Snagged one a them thar Amazon Fire Sticks on pre-order for 20 clams. I already dig the interface compared to the Roku by a mile, but I'm hoping for the iOS app soon so I don't have to use the little remote that came with it. I do actually watch some of what's on Prime Instant Video, so I'm hoping the Stick sticks.
With all of the ingredients acquired, I've finally put everything into a jar and sealed it up. I have to shake it up every day for two weeks until the next phase, but getting past the starting line is cause enough for excitement!
Because you needed more phone punditry from bloviating strangers in your life, I wonder whether anybody truly thinks Apple will stick with the 4" screen in any significant way. Since the release of this year's phones at 4.7" and 5.5", the old form factor seems to me like it's headed for extinction. Plenty of the tech cognoscenti that I follow (so, already, a very specific and narrow set of inputs on which to base my observations) continue to pine for the 4" screen and wonder whether Apple will hang on to that size in future releases.
I think that Apple's move to larger sizes says all we need to know. Hanging on to smaller devices in the $99-to-free price range doesn't look like hedging to me. It just looks like maximizing profits on old hardware.
In the middle of wondering what the point of Instagram was back in its early days, I remember sticking to my guns that if you were going to post anything, you should only post phone shots. It used to piss me off when photos racked up loads of faves and comments (okay, there's raw human jealousy in there, too) because of how they looked when it was clear that some world class glass was used to capture the image. But my missing Instagram's purpose and potential has turned out to be related to my insistence on posting exclusively with a phone.
When Facebook bought Instagram, I was one of many reactionaries that ditched the photo sharing service. Besides, I was still a heavy Flickr user, and to my snobby would-be photographer's self, that's where the serious photography enthusiasts hung out. Instagram was for folks that just wanted to share pictures of...whatever. Not so much for the pictures as for the whatever.
In the intervening years, however, Flickr stagnated (I still use it, but less so). Users abandoned the service for one reason or another, and pouty conservatives whined about leaving every time the site changed in pursuit of broad relevancy. Instagram, on the other hand, continued to grow and reach a broad audience. Eventually I realized that if I wanted to share photos with people that would actually look at them - particularly friends and family - I needed to return to Instagram. So I did.
What I truly misunderstood with Instagram those years ago was that a) smartphone camera adoption would come to destroy the point-and-shoot market, and b) smartphone technology has progressed so rapidly that there isn't much to miss about point-and-shoots. The iPhone or Android photos on Instagram aren't much worse (or better, frankly) than most of what users posted to Flickr or Facebook or elsewhere. So while Instagram remains a smartphone-centric social network, it's still a photo sharing site. So what does it matter what camera took the pictures that people post?
In the post-show of the most recent episode of Accidental Tech Podcast, Casey Liss suggests that he's "cheating" by posting photos taken with a Micro Four Thirds camera. But why is he posting photos to begin with? Because these are photos of his wife and child, or other moments that he want his friends and family so share. Why not post them where everybody's already looking? That doesn't sound like cheating. It sounds like exactly the point.
My mother-in-law is a very smart woman, but she's a bit behind the curve when it comes to modern electronics. That's fine - she's not anti-technology, or anything. But even for her generation she's missing out on a few elements of the gadget landscape that might actually help her out in a variety of ways. Sometimes she has trouble managing a multi-remote setup for her TV and cable box, so my wife, her sister, and I have been hesitant to steer her toward anything too advanced. After failing to embrace a car GPS that she bought for herself, we figured something like a smartphone was out of the picture. Then she lost her camera.
Long ago, Valerie and I pitched in with her sister to buy a digital camera for their mom. This was already a huge leap, at least 8 years ago. We showed her how to switch from taking photos to viewing them right there on the camera, and how to get everything from the camera to her iMac. For years, we figured that's how she'd been using the camera.
In reality, my mother-in-law eventually stopped transferring photos to her computer and ended up steadily filling the memory card with years' worth of memories. We still hope to find it, but if the camera is truly lost, so are about 5 years of photos. Coincidentally, my mother-in-law had been telling Valerie that she felt like it was time to replace her phone as Valerie struggled to navigate and configure the Byzantine voicemail system of a clamshell phone.
