Diary of a Wolfeman

9:30am. Got up to get breakfast (yay for Lazy!)

10:30am. Some light shopping, got the car washed, stopped at Wendy’s for a quick bite.

1:30pm. Discovered I had missed getting into the bank by 31 minutes.

Damn.

Continue shopping.

3:00pm. Get home, pull shades off of glasses and notice that the left arm is out of position. Inspect carefully, left arm of glasses falls off.

Crap.

Run upstairs, make calls. My regular eye doctor is booked, but I can sneak into Binyon’s at the mall at 4:00, and they take my insurance. Print new insurance card and run to appointment.

6:00pm. Sales lady at Binyon’s informs me that my insurance company’s servers are down, so they have no idea what the dollar amount of my benefits are, please try back tomorrow.

Fuck!

On the good-news side of all this is the fact that my current glasses are frameless with super-light lenses, so I can still wear them with only one arm, provided I don’t move my head too quickly.

Been busy on a project over at the other blog. Check it out!

This makes me happy.

[Judge Emory A.] Pitt wrote: “Those of us who are public officials and are entrusted with the power of the state are ultimately accountable to the public. When we exercise that power in public fora, we should not expect our actions to be shielded from public observation. ‘Sed quis custodiet ipsos cutodes’ (“Who watches the watchmen?”).”

Thank you, Your Honor, for having the intelligence and wisdom to see to the heart of this matter. May all of your brothers and sisters of the black robe agree with you.

Have you ever had an argument – with yourself? And lost? Ahh, the joys of mild schizophrenia.

Here I am, already a JOAT (Jack Of All Trades) with enough varied interests to skin a cat, and here I am wanting to start up yet another hobby – and an expensive one, at that.

Well, expensive if I do it the way I want to, anyhow…

Lately I seem to have caught a bit of the blacksmithing bug, and have been doing a lot of reading online and watching various training videos on the subject. I’ve learned some good stuff (someone finally made a nice vid of an actual Japanese master bladesmith constructing a katana) and gotten a little frustrated by not being able to go out to the garage and pound something with a hammer.

Something tells me the city might complain if I built a forge on the sidewalk…

Got a letter from a lawyer’s office today, which is always a bit freaky. “what the hell did I do?” you think to yourself.

It turns out, it was more of what I didn’t do. Apparently, in 2004, I was supposed to have paid $9 in income tax and didn’t. (News to me, I have no recollection of 2004 at all). So, since I was so late with it, they added a $10 penalty.

And hired a legal firm to collect.

Now, it probably took said legal officers about 15 minutes to set up an account in their system for me, print out the letter, hand-address an envelope, run it through the postage meter and then drop it in the OUT box. With my understanding of the average legal fees, that probably cost the county $25 to collect $19.

Oh, wait, make that $18, there’s a discount for paying online. I hope the County gets a bulk discount for the other 20,000 people that owe them 10 bucks.

Okay, I understand that the legal firm is probably only charging the County a percentage of the funds collected, but still. It seems kind of a silly way to go about it, since the County could just as easily have tasked an intern with calling or mailing people to let them know they owe something before sending them to collections.

Cuz really – 6 years, and this is the first I’ve heard of it? Oi.

We’ve been missing camping since we haven’t been doing SCA stuff this year, so we decided to head out to a regular ol’ campground for a few days to get at least one use out of the tent this year.

We ended up choosing Lazy Bend Campground on the Clackamas River because:

1. It was available for reservations – I hate the stress of walk-up camping
2. It has flush toilets. Every other camp in Oregon has vault-type toilets, which are amazingly somehow worse than a porta-john.

There was also an entry in a guidebook saying how the camp was far enough away from the road that you wouldn’t be able to hear passing traffic, and that the site rated an 8 or 9 out of 10 for scenic qualities.

They lied about the road.

Really, either that or they managed to get all of their notes out of order when they sat down to write up their review. The highway is only between 25 and 75 feet away from all the sites in the camp, and a few of them are visible directly from the road which gets traffic at all hours, including semi trucks. The saving grace for about half of the sites is that the river is also really loud due to the rocky shallows it passes through and it drowns out the traffic.

There was another bummer in that we were hoping to get some swimming in, but the river is low, fast and rocky at that point (not to mention bone-jarringly cold) so that wasn’t an option. Promontory Park is about a mile down the road though, so you can drive down there if you feel like leaving the site.

