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Flack

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Blog Entries posted by Flack

  1. Flack

    Ice, Ice Baby

    By Flack,

    Just last week while our neighbors to the north were getting their first taste of winter weather, it was still 70 degrees here in Oklahoma. How nice of them to finally share the ice.
     

     
    Here's the fam and I posing in front of dad's big tree ... or what's left of it. These ice storms are terrible on the trees; the weight of the ice breaks the limbs, sending them crashing into the ground (or occasionally, people's roofs). Dad was lucky (or smart) and paid a tree trimmer just last week to cut the big limbs that were overhanging his house. Had he not done that, several of these giant branches would have been lying across Rudolph's landing strip.
     

     
    Local schools have been closed for two days now. Getting to work was an adventure in icy driving combined with fallen-tree dodging. As much as I want to sell my truck, it's days like this that I really enjoy driving it.
  2. Flack
    Mason's Birthday Party -- Jump Zone!
    Words cannot describe just how much fun Mason had today at his birthday party. I mean, just look at the joy on this kid's face. Priceless!
     

     
    I'll explain, shortly.
     
    Jump Zone is an interesting little business. You know those inflatable moon bounces? Jump Zone is, essentially, a giant carpeted warehouse with seven or eight industrial strength moon bounces inside. Each moon bounce has a different theme: one looked like a sinking ship with a giant octopus on top, one had a Batman theme, one was even a giant bouncy basketball court. Mason and about a dozen of his friends wore their little fannies out, running and bouncing and sliding.
     
    And then, Mason lost a tooth. No one saw the actual incident, but apparently he jumped into something face first and knocked his tooth out. It was a loose baby tooth -- no dentist trip needed -- but once Mason saw the blood he lost it. Mason's like that. Earlier this week Mason cut his shin on something and by the way he was screaming I honestly thought he'd broken his leg. So of course, the tooth incident combined with blood loss threatened to end the entire party. Mason screamed and cried and put on a production so loud that parents we didn't even know came to check on him. After a solid ten minutes, I was able to convince Mason it was no longer bleeding. At that point he wiped his tears, put on a smile, and went back to bounce land
     

     
    Injuries aside, everyone had a wonderful time. The kids couldn't run from one bouncy to the next fast enough. After just over an hour's worth of jumping, the kids were wrangled up and herded into one of Jump Zone's party rooms. None of the kids seemed particularly impressed by the Xbox cake, but the eighteen year old employee thought it was pretty cool. Mason spent the party sitting in a giant inflatable birthday throne, where his royal assistants (both of his grannies) tended to his every whim.
     

     
    A birthday package for fifteen kids at Jump Zone is right at two-hundred bucks, which is just about the going rate for a birthday party of that size. True, we could have had it at the house, but I suspect there would have been the same amount of jumping, whether it was on Jump Zone's equipment or my own furniture. We were so glad everyone was able to make it out!
     
    For all the pictures from Mason's Jump Zone party, CLICK HERE.
  3. Flack

    Recovery

    By Flack,

    So far, the road to recovery has been relatively smooth and speedy. I had surgery on Monday. Wednesday morning, I rode with dad to Toys R' Us to do a little Christmas shopping. Later in the afternoon, I stopped by work to make a quick appearance.
     
    Tuesday I had two doses of Loritab to ease the pain of the stitches a bit. Wednesday, I had two doses as a form of insurance (taking some before going out "just in case" things started hurting. Today, I haven't had any. I spent most of today laying around the house, watching movies on television and playing on the computer. This afternoon I resumed my old role of picking Mason up from school. After that we stopped by the post office to check the PO box, and pick up a package.
     
    The only pain I'm having at the moment is a stabbing pain in my left shoulder, typically associated with laproscopic surgery. Supposedly this will go away after a day or two. Can't wait.
     
    According to the scale, I'm down 25 pounds this morning, all attributable to the liquid diet I've been on (and will remain on for a few more weeks). The lapband isn't "doing" anything yet and won't be until my first fill, six weeks from now. Again, can't wait.
  4. Flack

    I'm Alive!

    By Flack,

    I made it! My lapband surgery was a success, and I'm alive and doing well. Thanks to everyone who offered me even the slightest amount of support during this time. The phone calls, e-mails and blog comments were all very kind. Thank you all very much.
     
    My adventure began Monday morning with a 7:15am check-in at the hospital. I had blood work (poorly) drawn by a girl barely old enough to drive. From there it was off to the surgery check-in room, where I was soon met by Susan, and shortly after, my mother.
     
    After changing out of my street clothes and into my hospital gown, I was told my surgery would take place at 8:45am. I had an IV hooked up. Somewhere around this time my dad showed up as well. My parents and Susan chatted about different topics while I generally stared off into space. It was hard to think about anything specific, but I was sure glad to be surrounded by familiar faces and voices. Some of the others waiting in the surgery area were alone, which seemed really sad to me. As 8:45am rolled around, a nurse walked by to inform us that the doctor was running at least 90 minutes behind, which eventually turned into 120 minutes. The hospital bed I was lying on was not met for long-term occupancy, and before long my tailbone was aching something fierce.
     
    Upon entering the hospital I was given a wrist tag with my name, surgery information and a bar code printed on it. When they finally came to get me for surgery, they checked the tag and found it was wrong. Boy did that cause me to momentarily panic. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up missing a leg – or, worse yet, as MRS O'Hara! The tag confusion was quickly rectified, and shortly thereafter I was en route to the pre-op waiting room.
     
    There, I met the anesthesiologist. We went over what I would see and feel and experience. The nurse was also nice. From there, I parted ways with the family and began the ride back to the operating room. Once there, I slid from the bed I'd been riding on to the operating table. As the anesthesiologist approached I asked him how long it took for the anesthesia to kick in. He said, “Watch this.”
     