The gears started turning in my head, and I'm thinking it's finally time for my mother-in-law to get a smartphone. An iPhone, specifically, since it'll be easier for her family to support. This way she still gets her phone with easier-to-use voicemail, AND, she'll get her biggest camera upgrade since 2006. I also think if I set things up the right way, she'll have to worry a lot less about losing her device and all of its photos. So here's how I think this could work:
Over time we could slowly introduce some additional apps as well, like the calendar, or weather, but only as she gained confidence. It all sounds a little paternalistic, but if you know my mother-in-law (or similar luddites), this is about protection AND minimizing the kind of tech frustration that leads to tech rejection. I want her to have an easy time keeping in touch with her family and the ability to take good photos of her grandchild (and whatever else) without worrying about losing it all.
Thoughts? Is this overwrought? Anybody out there have personal success stories about introducing new gadgets to technophobe friends or family?
UPDATE: My pal Sam recommended a modified approach: just start with phone, camera, and photos in the dock. Leave harmless but maybe useful things on the homescreen (like notes, calendar, etc.). Put everything else in a folder on another screen. No need to lock down app/music stores. After teaching her how to use the phone and camera, just let her know she can play with whatever she sees if she wants without worry. We'll see...I like these ideas, but I also fear that me and my friends take a LOT for granted when it comes to gadgets. So I tend to be overcautious.
Note: this post may contain spoilers for a TV pilot that's more than 30 years old.
For reasons I can't fully explain, I decided to start watching a sitcom that's almost as old as me. Cheers. The entire series is on Netflix and, while I'd never previously watched an episode, I was already familiar with the premise: Sam owns a bar called Cheers. The bar's populated by regulars like Norm and Cliff and some other folks I didn't quite recall. And Danny DeVito's wife, right? Right, Rhea Perlman. Cheers is an American cultural touchstone from the late 20th century, so if you're at least my age you probably know a little about the show.
But really, the most recent connection was from a cartoon. I'm a huge Adventure Time fan, and while the show is mostly bonkers, it's been marked by occasional moments of sincere emotional depth. The best of these moments, for me, shows a good man's descent into madness in service of protecting a scared little girl. The Cheers theme song is used in the episode "Simon and Marcy" to illustrate both his attempt at comforting the child and later, his struggle to hold on to what makes him human:
[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udWQDqK_gLM&w=854&h=480]
It's still a humorous episode of a cartoon ostensibly aimed at kids, but it's also harrowing and ultimately tragic.
Anyway, I decided to check out the source material. And why not? I've heard and read good things from trusty sources. So over the weekend I finally watched the pilot episode. And I was hooked immediately.
In one short 25 minutes of television we get an avalanche of jokes, from one-liners to witty retorts, some physical comedy, humorous misunderstandings, and grade-A sarcasm. Every bit as funny as I could have hoped. The cast is terrific, too, from George Wendt and John Ratzenberger to Ted Danson and Shelley Long.
But the story in Cheers' pilot is what really got me. An idealistic (if a bit stuck up) post-grad named Diane enters the bar with her fiancé on their way to the airport. The audience is introduced to the cast over the course of a long evening as Diane slowly realizes that she will not, in fact, be marrying this man the next day. Meanwhile she tries to resist her environment while everybody else draws her in until, ultimately, she acknowledges that it's the perfect place for her.
Everybody in Cheers is there so they don't have to face something outside and upstairs. Sam used to be an MLB pitcher but now, incongruously, runs the bar as a reforming alcoholic. Norm hints at an empty marriage. Carla is a single mother overwhelmed by her four children. None of these situations are as harrowing (or weird) as "Simon and Marcy", but the bar is full of an ad hoc family that cares for each other, whether it's overlooking employee tardiness or making sure an overindulgent regular gets a ride home. They're just trying to hang on to what makes them human.
Our troubles are all the same.
I work pretty closely with one project manager at my office because the project in question has dominated my job for the past 2 years. I refer to her as my "work mom"; she's actually my mom's age, very friendly in a parental sort of way, and makes the best freakin' chocolate chip cookies I've ever eaten. It's a good working relationship.
Beyond belief, my old HP laptop was replaced with a 15" Retina MacBook Pro at the end of summer. I've been a Mac user for a few years outside the office, so it was pretty great to use my preferred computing environment for my job. This past week, this same project manager replaced her old machine with the same setup that I have, but she's an old school IT worker that's never really used an Apple computer. She's really smart - she's worked her way around IT for a lot longer than I have - but now she finds herself in a situation where she doesn't quite know how to use her computer, the tool she depends on for nearly every task throughout the day.
Now, as so often happens with actual parents, I find myself providing tech support. I'm actually kind of enjoying it, though. As I've mentioned before, I like to help people where computers are involved, so it's been fun to share the keyboard shortcuts, tools, and processes that have helped me out. It's also been instructive to see what I take for granted about they ways I work and what I've already learned over the years.
