Listening to All things considered on NPR and they are interviewing a woman who developed a computer program, that uses the motion sensor in lap top computers to measure earth quakes. Most newer laptops have an accelerometer, a kind of motion sensor that detects when a computer gets dropped or shaken. If the computer gets dropped, it shuts off the hard drive to save the laptop. Gosh, wish I had one of those three years ago when Purrball knocked the laptop off the kitchen table.
Your laptop could detect the next earthquake I love this quote from Elizabeth Cochran - almost as much as I love the her last name is Cochran - wonder if she is going to have a distant relative named Zefram Okay, anyway, here is the quote --
"As soon as I knew there were these low-cost sensors inside these accelerometers, I thought it would be perfect to use them to network together and actually record earthquakes," geoscientist Elizabeth Cochran of the University of California at Riverside says.
It is that time of year when college kids who got pets, can not take them home, and can not leave them in the dorm rooms. Or kids who got what they thought was a great pet, only to be overwhelmed with the care and feeding of another living creature. An animal, which may not have responded the way the student expected the pet to.
I read so many postings on Craig'slist, long postings, some full of sorrow, about the loss of a pet. From people who had never been given the slightest lesson in how to care for the animal in the first place.
I decided to send letter to two posters tonight, not to talk about adopting their animals, but how to help them keep their pets. One poster had a rat, the rat had bit him. Out of fear I think. I will know further once he responds to my letter. The second poster does not believe he is able to properly care for his pet as it looks unhappy. Again, when he responds to my questions I will better understand what he means by 'happy' and if the young owner, is properly caring for his pet.
It has become the question to ask this week, from family, friends, and strangers.
â€œWho are you voting for?â€
Do you like this one? Do you trust that one? Is he serious about that promise? I know politics is a blood sport here in Massachusetts. Right up there with revenge, and bitching about sports. I should be able to get up a little bit of interest, maybe not the blood boil level of my past, but something, anything? But I can't not a whiff of anger, not a hint of interest. Not over the can dates, not even to vote for the lesser of four evils.
I have read the web pages, reviewed the platforms, watched the debates. The only emotion any of them brings to mind is boredom. Is this the best Massachusetts can do. In this entire state, home of the first blow for freedom from England. The bluest of the blue states, this is the best we can do!
This Daily Show is gonna be a keeper. Part of me is stunned that the President of Pakistani is on the Daily Show, part of me is amazed at how serious Jon Stewart is right now. I don't know what Pervez Musharraf was thinking when he agreed to appear on the Daily Show, but both he and Jon are taking this very seriously. Perhaps President Pervez Musharraf thinks this is the best way to reach the people of America. Perhaps he thought this was a serious Show is our word for funny, his word for serious?
I like his response to Jon when Jon asked him why if the Talaban keeps trying to kill him why he takes the same route to work every day. His response â€œBecause I want them to know I am not afraid of them.â€ I do believe he is about to win over the American people. This interview will be talked about in the morning. The major news outlets, and by this I so do not count Fox, will be showing clips of this interview.
Just some thing I am leaving here for later.
I was going through all the places I go today. Each blog gets different information. In order to understand all of me, you would have to read all of them. They become a big self referential when I talk about one blog in another. So today every single blog, gets listed in one place.
Universal Hub http://www.universalhub.com/blog/374
This is the place for my deep thought, my random brain blasts. Early samples of my writing before the final draft gets sent out to the world. Ideas I can put no where else, and notes about Boston, and the inhabitants with in.
We have our beach back! The tourists and teens are gone, very gone. The beach is empty. To windy for all but the hardiest wind surfers - is that you Senator Kerry - and the local dog walkers.
Byron loves the beach, he enjoys digging in the sand, barking at the seagulls, and rolling in all those smelly things the ocean specializes in throwing on to the beach. Our beach...
Earlier this year I went through a Fast Lane toll gate to fast for the Fast Lane to pick up my id, but not so fast that they did not take a picture of my car and license plate.
When I received the letter telling me I had been charged 20 dollars for not being picked up on fast lane, my first reaction was to call fast lane, and get all 'Masshole' on them. The person I was talking to suggested it would be easier for me to send in a fax, than to discuss it with him.
What a genius! True genius. Because I sent in a fax, explaining how I did NOT know my car had not been read, and that I would like to pay for the missed toll.
It's fun, you can work with or without a partner, and only a small amount of money is needed for apparatus. Most importantly, it will draw all those television addicted two year olds outside where they can get exercise.
Does a two year old screaming in glee, and clapping her hands count as exercise for her? Or just for the adult who should have known better, providing the entertainment.
The back story...