    When I cracked open my eye a split second later I was in the recovery room with a nurse sitting next to me. “You're surgery's over, everything went fine,” she said. “Jesus, is that you?” I asked. “No, I'm a nurse,” she replied. “Well, that's good news,” I said, and closed my eyes again.
     
    The entire procedure took around 30 minutes, with another 30 or so in recovery. From there I was whisked into one of the hospital's private rooms. It wasn't as nice as Susan's room was when she had her surgery, but it was adequate. They must've really pumped me full of anesthesia, as I nodded off and on between noon and 4pm or so. During a lot of that time I was awake but with my eyes closed. I could hear the conversations around me but it took too much effort to respond to them. Instead I listened, and rested.
     
    Around 4:30 or so one of the nurses came around and said that the more I moved around the better off I would be, so I made my way out of the hospital bed and into one of the chairs within the room. From there I made a few phone calls, watched America's Funniest Home Videos on the television, and just rested in general. My mom stuck around for a bit while Susan went to go pick up the kids from school. Nothing too exciting there. Susan did bring the kids by to see me for a few minutes. I was a bit nervous about them bumping into my stitches or something but they were extremely calm the entire visit. Around the time they arrived my mom went home. Sue and the kids only stayed for about ten minutes and then they too left.
     
    About an hour later, dinner was served, consisting of chicken broth, diluted apple juice, decaf tea, decaf coffee, and diet Jell-O; 30 milliliters every 30 minutes. I couldn't come close to finishing it.
     
    One of the male nurses came by and mentioned the Monday Night Football game. I flipped the game on and ended up watching the first half while sitting in the chair and the second half while lying in bed. I think the game ended shortly before ten o'clock, which seemed like a good time for bed. Susan came back up to the hospital around 10pm to stay the night. It was really comforting to have her there. She helped with lots of little things like IV tubes getting tangled and helping me get water. It is nice to have someone by your side during times like that.
     
    Tuesday morning went just as quickly. Shortly after the new day's nurses came by to introduce themselves, my surgeon's assistant came by to release me around 8:30am. Breakfast was served – another tray just like the first, with yellow Jell-O taking the place of red. I ate what I could. Through the magic of Loritab, I was feeling well enough this morning to take a shower on my own. There is very little pain, per se; a bit of an upset and bruised stomach, and six tiny incisions, all with two or three staples each (they're all covered in tape still, so I don't know exact sizes yet). By 10am Susan and my dad had arrived. I made the honorary ride outside in a sleek wheelchair. Dad drove my truck home and I rode in Susan's van.
     
    For the next two weeks I'm on a liquids-only diet. That's followed by two weeks of soft foods, before returning to normal grub (smaller portions, of course). I took the entire week off so I'll be relaxing around the house, most likely with either a joystick or a keyboard in my hand.
     
    I'm looking forward to a new tomorrow.
  5. Flack

    Andy's Big 35th

    By Flack,

    Yesterday was my pal Andy's 35th birthday, and Andy's wife Lea set up a surprise party for him at Laser Expedition. Along with Andy's family and his co-workers from the fire department, a few of the old gang showed up including our friends Jeff and Scott. It's always fun when old friends get together, whether we're playing cards, playing laser tag, celebrating birthdays or simply hanging out.
     
    Jeff and I had a slight advantage during the first game, having played previously. Out of 18 players, I ranked third and Jeff came in either first or second. During the second 10-minute game, fatigue began to set in and I found myself doing more "sniping" (hiding and shooting) than running-and-gunning.
     
    After a short break, we started back up with games three and four. During game three, nothing went right for me. The firemen's physical conditioning was more benefitial than previous gaming knowledge by this point, and people were running circles around me, shooting me from every which direction. The fourth game went worse than the third. Mason and Jeff's son Talon were designated "mummies" -- meaning, they could shoot, but not be shot. So now not only did I have firemen dowsing me with lasers, but I was being followed by a kid saying, "hi Daddy!" and shooting me in the back the entire game. I know that the whole thing was just for fun, but the competitive side of me was disappointed that I didn't do bette as the day went on.
     
    After the games we retreated back to one of the party rooms, where I had one of those awkward moments I've been dreading. As cake and punch were being handed out, I was handed pieces of cake three times, each of which I simply passed to other people. When people noticed I didn't have cake in front of me, they asked, "cake?" "No thanks," I said, maybe three or four times. I'm not blaming anyone else about the weirdness -- obviously it is a natural response to offer someone cake at a birthday party when you see them sitting there without any. In retrospect, I think it would have been easier to just accept a piece of cake and leave it sitting there in front of me. I'm sure as time goes on I will find better ways to deal with social situations.
     
    It was great seeing everybody yesterday. I'm glad there was such a good turnout for Andy's party.
  6. Flack

    Thanksgiving, 2007

    By Flack,

    I haven’t updated in a couple of days so today I’m playing catch up.
     
    Thanksgiving was as good as it gets. We descended upon dad’s house this year for our festivities. He didn’t mind, as he got a free house cleaning out of the deal from mom, sis’ and Susan. Dad already sent us the cleaning schedule for 2008 so I suspect we’ll be having Thanksgiving at his place for years to come.
     
    Not much to say about the meal itself; everything was great and there was plenty of it.
     
    Dad mentioned something about hooking the trailer up to his truck earlier in the week, and so after everybody was finished eating he and I went and connected the flat bed trailer to the back of his pickup. Sitting on that hard wood didn’t sound too comfortable to me, so I brought out a metal folding chair which I sat on. Worked great. Once we had everything hooked up we brought out all the kids (along with plenty of chaperones) and went for a cruise around the neighborhood. Despite 40-degree temperatures and a heady crosswind, everybody enjoyed the ride. Looks like Grandpa just started a new Thanksgiving tradition.
     

  7. Flack

    Man Down

    By Flack,

    Tuesday morning around 9am I decided to go for a quick walk and get away from my desk for a few minutes. I grabbed my MP3 player and headphones and walked a mile lap around the center.
     
