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It was my own fault.

I’m what the marketing types call an “early adopter.” I like to get my hands on new tech as soon as possible, so it was understandable that I immediately scooped up the latest version of the Mac OS, OS X Lion, thanks in no small part to an iTunes gift card my sister had gotten me for my birthday a couple months ago. (Yeah, this was all premeditated.)

I performed due diligence: I made sure all the necessary patches were in place on my existing system and did a complete Time Machine backup. I downloaded Lion and held my breath as it installed.

About 35 minutes later the machine rebooted and I was greeted with the new welcome screen. I logged in. Everything seemed to be working just fine. All of my apps, emails, addresses, and calendar items were right where they should be. Surprisingly, even the Verizon air card software (which supposedly wouldn’t work under Lion) was working fine. As the day progressed, and reports started coming in from folks who were having some very serious problems, I counted myself among the lucky ones whose system was running normally.

Then a day later I made a critically stupid mistake.

I uninstalled the Verizon aircard software in an attempt to utilize OS X’s built-in WWAN capability, something I had successfully done several times under Snow Leopard.

Firstly, the built-in WWAN wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t recognize the modem when it was inserted, even though the connection was still listed under Networking in System Preferences. Secondly, when I attempted to reinstall the VZAccess software, it balked. Kept telling me I needed administrator privileges (which I already had). No matter how many things I tried, it could not be cajoled into installing. And of course, this was the most recent version of the software available, and according to the VZAccess forum on the Verizon website, “there is no timeline available for Lion support.”

WTF? I mean seriously, have the engineers at Verizon been asleep the last six months?

In the day or so that had passed since installing Lion, I’d done a lot of cleanup on the drive, as well as adding addresses and organizing email folders, so I was pretty happy living with things as they were until Verizon got their act together. But late Friday afternoon, WiFi started randomly dropping, requiring a total reboot to reestablish the connection. Then the machine wouldn’t automatically reconnect after coming out of sleep mode. Suddenly a lot of little things started happening that told me perhaps I should not have jumped on the Lion bandwagon quite so quickly. I was now faced with several options, none of which were especially attractive.

One: I could restore my pre-lion backup to retrieve the Verizon application and settings and then reinstall Lion. In doing that, however, I knew my Adobe CS3 installation would get hosed (because of a funky enterprise licensing thing), rendering it useless. (From prior experience with this issue, I know that reinstalling CS3 does not solve the problem.)

Two: I could leave things as they were (including having a working CS3 installation) and live without access to my aircard until Verizon got around to updating the software, continuing to pay $50 a month for internet access I couldn’t use.

Three: I could wipe everything out and do a clean install of Snow Leopard, reinstall the Verizon application, upgrade to Lion and then reinstall all my other apps from scratch (including CS3).

I decided on a variation of Option Number Three yesterday, and spent most of the afternoon reinstalling. It was a needed learning experience and that cut down on my growing antipathy towards Apple; I had to figure out where OS X stored addresses, mail, and calendar items as well as how to get Lion to display the now-hidden Library folder where all these items had to go.

I successfully got all my addresses, emails, calendars, and documents transferred back, leaving only iTunes and about 20,000 pictures to pull off the last Time Machine backup.

While I got the pictures transferred last night without a hitch, the same could not be said for iTunes. One thing I’ve learned about Apple’s philosophy for file organization over the past couple years it that it seems as far as they’re concerned, it doesn’t matter where the data is located on your drive as long as it’s presented to you in an organized fashion. iTunes especially is notorious for importing a single album and splitting it into several folders for no reason whatsoever. I think that’s why I could never get into iPhoto; same type of bullshit. I prefer my photos organized in folders by date, not organized by “events.”

But I digress.

First I tried simply copying all the folders in the Music folder back from the Time Machine disk manually (90 minutes; I have a lot of music). When I fired up iTunes it told me it couldn’t start because it was on a locked disk. WTF? The Google was of no help, other than suggesting that I move the iTunes folder to my desktop, restart iTunes, and then manually add the music back in.

Uh, no. While yes, that worked (iTunes started up just fine), reimporting all my music would take hours, and in all likelihood I would lose album art, playlists, and all of the “corrected” info about the songs I’d entered into the database.

