Verbisaurus Blogicus

Saturday, 07 April 2012

Back on the 22nd of January, I complained that my Viewmaster projector had once again run out of batteries. The projector, which finds frequent use as a way for Owen and me to polish off the evening, uses 4 C-cell batteries. A pack of these batteries is kind of on the pricey side, and I’ve often had to buy more than one pack a year. I would estimate I’ve spent about a hundred bucks keeping this thing powered over the years.

The problem isn’t just the high cost of replacing the batteries, though. The projector works great when the batteries are new, but the power rapidly fades. At some point, we are essentially reduced to trying to figure out what a projection is trying to show us.

And here’s the real stupid thing: the projector has no AC-adapter. I mean, I can certainly see the appeal of rigging the device for battery power – then it can be used easily , perhaps even while camping. But why didn’t Fisher Price make the projector work with both battery and plug-in capabilities?  I view this as an enormous design flaw on something that is not mobile.

If you look back at the blog post where I first whined about this, you’ll see the first comment was from my friend David, who suggested I rig it for plug-in capabilities myself. I kept this idea in the back of my mind and, when the batteries failed again, I tossed the Viewmaster in my car determined to not use it again until I could plug it in.

I couldn’t find a good DIY explanation online, so I emailed David for more info. He was able to supply me a couple of links. They got me started. I saw what I needed – primarily, I needed a plug of similar wattage. I remembered my old cell phone charger and calculated that this would be a close match. I then took the plug and Viewmaster to Radio Shack where an employee there knew exactly what I was trying to do and what I would need. In fact, I was glad to talk with him because the links David provided talked about rigging a baby swing from battery to plug-in (that’s another battery-devouring device), and though a swing is similar, it’s more complicated. The employee suggested I buy a screw-on power jack for the plug, and solder on a nice receptor. I didn’t think these were necessary, but I agreed it would make the device look nicer, so I bought them.

Well, that was Tuesday.

Today, I soldered for the first time. I watched a couple of videos on YouTube – like THIS ONE and THIS ONE to make sure I had some idea of how to use a soldering iron.

I was a little nervous to cut the wires on the Viewmaster, but as soon as I soldered on the new wires, I touched the plug’s wires to them and ensured that the power was flowing. It was! After that, I was more confident, knowing that no matter what I did from this point on, at least I could just twist the plug’s wires to the soldered Viewmaster wires to get it to work.

But I needn’t have worried. I soldered on the detector, drilled a hold in the bottom of the projector, screwed on the power jack, and soldered the wires to the inside of the jack.

Here are the guts of the projector. I cut the red and black (barely visible at left) wires and soldered longer pieces of wire onto them, then wove them through the battery holder (you can see the red wire at bottom right coming through the holder).

Here I’ve reinstalled the battery pack, and soldered the wires to a power jack. As mentioned above, I drilled a hole in the battery pack cover and screwed this jack onto the cover.

Here, I’ve screwed the cover back onto the projector. You can see the power jack right in the center there. The bottom half of the picture shows the detector plug, which I soldered to the two wires coming out of the phone plug.

The (former) cell phone plug is now plugged in. The projector is on – completely sans batteries! As proof, notice the square of light against the floor board.

This evening, my son and I watched three Viewmaster reels – a set of Godzilla reels (his choice). Full power! Bright, clear images! Success all around!

Friday, 06 April 2012

FIRST:

Yesterday, Jennifer, her Dad, and I went to the Guthrie Theater to see a performance of The Birds. It was an unusual play; not what I expected. I knew the play was based on du Maurier’s short story (like Hitchcock’s The Birds), so I knew it wouldn’t follow the film. Not having read the short story (I plan to remedy that soon), I can’t say which one more closely resembles the original source.I will say this though: the play could’ve been taken as a sequel to Hitchcock’s film. While the 1963 classic depicts the origins events: the gathering of the birds, the hunkering down to protect from them, the play depicted everything after that point: Okay, the birds are here, we know their routine, we’ve boarded up the house. Now what?

Anyway, fun play, good drinks, awesome venue. All in all, glad I did it. Now I want to see this.

