from Mrs. Spit: "Where are you?!?" She's now been sitting in the car for about 30 minutes longer than she expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was really all about being reminded of just how dependant we are on routine, schedules, and on our modern contrivances working as they were supposed to when designed. Funny, really, how quickly we get thrown off-track when things don't work as they should.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2998828729352940249?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2998828729352940249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2998828729352940249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2998828729352940249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2998828729352940249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/rush-hour-on-pause.html' title='Rush Hour... on pause'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSvUAL_vLqI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/d3wkDFIWFCQ/s72-c/IMG_0998.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4119759690976969228</id><published>2011-01-09T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T22:30:00.647-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Spit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>A great place to live</title><content type='html'>When Mrs. Spit and I moved into our house, we didn't know much about our neighbourhood. Sure, we knew we could afford the mortgage payments - a rather important feature if you ask me! But the neighbourhood? We only knew that it wasn't the high-rent district. Heck, it wasn't the middling-rent district.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been here for almost six full years now. While our old house drives us batty whenever it's time to do a renovation, and frustrates us in countless ways due to the fact that it's well-nigh on a hundred years old, it's a decent house that keeps us sheltered and comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we donned warm socks, snow pants, warm jackets / sweaters, toques and gloves and walked six blocks to the winter festival being held. The city shut down the street for the weekend - no small feat as it's a major traffic route - and the action was on all weekend at the community center. People came in from all over the city to celebrate winter. I even heard it advertised on a local radio station as I was braving the blizzard on Saturday to buy dog and cat food. Yeah, maybe we're nuts, celebrating being in the depths of winter, but there you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was ball hockey in the street, free skate rentals on the outdoor skating rink, outdoor curling, artists carving in ice, horse-drawn sled rides, artists displaying their wares, and even a mummers group giving an outdoor play for those hearty enough to attend. And the cost for all this? Gratis, zip, zilch - free for those souls who came out. Food was, for apparent reasons, not free - but today was French Canadian day, so we ate Poutine for lunch, with a Maple Syrup sugar-stick chaser!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWZTHpDqI/AAAAAAAAAw4/dlvU2C17Ro8/s1600/winterfest%2Bice%2Bslide.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWZTHpDqI/AAAAAAAAAw4/dlvU2C17Ro8/s400/winterfest%2Bice%2Bslide.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560422051315519138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;{Mrs. Spit rides the ice-slide - it was rather slippery for some reason.}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWaO2XZ0I/AAAAAAAAAxI/stNTDqW1hbg/s1600/winterfest%2Bt-rex.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWaO2XZ0I/AAAAAAAAAxI/stNTDqW1hbg/s400/winterfest%2Bt-rex.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560422067349186370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;{A carver works on his T-Rex carving - most excellent work!}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWZhSFS7I/AAAAAAAAAxA/EPSw7IbBfhg/s1600/winterfest%2Bsugarsticks.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWZhSFS7I/AAAAAAAAAxA/EPSw7IbBfhg/s400/winterfest%2Bsugarsticks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560422055117409202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;{Mrs. Spit starts to spin her sugar stick.}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The great thing about my neighbourhood is not that it's affordable (though it is more affordable than most areas of town), not that there are great restaurants (there are, and not a single chain to be found), not that it's rife with artists (but you might hit a couple if you start throwing bricks at random), and not that there are multiple festivals held here through the year (but there are, and they're all free). It's not any one of these things. Rather, it's all of them and more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we bought our first and only house after living in rental properties for the first four years of our marriage, we were totally rolling the dice on where we landed. Some thought we came up snake-eyes. Mrs. Spit and I? We think we came up sixes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4119759690976969228?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4119759690976969228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4119759690976969228' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4119759690976969228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4119759690976969228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/great-place-to-live.html' title='A great place to live'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/TSqWZTHpDqI/AAAAAAAAAw4/dlvU2C17Ro8/s72-c/winterfest%2Bice%2Bslide.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5492696247387769238</id><published>2011-01-08T18:32:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T18:48:24.359-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>White stuff</title><content type='html'>I had my initial lessons in snowboarding in November 2009. Wow, what a great deal of fun it is! I was delighted that, finally, I have a winter activity to look forward to instead of fighting my way through every winter, hoping for warmth again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's truly disappointing to me is that, when I was growing up, I was a 2 1/2 hour drive from one of the best powder ski hills in northern British Columbia: &lt;a href="http://www.powderking.com/"&gt;Powder King&lt;/a&gt; (seriously? 199 cm at the top right now?). There were high school ski trips that I never took part it - I think because I didn't grow up with a family involved in sports, let along winter sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to today, or rather, last night. Environment Canada says that at midnight, the visibility was 0.3 km. That's a lot of blowing snow. I still have a hard time with the blowing snow. I've now lived in Alberta 10 years, &lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;and the fact that we get so much wind still drives me slightly batty. Woke up this morning to see the lower panels of my car in front of the house. The rest of it was a lovely shade of white, in a se&lt;/span&gt;a of white, with more white falling and blowing on the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent ab&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;out an hour shovelli&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ng the front steps, walk, and sidewalk. The back of the house? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Mañana&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was moving frozen water about, in a somewhat fruitless attempt to forestall nature, I was reminded of just how amazing it was to sit on the white sand beach at the resort in Jamaica last week. Which left me wishing I was back there. Today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an old piece of humour for which I don't know the source, but I was sure in this mindset today. As I look out the front windows and see another inch of snow covering the walk, I'm really done with winter in the city. Snow on the skihill = awesome. On my car = not awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our first winter snow:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dec  8:  5pm:  it started to snow…our  first of the season and the  whole family took a bowl of popcorn and drinks and gathered around the  window…watching the soft flakes drift down all over the ground…so  beautiful!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 9:  We awoke to a big beautiful blanket of crystal white snow  covering the ground as far as the eyes could see.  What a fantastic  sight!  Out the door raced the kids!  Every tree and shrub covered with a  lovely white mantle.  I shoveled snow for the first time in years and I  loved it!  I did both driveways and the sidewalk.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Later, the snowplow came along and covered up our sidewalk with  compacted snow from the street so I bundled up and went out and shoveled  it again.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 12:  The sun is out and has melted our lovely snow.  Oh, well…I’m  sure we’ll get some more before the beautiful season is over.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 14:  it snowed 8 inches last night and the temperature dropped to  20 degrees below zero.  Shoveled the driveways and the sidewalk and the  snowplow came by and covered it all up with snow…again.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 15:  sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer so I can drive in the snow.  Bought snow tires for my wife’s car.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 16:  Fell on my rear on the ice in the driveway..while I was  shoveling all that lovely white…stuff.  All it really hurt was my  feelings.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 17:  Still cold…below zero in the a.m., and the icy roads make  for very tough driving.  The hill our home sits on didn’t seem that  steep when the road was dry.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 20:  Had another 4 inches of that white ….stuff…again last  night.  More shoveling today.  That #@$% snowplow came by twice…it  hadn’t even snowed after the first time!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 22:  A White Christmas is pretty much a sure thing at this  point;  we had 3 more inches of that white stuff today and with this  freezing weather it won’t melt ‘til August! &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Got all dressed to go out and …yes, to shovel – boots, jump suit,  heavy jacket, scarf, ear muffs, gloves – and then had the urge to pee!!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 23:  was going to go ice fishing today, but my worms froze …&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 24:  if I ever see that ….guy….that drives that @#$%  snowplow…….he waits…I swear, he waits …he hides around the corner and  waits until I finish shoveling and then he comes barreling down the  street throwing snow all over what used to be my yard!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 25:  Merry Christmas.  They predict 8 more inches of thi&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;s %$&amp;amp;^ white stuff tonight.  Do they know how many shovel fulls of snow 8  inches is?!  My gift to the snowplow driver is I’m letting him live.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 26:  We got 8 inches and then some.  We wear sunglasses all day  because the sun is shining bright but it’s beaming down on about  EIGHTEEN INCHES OF THIS #$%WHITE ….stuff!  The kids make snowmen on the  roof.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 27:  The toilet froze.  I’ve stopped shoveling….not out of  protest…but, because I left the shovel out and it snowed…so it’s  buried….and we can’t get the car out of the driveway because, yes, the  snowplow has buried our driveway.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt; Dec 28:  I’ve threatened to burn the house down so that white @#$%  stuff can’t cling to the roof…but the kids’ snow people are almost as  high as the pine tree next to the house and so now it’s a neighborhood  contest…&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Dec 31:  My New Year’s Resolution is…that’s right…I’m going to let the snowplow driver live!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5492696247387769238?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5492696247387769238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5492696247387769238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5492696247387769238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5492696247387769238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/white-stuff.html' title='White stuff'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1892875222389976560</id><published>2011-01-07T21:26:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T21:29:03.147-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Language'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>On accents</title><content type='html'>A friend sent me this &lt;a href="http://aschmann.net/AmEng/#SmallMapUnitedStates"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; tonight. It's really fascinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do if you were a linguist and wanted to show a map of the dialects of North American English? Well, sorry, that question has been answered at the link above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't get the "Canadian Raising" bit... but then, I'm from Western Canada, where we do things differently in most things anyways, so what's a bit more? :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1892875222389976560?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1892875222389976560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1892875222389976560' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1892875222389976560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1892875222389976560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/on-accents.html' title='On accents'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8396409986977589551</id><published>2011-01-07T21:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T21:26:18.442-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Spit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Turning a leaf over</title><content type='html'>It was mentioned to me, long ago and far away, by the very wise and astute Mrs. Spit, that it's a good thing if your blog actually gets added to on a regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my last post was close to 14 months ago, I see I have fallen down on my end of the agreement. That is to say, it's hard for people to read my blog, if I never post to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that respect, if you're surprised to see a post from me - I'm back and will be attempting to post on a much more frequent basis. Thanks for hanging in there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8396409986977589551?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8396409986977589551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8396409986977589551' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8396409986977589551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8396409986977589551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2011/01/turning-leaf-over.html' title='Turning a leaf over'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5743122987460002663</id><published>2009-11-22T17:35:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T17:37:50.772-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Words of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>This was, interestingly enough, found on a humour site. The veracity of the words goes far beyond humour though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Words of Wisdom&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;p&gt;One evening an old Cherokee Indian told his grandson about a battle that was going on inside himself.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;He said, "My boy, the fight is between two wolves."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;div id="entrygoogle1"&gt;       &lt;a name="more"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--       google_ad_client = "pub-3873347697860878";       google_ad_slot = "4315036318";       google_ad_width = 300;       google_ad_height = 250;       //--&gt;       &lt;/script&gt;       &lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js"&gt;       &lt;/script&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;     &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;That&lt;/i&gt; certainly got the boy's attention.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"One is evil," the old man continued. "Anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"What of the other, grandfather?" the boy asked.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"The other is good," he said. "Joy, Peace, Love, Hope, Serenity, Humility, Kindness, Benevolence, Empathy, Generosity, Truth, Compassion and Faith."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Do we all have such wolves fighting inside us, grandfather?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Yes," the wise old man said.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Then, which wolf wins the fight?"&lt;/p&gt;  The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jumbojoke.com/words_of_wisdom.html"&gt;Words of Wisdom&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5743122987460002663?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5743122987460002663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5743122987460002663' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5743122987460002663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5743122987460002663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/words-of-wisdom.html' title='Words of Wisdom'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-9207326890292262062</id><published>2009-11-18T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T18:00:02.131-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Meh-bleh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how I'm feeling this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a week away from home - except for the quick jaunt home last night to pick up a piece of equipment that I ... err... forgot at home. Whoops! Good to see Mrs. Spit and the fur-children though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week started with us at Marriage Encounter - not attending, but supporting. Thanks to Mrs. Oblivious, we got saddled with a couple with young children. And wasn't that fun? Mrs. Spit and I both get awkward when we're asked in a social situation "Do you have children?". This was a social situation, faith based, where the couple just came off a demanding weekend of immersive intimate communications. So we can't blame them for asking. The other side of that is that it sucks to say that no, we don't have children, and we don't want to throw a big, wet, fire blanket on top of the party atmosphere and explain that Gabriel died almost two years ago, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this week, without intending, I've totally slacked in my blogging. Last night I had zero internet at my hotel (go figure that one out...) so I have an excuse, kind-of. Time to pick up my socks though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, even though I'm out enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, it's been a meh-bleh week for me. About time for me to spend some time at home, working in the office, home every night. Yeah... looking forward to that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-9207326890292262062?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/9207326890292262062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=9207326890292262062' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/9207326890292262062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/9207326890292262062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/meh-bleh.html' title=''/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1621475201872084028</id><published>2009-11-13T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T07:00:07.677-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Snow no...</title><content type='html'>A friend has offered to take me to the mountains and teach me to snowboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is daunting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to learn - just ask Mrs. Spit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it take so much kit to play in the snow? (see definition 7 &lt;a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/kit"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, if confused by my use of the word 'kit')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not too verbose this post. But I WILL post! &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;By the power of Greyskull!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1621475201872084028?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1621475201872084028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1621475201872084028' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1621475201872084028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1621475201872084028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/snow-no.html' title='Snow no...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4481942832793453254</id><published>2009-11-11T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T07:00:08.192-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Remembrance Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>In memory everlasting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia, bookman old style, palatino linotype, book antiqua, palatino, trebuchet ms, helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, avante garde, century gothic, comic sans ms, times, times new roman, serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;All we have of freedom, all we use or know -&lt;br /&gt;This our fathers bought for us long and long ago.