.plan

One of the strangest things about traveling on business is going out for
a meal and eating alone. On my first business meal, I quickly realized
that I never eat alone in a public place. My pizza is delivered,
my fast food is taken to go, and my Chinese is carried out. I never
go to a restaurant, greet a waitress, and make an order for one.
But that’s exactly what I did on Thursday. Only one
menu please. Thank
you.

When that business trip takes you to a tropical paradise, you
miss more than just a little chat over a side salad.
You miss the ability to share the experience.

On my first to Hawaii, I had a single day to myself for sightseeing.
I had a car, a map, and a list of destinations. I traveled to several
stunning waterfalls and visited one of the more unique places
on earth:
Volcano National Park.
I was able to witness water plunging
into the volcanic rock. I was able hike through a real life rain forest.
I scampered through a lava tube and peered into the deep caldera of
a live volcano. However, I did it all completely alone.

I resorted to telephone calls to get some company.

Now I don’t want to sound that I pined by the phone pleading for
attention. There were certainly some advantages to my plight.
I could move at my own pace. I could see exactly what I wanted to see
for exactly as long as I wanted to see it. It was a day like no other.
But it just helps to have some company. It helps to have my wife along
for the ride.

Tomorrow, I’ll likely wake to a glorious sunrise, where streaks of light paint the
bay outside my
hotel
window and glisten along the rocky coast. All my
wife will see of this is a simple photo. A photo could never do this
scene justice. A thousand photos couldn’t communicate just how bad I
want her see it for herself.

That’s just what the ground did just a few short hours ago: it fell away.
Actually, it fell away for the first time of three, as I’m on leg one of a rather
long three leg trip to Hawaii.

This trip, like my last to the little tropical paradise in the middle of
the Pacific, is all business. There won’t be be any fun in the sun for me.
No beaches, no babes in bikinis, and no daquiris on the water will be in
my future.

That doesn’t mean there are clouds on the horizon. In fact, the only clouds
I’m likely to see will exist 1000 feet or more below me. I’ll be sleeping
at an elevation of about 9000 feet and working at the top of Mauna Kea,
which stands over 14000 feet above sea level. Things will be looking
up, literally.

For those that don’t know, my programming work with NASA has led me to
visit one of the best three places on earth to take astronomy. That
should be helpful, as that’s exactly what the scientists I’ll be helping
will be doing. The little piece of
software that myself and several
team members have been toiling over for the
past several years will be helping some scientists take some infared peeks
at the sky from the
CSO (Caltech Submillimeter Observatory).

The work itself isn’t exactly fun and games. It involves some rather long hours
fighting the effects of high altitude on the brain. I’ll help them use our
software and likely write some new software in the process. However,
the opportunity to see your hard work in action is very rewarding.
The opportunity to witness this in a pretty incredible environment can be even
better.

One regret I have about this trip is that I didn’t take this chance to take
better advantage of the surroundings. I’ve never — never — seen a night
sky like the display put on every night by Mauna Kea. My first trip was
nearly worth the first glance. Once darkness falls, you can easily make out
our neighbor planets with the naked eye. The spectacular light display
overhead never fails to impress. No wonder
our ancient ancestors once worshiped the sky as a god. It’s an incredible
sight to behold.

But it would have been nice to get out and grab some more information on astronomy.
Maybe I should have grabbed myself a book or two. It would
be a sad waste of an incredible view to ignore the twinkling above.
I suppose the internet and the words of several NASA astronomers will be my
replacement.
The one thing I did do was bring my 35 mm camera. Add in some 1600 film and
I’m hoping the little photographer in me will
allow me to share this experience with others.

Thinking about the rest of this trip has at least gotten me a bit excited,
maybe excited enough to ignore the mountains of work ahead. It’s also gotten
me a bit homesick. I already miss my wife and unborn child. I sincerely
hope I can enjoy the experience of the next week but – make no mistake
– I just can’t wait to be heading home.

For the first time ever, I’ve decided to open my votes for November 5th election
for public perusal. I’ve included some comments and a bit of my individual
research along with each choice.