WOWEE, podcasts are BACK, baby! I mean, they never actually left, or anything. Regardless, I thought I'd put together a short list of some great shows that aren't produced by Ira Glass (though I love This American Life and Serial):
If you're not listening to any of these already, you should check them out. And who knows, maybe some day I'll eventually wake up my own dormant show...
Also, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the excellent Overcast podcast app (if you're an iOS user like me). You can hook up your Twitter account to see and provide recommended episodes and shows. Another great discovery tool if you don't trust iTunes reviews from strangers.
I know these chilly, gray, autumnal days can throw a lot of folks for a loop. Daylight is already shortening, so when the sun doesn't show its face and you need more than just a sweater to stay warm, I'm sympathetic to people that just want to hide away at home under a down comforter.
I kinda love it, though. Sure, I prefer a sunny day as much as the next person. But in these couple of weeks before Thanksgiving I find my anticipation heightened by the monochrome sky. Ruddy leaves still hang on the trees and the smell of wood-burning chimneys hangs in the air. Pretty soon I will hide away at home, but with family and leftover turkey.
<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2014/11/d36a6-image.jpg" alt="" />
<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2014/11/cfc47-image.jpg" alt="" />
It took me long enough, but I'm finally getting ready to make some homemade bitters. I've ordered cinchona bark and cassia chips from Dandelion Botanical. I have some jars for mixing/storage. And I have plenty of Pink Lady apples left for peeling. I hope to have my first batch of apple bitters ready in time for this Christmas.
I may post some progress updates in the intervening weeks...
“...so like all rituals that make no sense, we take this one extra seriously.”
At the beginning of this year, The Onion's A.V. Club started a column about NFL football. The writing, as with most of the writing on the website, is typically good. But every now and then, you get a real gem like the "Measure for pleasure" section that opens today's entry.
Hobbies make me feel guilty these days. Time is always pretty short with a 1-year-old around the house, so most time I spend for me, while she's awake, feels like theft. Not just daddy daughter time, but time that Valerie could have to herself, or when she could use a helping hand. So I don't take as many photos as I'd like - not even of my own kid. And new hobbies? Nah. I'm the sort who goes a little overboard with new hobbies. Someday I'll get in to home brewing, or cheesemaking, or sewing. Not in the next year, though.
It's a season of life, I get it.
I just wanted to take a moment to point out that, without my wife's grandfather, I probably wouldn't be typing this and you wouldn't be reading it. Not this way at least.
Okay, that's a bit dramatic. But a) nobody else in my family (in-law or blood) that I'm aware of has their own Wikipedia page, and b) Gordon Teal's work directly led to commercially viable transistors. He also put together, staffed, and ran the lab that produced the first integrated circuit. So, yeah. This here computer nerd is pleased to be associated with that kind of tech genius, however distantly.
Warshaw. Easy to pronounce, right? I grew up learning it's pronunciation as "war'-shaw". No silent "h". I've fought against countless teachers, classmates, administrators, and strangers who don't even try to get it right and pronounce my name, instead, like the capital of Poland.
The surname is Ashkenazi Jewish. It's the tiniest part of my heritage, but it gave me my name. I remember my older brother telling me once that it was actually derived from "Warshawsky", which caught my attention. Warshawsky looks like so many names around the world that append a suffix to a place name, indicating that a family hails from a certain location. Knowing that this branch of my family came through Ellis Island, it's certain that the surname was modified and Anglicized. If Warshawsky looks like "from Warshaw", I could work from there.
As it happens, Warshawsky is the Anglicized spelling of Warszawski. See, in Polish, sz is pronnounced like sh in English (the leading and trailing w's are pronnounced like v and f respectively, but that's another story). And Warszawski indeed means, "from Warszawa", or in English, Warsaw.
You ever see a war movie where members of a platoon call each other by their place of origin? "Hey Houston!" "Hey Tennessee!" I suppose everybody has been saying my last name correctly all along without me realizing it. "Hey you, whose paternal bloodline stretches back to central Poland!"
Here in my little city of Richmond, VA, I’ve enjoyed watching (and tasting) the rise of a robust food scene. Nobody’s surprised anymore (though always grateful) to see our excellent restaurateurs, chefs, and bar programs written up in national publications. Fine food choices exist across a broad range of tastes, budgets, and cuisine, so finding a local option for your meal isn’t difficult.