&lt;br /&gt;~Rudyard Kipling, &lt;i&gt;The Old Issue&lt;/i&gt;, 1899&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, in the year 1918, the German High Command signed the Armistice that marked the end of the Great War. Today we take time to remember those troops who have perished in war. At first it was for the remembrance of those who died in World War One - as we came to name it. Now it is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; the remembrance for those troops lost in the intervening conflicts, whatever the name of the conflict.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;For good reason, we read the words of the poem In Flanders Field today, and remember. As our young men and women continue to fight and die in different quarters around the world, it is to us that the responsibility for remembrance falls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For today is celebrated as Remembrance Day within the British Commonwealth. Today, we remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SvpxahSB30I/AAAAAAAAAbE/7TUm4ycmNpw/s1600-h/250px-Lest_we_forget.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 193px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SvpxahSB30I/AAAAAAAAAbE/7TUm4ycmNpw/s400/250px-Lest_we_forget.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402755403408858946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;In Flanders Fields&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canadian Army&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In Flanders Fields the poppies blow&lt;br /&gt;Between the crosses row on row,&lt;br /&gt;That mark our place; and in the sky&lt;br /&gt;The larks, still bravely singing, fly&lt;br /&gt;Scarce heard amid the guns below.&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We are the Dead. Short days ago&lt;br /&gt;We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,&lt;br /&gt;Loved and were loved, and now we lie&lt;br /&gt;In Flanders fields.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Take up our quarrel with the foe:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To you from failing hands we throw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The torch; be yours to hold it high.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If ye break faith with us who die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shall not sleep, though poppies grow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Flanders fields.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4481942832793453254?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4481942832793453254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4481942832793453254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4481942832793453254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4481942832793453254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-memory-everlasting.html' title='In memory everlasting'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SvpxahSB30I/AAAAAAAAAbE/7TUm4ycmNpw/s72-c/250px-Lest_we_forget.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2337291483496191423</id><published>2009-11-10T15:44:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T15:46:16.600-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Bleh day</title><content type='html'>Yeah, it's one of those days. Nothing on the blog, feel like crud. Left work early to go home even!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think it's anything really serious... going to bed now though. Preventative medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img title="funny-pictures-cat-before-and-after-thermometer" src="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/funny-pictures-cat-before-and-after-thermometer.jpg" alt="funny pictures of cats with captions" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2337291483496191423?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2337291483496191423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2337291483496191423' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2337291483496191423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2337291483496191423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/bleh-day.html' title='Bleh day'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8359669223439582766</id><published>2009-11-09T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T07:00:01.950-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mars'/><title type='text'>Mars - an alien place</title><content type='html'>Not much to say today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out these photos and descriptions of &lt;a href="http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/11/martian_landscapes.html"&gt;Mars&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't science cool?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8359669223439582766?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8359669223439582766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8359669223439582766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8359669223439582766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8359669223439582766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/mars-alien-place.html' title='Mars - an alien place'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8888336514944883813</id><published>2009-11-08T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T07:00:03.628-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wheel of Time'/><title type='text'>The mark of a humble man</title><content type='html'>A couple of years ago, after I had heard that Brandon Sanderson was going to be the author of record to finish the Wheel of Time, I picked up and read his first novel: Elantris. I knew after reading this excellent work that Brandon was an author worth the name, and from then I looked forward even more to the release of the next Wheel of Time (WoT) novel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only is Brandon a published author of several books (&lt;a href="http://brandonsanderson.com/portal/Elantris"&gt;Elantris&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://brandonsanderson.com/portal/Mistborn-Trilogy"&gt;Mistborn Trilogy&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://brandonsanderson.com/portal/Alcatraz"&gt;Alcatraz Series&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://brandonsanderson.com/portal/Warbreaker"&gt;Warbreaker&lt;/a&gt;) but he is personable and more than a little bit humble. When I sent an email to the contact listed on his website, I expected it to make it to him but that was as far as the interaction went - or so I thought. When I received an email reply from him directly, I was pleasantly surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, given that he's being... overwhelmed? with new fans as a result of WoT, this might be one aspect of his life that has to change out of necessity. Not only does he write WoT, he also continues writing his own creations - he released a new Alcatraz novel just over a month ago!!! To top that seemingly crazy strategy off, he also instructs creative writing - fantasy of course - at Brigham Young University.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming back to humble, here's the quote that inspired this whole post today, taken from his &lt;a href="http://brandonsanderson.com/blog/843/1"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; posting of today where he talks about his involvement with WoT - particularly in light of The Gathering Storm smashing its way to the top seller on multiple book seller listings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Beyond that, the strength of this book is directly tied to the excellent storytelling that came before it. It doesn't take much experience with construction to realize that the foundation of a building is far more important—structurally—than the roof. Robert Jordan's skill with worldbuilding, characterization, and plotting was amazing. Working on these books has only increased my respect for his abilities.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;None of you ran out to get the book because of me. My job was, and continues to be, to stay out of the way and let you enjoy the story that Robert Jordan wanted you to have. I am honored and humbled that so many of you have enjoyed the book. Thank you for what you have done in giving me a chance to prove myself to you.&lt;/p&gt;Humble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8888336514944883813?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8888336514944883813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8888336514944883813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8888336514944883813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8888336514944883813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/mark-of-humble-man.html' title='The mark of a humble man'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1919424003075984369</id><published>2009-11-06T07:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T07:00:05.861-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Who is surprised?</title><content type='html'>Geo-politics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, scary, I know. Right now the focus of the world is focused in the area of the 'stans' pretty heavily. The spectre of the Taliban and al Qaeda has been brought into the news media's top sheet quite often in the past several years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the ever lingering question is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know that many of the leadership escaped from Afghanistan into Pakistan. We know that Pakistan is ostensibly a partner with western nations in the attempts to eradicate these leadership elements. We have seen Pakistani forces engaged in operations against the 'tribal regions' where these two groups are supposed to be hiding out. Why are we not seeing results after years of effort on the part of several governments?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the reason is the one we don't want to think about. They are in cahoots with the Islamabad government - or at least elements within it. And guess what? That's exactly what a French (as in France, not Quebec) author is &lt;a href="http://ricks.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2009/11/05/french_terrorism_official_on_pakistan_s_double_game"&gt;saying&lt;/a&gt;. "The central government has lost control of certain elements of the army and the ISI, an intelligence service that no longer has the trust of its foreign partners."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, as &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Dudley_Warner"&gt;Charles Dudley Warner&lt;/a&gt; put it in the 19th century:&lt;br /&gt;    Politics makes strange bedfellows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca change, plus ca change pas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1919424003075984369?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1919424003075984369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1919424003075984369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1919424003075984369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1919424003075984369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/who-is-surprised.html' title='Who is surprised?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8082475350633620815</id><published>2009-11-05T07:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T07:00:06.015-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wheel of Time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robert Jordan'/><title type='text'>Line 'em up!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, when people ask me what kind of books I like to read, I get a strange look at my answer: science fiction and fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, I have enjoyed books from many genres, but SF/F keeps drawing me back in. I enjoy the alternate times, alternate worlds, potential futures, and of course, completely made up environments where magic is real and the quests epic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, when the stars are aligned, the tea leaves read, and everything else comes together at the right time and the right place, the general public gets a head's up that there is something other than "general fiction" available at the book store. I refer, of course, to the dreaded best-seller's list. So imagine my delight when I heard that my newest read will be shown as having dethroned the less than stellar Dan Brown &lt;a href="http://mrsspitspouts.blogspot.com/2009/10/lost-symbol.html"&gt;formulaic&lt;/a&gt; fiction from the top of the NYT Bestseller list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes indeed, The Gathering Storm debuts at number 1. Just goes to show you, there are a lot of us fans of fantasy out there! ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8082475350633620815?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8082475350633620815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8082475350633620815' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8082475350633620815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8082475350633620815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/line-em-up.html' title='Line &apos;em up!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8567417389211687489</id><published>2009-11-04T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T07:00:00.600-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><title type='text'>Too cool... go to school!</title><content type='html'>Not much to write about, but Mrs. Spit tells me that I'm a slacker if I don't do SOMETHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I present to you, tacit evidence why kids need science. And yes, I've been called a nerd most of my life! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SvDgHbZL9PI/AAAAAAAAAa8/b7GkHOv79SI/s1600-h/celebrity-pictures-hyneman-savage-revenge-nerds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SvDgHbZL9PI/AAAAAAAAAa8/b7GkHOv79SI/s400/celebrity-pictures-hyneman-savage-revenge-nerds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400062371434329330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8567417389211687489?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8567417389211687489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8567417389211687489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8567417389211687489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8567417389211687489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/too-cool-go-to-school.html' title='Too cool... go to school!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SvDgHbZL9PI/AAAAAAAAAa8/b7GkHOv79SI/s72-c/celebrity-pictures-hyneman-savage-revenge-nerds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8000115699921438648</id><published>2009-11-03T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T20:00:00.789-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Remember</title><content type='html'>Now that we're done with the folly that is Halloween, we approach Remembrance Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month, we remember. We take a moment of quiet in a ceremony that started as a result of the Great War - what we now call World War One - but which has grown to encompass the losses in all military conflicts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not you be British, &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWsf76wG78g"&gt;this presentation&lt;/a&gt; is ubiquitous in it's truth and scope regarding the young soldiers, sailors, and airmen that our governments send into harm's way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8000115699921438648?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8000115699921438648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8000115699921438648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8000115699921438648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8000115699921438648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/remember.html' title='Remember'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4176354533340283248</id><published>2009-11-02T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T07:00:25.436-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Write then!</title><content type='html'>Did you know that November is National Novel Writing Month?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truly... how did you get by without knowing that? Then again, seeing as how I have lately had problems writing a couple pithy comments into a blog, I'm not sure I'd want to attempt a 50,000 word novel! Almost 1700 words... PER DAY?!? Yikes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a friend who is over 3500 words this weekend already. But then again, she's been planning this work for at &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;least&lt;/span&gt; a month now. Plans... creative writing needs plans!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're curious, here's the location link for &lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/"&gt;NaNoWriMo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4176354533340283248?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4176354533340283248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4176354533340283248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4176354533340283248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4176354533340283248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/write-then.html' title='Write then!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-994782385001262478</id><published>2009-10-30T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T07:00:05.041-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><title type='text'>Happy stupid outfit day</title><content type='html'>For the first time in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I have no idea when the last time is that I wore a costume. Maybe 94? That's my best bet. Ahh, the heady days of university. All kinds of opportunities to be... sociable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm headed in to work dressed as a lumberjack. Not in the Monty Python style, but actually wearing clothes that men carrying saws with a 48" bar will wear in the north of B.C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I have these clothes lying around the house? Well, that's a story... as I used to walk around the wilderness of northern B.C. carrying a chainsaw. That I was ALSO part of a crew of guys carrying survey instruments, and we switched off who carried what, might have some significance to this story. I won't need a jacket tomorrow though... even with the snowfall! Thick wool pants, heavy shirt, and a wool overshirt... yeah, it's toasty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Sups_ha_pjI/AAAAAAAAAa0/jeAL888LAzQ/s1600-h/bush+20001104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Sups_ha_pjI/AAAAAAAAAa0/jeAL888LAzQ/s400/bush+20001104.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398246941916112434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad about the plastic axe. However, as there was a half-mad man holding an office building hostage with a pistol last week - a block from my office - maybe NOT looking like an axe-murderer is a good thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-994782385001262478?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/994782385001262478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=994782385001262478' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/994782385001262478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/994782385001262478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-stupid-outfit-day.html' title='Happy stupid outfit day'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Sups_ha_pjI/AAAAAAAAAa0/jeAL888LAzQ/s72-c/bush+20001104.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6172716862737824727</id><published>2009-10-29T18:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T18:33:52.262-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Wow, bad park!</title><content type='html'>You know it's bad when a parking 'incident' from York, Ontario, makes it onto the &lt;a href="http://www.topgear.com/uk/car-news/worst-parking-2009-10-29?utm_source=rss&amp;amp;utm_medium=rss&amp;amp;utm_campaign=ongoing"&gt;Top Gear Blog&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, if you're a member at a fitness club, and you happen to drive OVER the vehicles of other patrons, don't be a yutz and leave the scene! The &lt;a href="http://www.police.york.on.ca/docs/press_releases/%5B2009-10-29%5D%20ARREST%20OF%20FAIL%20TO%20REMAIN%20SUSPECT%20IN%20THE%20TOWN%20OF%20MARKHAM.pdf"&gt;police&lt;/a&gt;, they don't take too favourably to this. Even if you happen to own a cheap little car like a $60K BMW &lt;a href="http://www.bmw.ca/ca/en/newvehicles/x5/x5/2006/carconfigurator/configurator.html"&gt;M5&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to drive over other people's cars, do it in a monster truck, driving over cars bought from the junkyard. Especially when there is a security camera covering the parking lot...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.msaf.net/x5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6172716862737824727?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6172716862737824727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6172716862737824727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6172716862737824727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6172716862737824727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/wow-bad-park.html' title='Wow, bad park!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-741016778311189689</id><published>2009-10-29T07:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T07:00:00.757-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wheel of Time'/><title type='text'>Progressing through it</title><content type='html'>The Gathering Storm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not done yet! But I just finished up the scene, for lack of a better descriptor, that I will call the "fireside chat"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long way to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, this was my mastiff tonight:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://ihasahotdog.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/cute-puppy-pictures-pooped-egzausting.jpg" alt="cute pictures of puppies with captions" title="cute-puppy-pictures-pooped-egzausting" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-741016778311189689?