    Rounding the final corner on my way back to my building I was almost run down by one of our security trucks, lights-a-flashin’. That truck was followed by a smaller security kart, with two more security peoples inside. As I approached the building’s front door the trio, walking briskly, walked up behind me. I held the door the open and stood aside. “Y’all are in a bigger hurry than I am,” I quipped.
     
    Once inside the building, the three of them must’ve thought I was trailing them. As they walked to the end of the hall, so did I. They walked downstairs. I followed them. After making a few turns they began heading toward my room, with me still in tow. As I followed them into my room they and I saw the same thing at the same time; Johnny, my co-worker and buddy, lying on the floor surrounded by paramedics.
     
    The next few minutes are kind of a blurry combination of employees asking, “What happened?” and paramedics trying to get information from both Johnny and the rest of us. Even though I arrived late to the party it was obvious Johnny was in a lot of pain, which was hard to watch. Using a pain scale from one to ten, Johnny was reporting nines and tens. Probably due to my recent first aid training, I found myself disassociating from the situation at hand and instead dissecting the actions of the rescue personnel. One of the things we learned in class is to go stand where you can be seen when more rescue personnel are arriving. When I heard the Oklahoma City paramedics were arriving I did just that, moving out into the hallway where I could wave them into the room.
     
    Initially Johnny was showing symptoms of having a heart attack, even though he’s already been down that road and has had his heart checked recently and everything looked just fine. After pumping him full of painkillers, Johnny was on his way to Mercy Hospital. Emily rode in the ambulance while Paula, Susan and I followed them in my truck. It is always frustrating watching how slow ambulances drive with someone in the back. I found myself continually riding my truck’s brakes to avoid ramming the rear of the ambulance.
     
    After hanging out in the hospital for fifteen minutes or so Johnny’s wife Stephanie arrived, relieving Emily and myself of bedside duties. From there we joined Susan, Paula, and one of Stephanie’s co-workers out in the waiting room. After waiting for an hour, we were informed that they wouldn’t know anything else for two to three hours. We decided that was a good point to break for some lunch and go pick up Johnny’s truck. As I later told Johnny, “When we thought you were dying, we came here. When we found out you weren’t dying, we went to go eat BBQ.”
     
    After a couple of hours of tests, they turned ol’ Johnny loose. Their tests point to GI issues, which makes sense as he just had his gall bladder removed a couple of months ago. Johnny and Stephanie left the hospital right around 2pm, and the rest of us headed back to work.
     
    I thought a lot about this the following day on Thanksgiving. It’s easy to say that you’re thankful for your health, but to see something like this up close and personal drives the point home. We sure are thankful Johnny’s okay and look forward to seeing him return to work next week.
  8. Flack

    Lapband Surgery

    By Flack,

    I am sitting in my truck in Norman Regional Hospital's parking lot. It's Saturday morning, 10:23am. "Living Our Dream," one of the several Oklahoma Weight Loss Options support groups, doesn't meet for another 40 minutes. With the radio off, the only sound inside the cab is the occasional rush of wind blowing through the slightly cracked windows. For the next 40 minutes it's just me, sitting in silence, wondering how on earth things got to this point.
     
    Attending this meeting is a prerequisite for having lapband surgery, which I have elected to do. The surgery takes place December 4th. For 10 days prior to the surgery I will be restricted to a liquid diet. I chose the date I did so that the liquid diet would start two days after Thanksgiving. A shrink would have a field day with that decision.
     
    I have so many thoughts and feelings about this surgery that I don't even know where to begin, but the one one general feeling that invades all of them is embarassment. I am embarassed to be this overweight. I am embarassed that I have to resort to such drastic measures in order to lose weight. I am embarassed about the way I look. I am embarassed that I cannot control my eating. I am embarassed about what size of clothes I wear. I am embarassed that I have failed so many diets and exercise plans. I am embarassed that I cannot seem to win this battle. Ultimately, I am embarassed that I am having this surgery. I don't like to talk about it and I don't want to talk about it, but assuming I see weight loss similar to Susan (who has lost over 130 pounds now since March), I suspect I'll be forced into talking about it. There won't be any hiding that.
     
    On the heels of embarassment is fear. I am not afraid of the surgery itself, at least not the physical aspects ot it. I am afraid of its long-term affects on my life, particularly social ones. Food is such a big part of all of our lives. I fear the awkwardness that is sure to arise the first time I go out to eat with friends or family and I cannot join them. I am afraid of what people will say. I worry that I am making the wrong choice. I worry that I will make meals awkward for others around me. Sometimes it seems like the only way I know how to socialize with friends is over a good meal. I worry about how this will affect that.
     
    As I weigh the pros and cons of this decision, I actually begin to come up with a few positive things about being overweight. Ultimately I know I'm kidding myself, but the list is somewhat entertaining (at least to me). The list of the effects of morbid obesity are printed on the list in my hand. Some of the things like "degenerative arthritis" and "heartburn" make me think, "I can live with that." As the list gets more serious -- diabetes, heart disease, shortened life span -- it becomes harder to wave them off.
     
    "I wonder if they'll have snacks at the meeting," I think to myself, cracking a nervous smile. They may take my gut, but they will never take my sense of humor.
  9. Flack
    For the past three weeks, the city of Yukon has been preparing for this weekend's opening of their giant Christmas light festival, Christmas in the Park. In fact, when the family and I went to the Community Center the weekend before Halloween for their annual haunted house (Spooksville), Christmas lights were already being hung around the parking lot.
     
    While we were out with the kids tonight we decided to drive through the park and look at the lights. Gates were scheduled to open at 6pm, and we were approximately the tenth car in line. About five after six the barricades were removed and the line of cars began slowly filtering into the drive-thru light show.
     