I have to say that I enjoyed making the list. It forced me to take a better
look at some candidates and justify each selection in some way. It will also
give me a neat checklist when the election results roll in. As a republican
voting in a largely
democratic
state, I’m bound to
lose more than I win but that matters little. I can’t complain if I don’t
bother to cast a ballot and – let’s face facts – what republican doesn’t
have a lot to complain about in Maryland?

If anyone has the itch to share, please do, even if you read this long
after the fact. For anyone still undecided, I found the
voter’s guide
provided by the
Washington Post
to be a very handy guide. Check it out.
One more thing: don’t forget to vote, unless of course
you disagree with me.

Governor:
Robert L. Ehrlich. Jr./Michael S. Steele

This is the easiest vote on the ballot for several reasons. It’s certainly
the one with the highest profile and the one I’ve spent the most time thinking
about. However, it wasn’t a hard decision. A republican with a chance to
take the governor’s post is a no brainer, even if I wasn’t a bit disgruntled
about the last eight years of Mrs. Townsend.

Comptroller: Gene Zarwell

I like Mr. Schaefer – he’s certainly a familiar face – but the state
is currently facing a deficit of over $1 billion. Is it his fault?
Nah. Should he take some of the blame? Just a little. Besides,
the man has an AOL email address.
It doesn’t really matter anyway. This is just a throwaway vote
in the face of what I’m sure to be an impressive victory for Donnie.

Attorney General: J. Joseph Curran Jr.

Mr. MacVaugh says some of the right things, like mentioning he would
be “… Bob Ehrlich’s attorney general …”, but sometimes there is just no substitute for experience.
As the incumbent, Mr. Curran has this qualification down. Note that I
got over the fact that he too has an AOL email address (you’d think
that the people at joecurran.org
would be nice enough to give him one, sheesh).

Representative in Congress (D 2): Helen Delich Bentley
Chalk this vote up to the balance in the House, where the republicans
have a decent chance of controlling both House and the Senate along
with the presidency. My biggest problem with Bentley is the fact that she
looks feeble; she’s not a spring chicken by any means.

State Senator (D 31): Philip C. Jimeno

Ugh, this one hurts. On one hand, Mr. Jimeno is proud of a report card that
in my opinion should send him to detention. One the other, David Kile
doesn’t even sport a college degree or a couple of issues I’m particularly
passionate about. If I was in Florida, I’d punch both holes or neither and
let the voting machine figure it out.

House of Delegates (D 31):
John R. Leopold, Don Dwyer, Thomas R. Gardner

This one is more of a crap shoot because I get to pick three of six.
Mr. Leopold came by and visited us during dinner one night, much to the
chagrin of the wife. Despite this, he still gets my vote. Dwyer
gets a vote for sheer effort. He waves to my wife every day on the
way to work – rain, sleet, snow, or shine. She doesn’t wave back but
she’ll make the wave that counts. Mr. Gardner gets my last vote
because he actually mentioned the deficit. Imagine that. It’s
a republican sweep for me.

County Executive: Phillip D. Bisset
Without revealing the innocent parties, let’s just say that
this one is personal. It’s a simple vote against a
disliked incumbent.

County Council (D 3): Ron Dillon, Jr.
The retired catering manager of La Fountaine Bleu vs. the manager
of Dillon’s Bus Service. It’s a toss up and I’m full.

Judge of the Circuit Court:
Nancy Davis-Loomis, Paul A. Hackner
The only two candidates present me with two choices. I don’t
even understand why they bother with the ink, given that I’d
guess they only need one vote each secure the office
(it probably has something to do with that pesky election law). Let’s
pretend I’m the only one. Everyone, leave this one to me.

Court of Appeals/Special Appeals
Here’s some more wasted ink that presents three candidates for
continuance of office. How many people lose these things
(hey mom, I lost to Daffy Duck, the famous write-in candidate)?
I’ll save the internet some bytes and skip listing their names.

State’s Attorney: Michael W. Burns
Let’s go for the newbie with an eye on Ehrlich’s Project Exile
program. Punish gun crimes like you mean it.

Clerk of the Circuit Court: Robert P. Duckworth
I can’t help but chuckle when I hear his name. He should
be a shrink (2 points if you get the joke). What is it
with Serabian talking about men being problem employees?
Let me write that down and figure out what that has to
do with anything.