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/741016778311189689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=741016778311189689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/741016778311189689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/741016778311189689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/progressing-through-it.html' title='Progressing through it'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-9156529244731310089</id><published>2009-10-28T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T07:00:19.808-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Move along...</title><content type='html'>Nothing to see here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img title="funny-pictures-cat-has-trapped-dog" src="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/funny-pictures-cat-has-trapped-dog.jpg" alt="funny pictures of cats with captions" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regular blog expressions to come later, once I've gotten through more of The Gathering Storm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-9156529244731310089?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/9156529244731310089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=9156529244731310089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/9156529244731310089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/9156529244731310089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/move-along.html' title='Move along...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3425214269471719648</id><published>2009-10-27T07:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T07:00:06.221-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>But... it's hard!</title><content type='html'>I find it amusing, in a completely off-kilter way, that the US military machine is finding out what we've known for a long time:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ricks.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2009/10/26/8_lessons_from_afghanistan_a_report_from_the_front"&gt;Afghanistan is hard.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got friends and former classmates who are either there, in the field, as I type this, or who have had multiple tours through the meat grinder that is Afghanistan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that the US is withdrawing from Iraq and sending more troops BACK to Afghanistan to fight in a fight that it unanimously declared complete before charging off to Iraq in the first place - when it was far from won - it is learning some hard lessons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, the warnings of the pundits from before the initial invasion are not so much scare tactics now. The country that beat up the British Empire and the Soviet machine is continuing to try and beat up the rest of the armies sent there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know the answer to the bigger questions, but I do find it amusing in a vaguely perverted sense that what non-US military forces have been saying for years is being realized anew by the present commanders. It's hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3425214269471719648?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3425214269471719648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3425214269471719648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3425214269471719648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3425214269471719648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/but-its-hard.html' title='But... it&apos;s hard!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6184351803033938282</id><published>2009-10-26T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T07:24:21.573-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wheel of Time'/><title type='text'>One more day...</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's true... tomorrow "The Gathering Storm" comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might be reading a little bit this week... though, it's only like 400,000 words long or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit could do crack that off over a lunch hour or two!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6184351803033938282?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6184351803033938282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6184351803033938282' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6184351803033938282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6184351803033938282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-more-day.html' title='One more day...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4782256854092595452</id><published>2009-10-24T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T07:00:01.254-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Comic relief</title><content type='html'>There once was a time when I would look forward to the daily newspaper arriving at home. I was young and didn't care a bent wiffle for the news on the front page, or local news, or the sports news. Give me the comics!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had several that I enjoyed. I think fondly back to the days of B.C., Wizard of Id, Calvin &amp;amp; Hobbes, Peanuts, Garfield. These were the comics of my youth. They were humourous and enjoyable. And no, blogger, I don't like that you think I misspelled humourous!!! As my good friend in Australia commented on my FB page a while back: "Have a day with good humoUr!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast-forward a couple of decades. I don't get the newspaper anymore. We found that it, more often than not, ended up on the recycle pile, unread. We get our news online now, or via the radio - why would I want ink that bleeds on my hands? Even when we did get the paper, I didn't much care for the selection of comics anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I found the joy that is webcomics. Thanks to the wonders of the interweb, I get my daily comic fix through my RSS feed - another Google product, go figure.  I enjoy that the comics I read are created by people who are doing it for their enjoyment. Several of these fine folks have figured out how to make a living by doing an online comic. And you know, they are pretty fine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a list of my favourites, in alphabetical order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://abstrusegoose.com/"&gt;Abstruse Goose&lt;/a&gt; - there are days I don't 'get' it, a strip for science geeks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.afblues.com/"&gt;Air Force Blues&lt;/a&gt; - written by an active Airman, ostensibly a strip about some fighter jocks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dilbert.com/"&gt;Dilbert&lt;/a&gt; - ok, this isn't really news to anyone, but I enjoy my daily fix!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/"&gt;Girl Genius&lt;/a&gt; - have you heard of SteamPunk yet? A very long running strip (Nov 02) that promotes itself as "Adventure, Romance, Mad Science!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lfgcomic.com/"&gt;Looking for Group&lt;/a&gt; - a fantasy comic that started as poking fun at WoW&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://notinventedhe.re/"&gt;Not Invented Here&lt;/a&gt; - software developers, and the live therein.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://requiem.seraph-inn.com/"&gt;The Phoenix Requiem&lt;/a&gt; - I'll let the page describe it better than I can: "The Phoenix Requiem is a Victorian-inspired supernatural fantasy story about faith, love, death, and the things we believe in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://survivingtheworld.net/"&gt;Surviving the World&lt;/a&gt; - a photocomic by an engineer. Sounds dry, is anything but.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.unshelved.com/"&gt;Unshelved&lt;/a&gt; - a comic about... librarians? Indeed... the inner workings of every bookworm's favorite place, somewhat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://xkcd.com/"&gt;XKCD&lt;/a&gt; - my kind of art - stickmen! Comics that often benefit from deeper geek understanding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of these you can just jump into at any point. A few need to be read from the start to understand what's going on. Here is another function that webcomics excel at! You can either buy the author's printed versions, or go into archives and read from day 1. Looking for Group, Phoenix Requiem, and Girl Genius all need the complete story to be fully understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else have some good reading that you can suggest?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4782256854092595452?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4782256854092595452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4782256854092595452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4782256854092595452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4782256854092595452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/comic-relief.html' title='Comic relief'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8463156506389524180</id><published>2009-10-23T07:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T07:00:06.940-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><title type='text'>Adversity, part two</title><content type='html'>I got a short note from my friend, June. It said so very much in so few words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aunt May died this morning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The family is, of good reason, sad that their sister, aunt, and great-aunt has died. But in the same breath, they are happy as well. It's a crazy thing, except when you remember that she had been suffering from cancer for over six years. The last weeks and months were especially bad, with the pain passing through the ability of the painkillers to attenuate it. May, in her death, has been released from suffering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, now the family grieves, while sighing a sigh of relief at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days, living sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8463156506389524180?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8463156506389524180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8463156506389524180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8463156506389524180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8463156506389524180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/adversity-part-two.html' title='Adversity, part two'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1453724488240328732</id><published>2009-10-22T07:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T07:00:00.652-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Getting away from it...</title><content type='html'>I'll bet you've never considered this question before: Within the continental US, i.e. the lower 48 - what is the furthest that you can be from a golden arches location?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer is pretty scary, actually. You have to go to the far reaches of the country, but the furthest by car you can get is 145 miles, 107 via crow transport. South Dakota, I never knew ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone has gone to some effort to &lt;a href="http://www.weathersealed.com/2009/09/22/where-the-buffalo-roamed/"&gt;show&lt;/a&gt; this. Here's the short form:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SuBQU0Za50I/AAAAAAAAAas/E--v0UDcYEo/s1600-h/mcd_us_high-400x290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SuBQU0Za50I/AAAAAAAAAas/E--v0UDcYEo/s400/mcd_us_high-400x290.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395400672182724418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1453724488240328732?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1453724488240328732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1453724488240328732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1453724488240328732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1453724488240328732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/getting-away-from-it.html' title='Getting away from it...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SuBQU0Za50I/AAAAAAAAAas/E--v0UDcYEo/s72-c/mcd_us_high-400x290.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5308512400433233630</id><published>2009-10-21T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T10:50:00.273-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>That time again</title><content type='html'>Happy Birthday to Me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another year gone. Not sure I'm any wiser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well! Life's too short to be serious all the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5308512400433233630?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5308512400433233630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5308512400433233630' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5308512400433233630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5308512400433233630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/that-time-again.html' title='That time again'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7262624624370846066</id><published>2009-10-20T07:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T07:00:05.822-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><title type='text'>Surprise, it's your old companion!</title><content type='html'>I was looking for a term to describe how I felt on Saturday. It wasn't easy. Thanks to this culture of ours, my mind went in the direction of sports descriptions. And frankly, it does a good job of describing how I felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blindsided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to clarify, here's the definition according to my handy source, &lt;a href="http://dictionary.com/"&gt;dictionary. com&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;blind-side or blind·side&lt;/b&gt;   (blīnd'sīd')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--BOF_HEAD--&gt;tr.v.  &lt;!--EOF_HEAD--&gt; &lt;!--BOF_SUBHEAD--&gt; &lt;b&gt;blind-sid·ed&lt;/b&gt; or &lt;b&gt;blind·sid·ed&lt;/b&gt;, &lt;b&gt;blind-sid·ing&lt;/b&gt; or &lt;b&gt;blind·sid·ing&lt;/b&gt;, &lt;b&gt;blind-sides&lt;/b&gt; or &lt;b&gt;blind·sides&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--EOF_SUBHEAD--&gt;&lt;!--BOF_DEF--&gt;&lt;ol type="1"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p&gt;To hit or attack on or from the blind side.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p&gt;To catch or take unawares, especially with harmful or detrimental results: &lt;i&gt;"The recent recession, with its wave of corporate cost-cutting, blind-sided many lawyers"&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;(Aric Press).&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;!--//&lt;br /&gt;//--&gt;&lt;!--EOF_DEF--&gt;    &lt;div class="rcr"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition&lt;br /&gt;Copyright © 2009 by Houghton Mifflin Company.&lt;br /&gt;Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds really academic when you see it in black and white, doesn't it? And when it's academic, it doesn't seem as bad, or as dramatic. So I must show you in more graphic terms what it means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Styj04jp0xI/AAAAAAAAAak/PSC_WIdPytg/s1600-h/osimcnabb425.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Styj04jp0xI/AAAAAAAAAak/PSC_WIdPytg/s400/osimcnabb425.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394366582613463826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" &gt;(image from &lt;a href="http://nfl.fanhouse.com/2007/10/05/osi-umenyiora-sacks-donovan-mcnabb-six-times-whos-to-blame/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, in case you're interested)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone in that photo is about to be surprised by a rapid and forceful encounter with the turf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I felt like on Saturday morning. I felt like I had things in control, and then seemingly out of nowhere, I got tackled by grief. And like the quarterback, I was slammed down pretty hard, getting my wind knocked out of me. I was caught completely unawares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning I was sitting, waiting for my winter tires to be installed. I had my book with me and I was reading, killing time. And that's when I got blindsided. I had the sudden realization that I wouldn't be able to use tasks such as getting new tires to introduce my son, my Gabriel, into the world of men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, a tire store is a guy's place. You walk in the door to be assaulted by the smell and sight of new rubber. There are tires and wheels everywhere. The sales staff are in work clothes, ready to help you and explain the world of tires to you. You have tires in all flavours, from sporty, to winter, to off-road, to the imminently boring yet necessary cheap tires for small cars. In the corner the popcorn machine churns out it's perfume (at 7:30 in the morning at that). There is a 24 hours sports channel going on the TV. You have a remote monitor readout so you can watch the guy doing wheel balancing. Techs going in and out, especially paying homage to the coffee maker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it hit me. I wouldn't be able to explain that corner of the world to Gabriel. Pass on the pearls of wisdom from my own father - such as "Brakes and tires, as long as those are in good condition, the rest is negotiable. Without those two, you have no control and you're not safe." As I looked around the store with a child's eyes, I saw all that needs explaining to a child. How to read a tire. What is the purpose of having different types of tires. Why we were buying four winter tires and not just two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This little corner of the world had a plethora of lessons that I will never teach Gabriel. I will never take him for a morning away from home, introducing him to things that a guy needs to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the day, Mrs. Spit and I went to a baby girl's 'tea party' - also known as an open house for this couple's friends to come and meet their recently adopted infant. I can't say that I was excited to be going, but we have to continue to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit handed me the little girl to hold, though I must admit that she offered me the chance to abstain. I held the child in my arms, and even held the bottle while she went to town. It was enough to rip my heart out to hear Mrs. Spit commenting to others that I am so very good at holding babies, and that babies seem to love it in my arms. I wanted to hand off little Ivy and leave, now. But I couldn't - though I did take the first available chance to hand her off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been almost two years since my little Gabriel was swept out of my life. I thought that I was doing pretty well in my grief. I thought that I had been through the worst of it, and that I could go forward with life with remembrances of Gabe, but without the searing pain of his loss laid open like a fresh wound sprinkled in salt. I thought that, since I was able to attend a remembrance walk earlier this month without wanting to run away to escape the pain, I was living with and adjusted to my grief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The football analogy breaks down at this point. Sure, quarterbacks get blindsided, but it happens pretty regularly to them. As they are used to it, they are able to stand up, brush off, and carry on. I'm not able to do this. Instead, days later, I am still dazed and bruised from the experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7262624624370846066?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7262624624370846066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7262624624370846066' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7262624624370846066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7262624624370846066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/surprise-its-your-old-companion.html' title='Surprise, it&apos;s your old companion!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Styj04jp0xI/AAAAAAAAAak/PSC_WIdPytg/s72-c/osimcnabb425.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5355934654847149914</id><published>2009-10-19T11:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T11:21:59.538-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Illness'/><title type='text'>Being sick sucks</title><content type='html'>I'm working on a post. Really. It was going to post today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I feel like something the mastiff has chewed up right now, so it's got to wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5355934654847149914?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5355934654847149914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5355934654847149914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5355934654847149914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5355934654847149914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/being-sick-sucks.html' title='Being sick sucks'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5345354818716230223</id><published>2009-10-18T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T07:00:02.106-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Formula 1'/><title type='text'>And the rain came down</title><content type='html'>Wow. Talk about rain. We sure don't get anything like the rain in Interlagos, Brazil!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formula 1's penultimate race runs Sunday in Brazil - 10 am local time here - wow, I get to sleep in massively! Much nicer than 6 am local time here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How fitting that the final pole-sitter is a Brazilian who hasn't been on pole in years. This after the one hour qualifying session ran close to four hours. Nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I saw a news piece where King Bernie is suggesting that it will be more exciting if Button doesn't win the driver's championship until the final race of the year. Awfully sporting of him, don't you think? I'd rather see Hamilton in the cat-bird seat, but it's not his year to repeat as champion. Car just hasn't been there this year. And in Brazil? He and Kovi are breathing exhaust fumes off the start, 18th and 17th respectively. Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to think, TSN cut their coverage of qualifying after a paltry hour and half... Philistines!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5345354818716230223?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5345354818716230223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5345354818716230223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5345354818716230223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5345354818716230223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-rain-came-down.html' title='And the rain came down'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2718330052536402206</id><published>2009-10-17T07:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T07:00:00.210-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Getting tyred*</title><content type='html'>It's now officially not summer any more. We have had snow and ice. Did I hear a groan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Spit-mobile is shod with the OEM 'all-season' tyres that came with it. Obviously the person who came up with the concept of naming these tyres was not from a part of the country that has frozen water fall from the skies. If you look into it, you'll see that all-season as regards tyres is synonymous with 'roads that are dry, or have been rained on'. Seriously, they are not all-season when your seasons include snow and ice. As the OEM tires, after 50,000 km, have been chirping and singing under non-extreme conditions already (normal driving), they are up for changing. And on the skiff of snow that we had this week? Yikes! At least we know that the circuitry is functioning on the ABS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday I went into a local outlet of &lt;a href="http://kaltire.ca/"&gt;Kal Tire&lt;/a&gt; to inquire about some winter rubber. They had the specific tyres that I &lt;a href="http://www.nokiantires.com/tyre?id=11949&amp;amp;group=1.01&amp;amp;name=Nokian%20Hakkapeliitta%20R"&gt;want&lt;/a&gt; in stock. In fact, they are the only retailer in Canada to stock Nokian tyres. The previous Spit-mobile has been shod in Nokian &lt;a href="http://www.nokiantires.com/tyre?id=11884&amp;amp;group=1.01&amp;amp;name=Nokian%20WR"&gt;WR&lt;/a&gt; tyres - a tyre billed correctly as 'all-weather.' So we have the bonus of both excellent customer service, and tyres that rock. The only thing is that the location I went to informed me that they don't make appointments for tyre installs, first come - first served. Ok I thought, I can go in early, wait for the install, and be on with my day somewhat late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning I arrived 20 minutes before the doors open (7:10 am) to find a lineup of 10-15 people standing at the door. So much for THAT idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday will be attempt number two to find my new winter rubber. With luck, by the time you read this - unless you're a real early bird - the new tyres will be on the Spit-mobile. Otherwise I don't know WHEN this will get done. Leave my car there all day? Pigs fly I hear...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want the winter tyres that we promised ourselves years ago that we would buy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*British spelling used for kicks here&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2718330052536402206?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2718330052536402206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2718330052536402206' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2718330052536402206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2718330052536402206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/getting-tyred.html' title='Getting tyred*'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1621305364969990148</id><published>2009-10-16T12:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T13:04:56.348-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Bullet the blue sky</title><content type='html'>With apologies to U2 for borrowing their title...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how the internet is a bastion of wild and crazy videos? Sometimes you see something that leaves people talking about it around the water cooler: "Hey, did you see the one with the baby carriage under the train?" (for reference, here's that &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/10/16/australia.baby.train.escape/index.html"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, to use the term of the infamous comedy group, Monty Python, who was just lauded with a BAFTA, for something completely different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across this link via a link from a military related blog that I read. It's about bullets. Now, before you roll your eyes to the sky about how such a topic could be interesting, bear with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen a rifle bullet spinning as it passes through the air? How about impart spiral grooves to the expanding mass of ballistics gel? These are just two of the things that you can see when you watch this ten minute &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfDoQwIAaXg"&gt;video&lt;/a&gt;. In a video worthy of the MythBusters, &lt;span&gt;Werner Mehl from Kurzzeit puts together a video, music by others I believe, of some super high speed footage. How fast is super? 1000 frames per second? 10,000 fps? Not even close. This is purported to be short at one million frames per second. Yeah, 1,000,000 fps. That in itself is pretty amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was fascinated to watch how different bullets impacted on the steel plates. How bullets reacted when hit with ball bearings (? - not sure what they were) in flight was pretty wild. To see the side of a bullet sheared off when it hits the edge of armour plate was cool. The... unpeeling of a rifle round as it self-destructs against armour plate, including the play of reflection on the metal as it continues to spiral against the plate was indeed fascinating. It also shows the effects of hollow point bullets against ballistics gel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lessons today?&lt;br /&gt;1. technology allows us to see some pretty cool things that are otherwise unviewable&lt;br /&gt;2. always set the brake on the baby carriage on a windy day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1621305364969990148?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1621305364969990148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1621305364969990148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1621305364969990148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1621305364969990148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/bullet-blue-sky.html' title='Bullet the blue sky'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7754299991277903761</id><published>2009-10-16T07:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T07:00:06.920-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wheel of Time'/><title type='text'>Less than two weeks to go...</title><content type='html'>It was four years ago that book nine of the Wheel of Time was released. It seems like forever ago. When Robert Jordan died two years later, there were a lot of fans who feared that they would never know the ultimate conclusion to the story. We would never read the final scene that RJ had in fully fleshed out and completed in his mind when he first put pen to paper to write the first book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, a young author and fan of the Wheel of Time was picked by RJ's widow to continue the series to its completion. Brandon Sanderson to the rescue. He's a good author - and busier than a one-armed paper hanger right now. Not only has he been writing like mad to complete the saga of Wheel of Time, he also has his own projects that he is still writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like many fans, I'm waiting for October 27th to role into town. I have the book on pre-order at my local, non-chain, book store. The same book store where I retreated to help me find hard cover copies of the first six books in the series a few years ago. When I went to Chapters, they said "Sorry, they are not in our computer, we can't get them." Audrey's, on the other hand, scoured Canada and found new copies of the series tucked in out-of-the-way places. After about 45 minutes, I was making my order and leaving, a satisfied customer. Yeah, I'll keep giving them business!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then came along a wrench in my plan. Dear Mr. Sanderson posted on his blog, about two months after I had pre-ordered my copy, about the book signing tour he would be taking. If I wanted to go see him, however, I'd have to drive to Washington State - no crossing the border on this tour. However, he did set up a deal with a store near his home, where we rabid fans could order a signed and numbered copy. I have three signed books in the series so far, and here's a chance for another one. Yeah, I got my order in post-haste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the rub, do I cancel my local order and wait for the post to bring my signed copy? Or, do I keep it and have two copies? Yeah... like any true nut-case... err... fan, I'm going to get my copy and start reading right away. When the signed copy comes, I'll read it and then extend the shelf-space needed for the whole series.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone want a slightly used copy of The Gathering Storm? I'll have one to give away come early November!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7754299991277903761?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7754299991277903761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7754299991277903761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7754299991277903761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7754299991277903761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/less-than-two-weeks-to-go.html' title='Less than two weeks to go...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6260004359014586458</id><published>2009-10-15T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T07:00:05.378-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anger'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><title type='text'>Adversity</title><content type='html'>To truly know a person's character, you need to see how they respond in a crisis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all want to think that in a crisis, we would be like John Wayne, unflappable and able to take charge and get the job done. Sadly, the truth is that we are not all like that. We can be moved off our center by events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was playing a game on Facebook, Farm Town. I saw that one of my internet friends was online and playing the game, so I went to check in. We started to chat. This lady, call her June, lives in Montana. She was sitting with her daughter, Violet, just mucking about with the computer. She started the conversation by telling me that things had been pretty crappy lately. And then the story of how she got to be playing Farm Town with her daughter came out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June's Aunt May is dying. She is afflicted with both a blood and a brain cancer and has been suffering for about six years now. She is now at the point where the doctors have said that there is maybe three weeks left. And she is in some pretty major pain now. June just wants her Aunt to be comfortable. After all of this time of lingering illness and pain, she just wants her Aunt to be relieved of the pain. She is reconciled to what this means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June's mom, Sue, is another story. Sue is everything that May is not. Sue is one of those people who refuse to live in the same world as the rest of us. She refuses to accept that her sister is dying, because that would hurt her. She thinks that June is terrible for comforting May, and for telling her that it would be ok for her to die. She is, in a word, selfish. So selfish that she got herself and her daughter thrown out of the hospital last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you say when a friend tells you something like this? That her mother came into the hospital room where she and her aunt were talking about wanting the pain to end. A talk where she consoled her aunt that it is ok to want to die to end the pain. Into this imagine the mother walking in and pitching a major screaming fit? Mother and daughter getting into a fight. Grand-daughter trying to separate the two women. Grandmother shoving the grand-daughter out of the way so she could get back to her own daughter. Aunt is still in the bed, in pain. June tells me that she ended up with Sue against the wall, apparently threatening to choke her in order to stop the insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why was Sue so unreasonable? To my ears, it sounds like she is in some pretty severe denial. She doesn't want to accept that her sister is dying. June tells me that her mother is incredibly selfish, and this is only the latest example of a life of selfishness. And Aunt May? Still in pain, watching the meltdown of her family in front of her hospital bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were chatting, June had to leave for a while as she had a long moment. Violet asked me "Is my mom going to be ok?" Pretty scary stuff for a high school freshman to have to endure. She was concerned because she's never seen her mom go off on someone like this. I tried to explain that, yes, her mom would be ok in time. Extremely emotional times lead to abnormal behaviours. Including her mom, who never runs from things, just wanting to curl up in a corner and hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a pretty blunt introduction to the psychology of stress for a young woman. In the end, we're looking at further estrangement of the mother from her daughter and grand-daughter, the victory of cancer over another good individual, and another day when I truly wonder at the fortitude of the staff of your typical oncology ward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, but for the grace of God, go I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6260004359014586458?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6260004359014586458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6260004359014586458' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6260004359014586458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6260004359014586458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/adversity.html' title='Adversity'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1571036190746340700</id><published>2009-10-14T21:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T21:02:06.462-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Slasher apologizes?</title><content type='html'>Well, this is different. Not to mention wild that we can track this particular feature of the web to a single person. What a difference 30 years make!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/8306631.stm"&gt;BBC article link&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all these years I thought it was some obscure computer code requirement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1571036190746340700?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1571036190746340700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1571036190746340700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1571036190746340700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1571036190746340700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/slasher-apologizes.html' title='Slasher apologizes?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-6659406467670874548</id><published>2009-10-14T07:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T07:00:06.616-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Space'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Space Travel...</title><content type='html'>... it's always cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, all intentional puns aside, this is a &lt;a href="http://books.nationalgeographic.com/map/map-day/index"&gt;really cool map&lt;/a&gt; at the National Geographic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-6659406467670874548?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6659406467670874548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=6659406467670874548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6659406467670874548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/6659406467670874548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/space-travel.html' title='Space Travel...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1289498431163254070</id><published>2009-10-13T17:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T17:00:02.577-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Spit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Giving Thanks</title><content type='html'>It's two days after Canadian Thanksgiving. We have turkey yet to be consumed, along with other leftovers from the 'Dinner Party that Shrank', as I've taken to thinking about it. We started with 10, but ended up with 6 people at the table on Sunday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always hear that an attitude of thankfulness should be an ongoing thing - 365 days a year instead of only at the official days demarcated for that purpose. Like so much else that we should do, it is easy to lose thoughts of thankfulness among the noise of daily life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for the blessings that I have in my life, including a wonderful wife, good health, stable employment, a warm  home to call my own. I'm not being trite when I mention these either. When single I had times when I despaired of ever finding a partner to share my life with. I'd been terribly sick with pneumonia, been laid off when the economy took a nose-dive, and been sent packing when my lease was discontinued.  Each and all of these add stress and strife to a person's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also thankful for a friend and partner who tells me that I'm a slacker and should return to my blog. Mrs. Spit can be a firebrand that way!  So here begins my work to reinvigorate my little corner of the net. This space will be coming back to life. Thanks for your patience!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1289498431163254070?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1289498431163254070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1289498431163254070' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1289498431163254070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1289498431163254070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/giving-thanks.html' title='Giving Thanks'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5474819454944034601</id><published>2009-06-21T19:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T19:41:45.327-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Loss'/><title type='text'>Angel Baby Father's Day</title><content type='html'>Happy Fathers Day From Your Angel In Heaven&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Dearest Daddy&lt;br /&gt;What can I say today&lt;br /&gt;To help mend your broken heart&lt;br /&gt;On this Fathers day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know I would be there with you&lt;br /&gt;If only there only was a way&lt;br /&gt;Although I am in Heaven now&lt;br /&gt;It’s in your heart I will always stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like you where always there for me&lt;br /&gt;I will always be there for you&lt;br /&gt;Just look for a sign and you will see me&lt;br /&gt;In each sunrise and each sunset too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love for you, daddy&lt;br /&gt;Will always be true&lt;br /&gt;You’re the best daddy in the world..&lt;br /&gt;And that includes the Heavens too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I’m sending all my love&lt;br /&gt;To You from Heaven today&lt;br /&gt;And remember I will be with you&lt;br /&gt;Just look for me on this Father’s Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Daddy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From your Angel in Heaven above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Thanks to &lt;a href="http://heartsbabylossblog.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cheryl &lt;/a&gt;for this.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5474819454944034601?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5474819454944034601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5474819454944034601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5474819454944034601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5474819454944034601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/06/angel-baby-fathers-day.html' title='Angel Baby Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8000641823262349773</id><published>2009-06-17T22:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T22:28:31.537-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Lambasted</title><content type='html'>It's been a busy week so far...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I get to drive up to the job site where one of my Contractor's workers had an encounter with a very large timber member last week. The timber won - broken femur (closed, simple) for the worker. Tomorrow is the end of the job - THANK GOODNESS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, to entertain you, &lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/sleep/sheep/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; entertained me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8000641823262349773?