    About a minute and a half into the ten minute adventure, a woman approached our car on foot. Typically the city asks for donations at the end of the show, not during it, so we weren't sure what this person wanted. As she approached our car and said, "there's a large transformer on fire. Please drive through to the end of the park immediately."
     
    Unfortunately no one told the first half a dozen or so cars of the impending blaze. The front of the pack continued their lumbering pace of two miles per hour along the single-file path, unaware of the approaching fire. While the kids looked out the windows enjoying the lights, Susan kept her eyes on the road as I continually glanced over my shoulder, watching for approaching flames. Fortunately we never saw any, otherwise we would have gone off-road to get out of there. It's never good karma to peel out on baby Jesus and his manger, regardless of the threat.
     
    By the time we got to the end of our little drive, the smell of fire hung in the air as smoke drifted into view. And as I suspected, whatever danger there really was wasn't great enough to prevent the people asking for donations at the end of the drive to stop our car, collect our spare change, and hand out peppermint candies to the kids.
     
    I hope all the elves made it out safely.
  10. Flack

    Keep on Truckin'

    By Flack,

    On the way home from work today I pulled up to a four-way intersection with traffic backed up in all four directions. After much honking, I could see cars to my left and to my right driving through the intersection. My lane didn't move. After more honking, another two cars crossed in front of me. My lane didn't budge an inch. In front of me were a couple of cars backed up behind a semi truck. Then, I saw them; the words painted on the back of the 18 wheeler:
     
    STUDENT DRIVER
     
    You know, I understand truckers have to learn how to drive SOMEWHERE, but I'm not so sure a four-way stop sign on a narrow two lane road is the best place for them to start. The truck had on its right blinker. Trucks make wide right turns. (At least that's what the signs on the back of their trailers typically declare.) Thus explains the stalemate; the driver simply couldn't make the turn with any other cars in the intersection.
     
    Eventually, all the north and south bound cars went through the intersection, finally allowing the truck enough room to turn -- but not before taking five minutes out of my weekend.
  12. Flack

    The Squirrel is No More

    By Flack,

    Apparently, squirrel traps do in fact work, given enough time. After a couple of days of no luck I moved the trap closer to where I thought the squirrel was entering the attic. Today when I came home from work, Mason and I heard a sound that sounded like the neighbor was hammering on something. It took us a few minutes to realize the sound was coming from our own attic. With Mason preoccupied with the Wii, I went into the attic and retreived my captured critter. I'll spare you the details, but after he was good and dead, I tossed his furry little carcass into a cardboard and tossed the box into the back of the golf cart. Then, with the Wii on pause, Mason and I rode over to the woods and performed a small ceremony. I used the time during the ride back to talk about how we don't kill animals for fun.
  13. Flack

    Generations

    By Flack,

    Friday night Susan, Mason, Morgan and I met the Martins (my friend Jeff, his wife Heather, and their two youngest children Talon and Madison) for dinner at Mazzio's Pizza in Yukon. It doesn't seem like that long ago I was washing dishes and preparing pizzas and Jeff was delivering pizzas at that exact same location, but when I do the math I quickly realize that was over 18 years ago. Kids and young adults often throw around the phrase "time flies," but it is not until you get a little older that the words hold significant meaning. Seventeen or eighteen years ago it not be uncommon to find Jeff and I (along with our friends) hanging out at Mazzio's on a Friday night; last night, we did it while watching our kids play together. I never imagined this. I does my soul good to see our kids playing together.
     
    After eating pizza and letting the kids play videogames and eat candy for a while, everybody headed back home. Mason was upset because he wanted to have a sleepover with Talon, but his room is a mess and Susan was feeling under the weather. After several minutes of begging, Susan caved and said Mason could have Talon spend the night, if he cleaned up his room first. I've never seen a kid clean his room so quickly. Like a Kansas tornado Mason spun in circles, magically flinging toys on to shelves and clothes into his closet. Whatever works.
     
    Talon arrived and the boys spent some time playing Xbox. Talon's three years older than Mason so there's always a bit of posturing as to who's going to be the alpha-male. Mason thinks "his house, his rules," while Talon's a little older and a little wiser and probably puts up with Mason a bit more than a kid Mason's own age would. Jeff was supposed to drop Talon off but the two of us ended up hanging out in my own arcade for a bit, talking about the good ol' days and looking at projects that need to be completed. There never seems to be a shortage of those, that's for sure.
     
    Jeff left a little after midnight and I was sitting in my lounge chair when I heard Mason's door creak open. When I got up to investigate the door quickly closed. When I went into Mason's room I found the two boys running around in circles. "Time for bed," I said in a stern voice. The two reluctantly climbed into bed and pretended to fall asleep.
     
    Around 1am I heard more noises. I went to crack the door open and found the lights on, Mason sitting up in bed, and Talon hiding behind the door. "Go to bed, boys," I said. "I'm trying daddy," Mason said, "but Talon keeps playing the guitar." "No I don't," Talon said defending himself, "Mason keeps asking me to play songs." "Don't make me come in here again," I said.
     
    According to Susan, she went and told the two of them to quiet down two more times, once at 2am and once around 4am. And while everybody had a long, tiring day today after a lack of sleep, I can't help but to smile a little as I remember all the times Jeff's dad Neil opened Jeff's door and said, "Ok boys, time for bed," to a couple of teenage boys trying to stay up as late as we could possibly make ourselves.
     
    Mason took a nap around 3pm today and hasn't woken up.
  14. Flack

    Up and Running!

    By Flack,

    Up and Running!
    After a couple of days of installing, tweaking, and configuring, everything is up and running at casa O'Hara. robohara.com, along with half a dozen other websites, are now running on my home computer. All this would not have been possible without the help of my old friend Jeff, co-owner of Managed Data Solutions. If you ever need hosting, consulting, backups or any other type of data solution, give MDS a try. Good peoples, they are. Over the past 48 hours, again with major help from Jeff, I was able to install a mail server, MySQL, migrate my old databases over, and perform a bunch of other tasks that would confuse some of you and bore others. The short version of the story is, I'm back, I'm online, and I'm not going anywhere for a long, long time.
     