Register of Wills: George N. Nutwell
The only candidate gets my vote. Someone wake me before I
get to the questions.

Judge of the Orphan’s Court:
Paul R. Shelby, Gordon H. Witherspoon, Jacqueline Boone Allsup
This is another pick of three out of six. Paul Shelby and
Gordon Witherspoon seem to be the best qualified. Nancy
Phelps went to Lansdowne (my alma mater), so she’s
out. Jackie Allsup gets my toss up vote.

Sheriff: John Edward Moran IV
What is with the IV’s at the end of these guy’s names?
Both of these candidates seem to be pretty good. This is
actually a close one. When in doubt, vote along party lines.

Question 1 – Interim Peace and Protective Orders: Against
This just doesn’t sound necessary to me. I’d need to know more and
I just don’t have the time to research it.

Question 2 – Legislation Authority of the General Assembly: Against
You have to be kidding me. This sounds so far reaching and so encompassing
that liberals and dictators everywhere must have rejoiced when it was first
applied to paper.

Question 3 – Certified Real Estate Appraiser: Against
Let’s get this straight: the government wants your property and gets
someone on their payroll to determine its worth. Somehow I think
Dutch Ruppersberger is involved in this one.

Question A – Ammended Ordinances: Against
Here’s a lazy vote. I don’t know why so I’ll just say no.

Question B – Fire Adminstrator: Against
I leave this vote with mixed feelings. It almost got me.

Question C – County Executive Vacancy: Against
I’m running short on juice and so is my ability to reason.

Question D – Arbitration for Law Enforcement Employees: Against
This sounds like a cost cutting measure but it also sounds like
the dirty parts of my employment agreement.

Question E – Arbitration for Uniformed Firefighters: Against
See question D.

Question F – Cooperative Purchases: Against
I’m a reasonable person and I have to vote yes to something. Don’t I?

Question G – Purchasing Contract Limits: Against
Competition slows things down. It also ensures fair prices and
guards against those nasty political favors you hear so much about.

Question H – Uniform Bidding: Against
Here are some words to guard against when taking true/false tests:
always, never, and ONLY. Let’s keep everyone honest. Shall we?

On Wednesday night, the events outside my living room window superceded the story
developing on my TV. At about 8:00 pm, a short wail of a police car was followed by
the constant flash of blue and red lights on the living room walls.

A quick run to the window transformed me into more than a casually interested
observer. An unmarked police car had pulled over a red Chevrolet sedan. The
driver of the vehicle and the police officer were both out of their cars. Mr.
policeman was not happy. He shouted at passenger to remain in the vehicle.
He shouted at the driver to remain behind the car while he peered into the
vehicle with a flashlight.

Probably a simple traffic stop, I thought to myself. It was odd that the
police officer was in an unmarked car. It was also odd that apparently the two
cars had come from within my neighborhood, not from the main road.
That isn’t the likeliest place for a radar trap. Oh well, no matter –
Ed was on.

What’s going on? Is disco coming back? Another trip to the window revealed
an even more interesting scene. Three more police vehicles had appeared, blocking
off much of the road. Six kids were lined up against the car. Several police
officers were talking to each other. Cars of adults began to appear.

This is getting good. I better get on the phone with the neighbors. The neighbor
behind me called to make sure John Travolta wasn’t dancing away in the yard.
I called the neighbor across the street to see if they had the scoop.
They too were peering from behind the curtains but had the window cracked
to gain an audio track to the movie playing in the street. A jarbled version of
the tale indicated there was something about an assault. The clown car of
children that was pulled over contained six kids. One was taking the blame.
He was the one in cuffs.

Eventually, parents showed up to take their future convicts home. The kid in cuffs
got to ride in the car with the pretty lights. Calm was restored.

That would have been the end of the story but it got much better when a kind policeman
stopped by while the wife, myself, and a neighbor were handing out candy on
Halloween. He had seen us peeking anxiously from the windows.

