The offline blues

Thankfully Comcast just called to confirm the appointment tomorrow morning. Even if the modem were working again, I’d make them send someone out as reparation for the hell my life has been without the Internet.

Yes, I am exaggerating (about the hell part, not about making them send the guy out anyway), but that doesn’t change the fact that I am looking forward to being re-connected tomorrow as one might look forward to being released from a Taiwanese jail.

Okay, so maybe that’s a little more hyperbole. But can you blame me? I barely have the time to do any online reading at work. My website redesign has once again been put off (and this time it isn’t my laziness). And goodness, I can’t even check what the weather is like until I get to work!

Forget refrigeration, combustible engines, vaccination, sliced bread, and the wheel, how did man survive before broadband?!?!


I had a fairly nice weekend, despite the viciousness of my allergies. Unfortunately, I returned home to find a rather confused cable modem. I’ve been pretty happy with Comcast’s service up until this point. The guy who installed everything did a great job, and the few problems I’ve had were cleared up quickly, but now this.

The first tech tells me that it’s a cable modem problem. Okay, no biggie, I’ve still got spares from my Cablevision days. So I give them the info and pop another one on the line. They seem to be having some problems and then… click… click… “If you’d like to make a call…” Great. So now I have to call back and see if I can get this process started with minimal retelling of steps taken. The next tech is helpful and tries to get me up and running as fast as possible. But then he figures out the real problem. It’s an issue with the line. They’ve got to send someone out. There’s an opening on Thursday.


That’s real helpful. Especially considering we can’t even take that one and have to settl for an appointment Friday morning. That mean I have no Internet access at home until the end of the week. I really don’t care that they’ll refund me the money for this week, it’s outrageous that cable companies still operate on this BS “We’ll get a tech out there sometime this month” mentality.

In other words, I’m not very happy.

And neither are my sinuses.

Race for the Cure

I forgot to mention that I’ll be down in Philly tomorrow participating in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation‘s Race for the Cure. Lisa and I will be walking the 5K with my family in honor of my sister. I’m looking forward to spending the time with them, and taking a stroll around Philly for a good cause. Hopefull I’ll get some nice photos to share, too.

If you are interested in donating, you can do so directly for our team, Lisa’s Lot.

Nostalgia and high hair

There comes a time in everybody’s life when their parents finally say, “When the hell are you getting all of your old crap out of our house?” Well, maybe not quite like that, but those of us who have bounced around from rental to rental live our lives in fear of both losing our precious possessions and having to store them ourselves. That time has come for Lisa.

Tonight she came hom with 4 large Rubbermaid tubs filled with “Teen Beat” and “Bop” magazines, tour books from assorted concerts, old newspaper clippings, postcards, letters, photos, Smurfs, bracelets, and Garbage Pail Kids. It’s a veritable cornucopia of the precious nothings one collects over the course of a lifetime – in particular the part of one’s lifetime when one believes everything is worth collecting. I have smaller treasure troves myself, but the masculine side of me has prevented the overwhelming attachment to all things cute and barely memorable that has developed in Lisa.

Of course I would not dare dream of making her part with these vestiges of a life gone past. They will, however, most likely find their way to a storage facility. But there is a certain line that must be drawn. a-Ha and Duran Duran world tour books? Let’s pack ’em away. College newspapers and notes from old friends? Sure, why not? Souvenir junk from past trips? As long as they fit in a box, the more the merrier. A rubber bracelet that her hamster chew threw? Alrighty, I think we may have found where that line gets drawn…

But the real fun is in sorting through all of these snippets of yesteryear. It’s a way of briefly reliving the days when life seemed so far ahead of you. And being able to share it with someone you love who missed it the first time around, well, that’s priceless. Especially when it involves photos taken in the eighties…

Amidst all of the cute pigtailed little girls and young college co-ed pictures in which you’d swear she hadn’t aged a day since, I found the most precious photo of Lisa. Her immediate response was to deny, and then to protest that she was supposed to get a haircut that day. Quickly she scrambled for others to distract my attention, or to at least point out that it normally was that… extreme. And under penalty of death and dismemberment I will probably never be able to share that photo with you. But I swear, we’re talking at least 3.5 inches of added height, and not just by the bangs. The entire top swoops up as if Moses himself were commanding, and rises to such tremendous heights that I questioned her ability to walk through doorways.

Perhaps I will be able to share some of the adorable little girl shots, or the tame ones of her from high school in which she looks exactly the same as today! But the true prize will remain hidden, as I do not wish to relocate myself to the couch. Then again… such commanding heights… it would almost be worth it…

Every way but Sideways

I’m sitting here, finally watching Sideways, a movie I was meant to see in the theaters. It is brilliant, of course, but it leaves me with one major sad note in my life. I will never be able to appreciate wine to the extent of Miles, Maya, or even Stephanie for one simple reason: I have a terrible nose. My sense of smell is severely lacking and, while I can appreciate great food and wine, I will never have the ability to differentiate and dissect the intricate complexities of the… of the really good shit.

That’s ok, I will merely retain my title of wino and continue to enjoy the $10-$12 bottles with which I typically stock “my cellar.”

But I’m definitely enjoying this film. One line in particular really sruck me. Virginia Madsen asks Paul Giamatti why he’s waiting to open a great bottle of wine, to which he replies he was waiting for a special occasion. She points out, however, that the day you open that bottle is a special occasion. I’m thinking I need to make a special occasion someday soon with my 2000 Chaddsford Merican. Why let a good thing go to waste?

Hmmm, if anybody’s interested, maybe I can make it a special occasion with a few different bottles…