    I did experience one major glitch yesterday, which I was able to overcome this morning. Apparently, there is no "upgrading one's home Internet to a business Internet connection." Instead what happens is, home Internet is turned off, and business Internet is turned on. This sounded okay until yesterday afternoon when all of our cox.net e-mail addresses were deleted. I wasn't happy about that, but I didn't see it as a critical error -- not until Susan informed me all of our online banking was tied in to her account! Susan contacted Cox's online technical support last night and was informed that the accounts were deleted and that they could not be recovered.
     
    This morning I contacted tech support (and eventually a supervisor) and the accounts were restored, now happily living under the umbrella of my dad's account. Whew!
     
    So anyway ... summary is, everything's back up and running, no more forseeable technical issues, and everything's grand. Time to quick talking about webhosting and start talking about other stuff for a change.
  15. Flack

    November Reign

    By Flack,

    Halloween has come and gone and things are back to normal for the most part. All the skull-shaped candles, plastic skeletons and other assorted scary decorations have been packed away for another year. Last year's Halloween candy has been dumped from the kitchen's candy bowl, which has now been filled with this year's trick-or-treat bounty. Yes, the kids get so much candy that it typically lasts an entire year. And even though we've combined all the acquired candy into one central bowl, apparently the kids have secret stashes around the house. Even with the candy bowl out of reach, I keep finding candy wrappers all over the house.
     
    Everyone in our house is sick. We've been passing around a bug for the past week or two and now it's my turn. Lots of sneezing, nose-blowing and bathroom time. Yay. I had to work for a few hours Saturday and I felt okay then, but by the time I got home my head was pounding. Susan had to wake me up from a nap to come eat dinner, after which I went right back to bed and slept another nine or so hours (ten if you factor in daylight savings time).
     
    Speaking of Susan, she's in DC on a whirlwind trip -- out yesterday, back tonight. That puts me in daddy daycare mode for 24 hours. The kids and I met our friend Emily for dinner at Taco Bueno. Morgan likes beans and Mason likes any meal that comes with a toy, so it all worked out. Morgan left the restaurant with half a party burrito but by the time we got home, no one could find it. I'm sure it'll turn up soon.
  16. Flack

    Pumpkin Carving

    By Flack,

    This year our front porch hosts four carved jack-o-lanterns. Mason drew the face on his pumpkin and I cut it out for him. When I asked Morgan what she wanted on hers, she replied, "bat." So, she got a bat. Susan's is a traditional looking jack-o-lantern while mine is a creepy alien face, an idea that I got from a downloaded pack of jack-o-lantern templates.
     

     
    Here are Mason's, Daddy's, and Morgan's jack-o-lanterns out on the front porch (Mommy's is on the other side).
     
    If you're interested in checking out the templates, here are the packs. Each one has 50 or so templates. They're plain ol GIF files that you can either print out and tape on your pumpkin, or simply look at and freehand (which is how I did my alien).
     
    http://www.robohara.com/temp/templates2005.zip
    http://www.robohara.com/temp/templates2006.zip
     
    And, here are more pictures of us carving pumpkins.
  17. Flack

    Papa Bear

    By Flack,

    Papa Bear has several distinct roles and duties within his own cave. Some of these responsibilities are inherited; others are assigned.
     
    Papa Bear's primary responsibility is the safety and security of Mama Bear and her cubs. Keeping the cubs safe involves watching over them and protecting them from serious harm. Sometimes Papa Bear lets the cubs do dangerous things and sometimes the cubs get hurt, but that's how cubs learn. When Papa Bear sees a truly dangerous situation, he will intervene. Papa Bear does this by keeping a close eye on the cubs, even when he is pretending not to. Papa Bear delivers security to the den by providing for Mama and the cubs. This involves providing food, shelter, and making the cubs feel safe.
     
    Papa Bear spends a lot of time in the corner of the cave overseeing the den. Papa Bear defers to Mama Bear's judgement and maternal instinct often. Papa Bear would just as soon maul anyone who messes with his cubs, but Mama Bear knows that this is not always the best approach. Sometimes when the cubs begin wrestling too hard or a predator comes sniffing around the den it is Papa Bear's job to growl loudly. Most of the forest critters know to leave Papa Bear alone at that point.
     
    For the most part, Papa Bear lets Mama Bear and the cubs squabble with the other creatures in the forest. Papa Bear does a lot of eye-rolling and gets told to sit down a lot when the hair on the back of his neck begins to stand up. Papa Bear's strong suit is not diplomacy.
     
    Just know that there is a line that, once crossed, Mama Bear will no longer be able to hold Papa Bear back. At that point Papa Bear will simply open your head like a can of soda and eat your brains like a cantaloupe, and he will do so regardless of objections or repercussions from the den. It is really best for everyone involved not to push Papa Bear over this line.
  18. Flack

    Eischen's Chicken

    By Flack,

    Mention "fried chicken" in Oklahoma and it won't take long before someone recommends Eischen's ("eye-shuns"). Eischen's Bar, out in Okarche, Oklahoma claims to have the world's best fried chicken. Today, Dad, Mason and I decided to test their claims.
     
    Okarche is 25 miles northwest of Yukon. Dad and I chatted during the drive while Mason played some Connect Four on his Gameboy. It's a good thing he had something to keep him occupied; based on bad information I gleened from the Internet, we drove right through Okarche and on to Kingfisher, another 10 miles. Once we realized our mistake we doubled back to Okarche, arriving at Eischen's just after noon. Somehow Dad was able to "deduce" where the bar would be, and he was right. Having an internal chicken radar is an invaluable survival skill. I have heard rumors of people waiting hours just to be seated, but on this particular Saturday morning the bar was only semi-full. We were seated and waited on immediately.
     