The biggest disappointment for me, however, was arriving on-site just past check-in time to discover that not only had someone screwed up the reservation cards attached to each campsite, the Camp Hosts had changed their days off and were not in attendance. Tolerant and I were forced to drive the 10 miles back to Estacada to get a signal and make a few calls. We did eventually get things figured out, but it took until the next morning to finalize the arrangements and could have gone much easier if the Camp Host wasn’t such a crotchety old coot.

Thankfully, Tolerant and I were accompanied by one of our best pairs of friends, and we still managed to get a fair amount of fun packed into an extended weekend. We’re going to plan farther ahead for next year and reserve a site early at one of the really popular sites like Detroit Lake where we know they’ll have all the amenities we’re looking for.

What the Hell – Da Roomie did it, I may as well follow along. He told me to use the letter “O”, since I am such an Oingo Boingo fan.

1. If you’d like to play along, reply to this post and I’ll assign you a letter.
2. You then list (and upload or link to the video, if you feel like it) 5 songs that start with that letter.
3. Then, as I’m doing here, you’ll post the list to your journal with the instructions.

On with the meme, then..

1. One Little Victory – Rush
   …because Neil’s octopus impression is just hard to beat. (No link, as there are no official videos, just crappy bootlegs.)
2. One Vision – Queen
   Originally found on the Iron Eagle soundtrack, it always makes me think of fast jets.
3. Only Happy When It Rains – Garbage
   Redhead with a Scottish accent for the win.
4. Owner of a Lonely Heart – Yes
   Indeed, I am a child of the 80’s, and I can remember staying up late to watch Friday Night Videos when this particular video first came out. (Wow, I found the actual video for this one.)
5. One Love – Prodigy
   This is a dangerous song for me to be listening to when I drive, but it is a truly essential part of me proving to the rest of the morning commuters just how good I am at doing physics on the fly. (Hmm, gap in traffic ahead – if I increase speed by 12% within the next 10 seconds, I should be able to squeeze through with a foot to spare, which will set me up for passing that damn minivan…)

Somehow I managed not to include any Boingo in there…

To: the jerk down the street who was setting off mortars until the wee hours:

Learn how to fucking reload!

Honestly, if you had been able to fire those 5 or ten or however-many mortar shots you had in a reasonable succession, I would have been able to wait you out and then fall asleep. But No! You had to be the world’s slowest artillerist and only fire one about every 15 minutes, so just about the time I’d be drifting off, there’d be another *whump*… **boom!** knocking me back into wakefulness.

Combine this with the idiot that honks his horn outside my house every might around 10:15p, and I’m about ready to build some self-contained, automated paintball rifle emplacements on the power poles. Let’s see how long it goes on after the first 1000 rounds of neon pink paint.

Step 1: Purchase / acquire the Microsoft E-Learning courses #6320 – #6324. Study them carefully, expecting them to contain all of the information required to pass the exam. They are, after all, provided by Microsoft for this very reason.

Step 2: Schedule and take the exam. Answer the questions. Miss the questions they ask regarding installing Hyper-V onto a Server 2008 Core installation, because the bloody study guide never mentions how to do this.

That’s right – the entire “Installation” section a complete failure because I had never seen these commands, which they asked about three times:

To view the list of software updates and check if any are missing, at the command prompt, type:

wmic qfe list

If you do not see “kbid=950050”, download the Hyper-V updates and then type the following command at a command prompt:

wusa.exe Windows6.0-KB950050-x64.msu /quiet

There are three update packages. After you install the updates, you must restart the server. The Update for Windows Server 2008 x64 Edition (KB 950050) and Language Pack for Hyper-V (KB951636) must be installed on the parent partition of the Server Core installation.

Hyper-V role

To install the Hyper-V role, at a command prompt, type:

start /w ocsetup Microsoft-Hyper-V

To manage Hyper-V on a Server Core installation, use the Hyper-V management tools to manage the server remotely. These tools are available for Windows Server 2008 and Windows Vista Service Pack 1.

*NOTE* – the above is for early releases of Server 2008. The R2 version has everything included, so all you need is the final ocsetup command.

Well, it wasn’t a total waste of a test. I was the first guy in the office to take the test, so I got to warn the others to study further afield and the next guy passed it.

I don’t know why I didn’t expect this, considering they asked me about Exchange clustering in a SBS exam.

– Or –

Where Da Wolfe learns what he is

Cast:

Me, at 11
BigFish – my older brother, 3 years my senior
Trucker – my father
Gloria – his 2nd wife
Brat – her daughter, one year younger than me (and another Gemini)
Jock – her younger son, one year older than me (and another Gemini)
TheBrain – her oldest son, 5 years older than me

Dig if you will, a picture: one average, American boy, age 11, growing up in small-town Oregon. He has no real clue who he is at this point.