Next I tried doing a proper restore of the iTunes folder from within the Time Machine application itself. Maybe it did something that manually copying the files didn’t; 90 more minutes.

Same error when starting iTunes.

By this time I was frustrated to the point of tears. Everywhere I turned I was getting fucked by this Lion upgrade. Visions of Microsoft Vista kept dancing in my head, and I thought, this is Apple, damn it! This shouldn’t be happening. This is supposed to be easy!

At that point I decided I’d had enough. It was time to return to Snow Leopard.

Right before I went to sleep last night, I erased the drive and began the Time Machine restore to its pre-Lion state. This morning, after everything was up and running again, I deleted all the extraneous programs I was no longer using, as well as all of CS3. I opted not to reinstall CS3 because of the licensing issues, instead going with the retail version of Photoshop Elements 8 that I’d purchased about a year ago. For the rare times I need Photoshop, Elements has enough functionality that I can accomplish what I need, and the version of Bridge that comes with it doesn’t crash nearly as much as the one that was included with CS3.

I just read online that Apple has already seeded OS X Lion 10.7.2 to developers. No word of 10.7.1, undoubtedly indicating that a bug fix to 10.7 is on its way.

Even if a bug fix is issued, I may still hold off a while before attempting this again—and make damn sure I have a full clone image (not just a Time Machine backup) of Snow Leopard in case I have to put everything back the way it was.

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On a whim, last week I ordered copies of my college transcripts.  It’s been thirty years, and since my memory of events surrounding me quitting shortly after starting the second year of a planned five year architectural degree program were a little fuzzy at this point, I was curious to see what my grades had been like.

Well, I received the transcripts yesterday, and in short, they were crap. I immediately remembered exactly why I quit school.  In my year-and-two-month university career, I failed History of Western Civilization (twice), College Algebra (twice, only finally passing during summer school at a local community college), and got a smattering of Cs and Ds for the remainder of the classes. The only thing I pulled higher than a C in my not-so-illustrious stint at the University of Arizona in was Freshman Composition, where I got a B.

This was in some ways kind of—but not totally—surprising to me either at the time or looking back on it now. While I had been an exemplary student in high school, graduating with a 3.5 (out of 4) grade point average and in the top 10% of my class, I was still ill-prepared on so many levels for the harsh realities and expectations of college life. Additionally, I also came out at the beginning of the second semester of my first year, and other factors notwithstanding, the resulting late night partying (and other debauchery) did not play nicely with 7 am trigonometry classes.

Ah, youth.

Early in my high school career, I had wanted to become an astronomer, and had planned on going to Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff.  Once I found out what the mathematics requirements were for such a degree however, I gave up all hope of that ever happening.  I barely eeked through with passing grades in High School algebra and trigonometry (the latter requiring extra-curricular tutoring), and I knew that calculus and differential equations (not to mention even higher math) would be totally beyond my ability.

So instead, I fell back on my inherited knack for architectural drafting and love of architecture.  (I was raised in a very design-oriented household.) But even with this major, my choice of the University of Arizona in Tucson over the much closer-to-home Arizona State in Tempe, was only because the architectural program at U of A did not require calculus as a prerequisite for admission, whereas ASU did.

Funny thing is, two decades later during my architectural career, I found myself using the algebraic and trigonometric concepts I had so struggled with in school without even so much as having to think about it. Funny, dat.

I shudder to think of how different my life would have been today if I’d gone to ASU instead of U of A.  While I might have graduated and gotten my degree because I’d have been living at home and keeping my nose to the grindstone during those critical first few years, I might never have even ventured to Tucson, where the thousands of events that led me to where I am now ultimately began.

I think it was an equitable trade-off.

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Yes Virginia, it really did rain that hard here today.

As we were turning onto the street that leads to our favorite Starbucks this afternoon (after plodding along at 25 miles per hour through a huge downpour on I-25), Ben spotted this at the end of the street. There was no way we could not photograph it.