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8000641823262349773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8000641823262349773' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8000641823262349773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8000641823262349773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/06/lambasted.html' title='Lambasted'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2293348902522045943</id><published>2009-06-15T09:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T09:24:59.444-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Cleaning up the joint</title><content type='html'>Today, officially, I am sore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why you say? Did you play too much golf on the wicked hot weather weekend that just passed? Did you lift heavy things for Mrs. Spit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I did combine the two activities of lifting heavy things on a wicked hot (for here) day yesterday. As part of the city's campaign to keep the place clean, they hold "Big Bin" events over the summer. Instead of having to haul dead appliances to the recycling centers and pay a fee to get rid of them, or loading up the vehicle with a whack of garbage and taking it to the dump, where you pay by weight dropped off, the local citizenry gets to take it to the big bins and get rid of junk for free. They have tons of large bins and garbage trucks and the lines can be long as people flock to get rid of their junk for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my annual (sometimes biannual) excursion this weekend, I volunteered for the local community group that, using 1 tonne cube vans paid for by the city, wanders the alleys of our neighbourhood to rid it of useless and ugly clutter. We actually charged $5 per item to haul away, though in some cases we just grabbed stuff that was obviously junk that the garbage collectors wouldn't have taken anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We 'only' loaded my van three times. But the stuff you find! Old fridges that weigh a tonne (or so it seems). Wet soggy mattresses that stink. Washer/dryer sets - including one that promised "infinite heat". Now that I'd like to see! Gimme solar corona heat! Yeah! 10,000,000 degrees! Oh, really, infinite doesn't mean infinite? Another driver found a fridge made by International Harvester. Yes, the tractor people. How old was that?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, the bane of any move, whether it be to the dump or into a new house - the hide-a-bed. Why do these things have to weight SO MUCH?!?!? Seriously. It's a small metal frame in a loveseat for crying out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I'm acutely aware of the soreness in my back from the workout yesterday. But it's a good pain. I know that I have contributed in a small part to turning my neighbourhood alleys into something a little more 'city' and a little less 'city dump', and that's a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2293348902522045943?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2293348902522045943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2293348902522045943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2293348902522045943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2293348902522045943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/06/cleaning-up-joint.html' title='Cleaning up the joint'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-626566472682896249</id><published>2009-06-06T11:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T11:54:39.886-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Loss'/><title type='text'>Courage</title><content type='html'>I've been rather remiss and neglectful with the blog. Spring blahs. I know, most people have winter blahs, but I got a case of the spring ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't talk about the insensitive clot of a woman who brought a whiny child to the infant loss memorial last week, or about how, after Mrs. Spit read her memorial epic and everyone had gathered in the reception area, that she blithely commented on how her son was a 25 week baby, and he survived, after hearing that Gabriel died at 26 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead I will share with you something that I found today, via the interweb while cruising aimlessly. Sitting at home while Mrs. Spit is off to see a harlot. It seemed almost trite when I started reading it, but it quickly became evident to my tiredness fuzzed mind (I got home at 1 am from an away trip) that this text is indeed quite true and poignant. I've removed the pithy smiles and cuddles text at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone knows the author of the text, I'd like to attibute it properly instead of to the ubiquitous 'Anonymous'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt;The Difference Between Strength and   Courage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to be firm,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to be gentle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to stand guard,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to let down   your guard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to conquer,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to surrender.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to be certain,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to have doubt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to fit in,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to stand out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to feel a friend's   pain,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to feel your   own pain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to hide your   own pains,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to show them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to endure abuse,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to stop it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to stand alone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to lean on another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to be loved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes strength to survive,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt; It takes courage to live.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-626566472682896249?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/626566472682896249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=626566472682896249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/626566472682896249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/626566472682896249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/06/courage.html' title='Courage'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7613836219062005848</id><published>2009-05-01T11:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T11:23:24.316-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Touched by a quote.</title><content type='html'>May the love hidden deep inside your heart find the love waiting in your dreams.&lt;br /&gt;May the laughter that you find in your tomorrow wipe away the pain you find in your yesterdays.&lt;br /&gt; - unattributed&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7613836219062005848?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7613836219062005848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7613836219062005848' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7613836219062005848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7613836219062005848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/05/touched-by-quote.html' title='Touched by a quote.'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8927197013654790327</id><published>2009-03-24T08:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T08:00:16.578-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Little Brother</title><content type='html'>When I was in high school, I read '1984' by George Orwell. For fun. We had just read 'Animal Farm' and I was looking for something else by the same author. My English teacher recommended that I read it. I did. It was pretty fascinating stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward 20 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished reading Cory Doctorow's book "&lt;a href="http://craphound.com/littlebrother/Little-Brother.jpg"&gt;Little Brother&lt;/a&gt;" and wow, what a ride. His website calls it a "young adult" novel, but it's much more than that. And to think that I downloaded it last year, started it, and put it down practically at the start of the book. Thanks to my friends for convincing me that it's worth a read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other's apparently think so as well, as it's up for both a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nebula_award"&gt;Nebula&lt;/a&gt; and a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugo_award"&gt;Hugo&lt;/a&gt; award. In the Hugo award, it's up against some stiff competition - some pretty big names in SciFi in this list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best Novel&lt;br /&gt;    * Anathem by Neal Stephenson (Morrow; Atlantic UK)&lt;br /&gt;    * The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (HarperCollins; Bloomsbury UK)&lt;br /&gt;    * Little Brother by Cory Doctorow (Tor Teen; HarperVoyager UK)&lt;br /&gt;    * Saturn’s Children by Charles Stross (Ace; Orbit UK)&lt;br /&gt;    * Zoe’s Tale by John Scalzi (Tor)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book's protagonists are certainly teens, but through the book some very large and current topics of discussion throughout the world are examined and questioned. Terrorism, security, and the rather free license that was taken in the name of both after 9-11 are both front and center through the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a fascinating read. As one commenter on his site says : "This novel is the modern equivalent of Orwell's "1984", written for teenagers." I highly recommend it. Excellent read.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8927197013654790327?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8927197013654790327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8927197013654790327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8927197013654790327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8927197013654790327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-brother.html' title='Little Brother'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1162655991139991899</id><published>2009-03-21T13:58:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T14:31:22.244-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>A heart of pure gold</title><content type='html'>Thanks to a blog I read, I found this article on &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/03/19/cnnheroes.jorge.munoz/index.html"&gt;CNN&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What blows me away is that this guy is spending so much of his salary to help people in need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are homeless throughout North America. Here we are, worried about this present recession, and the numbers are only increasing. How many of us are only a paycheque or two from needing this sort of help?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met homeless here, and for many, they made bad decisions and lost everything. There are some that hold full-time jobs, but still need to visit the soup kitchens for whatever reason. How are they different from you and me? They're still human. They're still in need. The poor and destitute are not an amorphous concept in a far away land. They are real and they are here, regardless of how much society ignores them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1162655991139991899?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1162655991139991899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1162655991139991899' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1162655991139991899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1162655991139991899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/heart-of-pure-gold.html' title='A heart of pure gold'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7403283528554213457</id><published>2009-03-16T08:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T08:00:00.979-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Insanity</title><content type='html'>Driving 800 km, with most of it in a mild snowfall...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a shame this town isn't better serviced by regular flights.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7403283528554213457?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7403283528554213457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7403283528554213457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7403283528554213457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7403283528554213457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/insanity.html' title='Insanity'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8429969377757850776</id><published>2009-03-15T08:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T08:00:00.686-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><title type='text'>Caesar's Day</title><content type='html'>Beware the Ides of March. Sound advice, if you're in a Shakespearean play and you encounter some old hags dispensing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching far too much TV of late. This seems to go hand-in-glove with the fact that I've been out of town working far too much of late. But, as my Dad says, it pays the bills. My station of preference when I'm out of town generally defaults to the Discovery Channel, with the Weather Channel a close second in winter. Sometimes though, it's better to curl up with a good book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wish, those several times that I encountered the subject of this blog, that I had been curled up with a good book instead of watching television. If wishes were wings, pigs would fly. There's a banking commercial out right now that shows a man. He's commenting that "That place, where it's not all about me anymore? I'm there." Of course the visual shows a younger man holding his newborn infant while in the hospital with his wife. Just thinking about it, my heart clenches from an invisible hand. My eyes tear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not bloody fair. We were supposed to be approaching Gabe's first birthday. He was supposed to be born almost a year ago. Instead I sit here, with Gabe's ashes over my shoulder. I am still wracked with grief over a friggin' commercial for a BANK for crying out loud. Times like this, the suckage comes out of hiding and throws me around like a martial arts expert, and there's bugger all I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not suffering from a knife in the back from my closest friend. No, this Ides, I'm just suffering from the cruel hand of fate snatching my son from my arms. I have to beware the Ides this year as the memory of the loss of my boy has come floating to the forefront of my consciousness once again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8429969377757850776?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8429969377757850776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8429969377757850776' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8429969377757850776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8429969377757850776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/caesars-day.html' title='Caesar&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3998164857953233847</id><published>2009-03-14T15:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T15:46:43.087-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>It's a good day</title><content type='html'>Happy &lt;a href="http://www.joyofpi.com/pi.html"&gt;Pi &lt;/a&gt;day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbwlhWy7N7I/AAAAAAAAAXw/0QdW1qZqqG8/s1600-h/beatnik+Albert.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbwlhWy7N7I/AAAAAAAAAXw/0QdW1qZqqG8/s400/beatnik+Albert.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313162915375429554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And of course, Happy Birthday to Albert Einstein, extraordinary beatnik!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3998164857953233847?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3998164857953233847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3998164857953233847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3998164857953233847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3998164857953233847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-good-day.html' title='It&apos;s a good day'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbwlhWy7N7I/AAAAAAAAAXw/0QdW1qZqqG8/s72-c/beatnik+Albert.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3089396888356914086</id><published>2009-03-12T08:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T08:00:00.484-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Cooling passions...</title><content type='html'>Every news outlet in the US went gaga last year when it was announced that the Bristol Palin was pregnant. Then she and her boyfriend who did the deed were going to do the right thing and get married. This from a guy who had stated publicly previously on his MySpace page that he didn't want to have kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it wasn't really a surprise when I saw on another blog that Levi and Bristol have &lt;a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/03/11/bristol-levi-split-up-rep_n_173917.html"&gt;broken up&lt;/a&gt;. It's sad that the private lives of a young couple are front page news on the interweb. It doesn't take much time to find multiple articles about it. And of course, being the staid conservative right-wing Christian parents that the Governor and her husband are, things are probably not rosy within the Alaskan first families home today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me cynical, but the whole engagement was more a factor of the Presidential election campaign than it was young love coming to fruition. Which is really sad, because that child deserves to grow up in a family with a dad, not as another notch in the statistic called "unwed mothers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life goes on in Alaska... just like everywhere else in this 'enlightened' world of ours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3089396888356914086?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3089396888356914086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3089396888356914086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3089396888356914086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3089396888356914086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/cooling-passions.html' title='Cooling passions...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4357665833390496842</id><published>2009-03-11T08:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T08:00:00.783-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Formula 1'/><title type='text'>Anticipating early mornings</title><content type='html'>Thanks to a good friend of mine who was born in Great Britain, I was introduced to the wonderful world of Formula 1 Racing about 13 years ago. It's the primary reason that Mrs. Spit and I now have the TV package that we do - so that 18 weekends per year, I can get up at stupid times of the day to watch F1 racing live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will grant you, I could have a system like a PVR so that I could record the races and watch them later in the day. Besides the fact that I enjoy starting my Sunday mornings at 5:30 am on race days, I'd have to avoid several of the blogs I subscribe to if I miss the race. That being said, my television provider will give me a PVR for free, and I'll soon be signing up for one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The major pain in the side comes when I'm out of town for work, and am stuck somewhere that doesn't have coverage of the race. That's the suck, so I'm really looking forward to being able to record things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year is going to be interesting, as there was a MAJOR change to the car construction rules for 2009. Thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8bvw5_red-bull-f1-nowy-bolid-rb5-2009_auto"&gt;Red Bull Racing&lt;/a&gt;, you can see first hand how things are going to change this year. Yeah, it's computer animation. Still extremely cool. Kind of like the weather right now. -40?!?!?! Holy Mackrel!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4357665833390496842?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4357665833390496842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4357665833390496842' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4357665833390496842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4357665833390496842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/anticipating-early-mornings.html' title='Anticipating early mornings'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-241102012089240761</id><published>2009-03-10T22:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T22:33:38.043-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><title type='text'>How Cold?!?</title><content type='html'>I'm so happy that I'm working winter construction right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday&lt;br /&gt;-14C air temp&lt;br /&gt;-26C wind chill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday&lt;br /&gt;-26C air temp&lt;br /&gt;-38C wind chill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday&lt;br /&gt;-39C air temp&lt;br /&gt;No wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday&lt;br /&gt;-36C air temp&lt;br /&gt;-44C wind chill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Sbc8ed5qQpI/AAAAAAAAAXo/vvNW7_uZ2lY/s1600-h/eyes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Sbc8ed5qQpI/AAAAAAAAAXo/vvNW7_uZ2lY/s400/eyes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311780779627004562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thank Goodness the forecast for Friday is only -5C!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-241102012089240761?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/241102012089240761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=241102012089240761' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/241102012089240761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/241102012089240761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-cold.html' title='How Cold?!?'