He has moved in with his father in order to follow his older brother, as BigFish and Ma are nearly at each other’s throats at this point in the game. My father is married to Wife#2 Gloria, and she has talked him into starting his own business and basing it on her Mexican heritage – only the Universe knows why the hell he thought it would be a good idea to do this in Klamath Falls, but there you have it.

Trucker and the brood lifted sticks and went over the hill, and I visited a few times while living with Ma and her 2nd husband, but I eventually got sick of the stepfather scene and tired of being an only child, so I opted to move back in with Trucker. Klamath Falls had around the same population as Grants Pass at the time, but has always felt bigger to me for some reason. This is my first experience with an honest-to-$diety suburb – prior to this, I had never seen a town that decided “you know, we need an organized housing tract right about here.” It probably has to do with K.Falls being home to a military base.

By the time I move in, BigFish has already been there for about 3 or 4 months, and is fairly acclimatized. When I get there, however, it’s a whole new ball game for me. Suddenly I’m next-to-last in the pecking order instead of the trusty Lieutenant to Bigfish, and I’m sharing a bedroom with three other boys ranging in age from 11 (me) to 16 (TheBrain). Two sets of bunk beds with maybe a foot and a half of clearance between them. I think I was allotted about a square foot of closet space to go with it.

Compared to this adjustment, going to a new school was nothing – in fact, this would make the 5th school I had gone to, but they threw a twist at me there as well. I was in the 5th grade, and at my last school the next step was middle school. In K.Falls, however, gradeschool went to 6th grade, so I was knocked back one on the seniority ladder there as well. That first couple of weeks, I was really wondering if it was going to be worth it.

I did stay, however, and I have to admit, TheBrain’s best friend ThePunk had a lot to do with it. ThePunk found us through school, and he was extremely glad when he did. K.Falls, for those that have never been there, is primarily populated with two kinds of people: Cowboys and Indians. I mean that literally – the Klamath Indian reservation is right outside town, and the biggest industry in the area is cattle ranching.

You can just guess the average IQ of the place, I bet. For most people there, it’s the same as their inseam. Anyone who has ever been to Albuquerque knows what I’m talking about.

Anyway, ThePunk was at a disadvantage in this environment, for he was (gasp!) intelligent, and had a bad habit of speaking his mind, which often got his ass kicked. He figured if he was going to be an outcast, he might as well go whole hog and dove headfirst into the Punk lifestyle. He had a well-kept short mohawk when I met him, and a pocket full of mix tapes of stuff I had never heard before. He was also the only Punker in all of Klamath Falls and surrounds. He was the definition of outcast at this point and this town. The only thing worse for him would have been being gay.

Needless to say, when he had the good fortune to find a bunch of kids that didn’t want to kick his ass on sight, he latched on tight and damn near moved in with us. Two weeks after I moved in, I came home to find ThePunk shaving TheBrain’s hair into a mohawk.

Up to this point, I had really just followed BigFish’s lead, and hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to be like. With this move, however, I suddenly found myself with many examples to choose from. The Brat was, well, a brat – she was the baby and always being a bitch about it. I avoided her as often as possible. The jock is pretty self-explanatory as well, but he was every bit as much of a dick as his little sister was a brat. We casually hated each other.

BigFish could be a consummate asshole, but he was my brother and I knew how to deal with that. TheBrain and ThePunk, however, were both cool. I think the biggest moment of revelation for me, however, was riding on the bus one day and someone was playing Rodney Dangerfield’s comedy song “Rappin’ Rodney”, and my brothers were laughing along with a bunch of other kids and I thought to myself “oh, it’s ok to like this, the other guys do too.”

This immediately brought me up short. I had to examine that thought pretty hard for a couple of days. I borrowed a bunch of tapes from ThePunk and snuck off with BigFish’s Walkman for who knows how much time listening to all kinds of stuff – The Clash, China White, Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, Peter Gabriel, XTC, the list goes on. (I still haven’t figured out how ThePunk got all those great records, the stores in KF suck).

The song that mattered the most, however, was “Grey Matter” by Oingo Boingo. Right here was a song pointed at me, and I was listening. This was followed up by “Who do you want to be today?” Yeah, they were talking to me alright. Thankfully, I was ready to listen.

By the end of that set of batteries, I had decided that from here on out, I would be doing my own thinking and not just blindly following along with what the others thought. TheBrain would go on to be a big influence on me in later years, but it was ThePunk who handed me that Boingo tape and said “check this out”.