Turns out that particular Starbucks was full up, so we headed to one that was closer to the hotel.  The downpour continued and intensified just as we were pulling up to the store, culminating in ten minutes of hard hail.  Thankfully it was just the tiny stuff, but it was still pretty nerve-wracking considering Anderson has a glass roof…

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It’s been one month since we arrived in Denver.

I am incredibly grateful to Ben that he is taking me on this journey. Let’s face it: much like in 1995 when I left San Francisco for the first time, my professional life in Arizona had become stagnant and uninspiring.  It was comfortable and reliable, but on a deep level I knew I needed a change, and then, like now, I left the security of that stable, long-term job, throwing my entire life into the air, trusting in the Universe that it would somehow quickly settle back down after I had relocated.

Oh, the naïvety.

While I am not expecting things to take as long this time, after leaving San Francisco, it took nearly a decade (and one more move to and from San Francisco before settling in Phoenix) for me to regain a sense of financial security and what I would refer to as day-to-day “normalcy” in my life. It was due to a variety of factors, not the least of which was a planned change of careers (something not in the mix this time) and a very unplanned illness.

But you know, even though I am still not back to work (that situation notwithstanding), I haven’t regretted this move one bit.  Now, older and hopefully a bit wiser, I know that in the current financial climate, it’s unrealistic to expect that I can walk out of one job immediately into another and expect to enjoy all the perks and—for lack of any better terms—trust and respect I’d gained in my last position.  But that doesn’t mean the perfect job for me in Denver does not exist.  I know there is an employer out there who is looking for someone exactly like me whose work environment is exactly what I’m looking for. It’s just a matter of time.

Since our arrival, the weather has been wonderful. The week after we got here, Phoenix set high temperature records. We were basking in the 70s and 80s. It’s rained almost every evening, and while the locals caution that this is not normal summer weather, neither Ben or I are complaining one bit.

We’ve adjusted to life in one room—awkwardly—but both of us are seriously longing for the day when we can get into an apartment and get our belongings out of storage.  We knew going into this we’d probably be in this situation for about six weeks, so it’s not like it was unexpected, but we had been hoping for a slightly larger room with more of a working kitchen than what we’re living with at the moment.

I’m getting comfortable getting around town.  I seriously doubt I could provide anyone with directions, but I’ve learned enough of the local streets and their locations that I can get from Point A to Point B without having to resort to GPS.  And oftentimes on our journeys, we intentionally take different routes just to see where they lead.

This has led to drives through some absolutely amazing neighborhoods.  The area north and to the west of the University of Denver is particularly beautiful.  As I tweeted last week:

No photos yet, but one of my plans is to grab my camera, drive over there, park the car, and just start walking. The only way to photographically capture the charm of these areas is going to be on foot.

I’d also forgotten what it was like to live in a city where the downtown doesn’t roll up and die after 5 pm and on weekends. Last Friday evening we went down to the 16th Street Mall (several blocks of 16th Street were closed to vehicular traffic back in the 80s and turned into a pedestrian promenade; something San Francisco should seriously consider doing to Market Street) and had a great time.  Like in any large metro area, the area draws its share of thuggery (or at least wannabe thuggery) and homeless (reminds me a lot of Haight Street), but a very visible police presence keeps things under control and by and large it’s just a bunch of people out having a good time, enjoying the entertainment, shops and restaurants.

So what’s up for the next thirty days? By the time I write my “Two Months” entry I expect to be happily employed and Ben and I will be either finally settled into a permanent place or at least actively looking for one. Stay tuned.

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From Daily Kos:

Now is the time for Democrats to cripple the GOP and pre-sweep 2012. Opportunities like this come rarely. The Republican budget plan to kill Medicare is wildly unpopular. Americans overwhelmingly favor raising taxes on the super rich conservative creeps who fund the most reactionary wing, the nuttiest of the wingnuts, in the Republican Party. Wall Street, the Bankstas, the US Chamber of Commerce, progressives, democrats, and even a huge chunk of Republicans all agree the debt ceiling must be raised.