I had a small party yesterday, 30 people. two people under the age of 5. I, knowing nothing about children except that if you purchase them fudge, don't be there when their Mother sees them. - I also hear that until about the age of 3 they leak, but I have no experience in this phenomena. I purchased some large balls they could throw, some bubble stuff they could make bubbles with, or dump on the floor. Option two being the most popular with the two year old. I also bought some blow up punching bags.
Just wanted to drop a note here for the launch of the revamped dog boston web site.
Last night I decided to pull myself out of the funk caused by the Sox forgetting how to play ball. So we went out, to The Top of the Hub. A place where baseball does not exist.
And they won.
So, do I stay up and watch tonight, and hope they win again? Or do I find someplace else to hide tonight? Some place where my boys are far from my thoughts. Where by not paying attention to them, they could be convinced to win?
And 'they' say, the players are idiots.
Even the Onion is confused
Call me confused.
My neighborhood is so quiet today. My neighbors work hard all week. So today is their one day a week to do nothing. Not to do yard work, not to work on cars, not to repair their homes. But to do nothing.
Dogs are not being walked, laundry is not being done. And since it is coldish out, in the mid 70's there are very few people walking to the beach. So the road is quiet. This day is cool, cool enough so that for the first time this week, all the air conditioners are just boxes in the windows. A light breeze plays with the trees, not strong enough to turn the leaves or threaten rain, but enough to rustle the grass and keep the birds and squirrels hidden away.
The Sox are to say the least, returning to the not so glory days of the Sux. The amazing ability to walk into a major league park and completely forget what the heck they do for a living. To swing the bat as if Pitchers are throwing golf ball. I would say they are fielding with all the prowess of me, but I have caught a baseball once.
At the same time, I am watching my friends and neighbors, get bored with the Sox. People who in years past i.e. pre 2004 could not find Fenway Park on a map. Who became fans somewhere in the middle of the Dave Roberts run from first to second on October 17th, 2004 and Opening Day of 2005. These fans do not keep up with the players, or know who the team is playing until they turn on NESN. But what they lack in knowledge, they make up for in enthusiasm, and noise.
My mornings have a basic routine. I stop at the Dunkin near my house and get my morning fix of coffee. Turbo ice, with two shots of espresso, no sugar and a splat of cream. No matter what else changes about me, I always take my coffee the same way.
I have been on a diet since the first of the year, dropping over 50 pounds and 6 clothing sizes. While I have regained a few of those pounds, I have promised myself I would get back on track, moving more and eating less. Which has worked for me so far.
Until today, at Dunkin Donuts.
A recent article in the Boston Globe, asking the question why another donut chain failed in Massachusetts mentioned DD sells more coffee than donuts. Even the newest adds for DD mention their coffee, and other drinks ignoring the donuts for which the store is named. Because, America, or at least this American runs on Dunkin. Coffee, not donuts, but this morning, they got me.
Boston baby dolls
Iâ€™m trying to decide if this is feminism in action, or young woman looking for attention. Looking to punish, or annoy the parents, who must have forced twelve years of tap and ballet on their daughters, then business management in college. While I am pleased to see woman be proud of their less than Hollywood perfect bodies, I was not as comfortable with the obligatory walk through the crowd â€˜passing the hatâ€™ for tips. Or the behavior of some members of the audience, and I do not mean the birthday boys in the corner, or the bachelor party at the bar.
Perhaps it was the patron next to me who really caused me to freak due to his behavior. Really, Mr. State Rep, I was glad to see you patronizing a business in your district, but did you really have to toss that much money in the hat. Or request personal attention from the dancers. And as politician you canâ€™t be a very good reader of body language, as you made the ladies, who agreed to pose a little uncomfortable. Not to mention the lady with the pen and paper sitting next to you, writing all this down. You had to notice me, the B cup in the red shirt, who was so unsure it was my own elected representative I had to stop you and introduce myself. I almost could not stay for the show, and I was glad to have been carrying a shawl to cover my bare shoulders with. You will not be getting my vote next time, not after this.
It's the first day of summer, and Revere Beach is not packed with sun worshipers. The road way, however, is packed with drivers, wanting to see the water, yet unwilling to feel the breeze. They miss the smell of salt in the air, the strange surf and turf essence from Kelly's Roast Beef, or last summers sun tan oil.
Each car contains 4 to 6 youths, windows rolled up, radio screaming as the passengers watch the license plate of the car before, and the bemused faces in the car behind. My once quiet boulevard is packed, and could be mistaken for Storrow Drive prior to a Sox game. I wish I could impose myself on the riders in those gas guzzling behemoths, and ask why they are in swimsuits, if they have no intent to expose them selves to the sun's rays.