The kids in question were having a bit of fun, celebrating mischief night by sharing
some recent poultry purchases from the grocery store. This merry band of
adventurers had decided to not only pelt inanimate objects but humans as well.
In fact, a man in my neighborhood had been attacked with eggs as he exited his
truck. This man was unhappy. This man left his truck behind and jumped in his
undercover police car in hot pursuit.

A state trooper got his man that night. The kid in cuffs went to jail for assualt.
The hooligans in the car were stopped, thankfully before they got around to my
house.

I can’t help but chuckle at their bad luck. I’d say someone has egg on his face (oooo, too easy).
Just wait until junior gets back to school and has to hear about this one from his friends.

Senator Paul Wellstone was reportedly a well-respected, well-liked representative of the United States. His
death,
which occured when
the plane carrying him and his family plunged into the earth on
an Friday morning, should have caused waves of sorrow to sweep
through his
funeral. Instead, it turned ugly. It turned into a political
rally.

I didn’t know the man. Heck, I wasn’t even really aware of him
until this week. From what I gather, he was a democrat and a liberal.
His views fell far left of the fence. Undoubtedly, we would have disagreed
about nearly everything. That doesn’t limit my disgust about the tragic events
of his funeral.

Democrats have accused the republicans of taking advantage of a man’s death.
Some have went so far to ask them to concede the election.
But it seems it the real vultures were the democrats themselves; the pot
called the kettle black.

They cheered when Walter Mondale entered. They booed when Trent Lott
did the same. Can’t we all be civil?
If we are going to request
audience participation, as did Senator Tom
Harkin, can’t we at least stash the casket in the corner?

Mondale, Wellstone’s hand-picked successor to the ballet shuffled
to the podium and declared, “Tonight, our campaign begins.” Did it
have to be tonight? Can we be sad for just a little while? It seems
that Jesse Ventura might
bodyslam
the democrats against the ropes
for their actions. For once, we agree.

Those Democrats sure know how to throw a party. I just thought
they would have the decency to keep the dance floor off the man’s grave.

On Tuesday night, amid all of the
sniper anxiety of the last several weeks,
something very interesting crossed the police scanner that rested in
my wife’s hands. A call rang out, “Shots fired.” Gun shots
were reported in the woods of Columbia and the activity on the
scanner quickly reached a crescendo.

The chatter of weapons fire was quickly followed by a report of a white
van along the roadside. Two individuals had reportedly bailed from the vehicle.
Orders were given to block the highways in the area and, if I’m not
mistaken, interstate 95 was one of them. The police response
was swift.

Luckily, this was a false alarm. Unluckily, the police did not have another
chance to catch the sniper. The gun shots from the woods were from
a hunter; a hunter that evidently thought he was above a
decree
by the governor. The van in question had broken down. It’s occupants
had left the vehicle to seek assistance. The situation was quickly
investigated and quickly resolved.

That didn’t mean the whole incident didn’t grab the interest of the wife and
I. Is it him? Are they on the run? Speak up scanner. We need to know.
Could we be listening to the call that finally catches the killer?
Unfortunately, the answer was no. The
events of Wednesday
night followed a similar path. This time, however, we watched
along with the rest of the world as the events unfolded on national
television.

Reports stormed in about a
link
to Tacoma, Washington. The view from the
helicopter showed the police cleaning up. Evidently, they hadn’t just arrived.
Killings in Montgomery, Alabama were suspected to be related. Finally,
the
focus of the police shifted from the ever elusive white van to something
completely different and much more specific. Police were seeking
a 1990 Chevrolet Caprice and the men who were driving it. Names
were given. Pictures soon followed. I looked over to the wife and said,
“They’ll have them by noon.”

They did.

A passing motorist noticed that not all of us had slept well the night before.
Two men were rudely awaken at gunpoint. The car was searched. The weapon
was
found. The evidence is damning. Hand shakes began.
The clouds of the last several weeks that came in the
form a madman that stalked the innocent behind the scope of a rifle have
finally been lifted.

As the
details slowly leak out, I’ll have a little battle with myself.
I’m intensly curious about the details of the investigation. What
were the communications with the police? What did the police know
and when did they know it? However, I’m not so sure the public should be
told. I’d hate to think that someone could learn from this killer’s mistakes.