GOP governors are about as popular as rabies — all the Koch’s whores and all the Koch’s men cannot put the lipstick on the pig again. The leading wingnut primary contenders are a guy social conservatives consider a flip-flopping cult member and an unlectable flaked out harpy. A yawning chasm has opened up between the Teaparty wing and the GOP funding arm. It’s begging to be widened, the wedge to do has been dropped precisely into place by fate, it is bearing down with an immediate, unstoppable force. And the empircal facts are lined up on our side like rows of marble statues.

This is the time when Democrats, metaphorically, politically, stomp these assholes into the dirt and light the bloody mush on fire.

(more)

Do I think the Democrats (i.e. Obama) will grow a spine and do this? Not a chance. I fully expect the proud Democratic tradition of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory will continue unabated.

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Oh yeah, it’s because so many Democrats are in the same corporate pockets as the Republicans…

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I’m sorry.  I’m the one responsible for the torrential thunderstorms moving through Denver tonight.  I washed Anderson this morning and apparently the weather gods were displeased at his shininess.

The self-service car washes here are back-assward from the ones in Arizona. In Arizona you wash your car first, and then move out of the wash bay to a covered area where you do your drying, vacuuming and detailing. But in Denver all I’ve seen are car washes where you do your interior cleaning and vacuuming first, and then pull your car into the bay to wash it. Well and good, but where are you supposed to dry your car?  Are you supposed to pull it out into the sun to dry it, or is it okay to stay in the wash bay to do it? It wasn’t busy at all this morning, so I just stayed in the bay and dried Anderson there. Maybe one of my Colorado readers can enlighten me on what is accepted protocol here…

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We’ve been in Denver one week.  As I noted in a previous post, I’d forgotten just how stressful this kind of move can be.  Fortunately, at least as far as central Denver and Aurora are concerned, we’re starting to learn our way around, and that’s reducing he stress level considerably. For most tasks, I don’t even need to resort to GPS navigation. Illif turns into Evans as you go west and connects with the I-25.  Havana turns into Hampden as you go south and does the same. Parker turns into Leetsdale as you go northwest and terminates at Colorado Blvd. to the north and turns into Route 83 (taking you out of Denver) to the south. Yale is south of Illif; Colfax, 6th, and Mississippi are north. Quebec and Monaco are west of Havana, and Chambers is to the east. Colorado Blvd. is to be avoided at all costs if you’re in any kind of hurry to get anywhere.

I spent a couple hours at the storage unit this morning.  I realized the other day that there was all sorts of stuff stacked on top of the boxes that contain my 600+ vinyl record albums and with temps heading into the 90s later this week I needed to get them out from under that weight lest I end up with 600+ unplayable, oval LPs.

I think we’re going to plan on settling in Aurora.  It’s central to any of the five schools that Ben may be assigned to, and getting around from this location seems to be pretty easy.  There are a plethora of apartment possibilities available, all of which match the list of amenities that we enjoyed at my place in Phoenix.

Now I just have to find a job. Preferably not healthcare related. Been there, done that. Over it.

I met with two headhunters yesterday.  I’m meeting with a third tomorrow, and while I was busy rearranging the storage unit this morning, I got a call from a fourth who is submitting me on for a gig at a major telecom company.  The opportunity at NREL that I’d interviewed for went to another candidate from a different agency, and after learning yesterday that most of the available opportunities right now are healthcare related and offering significantly less money than I need sent me into a deep depression.  But it’s a new day and things will get better.

Fortunately my finances are in good enough shape that I do not have to jump on the first offer that comes my way.  On the other hand, it would be nice to start working so I don’t have to deplete the money that I’ve put away.

Of one thing I am certain: there is a company in Denver looking for someone exactly like me. It’s just a matter of making the connection.

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I had forgotten how stressful and disorienting a move to a new city in a different state can be.  The last time I moved somewhere totally new to me was 1986, when I relocated to San Francisco.  After six months I was still having such a hard time adjusting to life there that I was almost ready to pack it up and return to Phoenix.  There was no way I was going to do that, but I finally had to post an affirmation on my refrigerator that read, “San Francisco is my home. I love the City and The City loves me back.”  It must have worked, because I stayed sixteen years, and to this day—while I could never return permanently—I still consider San Francisco Home, as home with a capital H.

The Good

• Ben is with me.  He is keeping me sane and grounded during this transition.  His patience is amazing.

