Some Blog Site

Every year, I try to read one book. If blogs counted as books, then my tally would be much much higher. During most of the year, life goes on without much book-learnin’ on my part. In the evenings after the kids are in bed, I do computery stuff while my wife breezes through a few books a week.

Summer vacation is a different story – I know I have a week with multiple chances to read, so I eagerly anticipate (are you allowed to use the word “anticipate” without the adverb “eagerly” accompanying it?) choosing the one book that I know I will complete this year. I know I should set better goals (“Slow down there, are you sure you can handle one whole book?”), but with a 4-month-old and our other children along on the vacation, I keep it realistic.

Also, I bring along several magazines that I would like to read but wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t. Since the reading times are 15-30 minutes lulls in the action (e.g. after the beach but before dinner), I find that magazines are good filler if I need to read.

This year, while I was contemplating which book to pick, my wife decided for me. And it wasn’t even a book I was considering. I usually aim for the classics. Two years ago, my book was Toilers of the Sea by Victor Hugo. I was disappointed by Google’s feelings about that book. When I was researching that book, Google asked me if I really meant “toilets of the sea”. I am glad to see that Google’s opinion of the book has improved, as it doesn’t ask that anymore.

I forget what I was considering this year, as I hadn’t narrowed it to any finalists yet. My wife had recently read Same Kind of Different as Me (henceforth known as SKODAM), and she highly recommended it as the book I should read on vacation. She had read SKODAM because my sister had recommended it. My sister’s exact words were “You must read this.”

SPOILER ALERT

I had heard about the book, read the thingies on the back cover, and so I knew just a little bit about the book. As I was reading, the story sounded too cliché.  Part of the story is set in Texas in the early 1960s, so of course they had to work in JFK’s assassination in there.  Although claiming that the protagonist had a front-row seat to the assassination was pushing the envelope of believability for a novel.  It’s written by some Christian guys, so of course the guy goes to church and finds Jesus.  Of course the rich guy had an affair – that’s the standard back-sliding Christian sin of choice in novels, I would think.

Of course the black guy was oppressed (and oppressed is putting it mildly) growing up – that’s also a standard story in novels.  But come on, working the plantations in the 1950s and ’60s?! I mean, the story was written as a first-person account of life, and they almost had me believing it could be a real story if they had gotten the dates right. They forgot that slavery was a few decades earlier. And kids working the fields without being able to go to school?! Not even knowing there is school?! That’s not mid-20th century America.

It wasn’t until halfway through the book, when I got to the “after” pictures, that I realized the story was real. When I saw the pictures, it hit me that these were real people and this was their true story. At that point, I remembered that I already knew the story was real. I had heard it from my sister and even the book mentioned it somewhere on the cover or flap. But once I started reading, the story did seem so improbable that my brain had dismissed that little fact and latched onto the more believable description of the book as fiction.

END SPOILER ALERT

That book will get you thinking. About spiritual matters. About physical/material matters. About people matters. And about yourself.

Once I started reading that book, I finished it rather quickly. That left five days in the vacation and my book was already done. Right around the same time that I finished SKODAM, my wife finished reading one of her other books, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (by Alan Bradley, ISBN 978-0-385-34230-8, henceforth known as TSATBOTP). It is copyrighted as 2009 and lists the print date as May 2009, so it is quite new.

Even though it was a new book, the cover made the book look like it was decades old. I like the cover design – it was very well done, from the font to the coloring. That’s what made me pick it up and start reading it – I thought it was an older book. It wasn’t until later that I saw it was printed this year.

It is a murder mystery. Not being well-versed in murder mysteries, I have no reference to say it was better than something or like something else. I just know that it was a good book. The story was captivating and it’s the kind that makes you feel smarter for having read it. And it was clean – no gore, no romance. It’s written from the first-person view of an 11-year-old girl in England in 1950, so that should help ensure that future books (set for publishing in 2010 and 2011) are also clean.

If you’re looking for a novel to read, you should put TSATBOTP near the top of the list. To whet your appetite, I am including a couple of snippets from the book.

• If poisons were ponies, I’d put my money on cyanide.
• … I inhaled the camphoraceous steam of poultry eucalyptus, and somewhere up inside the sticky caverns of my head I thought I felt my sinuses throw their hands up into the air and surrender. I was feeling better already.

Maybe those scant fragments from the book don’t interest you. In that case I have done the book an injustice. Read it anyway.

“But beyond this, my son, be warned: the writing of many books is endless, and excessive devotion to books is wearying to the body.”
– Ecclesiastes 12:12

On the 4th of July we went to a parade, as some of you may recall. When we came home from the parade, we were greeted by a visitor at the end of our driveway. More specifically, a visitor hanging on the side of a tree near the end of our driveway.

He was rather conspicuous, so much so that I am pretty sure he was not there when we left. But there he was, not moving, just waiting for us to find him.

Here is his picture:

As you can see, he was the friendly sort. Didn’t say much though. His type doesn’t come around our house much either, so it was a big deal to meet one of him in real life. I stopped the van at the end of the driveway and had the kids get out to look at him.

