Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Insecurities of Modern Life

You know, there used to be a time when I could think for myself, at least a bit. But no longer. I now have Technology. Now Technology thinks for me.

Example: Yesterday I had a business meeting at a coffee shop in Sioux City. I knew exactly where the coffee shop was located – I’ve driven past it a million zillion trillion times (or six anyway), it’s right across the street from one of our favorite pizza places, and my band used to play in the bar next door. This area is not a mystery to me. I know where I’m going. Yet for no apparent reason, as soon as I got into town I pulled out my iPhone, “Siri, how do I get to Coffee Works on Pierce Street?” Sure enough, my phone knew where the coffee shop was, too, and successfully guided me to a place I knew how to get to on my own.

Why did I feel the need to have GPS guidance to an address I already know how to get to? I don’t know. Insecurity? (Maybe I’m thinking of the wrong street.) Boredom? (Sitting at a stop light for twelve seconds with nothing better to do than play with my phone.) Testing the system? (Does my iPhone really know where it’s going?)

In a very similar pattern, when I’m cooking something I KNOW how to cook, I’ll still Google the recipe anyway. “Let’s see, grilled cheese sandwiches… I’d better look that up.” I don’t know why, other than to verify information that I’ve had tucked securely in my head for over three decades.

This all leads up to a wonderful thing.

We picked up a cheap steak at the store the other day. Steak is a rare luxury for us, so I fell back on my habit of, “Gosh, I should look up how to apply heat to meat,” and Googled the process and tripped over this very fun recipe: CLICK HERE. It made my day much brighter!

Friday! Hah.

Daddy Needs a New Pair of Socks

The lottery is up to $400 million. I’ve spent roughly three quarters of that in my head so far this morning.

Cause and Cure

I have figured out the cause of my insomnia. No money. I have figured out a cure for my insomnia. Money.


I hate being fat. But I hate being hungry worse.

Uphill both ways, in the snow

When I was a kid just starting out in the graphic design business I remember the shock I felt when someone provided me with a graphic for a publication that was over 100k in size. One hundred kilobytes! HUGE! I remember backing up my files later – that one graphic took most of the floppy. HUGE! Seriously, who needs a graphic with any higher resolution or size than can be had at 30k.

Now I routinely deal with photos in the 20+MB range (20,000kb) and motion design files in the 1.5GB zone (1,500,000kb), and have five 1T backup hard drives (well over 1,000,000,000kb when it’s all added up), four of which are full. I fill a 1T hard drive about every nine months or so, roughly.

For Facebook fans…

When you see these happy little blog posts in your FB feed, all you need to do is click the link to see the rest. Just one little click is all it takes…


“Jesus was a white man, too. He was a historical figure. That’s a verifiable fact — as is Santa.”

– Megyn Kelly, FOX News


I’m always disappointed when people ship things to us via FedEx. They quite often deliver the package to the post office in a town 25 miles away instead of delivering it here to our house. They then say the package has been delivered “on time,” but we still have to wait for several days for the US Postal Service to get the package to us. The only exception to this seems to be Wifey’s weekly medical supplies (thank goodness).

UPS delivers to our door on time every time, and has treats for our doggies.


I use Adobe products a lot. Lightroom for photo shoots, PhotoShop for serious photo editing, InDesign for print work, Muse for web design – I think I have around 15 Adobe software packages that I use on a regular basis. I use Adobe Audition for mixing audio and manipulating voice overs and soundbeds – it’s fun to do. But the ten-year-old in me giggles every time.

At one point in time the filename extension for Audition “sessions” was .ses – which made sense. But for no apparent reason, a few years Adobe changed the filename extension to .sesx. Which makes me giggle.

Winter. Blah.

Help Wanted:

I think I’m at the point where I need to hire someone to come over here and shovel food into my gaping maw as I work. I’m hungry all the time the past few weeks. If I’m not stuffed to the gills, I’m starving. I know I’m gaining weight… Icky. Poo.


I had a Captcha that I could actually read today! Huh!


I like this wine, sorta, but every time I take a sip I make a funny face for about three minutes. Sorta like this guy, but with a beard. I have a beard. This guy doesn’t.

He could use one.

All male-type personnel should have beards.

The Unmet Yearnings of Country Living

Wifey has been moping around for weeks wanting a Jerry’s Pizza, and the cravings I’m having for chicky wings are nearly paralyzing. But the nearest Jerry’s Pizza is about 20 miles away and they don’t put their mystical magical food in boxes but rather just put it in a thin paper bag. It’d be cold by the time we got it halfway home…

Me No Likely that Negative Sign

Me No Likely that Negative Sign


Beloved Wifey is now taking subcutaneous infusion treatments for her illness (CVID). They seem to be working (yay!), but I have to laugh…