• Denver is beautiful.  It still amazes me to look to the west and see snow on the mountains. We haven’t had a chance to do much exploring yet, but I cannot wait to start. It was 85 degrees today and we had light showers.  It was 102 and sunny in Phoenix. Do the math.
• We got a local address where mail can be forwarded.  The Post Office had some pretty strict residency requirements for getting a box, so we went with one at a UPS store (at an exorbitant rate, I might add) instead.
• I got a call from a new recruiter today, and I’m meeting with her in person next week.
• I had my first Pinkberry last night.  I’m not a huge fan of frozen desserts, but I have to admit it was pretty damn good.

The Bad

• The extended stay hotel we’re staying at has definitely seen better days.  The rooms are small, the kitchenettes are a joke, and while it seems clean enough it just has that skeevy feel about it that does not inspire a great deal of confidence.  I’ve stayed at Motel 6s that were classier.  We definitely do NOT leave our Macs in the room unattended.  We’re only committed to a week at a time so it’s not like we’re trapped there or anything; we’re still debating whether or not we want to find a different place and pay more.

• The traffic in Denver is horrible just about any time of day.  It’s easily as crazy as what I remember of the Bay Area, and although I’ve yet to see any of the abject stupidity that marked Arizona drivers, on the whole they don’t seem to be an especially courteous lot either. There also is no logic whatsoever behind left turn signals. Sometimes they’re before the traffic direction, sometimes after, and other times during.
• I got a call from one of the headhunters that I’d been working with regarding a job while we were driving up here. Unfortunately the top rate they were willing to pay was way below the minimum I need to live (never mind the amount I was making at my last job), and I’d have to pay for my own health insurance. No thanks, I’m not that desperate yet.  I’ve only been out of work less than a week.

The Ugly

• I swear I left my brain in the apartment in Phoenix.  After so carefully putting everything I thought I might need until we got permanently settled into separate boxes that would not go into storage, I stupidly packed away into storage both my Social Security card and my birth certificate.  It’s been so long since I’ve had to look for a job I completely forgot that I would at the least need the Social Security card to get employed. Yesterday afternoon, after having the movers unload the truck and stack everything so meticulously in our storage unit, we had to tear back into their work in order to at least find my birth certificate so I could order a replacement Social Security card.  And wouldn’t you know it, when I went to the SS office today, they didn’t even need it.  I’ll have a new card in two weeks, and in the meantime they provided me with some official paperwork telling prospective employers that the card is being replaced.
• Even with navigation on my cell phone, I am still getting lost, going in the wrong direction, and having to make some moves in traffic that I am amazed have not resulted in a vehicular mishap.  In short, I’m driving like an out-of-state asshole because I haven’t got a clue where I’m going half the time.
• The internet at the hotel sucks.  I mean seriously sucks.  It’s worse than being on dialup. And if that’s not bad enough, for some reason my Verizon broadband card is acting all wonky as well.  I get five bars (better than I ever got in my office at work), but the connection speed is only marginally faster than the wireless at the hotel. I do NOT understand it.  We’re heading to the Verizon store tomorrow to have it checked out and if it comes back with a clean bill of health we’re going to be spending a lot of our free time at Starbucks or Peets over the next few weeks.
• Ben is an official student at DU today and bought Office 2011 Mac (something we’ve been putting off getting) at the university bookstore.  He was going to purchase the Home and Student edition which provided three licenses, but the girl at the counter said, “Oh, you don’t need that, you need 2011 Standard.”  Ben asked about the number of licenses included with it, and she told him it was two. So instead of paying $139 for the Home and Student, he picked up the Standard version for $89 and thought he’d gotten a great deal.  That was, until we got back to the room and after successfully installing it on his Mac tried to load it on mine.  “Invalid Registration Number.” Fuck. Me.  Since it’s already been opened and activated we can’t return it, so now we have to shell out another $89 for a second copy of Standard—that we didn’t even need to begin with because neither of us uses Outlook!