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/Sbc8ed5qQpI/AAAAAAAAAXo/vvNW7_uZ2lY/s72-c/eyes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7687798276624907761</id><published>2009-03-09T08:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T08:00:02.877-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Engineering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Winter'/><title type='text'>Freezing on the job</title><content type='html'>Aaahhh... bridge work. It's so unlike other construction, I guess that's why we have a separate bridge department in my company? We're the loony ones who work construction in winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Alberta, the joke goes, we have four seasons just like everyone else. We have to remind ourselves of this, because people from other parts of the country don't believe it. Others have spring, summer, autumn, winter.  Our seasons are before winter, winter, after winter, and road construction. Maybe it's a result of the fact that winter often starts in October, and stretches well into April, that we have this self-deprecation in humour? But I digress. The other major departments in the company use winter as a time to STAY INSIDE!!!! Not us! Hey, let's work off of the ice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presently I'm working to repair this &lt;a href="http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/off-to-fix-bridge.html"&gt;bridge&lt;/a&gt;. Well, I'm not repairing it. I'm watching others do the grunt work to repair it. The benefits of education! Though, as I explained to one of the guys on the crane crew, I sometimes feel guilty about not offering to help when it's obvious that another pair of hands moving something heavy would be advantageous. Then I remember that if I got injured by pitching in, I'd be hard pressed to explain to Workers' Compensation how I got a manual labour type injury from being the inspector on the job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My job today and yesterday was to stand around and count. That's it. Really. I'm not kidding. I was observing pile driving again, doing blow counts. The difference is that on this job, instead of trying to attain a certain bearing capacity and stop, I was making sure that we got the piles deep enough. Hard ground within 15' of the surface made this an effort - especially when my engineer wanted us to be about 25' down. So, instead of stopping at 15 blows per quarter meter, we were up in the realm of 80 to 140 blows per quarter meter. Overkill anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what the bridge pier looked like this afternoon. We're basically making the old pier piles redundant with a new steel exoskeleton type arrangement to take the weight of the bridge off of the broken timber piles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbSEsJ2LtpI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/SFAO-ueJMC8/s1600-h/IMGP7123.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbSEsJ2LtpI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/SFAO-ueJMC8/s400/IMGP7123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311015754668947090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that I was standing around? Doing nothing physical? As part of the winter construction aspect of this project, Old Man Winter blew into town with a fury. All weekend we have had either a winter storm warning or a wind chill warning in effect from Environment Canada. Saturday we had blizzard conditions most of the day. Not terribly cold (-20C/-15C), but the wind was fierce, gusting to 50 kph! Saturday night the bottom fell out on the barrel. Started the day off with wind chill around -35C. The temperature didn't rise above -20C, and the wind was present all day long. According to the "what happened" today info online, we had windchill down to -39C today. I had frozen drops of condensation collected on my eyelashes, and my eye lids had frost on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, that's the last of the tasks that requires me to stand around outside for long periods of time. The rest is all checking, measuring, recording, and retiring to the heated pickup truck! But, for fun, here's a photo of me yesterday. I can almost button up the vest in summer time... but here I have a lot of clothing on underneath it. I felt like the Pilsbury dough boy with insulated overalls and jacket, quilted jacket with hoodie, two sweatshirts, t-shirt, polypropylene long underwear, balaclava, touque, insulated work gloves I can still write with (not warm enough for today though!), and steel toed &lt;a href="http://www.baffin.com/eng/footwear/Industrial/Barrow.html"&gt;Baffin&lt;/a&gt; boots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbSMYnavO_I/AAAAAAAAAXg/FUFvtq6McHk/s1600-h/winter+working.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 347px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbSMYnavO_I/AAAAAAAAAXg/FUFvtq6McHk/s400/winter+working.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311024215102536690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The nice thing about this kind of work? I'm on my own schedule away from some of the office 'stuff' that gets tiring at times. Staying in hotels alone and away from Mrs. Spit? Yeah, that's the down side of the work. But, as my Dad likes to point out, it pays the bills. I wonder where my pragmatic side comes from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come on this and other projects.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7687798276624907761?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7687798276624907761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7687798276624907761' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7687798276624907761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7687798276624907761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/freezing-on-job.html' title='Freezing on the job'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbSEsJ2LtpI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/SFAO-ueJMC8/s72-c/IMGP7123.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7285184897352080949</id><published>2009-03-08T08:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T08:00:00.885-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><title type='text'>The silence</title><content type='html'>It's been just over 14 months since the death of my son, Gabriel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If he had survived his birth, I would be spending much of my time at home chasing around a toddler, making sure that the house is not hiding any surprises for him to find and surprise us with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I can see my son in the same place every day that I am home. His ashes sit on a shelf erected for that purpose. I will never see my son grow from infant, though childhood into adulthood. I don't even know what colour his eyes were. As Mrs. Spit and I were discussing possible eye colours a possible future child might have, this thought came to me. You see, Mrs. Spit has a gorgeous set of blue eyes. Her eyes remind me of a clear afternoon sky during a prairie winter. Me? I have eyes that change with the light, the time of day, maybe even with my mood - I've been blessed with eyes that get called hazel, because nobody can ever figure out what colour they are at a given time. The mystery thus becomes a question of what eye colour do we pass on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning, I had the express displeasure of sitting through a "tri-party" meeting regarding my construction project from last summer. I drove 8 hours to and from this meeting from the project I'm presently working on. We had a joint meeting with the contractor, the client (the provincial transportation department), and the consultant (us). I was there with my senior manager and my construction engineer. Two hours of discussing what went wrong last year. This with the contractor who doesn't like me anymore - he thinks I have a personnal agenda against him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a number of items where eyes were turned to me in a blame-casting manner. Indeed, the biggest problems we've had on the job stem from actions I took at the end of the job, in error. We had a "process" problem, which had we done things differently, would have led to a much friendlier conclusion to the job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager from the transportation department was at Gabriel's funeral. Both of my engineers that were at the meeting with me came to Gabriel's funeral. How do I point out that last year was the worst work-year of my life? As I have my manager reminding me (somewhat in jest as I'm putting in major OT hours right now) that it's salary review time this month, I recall that I struggled immensely last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I sat in this meeting, thinking to myself that had things occured differently, I would not have struggled to finish one problem construction project. I would not have dreaded working with that same contractor on a new project last summer. I would have been able to focus more clearly on what I needed to do, and when it had to be done. In this unfair world that we live in, I was expected to bury my grief and continue on as though Gabriel's had never happened. I sat, with a metaphorical target painted on my forehead for people to place blame. I had to say "yes, I screwed that up." or "yes, it was an error that this happened" when I wanted to say "Look, my son died. I should have taken months off of work to grieve him. I didn't. As a result, you got less than I am capable of. Get stuffed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It still hurts me deeply and intensely when I think of all that isn't, because my son is dead. It hurts me that people don't know that the new me exists. I have to wrap myself in a blanket of silence lest people think I'm a simpering pity case who can't function in the world. Engineering and the construction industry isn't for the emotionally accessible. It's takes someone thick-skinned and hard-nosed. If you can't take someone swearing at you because you're telling them to do work according to the rules, then there's always other work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The silence took me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7285184897352080949?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7285184897352080949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7285184897352080949' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7285184897352080949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7285184897352080949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/silence.html' title='The silence'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5965121561396257249</id><published>2009-03-07T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T23:00:00.540-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>The story after...</title><content type='html'>When you watch a movie, do you ever wonder what happened to the 'other' guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://nerdist.com/"&gt;nerdist.com&lt;/a&gt;, the Star Wars geek in me got an answer tonight. Oh yeah... also a big thumbs up to stumble-upon for presenting this to me tonight as well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbNcBAkOfbI/AAAAAAAAAW4/u3N6krd6Y8g/s1600-h/Stormtrooper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbNcBAkOfbI/AAAAAAAAAW4/u3N6krd6Y8g/s400/Stormtrooper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310689558001515954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5965121561396257249?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5965121561396257249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5965121561396257249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5965121561396257249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5965121561396257249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/story-after.html' title='The story after...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SbNcBAkOfbI/AAAAAAAAAW4/u3N6krd6Y8g/s72-c/Stormtrooper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8477172501018577825</id><published>2009-03-06T23:09:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T23:12:23.221-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>New day, new hotel...</title><content type='html'>The hotel room isn't quite as nice to look at. But there you go, almost 1/2 the price of where I was Wednesday night as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wiped. Can't sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I hope to further the bridge repair information posts! But now, my bed is calling as it's an early day tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8477172501018577825?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8477172501018577825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8477172501018577825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8477172501018577825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8477172501018577825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-day-new-hotel.html' title='New day, new hotel...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5286326014874018462</id><published>2009-03-05T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T08:00:00.747-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Behind the 8 Ball</title><content type='html'>Working out of town. It leads to different experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take this trip that I'm on. I picked a hotel where I've stayed before. I don't recall having problems here before. Alas, after 1 night of a planned 12, they are sitting firmly behind the 8 ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started well. I checked in last night and was told that Tuesday night was Customer Appreciation Night, and that there would be free pizza and beer in their Continental Breakfast area. Fabulous. A dinner I don't have to pay for. Or so I thought. I paid for it later in the evening, with heartburn from the Boston Pizza pizza. It could have been the Molson Canadian beer as well - there's a reason I drink Guinness - it's GOOD beer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went up to my room, where I had planted my gear an hour earlier. Just in time to see another guy closing the door to my room. WTF?!? And my key-card, which had been given to me earlier, didn't work. The guy said that the desk had given him the key-card that worked in my room. So I traded him and didn't think much more on it. Yeah, I'm typing this with the dead-bolt engaged. But this is standard practice for me while in hotels. In THIS room, it's the only thing holding the door closed... but on to the rest of the story (RIP Paul Harvey)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to setup my PlayStation to relax by playing some Tiger Woods Golf. The TV even had the video/audio RCA jacks at the front - making connection easy-peasey, right? Yeah... So the TV was as snowy as the weather was this morning. Bad connection or something. And then I couldn't figure out how to change the TV to use the a/v input. Casting off my disappointment, I went down to the front desk and reported that the TV wasn't working. When I asked about the a/v input, I was told that it was disabled by the LodgeNet system (this is their TV/Pay-Per-View/Gaming On Demand system). Great. Just, Great. I lugged my PS3 up with me to be able to look at the box. Oh well, that's why I have my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I grabbed my laptop bag and went for breakfast at their Continental breakfast. Why is it that people on the continent (which one? Antarctica?!?!) eat toast, apple turnovers, and juice for breakfast??? Meh. It's free, and when you're eating in restaurants for all your meals, free is good. Oh yeah, this reminds me. They have a microwave and a mini-fridge in the room. Great, so I could buy cheap microwave foods and cook for myself? No. No freezer. No cutlery. No dishes. But there's a kitchen sink! Pshaw....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spend my day freezing in the -20C windchill, trying to instruct an electrical engineer in how to drive piles, and generally doing my job on my construction site - fixing the leaning bridge I posted about last week. I talk to the guys in the local office and ask about the other hotels in town, as I'm already doubting my choice after 1 night. They mention another one that I've stayed in previously. I think seriously of moving to that hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I return to my room, dump my computer on the bed, and turn to the TV. I turn it on - aha! No snow, and a real picture. Oh... what's this? A nasty-gram from the maintenance person. Telling me that if I muck with their TV again, they will charge me to fix it. Yes, they're accusing me of vandalizing the TV in my attempt to hook up my PS3. They tell me that I am ONLY allowed to use their gaming system, built into the "LodgeNet", and for which pleasure I have to pay extra. Hmm... there are no big signs, or little ones, anywhere that I can see TELLING me this. My a/v plug is still hanging on the PS3 beside the TV armoir... and there is only 1 a/v input of that type on the whole TV - on the FRONT of the TV. Is it my fault that the co-axial connection was busted? Um... no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm steamed. I grab my book and head for supper - not walking to the slowest Boston Pizza in creation next door to the hotel. I close the door. I remember that this morning the door didn't seem to automatically seat fully. Looking at the jam, it appears closed fully. I push the door. It opens. I pull the door FIRMLY into a closed position. I push the door again. It opens, again. The door handle still doesn't open the latch, yet the door is completely insecure. A not-too-firm shove pops the door like a can of Pringles. Now I'm a little concerned. My room was apparently open to anyone all day long. Not cool. I could have had my PS3 stolen - again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I initialed against a room rate of $145 per night for this not so "Super" room at a hotel that, to my mind, just sank their "8" ball on their second shot. I go to the other hotel. Their rate, which isn't the actual rate they're going to charge me because my company does so much business there, is $82 per night. Includes the same kind of free breakfast. Actually, theirs is better. It's a motel instead of a hotel. Heck, this makes life easier, really. No tromping up 4 flights of stairs to my non-secured room. Yes, I try and skip the elevator when I'm not carrying my luggage. So I reserve a room for the remainder of my stay in this little town. Easy to effect when I am checking out of my present hotel tomorrow morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I'm looking forward to driving home tomorrow, having a night with my wife, then driving back up to this town for another week in the winter construction business. Two days. Sixteen hours of driving. Yea. Haw. Thank goodness for satellite radio and my mp3 player. But it gives me a damn fine excuse to leave this overpriced, under-serving excuse for corporate accommodations. Why you ask? I have to. I have to drive home, as I HAVE to attend a meeting with the contractor who hates me in the morning on Friday. Followed by driving back to this lovely little northern Alberta town. Pardon if the sarcasm drips on your keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The oak tree that broke the camel's back was impugning my integrity. Everything else was additional to that, I still wanted to change hotels before that note. Afterward? I almost packed my bags and left tonight. Instead I've left them a nicely filled out comment card, commenting on what I think of the service I've been provided.  I didn't even use profane language, but my oh my, I was tempted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, in the same way that I put a PS on the comment card, it's a PS on my post. They have this whole "Project Planet" thing in the rooms, about saving water by not forcing them to wash every thing, every day. Sure, they didn't change the sheets - they do this every 3rd day when someone stays for an extended period. However, when they give the hotel gives instructions to hang your towels to dry if you don't want them to provide new ones, and then turns around and ignores their own attempts to save water? Further gasoline on the fire in my books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't specifically named the major hotel chain directly, but as my readers are all intelligent, I'm sure you've figured it out. To this chain I say: No hasta la vista, baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5286326014874018462?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5286326014874018462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5286326014874018462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5286326014874018462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5286326014874018462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/behind-8-ball.html' title='Behind the 8 Ball'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-7603072187157892936</id><published>2009-02-27T21:28:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T22:18:54.955-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Ice crossing, part deux</title><content type='html'>It was a very long day on Wednesday. After getting up at 5:30 and hitting the road at 6:00, arriving at my destination at just after 10 am, I had a day of meetings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- First was meeting with my local co-workers about the meeting we were going to have with the client.&lt;br /&gt;- Second was meeting with the client and the contractor representative - this for the repair of the leaning bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then lunch. At least my local office manager bought lunch for us - instead of being on the hook for my own meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Third was another meeting with the local guys (all two of them, it's a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; small office) about the second construction project I would be involved in, though this one only on the periphery.