    The best way to describe the building, both inside and out, is that it looks exactly like one might suspect a bar would look like in Okarche, Oklahoma (population 1,155, according to Wikipedia). The outside of the bar is red brick. The windows are tinted darkly, with neon signs mounted on them. The interior is as dark as it is old. Other than the two flat screen televisions showing college football games, the place probably hasn't changed in half a century. One sign says no children allowed without parents; another one declares "no coffee or tea" -- beverages are limited to water, cans of pop, and of course beer. In one corner stands a jukebox -- in the other stands a vintage Pac-Man cabinet behind a worn pool table. The floor is intentionally covered in colored sawdust; why, I wasn't sure.
     
    The menu, mounted on the wall, advertises the bar's half-a-dozen choices. If you came for chicken there's only one choice: "chicken", which is a whole chicken (two legs, two thighs, two wings and two breasts) for $10. If you're looking for a side item I'd recommend the okra, seeing as though it's the only side item. There were also two different sandwiches, chili, cheese nachos, and chili cheese nachos. People don't go to Eischen's for the variety; they go there for the chicken. Plates consisted of butcher paper, "carry-out containers" are a sheet of tin foil, drinks come in the can served along side styrofoam cups of ice, and there were no utensils to be found. The only thing missing was Patrick Swayze, randomly kicking people's asses.
     
    The dilemna dad and I found ourselves faced with was, is there such a thing as "great" fried chicken? Don't get me wrong -- everything was delicious, hot, and fresh, but both of us agreed that even the world's best fried chicken is probably just good. And yeah, it was good, but I doubt we'd make the 50 mile round trip for it again (unless, we agreed, it was to show off the place to an out-of-state visitor). For what it's worth I'd saw Eischen's fried chicken is probably the best fried chicken I've ever had -- and quite possibly, the least expensive. Whole chickens are $10, the okra (which you could easily split between 3 or 4 people) was $5, and Mason's nachos were $5. If you're a fried chicken connoisseur, by all means, make the trip.
  19. Flack
    While driving home from work yesterday I heard Queen's "You're My Best Friend" on the radio and it reminded me of the same story it always reminds me of.
     
    In 2nd grade, my best friend Andy Willrath moved away. My new best friend became Chris Brogan, fellow Myers Elementary student and fellow fan of all things geeky. Both of us were interested in UFOs, Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. Chris owned a 24" Godzilla and I owned several of the 24" Shogun Warriors -- the two of us spent many hours setting up battles and so forth with those guys. I remember one time we decided to make a fake UFO video with my parents' video camera. We used a blue blanket for a sky-like backdrop and a cut out in the shape of a UFO that we placed in front of a flashlight. The end result wasn't very impressive, but you have to give us credit for trying.
     
    As with toys, Chris and I also had similar tastes in women. Both of us had crushes on Brandi Salsman, the hottest girl in 2nd grade. Brandi and I "went together" for about fifteen minutes that year before Chris wooed her away from me by taking her on a date. Yes, a real date. Chris took Brandi out to eat at a restaurant in 2nd grade. There was no way I could compete with that. Chris got the girl, and I was reduced to riding my bicycle around our neighborhood (Brandi lived just a few blocks from me) and pretending to have chain problems right in front of her house -- the idea being, I could stand in front of her house for several minutes pretending to work on my bike in hopes of catching a glimpse of her through a window. Embarassing, but true. If Brandi was forced to choose between a kid who took her out on dates and a kid who pretended to work on his bike with pretend tools on a daily basis, I have to say she made the right decision. Surprisingly through all of this, Chris and I remained the best of friends.
     
    Chris and I visited each other's houses often and remained friends the following year in Mrs. Estrada's third grade class. Near the end of the school year, Chris announced that his family would be moving away. I can't remember where they were moving to, but I remember I was heart-broken. On the last day of school we had a going-away party for him. That day, I brought a copy of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" on 45 to school. The B-side of that single was a song called, "You're My Best Friend."
     
    I wanted to give Chris a huge send off. During lunch I envisioned myself hopping up on the stage in the cafeteria and lip-synching to "You're My Best Friend" with the entire student body cheering. This of course never happened. I kept the record tucked away in my bag the entire day. Before going home we had a small going-away party for Chris. Someone's mom (maybe mine, I don't remember) brought cupcakes and we had a little party. I asked Mrs. Estrada if I could play my record during the party and she said yes. It was my own little send off to a good friend. Looking back it probably seemed a little strange to Mrs. Estrada that I would dedicate what is probably a gay love song from Freddy Mercury to a fellow classmate, but whatever. I don't think I had any concept of that in third grade. I suspect today's third graders would be less forgiving.
     
    And so, that was it. After the party Chris got on his school bus and I got on mine and we went our separate ways. I'm sure there were promises of keeping in touch but they never happened. I have no idea where he went and I never saw or heard from Chris again. That summer, the Willraths moved back to Oklahoma and things changed back to normal. Andy returned to being my best friend, and Chris Brogan was quickly forgotten, only to be remembered from time to time when that song comes through the radio.
  20. Flack
    This morning on the radio I learned that October 23-27 is Celebrate Job Loss Week, "to focus on a plan to celebrate and move on after getting fired or laid off." In honor of such an occasion, I will now share with you the story of Heavenly Pizza.
     
    In the fall of 1993, after attending Redlands Community College for two years, I transferred to Southwestern Oklahoma State University in Weatherford, Oklahoma, some 60 miles away from home. I arrived in town only a few days before school began, at which point I began hunting for a job. Bad timing on my part -- I was told at the time that the population of Weatherford was "12,000 when school is in, 7,000 when school is out" -- and apparently I was the 5,000th person to arrive in town. By the time I began applying for jobs, everything was taken. When I applied at McDonald's I was told I would be put on a waiting list. For the first couple of months I attended school I simply didn't work. Then, I stumbled across Heavenly Pizza.
     
