Ukiah, Here We Come!

We’re going to be at Red­wood Val­ley Assem­bly of God this week­end, so I decid­ed to do some quick research about them.

What I dis­cov­ered floored me: they meet in the old build­ing which Jim Jones (yes, that Jim Jones) used for cult meet­ings.

Both cool and creepy at the same time.

This snip­pet from the church web­site says it best:

What once was a place used for self­ish ambi­tion is now a place of redemp­tion.

I know the pas­tor, but I nev­er thought to google his name before now. I bet he’s got the most fas­ci­nat­ing sto­ries. I real­ly look for­ward to learn­ing more this week­end.

Halo 2

At 12:01 am I became a proud Halo 2 own­er.

At least, in the­o­ry I did. I did­n’t actu­al­ly get a copy in my grub­by lit­tle paws until around 1:00 am.

I had pre­paid for the game and it was wait­ing for me in the store with my name on it, I just had to wait in line behind approx­i­mate­ly 200 oth­er peo­ple who also the­o­ret­i­cal­ly owned copies.

Really–there were at least 200 folks there, and I think the real total was clos­er to 250. For­tu­nate­ly most of them were groups of two to four folks who all intend­ed to go home and get their game on right after­wards. There were prob­a­bly 80–90 actu­al game acquisi­tors (is that a word?) ahead of me.

Over­all it took me an hour to make my way to the front of my line.

Nick Hasu­lak (a stu­dent from our min­istry) had bummed a ride off of me to pick up a copy. He had­n’t pre­paid or pre­order or pre­con­sid­ered. He just decid­ed to hop in my car and pur­chase the game for him­self.

Here’s the kick­er: he got his copy before I did in the “VIP” line for ful­ly-paid pre­orders. I guess the store fig­ured that since we had already giv­en them our mon­ey they did­n’t need to wor­ry too much about cus­tomer ser­vice.

I’ll remem­ber that next time I’m tempt­ed to pre­pay.

I’ve now rat­i­fied my geekdom–I stood in line at mid­night for a videogame.

Of course, Halo tran­scends social stra­ta and so at least half the peo­ple stand­ing along­side me looked like they had just stepped out of an Aber­crom­bie and Fitch com­mer­cial… maybe this isn’t the act I’ve been look­ing for to firm­ly estab­lish myself in geek cir­cles.

Any­way, I’ve start­ed play­ing and the game is incred­i­ble. It ful­ly lives up to my expec­ta­tions, at least so far.

Yes…

…we just vot­ed.

Now you go do your part and togeth­er we’ll make some deci­sions about our gov­ern­ment, trust­ing in the Wis­dom of Crowds.

You Know You’re From Silicon Valley When…

I usu­al­ly hate these, but I ran across this and just had to post it here. Some of them don’t apply to Paula and me, but I found the list pret­ty fun­ny.


You Know You’re From Sil­i­con Val­ley When…

Your com­bined house­hold income is $140,000 and you can’t afford shoes for the kids

You think any­thing slow­er than DSL is bar­bar­ic, but can’t get it in your neigh­bor­hood

You know what DSL stands for

You and your spouse almost come to blows decid­ing to hit Peet’s or Star­bucks

You think that Amer­i­can food includes sushi, naan, pho, pesto and pad thai

You met your neigh­bors once

When asked about your com­mute you answer in time, not dis­tance

Even though you work 80 hours per week on a com­put­er, for relax­ation you read your email and peruse eBay

You have worked at the same job for a year and peo­ple call you an ‘old-timer’

The T‑shirts you val­ue most were for prod­ucts that nev­er made it to mar­ket

You can name four dif­fer­ent pro­gram­ming lan­guages and you are not a pro­gram­mer

You remem­ber the names of the three clos­est cheap sushi joints, the loca­tion of all the Fry’s in the area and which com­pa­nies your friends work for that are going pub­lic in the next year, but don’t know the name of the may­or

Stand­ing in line at Star­bucks you won­der why the employ­ees don’t call a head hunter

You work 6 miles from your home and spend two hours a day com­mut­ing and $40 a week on gas

Win­ter is when your lawn grows too fast and sum­mer is when it dies

The medi­an price of a house is $500,000…for 1200 sq. ft. with no yard because it’s a town house

You live on some of the rich­est farm land in the world but most of what you eat comes from South Amer­i­ca on a boat

Your best friend lives across town but you hard­ly ever see each oth­er because after your com­mute you’re too pooped to spend anoth­er hour dri­ving to their home

You have a mas­ter’s degree in engi­neer­ing but half the peo­ple in your depart­ment either did­n’t go to col­lege or have his­to­ry degrees, except if you have a mas­ter’s from Stan­ford, in which case every­one in your depart­ment has a mas­ter’s degree from Stan­ford

You cringe when you see peo­ple in suits at your office, won­der­ing if some­one in man­age­ment will make you stop wear­ing bun­ny slip­pers

You plan your vaca­tion so that you don’t have to dri­ve back from the air­port in com­mute hours

You don’t go to sport­ing events unless you are giv­en tick­ets by your employ­er

You could sell your home and live like a king in 99% of the rest of the world, but don’t because it would be dif­fi­cult to move back.

You have at least three com­put­ers at home.