&lt;br /&gt;- Fourth was meeting with the client (same one) and the contractor representatives - three of them this time instead of just one. This was more contentious as we had more challenging issues to talk out. Odd, as installing a culvert is much easier and less technical than the repairs we're doing to the leaning bridge! Then again, it's rather unusual to install a culvert in winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finished up just before 4 in the afternoon. The local manager suggested that I could just get a hotel room and drive the 4+ hours back on Thursday. Certainly, this was an option. However, and this was a big however, I had another meeting an hour the other side of my hotel at 9 am the following morning. Not my cup of tea!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving back, I opted to again take the ice bridge. The sun was on it's way down in the western sky. This of course led to a large shadow across the river due to the deep river valley. After explaining to Mr. Minivan that the road would indeed support him, I made my way up the highway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being me, this led to me stopping just up the road and taking more photos. It really is a pretty valley. This photo (if you click on it for full resolution) really shows you the scale of the crossing. It would take a mighty big bridge, tucked in the far north-west of the province with very little population, to span the Mighty Peace. Visible on the far bank you can see the river ferry pulled out of the water for the winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few hours later, I pulled into the parking lot of my hotel just over 14 hours after I had I left it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SajHJwbx3UI/AAAAAAAAAWo/bWJ26_w0gMc/s1600-h/Peace+Panorama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 140px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SajHJwbx3UI/AAAAAAAAAWo/bWJ26_w0gMc/s400/Peace+Panorama.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307711131290295618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sure, winter can really suck at times, but it does lead to some interesting experiences on occasion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-7603072187157892936?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7603072187157892936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=7603072187157892936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7603072187157892936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/7603072187157892936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/ice-crossing-part-deux.html' title='Ice crossing, part deux'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SajHJwbx3UI/AAAAAAAAAWo/bWJ26_w0gMc/s72-c/Peace+Panorama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3440619312928171726</id><published>2009-02-26T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T08:00:00.746-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Crossing the Peace River</title><content type='html'>It was a beautiful day today. Clear blue skies. Not a cloud to be seen. I got to see both the sunrise and the sunset as I drove. The only downside? Two, actually. 1) it was -37 degrees C this morning and 2) I was on the road at 6 am and got back to my hotel at 8:15 pm, with two meetings and 900 km of driving in between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I did something that was, for me, a unique and new experience. I drove across the Peace River. Sure, everyone drives across rivers every day. Except that I was driving across the river surface, not across a bridge over the river. Of course, it was an ice bridge - which in this case was just driving across the river where the ferry runs when it is not clogged with ice. The nice guy with the grader keeps the surface clean, and there are delineator posts so that people don't get lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaYg3pVhFSI/AAAAAAAAAWg/uIpfhs49aO0/s1600-h/ice+bridge.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaYg3pVhFSI/AAAAAAAAAWg/uIpfhs49aO0/s400/ice+bridge.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306965351263704354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, nice day for a drive. I even got to tell a guy, after I drove back across the river, that it was perfectly safe to cross the river and that I, like he was at that moment, was a touch nervous the first time I drove across it as well!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3440619312928171726?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3440619312928171726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3440619312928171726' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3440619312928171726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3440619312928171726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/crossing-peace-river.html' title='Crossing the Peace River'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaYg3pVhFSI/AAAAAAAAAWg/uIpfhs49aO0/s72-c/ice+bridge.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1279784942098662715</id><published>2009-02-25T08:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T08:00:00.989-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Engineering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Off to fix a bridge</title><content type='html'>No great or big post today as I had to go to bed early, to get up early, to take a 4 hour drive to a pre-construction meeting for a bridge repair. Then it's 4 hours back to my hotel (yes, that's a pot-load of driving in one day). Chances are good, if you're reading this during the daytime hours, that I'm behind the wheel of my work truck at 105 kph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness for cruise control!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will I be working to fix? Well... here's what the bridge looked like from the road. For reference, there really SHOULD NOT be a dip in the bridgerail. EVER.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaTWCAyiFEI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/wZXM_LO_XKw/s1600-h/IMGP6148.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaTWCAyiFEI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/wZXM_LO_XKw/s400/IMGP6148.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306601591009317954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here is WHY the bridgerail looks so funky - the classic 'leaning tower of bridge pier' pose. An indication that something is seriously wrong with the foundation of this bridge.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaTWCYgzBdI/AAAAAAAAAWY/m3KoroQY5FY/s1600-h/IMGP6156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaTWCYgzBdI/AAAAAAAAAWY/m3KoroQY5FY/s400/IMGP6156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306601597377381842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, it was either fix the bridge, or replace it. In the interim we closed the bridge. Or rather, we told the County, in the strongest terms, to close the bridge. Which advice the County promptly ignored and continued to drive school buses across this bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see... the safety of our children is how important again? But the bridge is still standing. Why should we close it? It's inconvenient to drive the extra 10 km / 6 mi. to the west to detour around the bridge. Never mind that the advice of our consultant's senior bridge inspector (engineering technologist), their bridge engineer, the government's bridge manager (also an engineer), and heck, the two engineers that the contractor hired after he got the contract are all telling us we shouldn't be driving on this bridge. Let's let Joe Q. Public continue to drive on the bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's the sort of thing to give people in my line of work nightmares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1279784942098662715?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1279784942098662715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1279784942098662715' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1279784942098662715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1279784942098662715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/off-to-fix-bridge.html' title='Off to fix a bridge'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaTWCAyiFEI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/wZXM_LO_XKw/s72-c/IMGP6148.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-360195486760602766</id><published>2009-02-24T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T10:00:01.816-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gadgets'/><title type='text'>It's K2 day!</title><content type='html'>Today is the day that Amazon is shipping the first Kindle 2 ebook readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my Kindle 1 has some screen issues... something to do with difficulty reading print on screen when the screen is blurred, or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I mentioned that the Kindle is a most excellent device? Indeed it is... it's helped me re-immerse myself in my longtime love of reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've very excited about the thought of getting my new Kindle from my friend in the states. She's a trooper!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-360195486760602766?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/360195486760602766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=360195486760602766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/360195486760602766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/360195486760602766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/its-k2-day.html' title='It&apos;s K2 day!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-5239251678941048243</id><published>2009-02-24T08:00:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T08:00:01.491-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Engineering'/><title type='text'>Walking on water (river training 2)</title><content type='html'>I attended a course last week on "ice safety" all about how to be safe while working on ice. Rather timely, as this week I'm spending a fair amount of time walking on ice to monitor work on my river training project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned, the river is eating away the bank. This photo shows the view from the level of the river, instead of from the bridge. The bank that's been eaten away is directly in line with the abutment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWj3sdoCI/AAAAAAAAAV4/mUK9hMx6BBY/s1600-h/IMGP6989.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWj3sdoCI/AAAAAAAAAV4/mUK9hMx6BBY/s400/IMGP6989.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306250328962605090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As you might imagine, washing the abutment away would make it tough to drive across the bridge. Cars don't yet have the ability to hover. The last 'setting the scene' photo that I'll post follows. It's the view of the bridge from past the location of the spur. The trail of footprints entering the frame from the right-centre is approximately where the spur will be centered when everything is done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWkHyqRZI/AAAAAAAAAWA/bRLYxM7xOhs/s1600-h/IMGP6991.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWkHyqRZI/AAAAAAAAAWA/bRLYxM7xOhs/s400/IMGP6991.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306250333283566994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While the labourer was walking around, she mentioned that she thought she heard the ice cracking. Well... if it was cracking, then there are issues!  The ice is seriously thick at this site - to everyone's relief. But last week when I took these photos, we didn't know that yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last photo shows the layout of the guidebank near the bridge. The painted lines are about 5' past the furthest extent of the rock that we are laying in to protect the new bank. I talked to my engineer about it, as it looks like we're going way the heck out into the channel. The answer? Well, apparently the OLD bank used to be out where the painted lines are on the ice, and the vertical banks to the east were once forest situated well away from the river. To put it into perspective, the river used to run straight through the center span of the bridge (seen above) and it is still aligned perfectly downstream of the bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWkBtrYdI/AAAAAAAAAWI/xvMPXBRl0gI/s1600-h/IMGP6992.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWkBtrYdI/AAAAAAAAAWI/xvMPXBRl0gI/s400/IMGP6992.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306250331652055506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The excavator in these photos is prepping the area so that there was space to start building the new bank, excavating the toe of the bank and so forth, as I'll expound upon later. Hopefully it takes me less than an hour to upload the photos next time! Stupid slow internet at my hotel...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-5239251678941048243?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5239251678941048243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=5239251678941048243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5239251678941048243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/5239251678941048243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/walking-on-water-river-training-2.html' title='Walking on water (river training 2)'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaOWj3sdoCI/AAAAAAAAAV4/mUK9hMx6BBY/s72-c/IMGP6989.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1200905927148883417</id><published>2009-02-22T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:24:52.749-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Engineering'/><title type='text'>Training water...</title><content type='html'>It's that time of year again. Err... right. Not quite. Mrs. Spit would tell you that it's not a particular time of year, it's any time of year. Time for Mr. Spit to be sent off to the middle of some remote part of the province for his job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time it's a venture into hydraulic engineering. In the business, what we're doing is "river training" and it's not quite as exotic as it sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike my dogs - well, maybe the Collie, the Mastiff is more 'willful' and not as willing to accept direction - you can't really "train" water. However, it can be directed. When we create structures in a watercourse (i.e. a creek, stream, or river) to cause the flow to be directed to flow where we want it to, instead of where it is tending to do so naturally, we are in essence, training the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The project I'm dealing with right now came about as a result of the river deciding (pardon the anthropomorphizing) to leave its normal path and carve out a new path. The problem is that it happened right at the location of a bridge carrying a highway. As you can see in the photo below, this resulted in a long stretch of vertical banks, as the river moved further east and eroded the east bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaIbg1CPFPI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UO1UjFca-XY/s1600-h/IMGP6981.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaIbg1CPFPI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UO1UjFca-XY/s400/IMGP6981.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305833561802085618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the river can't be brought back into a more disciplined flow pattern, ultimately it would wash out the road behind the east abutment to the bridge - not generally a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result, we are going to be installing two structures at this site. Upstream we will be placing a small spur, while closer to the bridge we will be building a large guide bank. The spur will take the energy of the river and direct it away from the bank. Then, as the river approaches the bridge abutment, the guide bank will guide the flow around the abutment to ensure that it both flows under the bridge and does not erode the bank further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to follow...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1200905927148883417?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1200905927148883417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1200905927148883417' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1200905927148883417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1200905927148883417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/training-water.html' title='Training water...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SaIbg1CPFPI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UO1UjFca-XY/s72-c/IMGP6981.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1192328525480185519</id><published>2009-02-16T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T08:00:00.895-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Winter-time blues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SZkWOSQuD4I/AAAAAAAAAVg/w8vEhQB2TsU/s1600-h/frozen+sunset.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SZkWOSQuD4I/AAAAAAAAAVg/w8vEhQB2TsU/s400/frozen+sunset.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303294470881415042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the delay... I've had a real dearth of topics to discuss. Or rather, a lack of get-up-and-type motivation. Not really the blues...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 14 months ago, while out in the frozen north, I came across this frozen pond at sunset (about 4:30 in the afternoon or so). It was cool. About -20C or so... but neat to see a red sunset in the winter. The closest town is about 60 km from this site, out in the boonies in the north-west section of Alberta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1192328525480185519?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1192328525480185519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1192328525480185519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1192328525480185519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1192328525480185519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/winter-time-blues.html' title='Winter-time blues'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SZkWOSQuD4I/AAAAAAAAAVg/w8vEhQB2TsU/s72-c/frozen+sunset.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8697717142802504749</id><published>2009-02-04T08:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T08:00:01.733-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Playing with light</title><content type='html'>I won't attempt to recreate the story behind the ring, as Mrs. Spit did a masterful job &lt;a href="http://mrsspitspouts.blogspot.com/2009/02/running-rings-around-you.html"&gt;yesterday&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm more than a little science minded, I had to take the opportunity to play a little bit. With a focused monochromatic light source* at hand, I had to try my hand at making the engagement ring that Mrs. Spit got 8 years late into a 'sparkly' show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*read 'red laser' and everything makes more sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most surprising thing about this little experiment was not just how amazingly bright the diamond appears, but how the reflections shoot outwards in many, many directions - including back into the eye of the one wielding the laser! It was truly a representative example of the definition of 'brilliant' - fitting, as it's a brilliant cut diamond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SYkbj6HUmiI/AAAAAAAAAVY/7vQWPu4DZx0/s1600-h/laser+plus+carbon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 329px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SYkbj6HUmiI/AAAAAAAAAVY/7vQWPu4DZx0/s400/laser+plus+carbon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298796740287437346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This photo brought to you by the power of the Canon Super Macro mode on the replacement camera - replacing the one that the low-down-dirty thieves swiped back in November. Sorry for the pixelation - it comes from a massive reduction in resolution for purposes of the post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8697717142802504749?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8697717142802504749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8697717142802504749' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8697717142802504749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8697717142802504749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/playing-with-light.html' title='Playing with light'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SYkbj6HUmiI/AAAAAAAAAVY/7vQWPu4DZx0/s72-c/laser+plus+carbon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3485522142063879223</id><published>2009-02-03T21:05:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T21:12:33.301-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Small town, BIG food!</title><content type='html'>I'm out driving around in north-eastern Alberta today. Driving down the highway I see a sign about "world's biggest pyrogy" and think to myself - "Cool! Haven't seen that one yet!" and turn up the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a slow cruise down Pyrogy Drive... I found this little morsel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SYkUtMT4ZwI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/JflvtJPOJzQ/s1600-h/Glendon+-+Pyrogy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SYkUtMT4ZwI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/JflvtJPOJzQ/s400/Glendon+-+Pyrogy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298789203209381634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes... it's big... That's a 3' high fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the Pyrogy Cafe across the street? Closed. I was more than a little disappointed! I thought I'd have a great lunch in a town of 580 people, but nope... maybe come summer?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3485522142063879223?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3485522142063879223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3485522142063879223' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3485522142063879223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3485522142063879223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/small-town-big-food.html' title='Small town, BIG food!