SECOND:

This afternoon, I was working in the yard, trying to get some decorative bricks situated just right. I was out in front of the garage, with my back to the sidewalk. I heard some people walking by. No big deal. That sort of thing happens on a sidewalk. Then I noticed more and more and MORE people walking by. A big group – maybe about a hundred people – were all walking down the sidewalk. I looked over my shoulder a couple times and figured, judging from the two or three men in dresses, and the fact that we only live a couple of blocks from a big ass Catholic church, that these were church-goers. Why they all decided to take a walk through the neighborhood on a Friday afternoon…I wasn’t sure. Probably had something to do with it being Good Friday.

I continued working on the landscaping project after the crowd passed by. About five more minutes of quietness elapsed. Then I heard a woman and a man behind me. The man had his collar on backwards, and the woman was holding a camera. Trying to get my attention, they said excuse me. The following conversation transpired.

WOMAN: Can we take your picture?

MAN: Yes, we couldn’t help but notice your shirt. Can we take a picture of you?

ME: What for?

MAN: We just think it’s ironic that you’re wearing that shirt today.

ME (looking down and realizing I’m wearing a t-shirt that says “Minnesota Atheists” on it): I’m not sure what’s ironic.

WOMAN: Well we just wanted your permission to take a picture.

ME: Well, what would be the purpose of the picture?

WOMAN: Oh, not to make fun of you! No, we just thought it was, um, interesting that you choose that shirt today. I know a few atheists, and they are some of the kindest people I know.

ME: Yeah, I know a few atheists like that, too.

MAN: Today is Good Friday.

WOMAN: This is Pastor Brown.

ME (nodding at the Pastor): Hello.

MAN: Yes, today is the day God died for us.

WOMAN: That’s why we’re out walking today.

ME: Yeah, I know it’s Good Friday.

MAN: So we just think it’s paradoxical that you wore that shirt.

ME: Oh, I didn’t pick out this shirt for any reason. I have, like, 20 t-shirts, and this just happened to be the one on the top of my drawer this morning when I was getting dressed.

MAN: Oh. Well it’s still an interesting paradox, and that’s why we wanted the picture.

ME (still not clear what the picture was intended for): I just…I mean, I just don’t get what the paradox is?

MAN: Just the whole idea of God or no God, and Jesus. And how it’s a special weekend. You know?

ME: Well, I guess I decline having my photo taken.

MAN: Okay, no problem. We just thought we’d ask.

WOMAN: Yes, thank you for your time. Nice to talk with you.

ME: Yes, nice to meet you.

WOMAN (looking at Isla playing on the slide): Oh, he’s such a little cutie.

Then they walked away.

Okay…I have some questions.

1) Are all religious people this inept when discussing their religion around a non-believer? I mean, I know Witnesses are that way, but I thought they were just uncomfortable around me because they’re worried Jehovah will murder them for talking to me.

2) Why so evasive? I had to repeatedly ask what the photo was for, and the only information I received was what the photo would not be used for. Yes, I’m sure the photo would not be used for many things, including the cover of People magazine’s 50 sexiest people issue. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough, but I wanted to know the physical destination of the photo, not the emotional outcome. Would it be printed in a church bulletin? Would they post it on their website? Was the woman just going to keep the photo in her “Miscellany” or “Phantasmagoria” folder? Would the Pastor be using it to masturbate this evening?

3) What exactly was “ironic” or “paradoxical”? Yes, they were probably using those words fast and loose, like most people. But presuming they were simply trying to find tactful ways of saying “an odd juxtaposition,” what was so weird about it? I mean, I don’t celebrate Good Friday. I eat lunch during Ramadan, and I spent this year’s Memorial attending a play (see above). That’s what I do…because I’m not in those religions. Now, if I was Catholic and I showed up for a Good Friday Mass wearing a shirt that says “Hi, I’m an atheist,” then, yes, I agree, that would be odd. But I’m not Catholic. Despite what their mini-race for the Christ may have made them feel like, not everyone in the neighborhood is Catholic. I didn’t wake up this morning and think “Now how can I be ironic to all those Catholics!”

Anyway, I know some of this is sarcastic, but I sincerely found it odd. When I was a Witness, for example, I couldn’t imagine stopping at someone’s house and saying, “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice the St. Francis statue in your yard. That’s a bit ironic, don’t you think? I mean, ’cause the Circuit Assembly starts tomorrow.”

Regardless, they were nice people. I think it was very courteous to actually take the time out to stop and ask my permission to photograph me rather than, say, burn me alive at the stake. Which is what they would’ve done 400 years ago.