You own at least one domain on the Inter­net, prob­a­bly sev­er­al.

You think it’s nor­mal to see chip-design soft­ware or rela­tion­al data­bas­es adver­tised on free­way bill­boards.

You know that Cal­i­for­nia isn’t just one big beach.

You know that not every­one in Cal­i­for­nia surfs.

You know there’s lots of ski­ing in Cal­i­for­nia.

You know your rotat­ing out­age block num­ber at home and at work, and lis­ten for them when­ev­er there are rolling black­outs.

If some­one refers to “Sun­ny­to­gaDeAn­zavale Road”, you laugh and know what they’re talk­ing about.

You take your out-of-town friends to see the techie gad­gets at Fry’s. But you don’t let them buy any­thing.

You know how to rec­og­nize re-sealed returned elec­tron­ics at Fry’s.

You don’t ask the staff any ques­tions at Fry’s. You know they hire idiots and pass the sav­ings on to you.

You watch dot-com boomers go back to the states they came from, and the traf­fic gets bet­ter by the month. But you are home so you’re not mov­ing.

You own a Sport Util­i­ty Vehi­cle and have nev­er tak­en it off-road. You would­n’t know what to do if you tried. Same with all your friends.

You don’t know how to dri­ve in snow. You’re a road haz­ard when you vis­it the moun­tains.

You think bicy­cles don’t belong on the road.

You think any car ahead of you does­n’t belong on the road.

Your out-of-state friends are impressed at how much mon­ey you make… until you tell them how much you pay for hous­ing.

You know that a “fix­er-upper” home could cost a half-mil­lion dol­lars.

You do a “Cal­i­for­nia stop” at stop signs. And you think it’s only Cal­i­for­ni­ans who call them that.

You aren’t both­ered much by earth­quakes because you’re ready for them. But the thought of tor­na­does and hur­ri­canes ter­ri­fies you.

You clear­ly remem­ber where you were when the Loma Pri­eta quake hit.

You know sev­er­al fun­ny sto­ries about swim­ming pools in the quake.

You can’t rec­og­nize a thun­der­storm with­out see­ing light­ning first.

You cringe when a South­ern Cal­i­forn­ian refers to high­ways like “the 101”. It’s just “101”. No “the”.

You call low clouds “fog” even if they’re hun­dreds of feet off the ground.

At least once you have gone to San Fran­cis­co for the day wear­ing shorts and a t‑shirt because it was a warm clear day in San Jose. And you froze your lit­tle *@#!% off in the fog, driz­zle and wind.

You say you’re from Sil­i­con Val­ley because no one knows where San Jose is.

You actu­al­ly get these jokes and pass them on to oth­er friends from Sil­i­con Val­ley.

Six Month Photos

I have added a bunch of new Dana pho­tos to the gallery. Check them out.

Today we took Dana to the doc­tor for her six month check­up. All is well, Dana is in the 50th per­centile for her weight and length.

She weights 16 lbs 2 oz, and is 26 inch­es long. She is such a big girl!

In fact, she’s such a big girl that I had the doc­tor pierce her ears. Dana was­n’t too hap­py about it at first (I think she thought it was a strange immu­niza­tion shot), but she seems quite hap­py with them now. Check out the pic­tures!

Squirrel Day

I have told sev­er­al of my friends about this great hol­i­day that I grew up with. I am not sure that any of them believed me. So here is the proof.

For years around Ville Plat­te the open­ing day of squir­rel season—the first Sat­ur­day in October—has been known as “Squir­rel Day.” Schools close ear­ly the day before—some don’t open at all—because atten­dance by stu­dents and teach­ers alike is cut in half. Busi­ness­es shut­ter their win­dows. Every­body heads for “camp,” they call it, and that can mean a sleep­ing bag in the back of a pick­up truck or a deluxe hunt lodge wired for elec­tric­i­ty, with air-con­di­tion­ing and big-screen TVs. “Squir­rel Day is the Cajun Passover,” explains Ville Plat­te native Tim Fontenot. “There’s a mass exo­dus into the woods.”

From Field and Stream

New photos of Dana

This week Dana has start­ed eat­ing rice cere­al. Check out her pho­to album to see her enjoy­ing her first meal.

Happy Birthday, Paula!

Paula Kay Davis (nee Bor­de­lon), was born 30 years ago today.

Woohoo! 🙂

Dana’s four month check up

Dana had her four month check up this past Mon­day. The doc­tor says that she is a per­fect­ly healthy girl. Dana is in the 50th per­cential for her weight and length, she weighed in at 13 pounds 8 ounces and is 24 inch­es long. To see pic­tures of Dana vis­it her web album.

Dave and Busters Rocks

After read­ing about the Dave and Busters in Mil­pi­tas in an aside at Real Life Comics (scroll down to “An Open Let­ter”) I knew I had to go, so Paula and I head­ed down at the end of last week.

It rocks. It’s like Chuck E. Cheese for adults. The food is good, the games are incred­i­ble, and there aren’t hordes of scream­ing young­sters every­where you turn.

I’ve got to plan a Chi Alpha event there some­time… I’d love to book a lead­er­ship learn­ing par­ty there and fill the day with peri­od­ic breaks so every­one could go blow things up and return full of ener­gy.