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SYkUtMT4ZwI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/JflvtJPOJzQ/s72-c/Glendon+-+Pyrogy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8722889558251377947</id><published>2009-02-02T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T08:00:02.374-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>That time of year again</title><content type='html'>Winter. I'm sick of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I heard from a friend that Pux-o-something Phil saw his shadow. Pshaw!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Alberta, we have no such rodents. Other than gophers and they're not good for much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time of year. Winter feels like it's been here &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bloody long enough&lt;/span&gt; and I'm about ready for it to end. However, I live in the frozen north, so there's lots of winter left. Luckily we get less than our fair amount of snow. You don't have to shovel cold, only endure it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off for a day of driving in the country, inspecting some large culverts and small bridges. If it were a just cause, it would be inspecting large bridges and NO culverts. That's just my personal bias though, because I hate culverts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, it's a day of slogging around in my winter boots (steel toed), my insulated overalls, jacket, wool gloves, toque and safety vest. I just hope the snow isn't too deep where I'm going, or the air too cold, lest it remind me that winter is a nice time of year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8722889558251377947?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8722889558251377947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8722889558251377947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8722889558251377947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8722889558251377947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/02/that-time-of-year-again.html' title='That time of year again'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3649263178976739240</id><published>2009-01-26T23:45:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T23:48:54.343-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>Sick today</title><content type='html'>Sorry, no thoughts today. Spent most of the day sleeping, slightly stoned on cold meds. Hoping tomorrow is better. Caught a viscious head cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit tried to take the blame. Given that the 'common cold' isn't a single bug, I'm not so sure I'd blame my dear wife for this... especially as many people at the office have been sick of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll have to see how I'm faring in the morning... ugh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3649263178976739240?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3649263178976739240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3649263178976739240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3649263178976739240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3649263178976739240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/sick-today.html' title='Sick today'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-3656964082626616119</id><published>2009-01-25T16:45:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T16:53:05.062-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gaming'/><title type='text'>Rock.. on!</title><content type='html'>I haven't had a lot of time on the net this weekend. See, it's all about spending time relaxing on the weekend. This weekend I am playing with my new PlayStation game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's true. I broke down and joined the ranks of the music gaming world with the purchase of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_Band_2"&gt;Rock Band 2&lt;/a&gt;. Just call me the little drummer boy! I'm having a blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Spit wasn't too happy when she came home this afternoon. She was hoping to have a small lie down before jetting off for an evening of music with her mother. And here I was, banging away on my plastic drums. So, in the pursuit of marital relations, I'm downstairs now, about to go and spend some time reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as well, the "&lt;a href="http://www.i-con-products.com/products/view/71"&gt;Rock Throne&lt;/a&gt;" was made of smaller and younger posteriors than mine! Bring on the couch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-3656964082626616119?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3656964082626616119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=3656964082626616119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3656964082626616119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/3656964082626616119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/rock-on.html' title='Rock.. on!'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4293786029384034463</id><published>2009-01-24T13:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T13:55:20.501-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>There are days...</title><content type='html'>There truly are days when I question my own sanity. What other reason can I put forward?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I did the insane... I went shopping at Costco...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of those days...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4293786029384034463?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4293786029384034463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4293786029384034463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4293786029384034463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4293786029384034463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/there-are-days.html' title='There are days...'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-8857620239618515264</id><published>2009-01-23T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T08:00:00.320-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>A Quote for Friday</title><content type='html'>To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch... to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded! - Emerson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-8857620239618515264?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8857620239618515264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=8857620239618515264' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8857620239618515264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/8857620239618515264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/quote-for-friday.html' title='A Quote for Friday'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-321954313626517322</id><published>2009-01-22T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T08:50:58.240-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabriel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grief'/><title type='text'>The Memory of Hope</title><content type='html'>Life moves inexorably forward. No matter what might be of concern to me at the moment, in the greater picture, my woes will not matter a whit to the universe. Life and death are a constant reality on this little ball that we call the Earth. That my son was born early and did not survive the hour, while a ripping tragedy in my life, has no real consequence outside my sphere of influence, let alone the path of the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a difficult place right now. I am working to move forward in life while at the same time, still feeling the pull of the loss of my son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the Kubler-Ross model of the stages of grief, people go through the following stages of grief:&lt;br /&gt; 1. Denial&lt;br /&gt; 2. Anger&lt;br /&gt; 3. Bargaining&lt;br /&gt; 4. Depression&lt;br /&gt; 5. Acceptance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kübler-Ross also claimed these steps do not necessarily come in the order noted above, nor are all steps experienced by all patients, though she stated a person will always experience at least two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I think back over the past 13 1/2 months, I can see times when I experienced different aspects of this psychological model. Heck, I cycled back and forth between stages at times. Times when I (months afterward) didn't want to accept Gabriel's death, or wanted to just sit in a sullen cloud of doom, doing nothing. Worse was when I thought I was in an state of 'acceptance' and then found myself slipping back down the ladder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've felt like my sense of self, as newly defined as a dead-baby-dad, was in a fluid state. Times like that I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. Not sure of what to do, how to act, who to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt;. I'd be feeling generally fine, and then I'd watch Mrs. Spit get set injured by the selfish actions of someone, or by the sight of a newborn and have to stand with her in her pain. This invariably would prick at my own mental stability. Sometimes I could help her weather the storm without much effect - a boulder of granite. Other storms I would help her with effect - a boulder of siltstone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of late I am feeling more lingering sadness that my son is dead. Instead of being forefront in my waking consciousness, it rests on a ledge in a corner of my mind. It is similar to how my son rests on a shelf in my dining room, contained in a tiny urn. It's a tacit, permanent location, but it doesn't overwhelm me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A huge part of healing, for me, was completing the bookshelf construction. Whereas Gabe's shelf is a small reminder of his passing, the zone of construction that constituted 70% of the floor space of my little house was the hulking brute of a reminder of his passing. Every month that passed with it not done was a reminder that it was started when Gabriel was a little ball of growth within Mrs. Spit. Hope for our future as a family, and hope for the renovation were wrapped up together in my mind. Finishing the renovation not only allowed us to start enjoying our house again, it allowed me to leave that ugly, unhappy part of my life behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I truly feel like I'm at a point of acceptance. Not resignation, not hopelessness, but acceptance. Gabe's death affected me more deeply and more widely than I would ever have imagined prior to his birth. The new normal is starting to settle around me like a comfortable old coat. I could never have worn it two years ago, but now I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have hope for the future of my family, but it's different now. Thinking back, the hope that I nurtured around Gabriel was shiny, bright, and innocent. If we succeed in trying to conceive again, there will be a new hope, different in so many ways, yet strangely similar. My memory of hope past will never be made more than a memory again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-321954313626517322?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/321954313626517322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=321954313626517322' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/321954313626517322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/321954313626517322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/memory-of-hope.html' title='The Memory of Hope'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1803923295002468923</id><published>2009-01-21T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T10:10:00.359-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Government'/><title type='text'>One Canadian's view of the Inauguration Speech</title><content type='html'>As I stood in a co-worker’s office yesterday morning and watched the newly sworn in President making his speech, I was truly impressed. This is one presidency that I hope does not lose the sheen of promise that it started off with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are several points that I really was impressed with, and would share with you here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What good does it do when you rely on sources half a world away to provide your needed energy? What good is the energy if your people are too sick and too ill prepared to use it for the furtherance of themselves or their nation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see this as the start of the criticism of Bush’s government. Instead of brandishing the sticks of terrorism and security, it appears that his focus will be more measured and reasonable instead of trying to frighten the populace on a regular interval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking truth to the populace. It’s like the veil is being lifted, the fog is being burned away to reveal what was hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to ‘man-up’ and deal with things. Again, this sounds like an indictment of the former administration for the less than stellar policies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has me thinking one thing - the bootstrapping of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of shoving intellectuals to the fringes and relying on a dumbed-down approach to governing, it appears that this administration is going to rely on hard fact, new technology, and the help that scientific research can provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee, green energy, who knew? Last year’s oil prices have perhaps led to the idea that we need to figure out another way to power our world. Solar, wind, geothermal, fuel-cells: sounds like the push is on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works - whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the climate of intolerance for education and smart government is expiring; graft will not be tolerated, with a hearkening of JFK’s spirit for good measure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s about time that the words of Benjamin Franklin were said and embraced by those people running the USA: "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as some Christians would want you to believe it otherwise, the nation is built up of more than followers of Christ. Being inclusive does more for unity than elitist exclusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought on hearing this is that Zimbabwe’s leadership won’t be happy with Obama’s speech. I sincerely doubt that President Mugabe will listen. Why should he start now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the US government will start pulling more weight in international humanitarian efforts? Of more pressing significance to me, it sounds like our oil sands will be hurting. However, this is good as maybe we’ll slow in the wholesale raping of the earth here in Alberta?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More JFK coming in loud and clear. Given that we as people define ourselves by the difficult things in life, not the easy, it’s a good point all the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The election mantra was "Change We Need". I see the speech as one big announcement to the populace and the world: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;change, it is coming&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1803923295002468923?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1803923295002468923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1803923295002468923' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1803923295002468923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1803923295002468923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/one-canadians-view-of-inauguration.html' title='One Canadian&apos;s view of the Inauguration Speech'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-1474256761672551412</id><published>2009-01-20T09:12:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T09:53:54.125-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>A new day emerges</title><content type='html'>When's the last time that a day was awaited and anticipated with such vigor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and family in the States have arrived at Inauguration Day. Moving day, really. G.W. Bush is moving out, and B.H. Obama is moving in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm astonished by a couple of things. First - that Bush is leaving with an approval rating of 22% (according to a report I saw the other day). This appears to really put the lame into Lame Duck. Second - that the media have hyped the coming of this day as though it were as important as the landing of the Mayflower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come what may, for the time being, it's the start of a new face in Washington.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-1474256761672551412?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1474256761672551412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=1474256761672551412' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1474256761672551412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/1474256761672551412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-day-emerges.html' title='A new day emerges'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-2954110508100697907</id><published>2009-01-19T21:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T21:59:24.874-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>A Monday-like Day</title><content type='html'>Today I was having a case of Monday-itis. No new post during the day, sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was busy at work. Tonight I did my best to help someone in need (I donated a unit of plasma) and my laptop is on my desk at work. Watching some TV with Mrs. Spit (Dirty Jobs about to start) and not much of an online presence tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More tomorrow... :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-2954110508100697907?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2954110508100697907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=2954110508100697907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2954110508100697907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/2954110508100697907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/monday-like-day.html' title='A Monday-like Day'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984036839011364325.post-4920752051993168737</id><published>2009-01-18T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T08:00:01.278-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gaming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellanea'/><title type='text'>The Return of the Toys</title><content type='html'>I'd write a great long blog, about how much I am glad that we have house insurance... but I can't. We messed up and didn't insure our house for nearly enough jewelry. I think this is because when we got married, we were poor, destitute, and without much in the way of shiny bits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy, were we WRONG! Several piece of our ex-jewelry (thanks you low down, no worth, smelly feet thieves who violated my house!!!) were from 'away' and as such, we found out after the fact, had a higher quality of gold. Mrs. Spit thought that they had a 'funny' colour. Indeed, when the world is mostly 10K gold, seeing gold that's 21K and higher would lead most to think it has a funny colour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the final result is that we are waiting for a cheque for our jewelry losses to a value of approximately 1/3 of what they were worth to replace. Yeah... so long and thanks for all the fish on that one!!!  At least we were able to spend some quality time with our jeweler and pick out some nice wedding bands, and a very nice engagement ring for Mrs. Spit. We're both looking forward to picking up that purchase!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other good news is that today we were able to stop at our local Future Shop and pick up the replacement electronics:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SXLFQBopzDI/AAAAAAAAAT8/_QlkeImMG5E/s1600-h/toys.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SXLFQBopzDI/AAAAAAAAAT8/_QlkeImMG5E/s400/toys.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292509391221279794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mrs. Spit is especially happy that we have a camera again. My work camera really doesn't help her when I'm not around. And really, it's nowhere near as good as our old camera - a Canon S5 IS - or its replacement. Unfortunately, the Future Shop didn't have either the Gran Turismo 5 Prologue (stolen with the PS3) or the camera bag (also stolen when the scum took our camera), so we have a gift card for the value of those items.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked up the latest Need for Speed and have been doing a poor job driving around in it tonight. Now all I need to do is pay off the Visa of Christmas purchases, and I'll be able to get some fun games off of the PlayStation Network.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi. My name is Mr. Spit and I am a gaming geek and I enjoy my electronic toys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5984036839011364325-4920752051993168737?l=spittersmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4920752051993168737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5984036839011364325&amp;postID=4920752051993168737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4920752051993168737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5984036839011364325/posts/default/4920752051993168737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spittersmusings.blogspot.com/2009/01/return-of-toys.html' title='The Return of the Toys'/><author><name>Mr. Spit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17534547218292336393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SIKxbql8zKI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/dprSJel0mkI/S220/headshot.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGOSznymvsc/SXLFQBopzDI/AAAAAAAAAT8/_QlkeImMG5E/s72-c/toys.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