I pulled him off the tree. Well, I saw that he was clinging to a piece of bark that was pretty loose on the tree. So rather than actually touch our visitor, I just broke the bark off the tree and held that.

One of the kids didn’t want to get close to him, so he just watched from a safe distance. Our oldest, however, took the piece of bark and inspected this strange creature.

As you can see, he had a bit of trepidation about the whole thing. I suppose “he” could apply to either the human or the moth. Shortly after this picture, the moth fell off the bark and into the lawn. After a couple of fruitless attempts to get him back on the bark, I just left him in the grass. I didn’t want any well-intentioned rescue attempts to damage him.

At first, since we never see this kind of moth, we thought that we had found some rare breed, an exotic species that had escaped from someone’s collection. Instead, I found out that these moths (Luna moths, AKA Actias luna) are common, just not usually seen because of their short lifespan (a week at best).

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

“When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;
What is man that You take thought of him, And the son of man that You care for him?”
– Psalm 8:3-4

In cooperation with LaanyKidsMom, here are some real entries for this week.

• Puppy Chow
  A church friend (that’s a friend from church, not a friend who is a church) made some Puppy Chow because she was to bring dessert to our 4th of July gathering. There was a lot (more than a gallon) of Puppy Chow left, mainly because there were so many other desserts. Competition is good. She decided she didn’t want to take any of it home, so we were cursed blessed with the leftovers.

  I had the joy this week of eating handfuls of Puppy Chow every night for dinner dessert after dinner.  But it was not just any Puppy Chow (officially called Muddy Buddies by the Crispix people, but that name is officially ignored by everyone). No, it had a secret ingredient that made it extra fattening tasty.

  Butterscotch.

  Add it to your next batch of Puppy Chow and be amazed.  I don’t know how much butterscotch to add, but I’m sure someone somewhere has a recipe for the Scotch Terrier breed of Puppy Chow.

  (Isn’t this little trick of leaving in the text you would like to say but striking it out so that people get an idea of the thought process behind the writing annoying great?)

  What else has brought me joy this week?

• Our Baby
  The baby (4 and a half months old) has started rolling over. Yesterday was the second time. When I would check on him before I leave for work, he would always be in the same position in which I put him the night before. A few mornings ago, he was on his back, looking up at the world. We tried, but he didn’t repeat it despite our efforts and coaching.

  Then that morning, he was looking up at me again, having rolled over from front to back. He did it again this morning. Apparently he likes to roll over only in the morning, because he won’t do it any other time.

  One more

• Golf Balls
  I don’t golf, but for some reason it’s fun to collect golf balls. Free golf balls. I certainly wouldn’t pay for any. Nor would I want any for a present, in case someone tries to get that idea. I don’t really collect them. If you want to help, then what I’m trying to collect is $20 bills.

  I go for the golf balls because my road borders a golf course. I’m sure if my road bordered tennis courts I’d collect tennis balls. But no, I got a golf course.

  I have now found golf balls on all of my runs this week so far. Since I run every other day and take weekends off, that’s only three runs. This morning I found not one but two golf balls. Extra joy!

  It’s like a prize for going running. Because, despite what other people may say, running itself is not a real prize.

Joy Found. Mission accomplished.

Since my last post on this topic was so popular, I thought I would throw another two cents into the discussion.

There.

But since you couldn’t see the pennies that just went flying, I will type something here instead.

Here are three problems and suggested solutions for lowering the cost of health insurance:

1. Costs are high in part because people don’t have to pay the cost. Think about this: how much would your car insurance cost if you had no deductible and the insurance paid for oil changes, wiper blades, new tires, etc.? That’s the state of medical insurance today. The consumer / patient pays the insurance company one fee and the insurance company takes care of everything. There’s no real incentive for consumer choice.

   I could take the analogy further for HMOs. In that case, you could go to the repair shop that you normally used (your Primary Service Center or PSC) only. If they couldn’t handle your repair, they could send you to another shop, but it would have to be a shop that had an agreement with them. You couldn’t go to just any shop.Would anyone with a car think that’s a good idea? How did medical care get into this situation?

   Make health insurance more like other insurance. I have an HSA in coordination with a high-deductible insurance plan. This, not a government-run plan, needs to be pushed and expanded. I write a check to pay for whatever medical bills I get. Once I spend above a certain amount, then “traditional insurance” kicks in. The country needs more “traditional insurance” and less bureaucracy. There are no approvals or referrals needed for the checks I write, saving both me and the doctor’s office time and effort and money. But this is tied closely to point #2, which is…

2. Costs are high in part because people don’t know the cost. Back to the car analogy… When you take your car in for service, they have to provide you with a written estimate. So you know, before you agree to something, what it will cost. And if something will cost more than the estimate, the shop has to get your consent.

   A good example of knowing the cost is LASIK. LASIK was very popular, so much so that eye places were advertising to attract patients. What’s an important part of advertising? Telling the customer the price! Eye surgeries became commonplace and price dropped dramatically, in part because of the proliferation of the technology and in part because of the price wars among shops.