The terrorists of the world like to believe their acts are of courage and
bravery. I disagree. I can’t imagine anything more cowardly than
hiding behind a gun and firing on women and children. I hope the
careful words of the past are replaced by shouts that
denounce this act for what it was:
a treacherous crime by a gutless chicken shit.

Looking back (if, in fact, I can look back at this point), people
like
Andrew Sullivan, bring up some interesting
points.
I have one to add. I’ve found it rather sad that some of the horrible events
around the world were all but ignored by the major news networks during
the sniper’s reign of terror.
Tragic events such as the fiery
attack in Bali or the ongoing
hostage
crisis in Russia should not have been regulated to a scrolling
update on
CNN. These are major events. I understand that
our crisis at home was important, and, for that matter, weighed
heavily on my own mind, but we found out on September 11th that
terrorism is world news. It does effect us, rather we like it or not.

The end of all this brings a nice, if only temporary, sense of relief.
People no longer need to approach the gas tank of their car like a
deer stealing a drink of water from a nearby stream.
I may take a celebratory walk through the neighborhood just to
mark the occasion. No need to peer into the woods. It’s safe – at least
as far as we know.

This weekend I had a little bit of “me time”, a time where I could relax and
do — well, do whatever my little heart desires. The wife was treated
to a free trip to Ocean City by a good friend and off she went Saturday morning.
I had all weekend to myself. What to do? What to do?

I usually fill nights out on the town by the wife with an invite for a couple
of friends. They come over to watch some movies and play some
games. I rarely spend this time alone.

This time, however, I wanted a slight change of pace. I wanted a chance
to adjust to the quiet of the house, where only the cat and dog need the
occasional bit of attention. I wanted to feel a little lonely. I wanted to
focus on me (hmm, that sounds a bit unfair in retrospect).

And so I did. I had to deal with the cable man in the morning but the
afternoon was filled with activities to make me happy. A quick spat
with
Madden 2003,
some reading, and a quite a lot of
Battlefield 1942
dominated the rest of the day. Some
unfortunate news finished off the night as I fell asleep in front of the TV.

Sunday I awoke determined to feed my
Mafia fix. There went my early
afternoon, where only
Ravens’ game diverted my attention from the mob.
Then, a funny thing happened: I started cleaning. Some dishes,
vacumming, trash, poop duty (I’ll go over this another day), and a lawn mower
discussion later, my husbandly duties were complete. The wife must be
messing with my internal wiring; it couldn’t have been me that thought the
house was dirty. It just couldn’t have.

The time away from the wife seemed to have its intended effect.
Sometimes her mere absence leads to a yearning of the heart that her
reappearence answers.

I’m glad I had the time to take. In only three months, “me time”
will be in very short supply. For the next 18 years or so, “me time” will consist
of me clutching a magazine and yelling to the wife to stop the kids from
banging on the bathroom door.

Month 6. Two-thirds of the pregnancy is behind us; only 3 months remain.
A baby is most certainly on the way.

However, some may have noticed that the baby posts have thinned out a bit.
I suppose that this is because the baby hasn’t doesn’t anything especially
new for a while. Sure, it kicks the heck out of the wife. The stomach
rumbles to and fro, hinting a bit about the little life contained within.
Monthly visits to the doctors continue. A quick check-up and
a quick listen to the heartbeat assures us that everything is going
fine (Thank God).

Our recent past was filled with joyous announcements and surprises,
allowing us to share the good news with family and friends.
Doctor visits began. The first beats of the baby’s heart
were music to our ears; the first sonogram was a sight to behold.

Preparations for the future started in earnest.
Inventory was taken and a baby registry put in place.
(By the way, we are registrered at
Babies R Us. Email me
for a direct link.)
Colors and designs were chosen for the baby’s room.
Paint is sure to follow. The wife and I even got certified in
baby and infant CPR, gaining an incredibly important skill
that we pray we never need to use.

But things on the baby front are going through a bit of a lull. The giddiness
of discovery has been traded for reflection of the past and a long look
to our expectant future. We are in the middle of the calm before the
storm. We can take stock of the last six months and look ahead to
the coming weather. We are so lucky – so incredibly lucky.