Thursday, 05 April 2012

So, the other day, my father-in-law sent  me an email telling me that the Watchtower Society’s twin periodicals, The Watchtower and Awake! will be reduced from 32 pages to 16 pages. Not wanting to just accept this as gospel, I did a little research.

It’s kind of funny how the Watchtower Society is constantly looking at ways to cut costs. When I was a kid, they had three conventions a year totaling eight days – with food sold at each one. They’ve trimmed that down to six. days…and no food They used to nearly exclusively publish hardcover books, but now they publish nearly exclusively paperback. They used to come out with 24 issues of the Watchtower and 24 issues of Awake! every year. Now Awake! is monthly, and every other Watchtower is a “members-only” edition, which surely cuts down on the number of copies requiring printing.

I realize the economic situation for many businesses is such that it’s prudent to cut costs, and I applaud “green” endeavors corporations make (for whatever reasons). Still, since the Watchtower Society is the one corporation that’s has Jehovah as the CEO…and since the (human) directors believe their actions fulfill bible prophecy…it’s hard to see how all of these cut-back satisfy Isaiah 60:22: “The small one will become a thousand and the little one a mighty nation” (or something like that – many scriptures are getting fuzzy in my brain).

Anyway – it’s true. Beginning in 2013 (if Armageddon hasn’t arrived yet), the public version of The Watchtower and all issues of Awake! will be 16 pages only. This is great news for my (ex-)friends: since most of them were such lousy Witnesses they never read the magazines anyway, they will soon have only half as much to ignore. Congrats, to them.

Here’s the letter verifying my father-in-law’s rumor. But…shhhh…the JWs aren’t supposed to know until Sunday.

And here’s page two, which, I assure you, won’t do anything to raise your intelligence. I’m just including it in the interest of full disclosure:

Monday, 02 April 2012

Today, when I picked up my son from school, one of his classmates invited him to play basketball. So, even though I felt pretty crappy, I sat on the cement wall and watched while he played basketball with three of his classmates.

After a few minutes of that, he and the first boy (the one who invited him to play along), ran up on the hill and played soccer.

Owen is way better at soccer than basketball. I’m sure part of the reason is height – it’s hard to make a basket when the net is towering over your head – but as long as I’ve known Owen (6 years, 10 months, 17 days), he’s been really good at throwing and kicking and pretty decent at catching. He kicked the ball with some good force, got it past his classmate a couple of times and even managed to stop it with his feet (about a third of the time) when it was kicked back to him.

Anyway, I don’t have hopes for Owen to be an athlete. I mean, if he wants to be an athlete, that’s great. He can be whatever he wants to be (except: Lawyer, Pope, Wet Nurse, and Bachmann Campaign Manager), but I’m gonna just throw out a guess that he’s not gonna make a living as an athlete. My point, though, is that it’s still good to be a well-rounded individual. When I began taking guitar lessons back in 2007, I didn’t carry with me any fantasies that I would be a sessions musician for Santana – I just wanted to explore that aspect of human endeavor.

My memory might be a bit fuzzy – but I don’t ever recall playing an organized sport with my classmates outside of school-sanctioned phy. ed. curricula. So I think it’s great that he’s getting invited to play ball with the sporty kids.

When we got in the car to go home, Owen explained that he spends his recess and after school time with three classmates in particular: with one, he digs in the sandbox like a paleontologist. With another, he discusses math and Star Wars. And with a third, he plays ball.

Good job, Owen.

Tuesday, 03 April 2012

WIFE-

Today is my wife’s birthday. She’s no longer a strapping, youthful 36 year-old (like I am).

SON-

So, I keep meaning to mention this: last week, when I was über-sick, Jennifer and Isla left to go to the grocery store. Before leaving, Jennifer said to Owen, “Daddy isn’t feel very good, so leave him alone and let him sleep, okay? Only bother him if it’s an emergency. Do you know what I mean by ’emergency’?”

Owen guessed that it meant “if I need to talk to him.”

Jennifer clarified that it meant “if the house is on fire” or “if you get hurt real badly.”

I heard all of this barely. I was, after all, lying in bed, with a migraine, with the door shut. About 20 minutes later, I hear Owen calling to me. I hobbled downstairs, afraid of what must have been wrong.

“What is it, buddy?” I said.

He explained that he was having trouble locating the bonus features on his WALL•E DVD.