But sometimes you’re out in the far, western exurbs visiting your mother-in-law, so you decide to try out a chain because it’s most of what’s out there. That’s how I recently ate at Chuy’s (ugh, site requires Flash…) in Short Pump. I had a steak burrito with a green chile sauce, and it blew my freaking mind. The beef was flavorful, perfectly medium rare skirt steak sliced the right way so it was tender. The chile sauce had a nice moderate heat. The tortilla, unbelievably, was delicious. Good enough that it held its own against steak. After talking to the waitress a bit, I found out they apparently make their tortillas fresh every day, and intentionally put some of the sauce on the ends of the burrito when they heat it up to keep the bunched ends from drying out. Worked like a tasty charm.
Chuy’s isn’t a chain on the scale of Chipotle, for sure. But 40 unremarkably-decorated theme restaurants around the country isn’t pretending to be local, either. But I can’t pretend that wasn’t a hell of a burrito.[1]
So I’m left with two questions:
Look, I’ve never eaten Tex-Mex in Texas, Mexas, or New Mexas. I don’t really wanna hear that Chuy’s is garbage compared to “the real thing”. I’ve just never had a burrito this good in RVA before. ↩
I realize this is a fuzzy line, but it should be pretty obvious that places like Panera or Bertucci’s don’t belong on this list while Bon Chon (ugh, ALSO requires Flash) certainly does. ↩
Christopher Nolan makes movies that I love to watch, though he's divisive to be sure. Some of my friends dislike his why-so-serious impact on comic book adaptations, and critics decry his occasionally heavy handed exposition. But I'm entertained by his exploration of the darker side of people - their motivations and ends-justify-the-means behavior. Thanks to frequent collaboration with cinematographer Wally Pfister, Nolan's movies look gorgeous (his obsession with the IMAX format doesn't hurt either). While Pfister was off shooting the (apparently) regrettable Transcendence, Hoyt van Hoytema (who shot Her, The Fighter, and the original Let the Right One In among others) took over the cameras for the incredible Interstellar.
I expect Nolan's movies to be visually appealing, but I don't expect to be struck so strongly by the complete beauty of his work. I don't expect to be emotionally overwhelmed by the relationships and struggles of various characters. I don't expect nearly three hours to pass so quickly, leaving me a sobbing mess in my theater seat as the credits roll.
I didn't think this movie was perfect. In fact, I was more than a little disappointed by the way some major plot elements were too-neatly explained. And I wish Nolan had made better use of silence instead of pervasive sound. Those disappointments faded to distant gripes in the face of outstanding performances by lead and supporting (and voice!) cast members, stunning visuals of both a broken Earth and magnificent cosmos, and one of Hans Zimmer's finest film scores. Seriously, what an incredible collection of music.
Go see this movie. See it in an IMAX theater if you can. Maybe keep some tissues in your pocket if you're easily weepy like me. This one goes on my insta-buy list as soon as it's available.
4.5/5
Because I'm materialistic and live on the internet, I check Uncrate everyday. Here is a website aimed at geeky dudes who think they're cooler than reality supports, but they tend to have some nice product photos (when not using PR shots) and the occasional stuff that I actually end up buying. I've been reading the site for a few years now, and one category cracks me up every time: tactical doodads.
Tactical, in this sense, seems to refer to practical war tools. A tactical flashlight, for example, may include a red lens cover so you can see what's in front of you without giving away your position. But what if you want to bring a pen to a gun fight? Turns out you have a number of options.
So maybe alpha geeks have redefined tactical to mean "may be used as a weapon". I mean, I've heard of "the dogs of war", but I don't think I care whether Fido's on a leash while I stroll through the battlefield that used to be a suburban park:
<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2014/11/74d6c-image-asset.jpeg" alt="" />
Taken to extremes (more extreme than the pens?), you find yourself looking at a tactical spork:
<a href="http://www.survivalmetrics.com/store/Item/id_spork-military-mre-eating-utensil-spoon-fork-knife" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2014/11/b59bd-41woptxyqrl.jpg" alt="" /></a>
And a tactical pillow:
<a href="http://stores.octactical.com/red-tac-gear-tactical-pillow/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2014/11/1819c-a64738413dbd103d1b31d1_l__28765.1410272374.1280.1280.jpg" alt="" /></a>
With such a robust and varied industry of tactical products, you'd think we were living in a state of total war or something...
At least the makers of Tactical Bacon aren't taking themselves too seriously.