But even with all the negativity the past couple days, almost by magic, while we were shopping at Target today, I ran across this and took it as a message from the Universe.  Things will get better.  These are just growing pains. I just hate this feeling of being unsettled and having to live out of boxes…

UPDATE: I am a dork.  I must’ve been fat-fingering the Office serial number.  Ben tried putting it in tonight and it worked just fine. D’oh!

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…for this move to be over!

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I apologize if that last post was a little snarky, but longtime readers of this blog know that’s not out of character for this author.

Anyhow, on a more positive note, Ben and I have two more days before everything is packed up and we hit the road.  While my experience with previous moves tell me to calm down, I still can’t help looking around the apartment and wondering how all this stuff is going to fit into a 16-foot truck.  (I’ve done it before, so I know it’s possible, but I’m still nervous.)

Our To-Do list remains long, although the most pressing item—breaking down the aquarium and transferring all the fish to my sister—was finished yesterday.  If we were moving directly into another apartment and not into a hotel, I would’ve moved the fish with us (been there, done that), but that wasn’t in the cards this time.  I will miss the Clown Loaches; they’ve always been my favorites and have tripled their size since I got them, but I know they’ve gone to a good (and much larger) home and will be fine.

The goal today is to return the cable equipment to Cox and get all the remaining loose items boxed up. If we get that done, we might actually have a little bit of a breather tomorrow before everything happens on Monday.

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Every day I drive 16th Street to and from work. About two years ago, the City of Phoenix tore up and resurfaced the one-mile stretch between Bethany Home Road and Camelback.  I never thought that bit was in particularly bad condition, but whatever. Who am I to question their wisdom? The mile south of Camelback to Indian School Road, however, was horrific.  I had assumed at the time that they’d redo that part as well.

Wrong.

And of course, over the next two years the surface has gotten much worse.  Patches, potholes, cracks…the list is endless.

Six months ago I was joking with Ben that they’d probably get around to resurfacing that part of 16th Street just as we were leaving town.

And that’s exactly what’s happening.

Seriously.

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Anthony Weiner’s penis?  Seriously?

The talking bobbleheads are all atwitter (no pun intended) about the fact that a married, elected Democratic official sent a photo of his penis to one or more women. Really?

While it is rather unusual for a Democrat to get caught up in a situation like this, let’s all remember the incredible number of sex scandals Republicans have been involved in over the past decade.   Larry Tap-Tap-Tap Craig and David Diaper-Boy Vitter are the top two who come to mind, but there are many, many others. And while they were not elected officials, let us not forget two other luminaries of the right, Ted Meth-and-Rent-Boy Haggard and George Lift-His-Luggage Rekers.

Where was the outrage from the talking heads when these men were caught with their pants down?

Seriously America, it’s time to get off your faux moral high horse and GROW THE FUCK UP.  As Lizz Winstead tweeted:

Exactly, Lizz.  Exactly.

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Ben says goodbye to Ugly Betty.

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When You’re Straight…

You get your name in the paper for getting married.
You get looks of admiration when you hold your partner’s hand.
You get a tax break for being married.
You get to keep your kids no matter how bad a parent you are.
You get to stay in the military if you engage in non-consensual sex.
You get AIDS, and you’re an “innocent victim.”
You have a life.
You stand up for your rights and it makes you a “participatory citizen.”

BUT…

When You’re Lesbian or Gay…

You get your name in the paper for committing sodomy.
You get spat upon and jeered at when you hold your partner’s hand.
You can’t get married.
You get your kids taken away from you no matter how good a parent you are.
You get kicked out of the military if you engage in consensual sex.
You get AIDS, and you obviously “deserve it.”
You have a “lifestyle.” not a Life
You stand up for your rights and it makes you a “militant homosexual.”

It’s the hyprocrisy, stupid!

STOP THE HATRED.

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Can you see me smiling?

If the original factory warranty has expired on your car and you don’t have an extended warranty, run—do not walk—to your insurance company and get mechanical breakdown coverage if it’s offered.

Seriously.