    Day One of Three
     
    Susan and I stopped by Heavenly Pizza for lunch one day and noticed a "Now Hiring" sign in the window. Before sitting down to eat, I asked the owner for an application. He hired me on the spot and put me to work. My class schedule was such that I had a three hour break in the middle of the day. Susan ate lunch by herself as the owner shuffled me back to the kitchen to show me the ropes. I had previous experience at both Mazzio's and Pizza Inn, so I figured I would catch on quickly. I didn't. Heavenly Pizza didn't have the same giant equipment that those chains owned. Everything was done by hand and done by feel. Instead of working with a team, Heavenly Pizza only had two employees -- the owner, an older, cowboy-type fellow, and a hostess/waitress gir that I recognized from school. With me, made three. After a hectic and confusing lunch period, the owner left me behind to wash dishes.
     
    Day Two of Three
     
    Upon arriving the second day, the owner said to me, "ok, I'm going to let you run everything today. You'll be okay." I wasn't okay. I didn't know how to do ANYTHING. I didn't know where anything was. I don't like being unprepared I spent a couple of hours confused, frustrated, and stressed out. The owner stuck his head back in the kitchen every now and then to assure me that I was doing fine. I wasn't doing fine. Even if he didn't know it, I knew it.
     
    Day Three of Three
     
    Found a note from the owner waiting for me when I arrived. "Good luck! Call me if you need me!" To say that day's lunch was a disaster would be an understatement. Pizzas were late or burnt, and definitely not heavenly. I finished my shift because I figured I owed hungry lunch patrons that much. After lunch I shook the waitress' hand, said, "good luck," and walked out the door, never to return.
     
    Friday (day five) was to have been my first pay day. I never went back to pick up my check. I never even went back to eat, which was unfortunate as they had really good pizza as long as I wasn't cooking it. The best in Weatherford, by far.
     
    I think I will celebrate this week by eating some pizza.
  21. Flack

    Diamond Dig, Round 3

    By Flack,

    The worst part about not having Internet access during a four-day vacation is by the time I finally get around to blogging about the trip, I tend to skim over the details and just hit the highlights. Of course the way I ramble on, maybe that's not such a bad thing. With that, here are the highlights, with a link to pictures at the end.
     
    Thursday
     
    Departed for Broken Bow, Oklahoma around noon. Original plan called for three vehicles to make the trip: our van (with me, Susan, and our kids), the sister-in-law's Isuzu Rodeo (with Susan's sister, Susan's mom, and our nephew), and the neice's car (with both neices and a boyfriend or two). When we arrived at my sister-in-law's house we discovered that the neices wouldn't be coming until the following day. So, the other two cars hit the highway/turnpike headed for Broken Bow, Oklahoma, some 272 miles southeast.
     
    Arrived at the cabin mid-afternoon; different cabin than we had last time. The old cabin seemed more geared toward indoor entertaining while this one seems more set up for outdoor activities. Don't get me wrong, we're still talking four bedrooms and three bathrooms, but the living, kitchen and dining areas were much smaller than last time. Morgan, Susan and I claimed one downstairs bedroom, Liz and Becky claimed the other, while the boys claimed both upstairs bedrooms as their own.
     
    It didn't take long for everyone to settle in. Within an hour Mason and Dylan were soaking in the hot tub out on the rear deck. Once they were done with that I hooked the Nintendo Wii up in the living room and the boys had a good time beating each other up (virtually).
     
    Friday
     
    Friday morning Mason, Morgan, Susan and myself headed off to Antlers, Oklahoma to visit my Uncle Kenny. Our first official point of business was lunch. We picked up BBQ brisket sandwiches at the Way Station in Snow, Oklahoma. To give you an idea of just how small Snow, Oklahoma is (population 292), my Uncle didn't pay for lunch. He just put it on his tab. Of course, I wouldn't try that if I were you; the Way Station is decorated in stuffed animal heads and hides and I suspect if you tried to walk the tab yours might be hanging there next! All kidding aside, the sandwiches were EXCELLENT and although very few of you reading this may ever find yourself in that next of the woods, I highly recommend trying Jim's brisket sandwiches (with onions and jalapenos) if you do.
     
    With full bellies and tanks of gas we headed back to Uncle Kenny's in order to see "his backyard" which is a couple hundred acres. The five of us piled into Kenny's off-road Blazer and hit the trails, climbing rocks, crossing streams and hopping logs where necessary. By the time we had made a lap around his property, Morgan was cranky and ready for a nap. After the women-folk (I'm a cowboy now) went inside for a nap, Mason, Kenny and I hopped on two four-wheelers and set out to see more of his property. Mason started out sitting in front of my on my four-wheeler, but moved to the back after he tired of getting hit in the face by bugs and branches.
     
    After a long day of driving and riding we went back to my Uncle's house where we hung out for an hour or so. Mason and Morgan napped while the three adults chatted. Eventually we parted ways and went back to the cabin to meet back up with Susan's family.
     
    Friday night our neices called to inform us that they had changed their mind and weren't coming to the cabin. This upsetting everyone on a few levels. First of all we were a little upset because we had paid more money this time for a bigger cabin since more people were coming. Personally I was disappointed because the girls like playing cards and I was looking forward to a good poker game this weekend. I guess the biggest reason everyone was disappointed is that I think everyone kind of wanted one last big family vacation before the girls grew up and found other interests.
     
    Saturday
     
    Saturday morning, everybody but me set out once again in search of diamonds at the Crater of Diamonds State Park in Murfreesboro, Arkansas. I did what I normally do; I stayed back, guarded the cabin, soaked in the hot tub, watched the OU game on television, and napped. At one point I drove into Broken Bow and stopped by the casino where I won around $85. I also found as many diamonds as everyone else did who went to the diamond dig so, there ya go.
     