They ship her treatments to her weekly via FedEx. Our UPS guy, Mr. Mick, is fantastic, he knows us and our pups, and is a wonderful person. The FedEx guy, while I’m sure is a wonderful person, doesn’t know us or our doggies. Each week he shows up to drop off the box of assorted goodies (plasma, needles, IV lines, etc.). The box has various scary warnings on it (not quite “CONTAINS HUMAN PARTS,” but close), with lots of big red scary stickers on the side. I’ll peek out the window when he pulls up to see him very, very gingerly carrying the box, eyes wide as he reads the warnings, trying to pull off the miracle of carrying the package without actually touching it. Invariably, just as he walks past the window on the way to our door, Buttercup Pup will see him and go into her “BARK BARK BARK LOOKIE AT THE PRETTY DOGGIE BARK BARK” routine, which generally includes hurling herself bodily at the window, wall and door (thud BARK BARK BARK thud thud BARK BARK jump thud). Invariably the FedEx guy, eyes still glued on the scary package he’s carrying, will jump about six feet. He never makes eye contact but instead sets the scary package on the deck and scampers back to the safety of his van, most likely wondering just what the story is behind the folks who seem to be ordering body parts online to feed their killer dog…

If Wishes Were Fishes

I’d be out of tartar sauce. But I do wish the Publisher’s Clearing House folks are taking my application very seriously this year. We could sure use the money. And I also wish I had a chicky wing to eat. Om nom nom.

It’s What I Do

No, no, I’m fine…

Folks deal with stress differently. Back in ye olden days you could tell how stressed I was by how many cigarettes were hanging out of my mouth. Nowadays you gotta count gum wrappers. Right now I have five sticks of gum in my mouth. I’d be willing to bet my blood pressure is kinda high at the moment…


I’m not all that swift at pattern recognition, but I’m starting to notice something over the years. Has anyone else caught on that it seems to be colder in the winter and warmer in the summer? Or is it just me?

It’s Unfair

Why hide warm cuddly doggies behind cold wet noses?


Note: This post was originally written June 30, 2011. I just found it, unpublished.

Facebook’s out, at least for now. I’m done messing with it for a while. If you’re seeing this on Facebook, that’s simply because I have an automagic feed set up from years ago to publish my blog posts as notes on Mr. Zuckerberg’s Wondrous Money-Maker. If you’d like to see the original blog posts with photos and everything, just go to and click on “Blog.”

There are myriad reasons why I’m going to go back to blogging in lieu of Facebooking, but the main reason is that I’m simply fed up with arguing with people who are strong on opinions but weak on facts and logic. I hate to say it, but I’m feeling kinda, well, bullied into silence. Whenever I’d say anything remotely political I’d get hammered – often with arguments no more sophisticated than a regurgitation of yesterday’s FOX opinions*. I’m not sure whatever happened to “free speech” in America, but it seems I’m having problems with it…

Don’t get me wrong – everyone is entitled to an opinion. The problem is that I find myself wondering if everyone SHOULD be entitled to an opinion. When a professor studies politics and history, he reads books, studies philosophy, dig into the backgrounds of political thoughts and movements, has a grasp of political trends and shifts throughout history and what the consequences of those trends have been. I’d be more apt to listen to his opinion than that of someone who no education, no background in history, who gets his ideas from the talking heads on television rather than from his own study, whose political views are more a reflection of their personal insecurities than of a broad worldview… Yet on Facebook both are given equal time.

I’m tired of everything being an argument. I’m tired of having people think their opinion is fact. I’m tired of people believing their opinions mean more than facts.

Not too long ago I put out a plea for compromise, a call for Democrats and Republicans to work together for the betterment of the United States. Oddly enough, people argued with me. There’s a knee-jerk reaction to fight violently for “your side,” be it progressive or conservative. People forget that “your side” and “my side” are one and the same – America.

My wife and I were talking to an eleven-year-old boy about professional football. He liked the Vikings, thought Green Bay was okay, but when my wife mentioned she used to watch the Washington team when she lived in D.C., the boy jumped to his feet angrily. “I would never want to live in Washington,” he said. “That’s too close to that Barack Obama.” Hatred flashed in his eyes. Hatred from… what? Where does an 11-year-old learn to hate a politician? It would be a rare 11-year-old to hold a truly informed opinion about such matters. I’m glad the boy is aware enough of his country to know who the President is and seems to be interested, but I’m sad that those who are teaching him seem to be teaching him party division rather than independent, critical thought. Would I have been equally upset had he jumped up and said, “I’d love to live in Washington – I might be able to meet President Obama”? No, probably not. While no President is deserving of blind devotion, all Presidents are worthy of our respect.

*Did you know that FOX News is banned in Canada? They have laws against people lying on TV. It came up for a vote not too long ago, and the people of Canada overwhelmingly opted to keep the law as it is rather than let a FOX-style news show go on the air.

Note: This post was originally written June 30, 2011. I just found it, unpublished.


I have a love-hate relationship with my bed. I love getting in and I hate getting out.

My dentist hates me. I’m passive-aggressive. And I love garlic and onions.

I have self-image problems. I hate the sound of my own voice. Also, I’m funny-looking when I speak. I’ve seen pictures. Overall I come across much better when I keep my mouth shut.

The number eight is hard for me to write. I also dislike typing the word “source.” They take too much time. I hate wasting time. Someone should figure out an easier way for me to complete these tasks. I have suggestions, but I’m not sure where to send them.


If everyone had a childhood like mine, we’d all be a lot better off. Seriously, the worst thing that happened to me, ages three through fifteen, was an unexpected encounter with a very small garter snake. My parents left me seriously well-balanced.

Kinda wish I’d have known that before I turned thirty… I always thought I was special. Angst-ridden. Moody, but in a special way. Dark, but not dangerous. Turns out I was just from Iowa.

Not real often, but every now and then, just for a moment, I wish I knew what I was doing.