   Right now, I can choose my doctor’s office based on location or how happy I am with them. It would be great if I could also take price into account. How much does an ultrasound cost? How much does an annual physical cost? Why not require doctors’ offices and hospitals to publicly post their prices? Kind of like a menu at a restaurant… That would help people choose. Don’t Americans like choice?

   We have started using the walk-in clinic in town because they are much faster than the normal doctor’s office. If it weren’t for my high-deductible insurance, I would not be able to compare the prices, because I would never see the prices. And as it is now, I can compare the prices only after receiving service, when I get the bill. In case you’re wondering, the walk-in clinic isn’t any more expensive. And it’s faster.

   It might not be top-quality care, but it is good enough. And isn’t that what is needed: adequate health care for people? You’re not going to be able to provide world-class care for everyone. That would bankrupt the whole country. But you can provide decent medical care. And that means that there will be different levels of care based on price. So let the people know the prices.

3. Politicians are on the outside. Make sure that the politicians who wrote, pushed for, and voted for the bill have to use the same services that the rest of us lowly civilians do. Make them taste their own medicine (pun intended). It would be easy for the Senators and Representatives to prescribe health-care reform and mess up the private insurance industry if they can keep their Congressional health care separate and untouched. Maybe they would think more about the bill (and actually read it, one would hope) and produce a better bill if it applied directly to them.

Maybe these things would not bring health care to everyone, but they would help make it cheaper and therefore make health insurance affordable for more people.

We have the best medical system in the world. Don’t make big sweeping changes and risk ruining it. Make incremental improvements, like these.

or “Have They Not Seen Mr. Holland’s Opus?”

My family went to the local Independence Day parade. The children, ages 5, 3, and 4 months, enjoyed the parade except for one part – the fire engines. The only time the baby cried during the parade was whenever a fire engine sounded its siren or horn. Why do the drivers of the fire engines insist on running their sirens during parades? The police cars don’t do it. Some classic cars honk their horns, but in those cases it is a song and the horns are much quieter than a fire truck’s siren or horn.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you this:

An Open Letter to the Fire Departments of America

In looking at a few other articles, I found what is now my favorite analogy on the subject: excess or gratuitous noise is the audible equivalent to second-hand smoke. It doesn’t bother the one producing it, but innocent bystanders suffer the consequences.

No one would be bothered if the fire engines don’t blast their horns or sirens at full volume during a parade. If anyone noticed it, I bet he would be pleasantly surprised (something like “Hey, that was nice that they went by without jolting us out of our seats.”). But most people would probably like to just observe the fire engines like any other parade entry.

A siren is about 120 decibels at 10 feet. That 10 feet is about the distance from the fire engine to the parade spectators. That means that permanent hearing damage will occur in about 10 seconds.

It is interesting to note that many fire departments now have the sirens at the trucks’ bumpers, rather than on top of the cab as was the custom for so many years. The reason was to reduce the noise level in the cab. So now the sirens are aimed right at the parade spectators – about the same height as a 3- or 5-year-old child. Even more reason not to sound off during the parade.

Keep the sirens for emergencies only, please, and horns only to catch the attention of people inside cars, with glass and metal to shield them from the noise.

“He who has ears, let him hear.”
– Matthew 13:9

That headline means “toys that are annoying”, not “how to annoy toys”. I don’t know that inanimate objects can be annoyed, which makes it even more frustrating because they don’t even know or care how bothersome they can be.

Our basement is used mainly for storage. As a set of toys phases out of daily or weekly use by the kids, we will put the toys in the basement. Sometimes we will pull them out again, and the kids will be pleasantly surprised by the “new” toys, or they might remember them and be glad to play with them again.

Other times, usually as a threat an enticement to clean up a room, we will say something like “Whatever is still on the floor when I come back is going down to the basement.” The kids don’t go down in the basement by themselves (too many spiderwebs), so sending toys down there is equivalent to banishing them from the house. “Them” being the toys, not the children.

I just reinstated one toy that had been put down in the basement. It had been put down there because it wasn’t being used much, and it took a lot of floor space. But for fun, I brought it up. My wife and I quickly remembered the other reason it had quietly disappeared into the basement one night: the songs.

There are four buttons on this toy, and they play a random assortment of songs. Loud songs. Loud songs that last way too long. The buttons are touchy, so that the toy is easily set off. Not as touchy as the radio controls in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (waving a finger near them would change stations), but pretty sensitive nonetheless.

And then a thought occurred to me: we have never replaced the batteries on that thing.

So I am proposing some sort of a law, like Murphy’s Law or Muphry’s Law or something: The battery life of a toy is directly proportional to how annoying it is.

The more annoying the toy, the longer the batteries will last. The more you want something to wear out so it will stop bothering you, the more it will just keep working. Conversely, the more you like something, the more quickly its batteries will die.

“He who blesses his friend with a loud voice early in the morning,It will be reckoned a curse to him.”
– Proverbs 27:14