[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqyeDr5WDBU&w=854&h=480]
Last night I cooked up a package of Sausage Craft's delicious San Miniato links. This way I could cut up some slices for my kid's lunches and also have some ready to eat (only needing to warm through) for other meals. This time, I decided to brown the sausage in a little olive oil on relatively high heat before finishing in the oven, more or less braising in about 3 cups of San Marzano tomatoes. Why? Not really sure.
When the sausages were cooked through, I was left with a sauté pan full of roasted tomatoes, juice, and salty, flavorful sausage grease. I wasn't going to cook up a pot of noodles after I'd already eaten dinner, so I decided to experiment. I cooked the contents of the pan to reduce a bit of the liquid and further break down the solids, but how do I keep all that meaty flavor without an oil slick where a sauce should be?
I let the tomato mixture cool enough to drop in to my blender, and added an egg. The yolk has an emulsifying agent that should keep it all together, but we'll see how it fares tonight when I warm it up for dinner.
Every job has its doldrums. But it's another matter entirely to have work - something to pass the time - that's so monumentally boring that you feel like you’re falling asleep with eyes wide open. This insidious class of work actually manages to feel slower than nothing at all.
Happy Wednesday, Internet.
One of the simple pleasures of my child growing up is that I can cook for her now. No more Gerber mush from a jar. I've always enjoyed cooking for myself, but cooking for others is a special joy; it's not just selfish indulgence, it's sharing nourishment.
I'm going out to a nice dinner for my birthay tonight, but I needed to cook food for my little 1 year old so she would have dinner before the babysitter arrived. So while I stood over the stovetop, frying an egg, I felt unadulterated happiness knowing that I was so directly providing for my daughter.
"I know just enough to be dangerous."
What a peculiar phrase. I most often hear this colloquialism used in a self-deprecating manor for folks that know enough to talk about a topic at a party, but not enough to make a career out of it. But the meat of the idea comes from people who know a little about a subject and use that tidbit to plunge recklessly into a situation that requires deeper understanding. Maybe you just learned how to build a doghouse and now you think it's time to build a deck. But you don't understand building code, so it's not structurally sound.
I use the phrase about my own understanding of Responsive Web Design or other technical topics, but I try not to charge in to project meetings swinging three or four facts over my head. Alexander Pope wrote that "a little learning is a dangerous thing", but I don't think he meant always. In the business and IT worlds, too many folks try to pass off their cursory Google research as expertise. But if you're willing to accept correction and have an open mind, you can at least use a little learning to be part of the right conversations. And that's not so dangerous, is it?
Ah, November! Here comes the tail end of the year. So much to anticipate, so much to celebrate, so much! My birthday (and birthday dinner). Then Valerie's birthday a mere 12 days later. Then thanksgiving 2.5 weeks after that! Family! Gluttony! Time off! But WAIT! THERE'S MORE! There's December!
Thanksgiving is late enough that returning to work after the break is a jump right into the Christmas season. Carols, holiday specials on TV, buying a tree, work winding down, and a nice big vacation to wrap up 2014.
I know the skies are gray and there's a chill in the air, but gimmie dat end of year awesome sauce at firehose pressure, 'cause I'm enthusiastic!
I was cleaning out my armoire when I ran across the key for the first car I ever loved. It wasn't my first car, mind you. I parked that '85 Buick Electra wagon in a cedar tree not one month after passing my driving test.
The car that made me love to drive was a 1985 Honda Prelude. I was the third owner and it already had over 200,000 miles on the odometer. I added many thousand more before it died on Hancock Street just as I finished parking one vernal afternoon in 2002. The '85s used some one-off dual carburetor jobbie, so there was no fixing it.
Even though it was nearly as old as me, that Prelude had tight suspension and steering that made me aware of the road. It wasn't a supercar, but it was quick. Putting my friends in the back seats was pretty close to abuse, but the driver's seat was comfortable on long trips with all important controls in easy reach.
And it was the first car to don the proud PLOAF license plates. Those plates were strange enough around campus that I even overheard a classmate talking about them. I had a very Seinfeld-esque “You’re the Ploaf guy!” moment when I revealed it was my car.
For a brief time after graduation I considered getting another one but practicality won. I still miss the ol' beast, but PLOAF has graced both ends of my Jetta for ten years.
We should be more careful how we frame discussions about opting-out of/abandoning technology. Leaving social networks or avoiding certain consumer goods is not always Luddism, but it sure sounds that way when we're constantly referencing "the days before [x]". We should point to examples that don't make us sound like hermits-in-the-making, hiding from the inexorable march of technology under foil blankets.