It turns out it wasn’t a simple repair on the car.  It wasn’t a broken linkage and it wasn’t a blown slave cylinder. It was the entire effing clutch.  But thanks to Geico and a little foresight on my part, what would have been a $1300 expense cost me only $250. Granted, it’s money I still didn’t need to spend, but two fifty is a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Inspection also uncovered a small leak in a power steering hose and that the front bushings need replacement.  Both are also covered under the policy (albeit with a $250 deductible for each) and while they shouldn’t be ignored, neither one was something that had to be repaired before moving to Denver.  Of course the shop also came up with another list of routine maintenance items that total around $1500, but those can be done piecemeal as funds allow.

Interestingly (or not) enough, Anderson is actually driving much better.  The amount of resistance I’m feeling in the pedal is about what it was when I first noticed the problem the other day, but it’s definitely working now, and shifting is so much smoother than previously.  In fact, the amount of force required to depress the pedal previously was not normal.  Go figure.

The shop told me there was .9mm left on the clutch plate; 1.0mm being the spec for replacement.  So yeah, I was overdue.

Now I know that with my particular driving style a MINI Cooper clutch will last approximately 60,000 miles.

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When Ben and I were pulling out of the carport to go to lunch yesterday, I noticed that something was “off” with Anderson’s clutch. At first I didn’t realize what it was, but as we drove out of the apartment complex, I realized there was no resistance as I pushed the pedal down. It was very odd. And while I could still shift gears, it required more force than usual.

I immediately pulled back into the complex and returned to my carport. Low clutch fluid? I thought the MINI had a hydraulic clutch, but I didn’t remember ever seeing a reservoir mentioned in the car’s documentation or seeing one anywhere in the engine compartment. Just to be sure, I popped the hood and looked around. Nope. Only the brake reservoir, and the fluid level in that was fine. (It turns out it’s a shared reservoir system.)

I waited as Ben went back inside to get his keys since he’d be the one driving us to lunch, and all sorts of horrible things started running through my head.  While it was hopefully something as simple as a broken linkage (or perhaps a leaking slave cylinder), what if it was something much, much worse? Anderson’s factory warranty ran out about 5,000 miles ago and visions of dumping all the money I’d put aside for the move to Denver into a very expensive car repair kept flashing before my eyes.  So much for it being a happy birthday.  Of course, on top of everything it was a holiday weekend, so I couldn’t even call the shop to make an appointment to bring it in.

When we got home I went online, and started searching for “MINI clutch pedal no resistance.” It didn’t help my anxiety level one bit. There were two schools of thought: one said bad slave cylinder (apparently they’re all plastic) or broken linkage (both relatively inexpensive to repair) and the other said complete clutch replacement (white knuckle panic attack).

I pulled up my auto insurance policy to verify that I at least had towing covered, so that wouldn’t be an out-of-pocket expense, and—praise be to the Flying Spaghetti Monster—discovered I had completely forgotten I was also carrying “mechanical breakdown” coverage.  I had added it to the policy a little over a year ago when I realized that Anderson’s factory warranty would be running out in short order and there was no way I was going to pay the outrageous amount quoted for an extended warranty.

I spoke with the insurance company today and I think can relax a bit. Supposedly no matter how bad it is, the most I will have to come up with is the $250 deductible. They said all I had to do was inform the shop I had the coverage, provide them with my insurance policy number and the direct phone line to claims and they’d take care of the rest.

So first thing tomorrow I’m calling for a tow and taking poor ol’ Anderson in to be looked over.

And in the overall scheme of things, it’s better that it happened now and not in two weeks, or—gods forbid—on the way to Denver.

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Nothing planned, other than the weekly grocery shopping and a bit more packing.  I hope to get Dad’s photo albums scanned so I can return them before we leave for Denver.

Ben and I agreed that because of the move, this year there will be no gifts, although he is insisting on taking me to lunch or dinner…if I can decide where I’d like to go.

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I’ve been wanting to get a USB hub to use with my Mac while I’m at work.  It’s not something I absolutely needed, but between my cell modem, external hard drive, various thumb drives, and printer, I often ran out of available ports. About six weeks ago while trawling the interwebs I ran across this and had to get one. I got my order in the day before Apple sicced its lawyers on the manufacturer and since I never received a confirmation email I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to receive it. So imagine my surprise when it showed up in my mailbox last Friday.