The opportunity to rest won’t last much longer. I see baby showers on
the horizon. I see visions of our child in the clouds. I see the lightning
and thunder that signal the arrival of our new family member.

This little pause is something that we both need but will barely notice in
the overall scheme of things.
I’ll just enjoy it while I can. It may be the last time
I can sleep until 10:00 am on Saturday morning.

I don’t know if the stigma of using a public bathroom to defecate was brought
on by genes, public perception, or just the plain nastiness of the normal
gas station potty but it’s there. When I got to go #2, I’d rather do it
at home – thank you very much. Unfortunately, it isn’t always my choice.

It certainly wasn’t my choice this weekend but there I was. I wouldn’t be
settling down with a magazine or newspaper here.
Just do your business and get out. And get out I did. If you are going to
choose a time to poop clean, this is the time. Occasions like this
are like a little victory, making you want to do a little jig. I did, however, precede to pull up my pants before starting my dance steps.

Aren’t you glad that story is out of the way. Me too. How about one more?

The rules of urinal ettiquette are widely known and generally recognized
within the race of men, the world over. When a soul flaunts these
unwritten agreements, it harms us all folks. These very simple
pronoucements go something like:

Unfortunately, the person in front of me as I entered the mall bathroom
this weekend must have been from Mars (or Kentucky, you never can tell).

The bathroom in question had a simple row of four urinals. The first three,
starting on the left were the normal, adult-sized urinals. The last urinal,
found on the right, was a child’s urinal (girls, this one has its height adjusted
to allow the short tikes among us easy access). The man in front of me
happily took stand-up latrine number 2, directly in the middle of the three
adult-sized urinals.

Hold up. Foul. Ref, blow the whistle on this guy. Ten yard penalty.
What was I to do? Do I shuffle in next to him and ignore his sad
breach of ettiquette? Or do I suck it up and take the junior pee pot,
glad to get some distance between him and I?

You guessed it. I had to aim down.
I suppose I felt a bit foolish for my choice. At least I didn’t have to worry
about him asking for my phone number.

I mowed my lawn today. Yeah, I know, not the most exciting thing in the world,
but it sure needed to be done. I didn’t want to do it. I really
didn’t. And this time my reasons extended beyond my normal fits of laziness.

I’m not afraid to admit that the tragic
shootings of the last week were
roving around in my brain as I pondered whether or not to strap on
the grass-proof shoes and venture into the yard. However, I am
a bit ashamed that a touch of fear factored into my eventual decision.

The actions of a coward have invaded my little world, much to the
happiness of the person responsible. I don’t doubt that this was
the intended effect and, because of that, anger grips me.
Who’s doing this? Why? Is it some lone wolf who has gone completely
off their rocker? Is it a directed terrorist attack?
Each shooting seems closer to home, closer to family,
and closer to me.
Taken separately, each attack is a horrible occurence, taking advantage
of the daily life of a few to spread anger and fear.
Taken together, these events are truly tragic.
As spoken by the Montgomery County Police Chief this morning, these
attacks are
personal.

In starting the mower, a taste of fear and uncertainty swept through
me. I took stock of my surroundings.
The neighborhood was quiet – earily quiet. It was early
and only the sounds of the occasional passing
car accompanied me. It was as if the community were bracing for trouble – people shrouded in their homes, pondering the unknown danger ahead.
The sidewalks and yards were devoid of life, standing in stark contrast to
the simple activities that brighten a normal Sunday morning.

Not long after I began my yard work, the neighborhood slowly, but surely,
came alive. A mower growled to life across the street. The whine of a
weed wacker could be heard coming from a neighbor’s house.
Maybe I broke the ice. Maybe I led the charge back to normalcy,
where panic and somewhat irrational fear
are replaced by the daily drone of life. Maybe I’m giving myself way to
much credit.

It did make me feel better to get out and face my shadow. It made me
feel even better to see my lawn properly manicured. But, sadly,
it’s apparently not over. More of the innocent die. I hope
the bad guys can be captured and quickly brought to justice. The lives of the
innocent are not cannon fodder for madmen of the world and I need
few new reasons to avoid cutting the grass.