I looked at the TV screen and said, “Arrow up. Up. Up. Okay, one more. Now press play.”

I know this doesn’t seem very significant, but I want to point out two things:

1) This is the closest Owen has ever come to being kicked out of the house.

2) This is a shining example of parenthood at its absolute finest.

DAUGHTER-

Another thing from the other day: Jennifer told me that some people, upon finding out Isla’s age and then juxtaposing that with her small stature, said, “Oh, well she’s just a little peanut, isn’t she?”

So, the other day, while holding Isla, I said to her: “People are saying you’re a little peanut. Are you my little peanut?”

She said, “Sure.” Which, I think, is 1 year-old-speak for “Whatever floats your boat, old man.”

Wednesday, 04 April 2012

Mecrifully, we are nearing the end of the book Grand Expectations, a book assigned in my college class. It’s a long, heavy book that hashes and rehashes and then regurgitates what, I’m sure, must be the finest 30 years in the history of the universe, at least according to Baby Boomers.

Anyway, there’s a lot of fascinating history in the book and, I am determined to still love histroy ever after reading the book. Of all the topics the book cranks through a meat grinder and then beats with a ball-pean hammer, however, I have decided to name the lest-interesting topic in American history:

(drum roll)

The Vietnam War.

Yeah, that’s right. It bores the snot out of me. If I never have to read another book, or watch another documentary, or watch another half-assed film about it, that will be just fine, thanks.

Of far more interest, on the other hand, is the civil rights movement…

Today is the 44th anniversary…

Early morning
April four
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last!
They took your life
They could not take your pride…

Friday, 30 March 2012

I tried to have a normal day today. I went to work for over eight hours, picked my son up from school (like I do on Fridays) and took him to the corner drug store for ice cream.

I usually get ice cream, too, but the idea of eating that cold stuff just gave me a headache. So I ordered an iced tea. This was my first time having tea since Monday morning, and I was a little concerned because I know tea can contribute to dehydration (and dehydration, in turn, contributes to headaches). Still, there wasn’t much else to drink. I definitely didn’t want any hot beverages, and pop is just…well, nasty. So iced tea won out. Like it usually does.

I felt pretty crappy this evening. Today is the fourth day in a row in which I felt pretty decent in the morning, only to descend as the day progressed. Jennifer and I stayed up late watching episodes of Seinfeld (yeah, we’re getting them from Netflix), which was great because I needed some laughs. The downside, though, is that I stayed up late and didn’t get as much sleep as I wanted.

Oh – that reminds me – if anybody would like to know what it’s like to live with two small people who show no sympathy for the sick, my kids are for hire.

On a non-health-related note: One of my co-workers recently initiate a blog. Looks like she needs some advice on how to give her kids community without also giving them bullshit doctrine. CLICK HERE to get to her site. Give her some suggestions.

Saturday, 31 March 2012

So, today was the most tolerable day yet. I woke up feeling about 90% back to my usual self; an enourmous improvement from Monday and Tuesday. I had this vague idea that maybe the worst was done and it was just smooth sailing from now on.

The day started off pretty easy: Jennifer took Owen to a birthday party, so I stayed home and read the assigned reading for my class, stopping every 10 minutes or so to read a book with Isla.

Jennifer’s parents came over at about 1:15, and Jennifer and Owen arrived home minutes later. Jennifer’s dad took Owen to the Science Museum to see the film Under the Sea (Owen loves squid) and to check out the pirates’ exhibit. Jennifer, Isla, and I sat around with mom-in-law for a few hours, then the six of us joined up again for dinner at Shamrock’s. This was my first full-tilt meal since last Sunday.

Anyway, again in the evening I was feeling pretty crappy. This time I got to bed early.

Sunday, 01 April 2012
Yeah…again with the day starting off good than tapering off crap. Do you really want to hear more about my health problems? I know I’m sick of writing about them, but that’s seriously about all that’s happened this week.

I’m kind of mad at myself for being sick. I know that doesn’t make much sense but all I can say is that I don’t make much sense. I’m just sick of it…I wanted to get a lot more done this weekend, especially because we’re having Jennifer’s (non-cult) relatives over for Easter a week from today and I want the house to be as clean and kick ass as possible. Alas, tough to do when a body is sick. So I’m mad. Not Hitler-finds-out-about-the-Death-Star mad, but mad.

Hitler-finds-out-about-the-Death-Star mad