It’s understandable while Apple went after the company. It looks (right down to the packaging) like something Apple would make—if they made stuff like this.  But despite the superficial resemblance to a genuine Apple product, once I got it out of the box it was obvious this was not made by Cupertino.

The fit and finish was a bit off. The small USB cable that came with it had bits of excess plastic still attached, and the light-up logo (while cute) was not evenly illuminated (even though it appears that way in photos) as you’d expect from a genuine Apple product.  On the whole, kind of cheesy.  But then, what do you expect from a company that produced not one, but two Steve Jobs action figures?

I was even more disappointed when I actually plugged it in and attempted to use my peripherals. Maybe it’s a problem endemic to non-externally powered USB hubs, but my modem wouldn’t work. It would show up on the Mac, but would stay stuck at “initializing.” My external hard drive wasn’t recognized. Hell, even the printer kept telling me it was offline. And it wasn’t like I tried to plug everything into it at once; this behavior was exhibited when only a single item was attached to it.

To its credit, It did work fine with thumb drives, however, as well as powering and syncing my iPhone, so I guess it wasn’t a total loss. And I’m sure I could easily double what I spent for it by putting it up on eBay…

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While it is true that I’ve been wanting to refresh this blog for several months, it’s not entirely true that it was done just because we’re moving to Colorado.  It’s because I did something very stupid (proving I am not immune).  I sent off emails to a couple headhunters I’d been working with in Denver that had a link to this blog embedded in the signature line.

Oh shit.

While I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve posted here over the years, much of it was definitely NSFW and considering the amount of ranting I’ve done about work lately it probably wouldn’t make the best impression on someone trying to present me as a potential employee to one of their clients.

That led to the knee-jerk reaction of blasting away all my previous posts.

But as we all know, anything posted on the internet lives forever.  And anyone with the slightest bit of curiosity and know-how can find it. Some rather snarky comments I left on a discussion board nearly a decade ago about people stealing images for use in their eBay postings from a long-gone hi-fi website I used to run are still available just by Googling my name. Scary.

This made me realize that—for better or worse—Voenix Rising has become my brand and merely deleting a few years worth of blog posts is not going erase my presence from cyberspace. Not even close to it.

And you know, that’s okay.

If someone doesn’t want to represent me to a prospective employer because of my sexual orientation, political views, or the fact that I (like every other working person on the planet) occasionally bitch about my job, it’s better to know it up front.  Because for every headhunter out there who takes issue with these things, there will be another who will not.

I am reminded of an interview I had about a dozen years ago with a placement firm in Palo Alto for a position the company had been having trouble filling.  The headhunter really liked me and thought with my experience I’d be a great fit, but she had an issue with my pierced ear.  She said that the company she wanted to send me to was extremely conservative and I would be advised to remove the stud before the interview.  I looked at her and said, “Seriously? This is 1997, the Bay Area and you’re asking me to take out an earring? If they’re that uptight, why would I want to work there?”

Honesty—something decidedly lacking in public discourse these days—is always best.

And the blog really did need to be cleaned out…

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https://youtube.com/watch?v=i5FWusjctuc

I’ve thought about growing mine back out, but I fear it would be more ironic than iconic…

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In honor of our impending move to Denver, I thought it might be a good time to wipe everything away and start fresh.

I may also be taking the blog in a different…direction.  Stay tuned.

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When I read about Sarah Palin’s response to the Tucson shootings this morning, I was at first infuriated.  Then I realized that Sarah Palin was simply being Sarah Palin, doing what right wing media whores always do: twisting logic into a pretzel and playing the victim. Quelle suprise. The sun rises in the east. Dogs bark. The sky is blue.

I almost had to stifle a yawn after that.

And then while I was showering, an aspect of a nearly-forgotten personal philosophy came to me: Sarah Palin (and Beck and Limbaugh and the rest of the right wing noise machine) is nothing more than a jar of paprika in the kitchen.  I’m busy making a sweet tasty pie (my life) and paprika is just something that’s not called for in this recipe.  So while it may be physically present in the kitchen (the universe), there’s no need for it in my pie, and therefore no reason to focus on it, much less get angry at it.

When I realized that, I suddenly felt even better.

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