    Saturday night the kids spent more time in the hot tub, playing Wii and watching movies. At some point Becky and Liz drove back into town to check out the casino while Susan and I watched the kids. I went to bed around 9pm, exhausted.
     
    Sunday
     
    We got up, we had breakfast, we cleaned up the cabin, we came home. The end.
     
    PICTURES.
  22. Flack

    Games N' Thangs

    By Flack,

    Early Saturday morning I hopped in my truck and drove 250 miles to Bentonville, Arkansas, for another round of hunting for and playing videogames with several of my friends from Digital Press. Icbrkr and his wife once again hosted the festivities. Icbrkr's buddy Grimbal showed up, along with 98Pacecar (from Dallas) and Gapporin (from Joplin). Yes, I know constantly referring to people by their online aliases is geeky.
     
    Due to a mix-up in directions I ended up following Icbrkr's instructions intended for Gapporin, who was driving from Joplin. I knew something wasn't right when I left Oklahoma headed for Arkansas and ended up in Missouri. While the new route was significantly longer, it actually only added about five minutes on to my normal trip time. Typically I take 412 east out of Tulsa; this time I remained on 44 east all the way to Joplin. While a change of scenery is always nice, it's a little scary when you arrive at a state you weren't planning on visiting. Things worked out, and I arrived around 10:30am.
     
    For the next few hours the five of us drove around Bentonville, visiting game stores and pawn shops while shopping and chatting about everything and nothing. I got to spend some time in Icbrkr's Honda Fit, one of the cars I'm considering purchasing, so that was cool. I think everybody in the group found games they were looking for. To be honest I was more simply "along for the ride" than anything else this week. Each time I found a game or system I was looking for I would think about my credit card bill from Vegas that I still haven't paid off, and put it back. That's okay though; like I said, I was mostly there for the conversation and company and both were great as usual.
     
    Once the game hunting subsided we all went back to Ice's house for some gaming and hanging out. Hands down, I am the worst Guitar Hero player of the group. Funny thing is, I'm pretty sure I'm the best guitar player of the group. Go figure. After getting booed off a virtual stage while playing Suicidal Tendencies' Institutionalized, I passed the guitar along and let some of the pros play. Gapporin and I were forced to sit through several rounds of Chicken Shoot, a Wii game where players, well, shoot chickens. And not just regular chickens, but cartoon chickens doing things like knitting and tanning. I don't know if it was the angle or if the game is simply this buggy in two-player mode, but I spent the majority of my time playing trying to get the controller to work right. Half the time my side of the screen would look like someone having an epileptic fit was playing. I'm not that bad at games -- honest, guys!
     
    After a few hours of gaming we all went downstairs and had some great home cooking from Icbrkr's wife. Whether it's spaghetti like last time or fajitas like this time, Ginger's cooking is always terrific and much appreciated. Thanks again! After dinner the party broke up and we all moved slowly toward our cars. I think I finally hit the road around 8pm. I started off strong but somewhere down the road the long day combined with the fajitas caught up with me, so I stopped at a gas station on the turnpike and took a 30 minute nap. After the quick cat nap, with a little coffee in me I was able to make it home around 12:30 or so.
  23. Flack
    Alexey Tolstokozhev, a Russian spammer who was responsible for over 30% of all viagra, cialis, and penis enlargement spam e-mails, was found shot to death in his in his luxury home near Moscow this week. Tolstokozhev reportedly made more than $2 million dollars this year alone, thanks to spam. Vardan Kushnir, another prolific Russian spammer, was assassinated in 2005.
     
    The spam blocker I currently run has a button that reads, "Kill Spam." I had no idea it would work so well.
     
    Link: http://www.rlslog.net/real-punishment-russ...pammer-murdered
  24. Flack

    Getting OFF OnStar

    By Flack,

    As reported by the Associated Press this week, starting in 2009 OnStar will be adding a new feature that allows police departments to halt your car in case you are involved in a police chase. The article also mentions that in 2009, OnStar will be installed in 20 different models (OnStar already has 5 million subscribers). Don't forget that all OnStar units constantly broadcast your location via GPS to the OnStar office. If you have OnStar installed in your vehicle, whether you pay for the service or not, OnStar knows where your car is at all times. And don't forget, your OnStar also has a microphone that connects right to OnStar that I'm sure can be turned on at any given time. Because as we all know people never abuse anything. And if you think the FBI would never use OnStar to listen to people, they already did.
     
    If you want to know what all your OnStar unit is tracking apparently you can add a connector and connect to it with your laptop. Here's another tutorial. The second link includes detailed instructions on removing the OnStar unit from a Chevy Avalanche. The unit is located behind the dash, and the removal is quite lengthy. It's almost as if they really don't want you removing it from your car.
     
    Or, you could do what a lot of people are apparently doing and simply pull the fuse.
  25. Flack
    Back in January, 2007, the fam and I stopped by Yukon's downtown train museum. Yukon's downtown train museum consists to two train cars permanently parked on a small section of track just off Main Street. In the window of one of the cars there are two permanently affixed signs. One reads "By Appt. Only," the other says "CLOSED." I'm not sure which was posted first. Nobody I know has ever seen inside the train museum, which really isn't the point. It's two stationary train cars that kids can climb all over. One thing I like about the train is that there has been absolutely no effort to child proof the thing at all. Forget taking your shoes off before playing -- in fact, steel-toed boots probably wouldn't be a bad idea here. Both cars are covered in exposed bolts, sharp edges and steep steps, all hungry for blood. I should also mention that the retired train sits about fifteen feet from live train tracks, which is a great place for children to be playing. Again, I'm getting sidetracked.
     
    So back in January when we told Mason we were going to go see the trains, he insisted on bringing, of all things, a magic wand. Why? Who knows, but he did. And of course, two minutes into the trip, Mason had lost his magic wand. He poked it through one of the floor grates where it fell, but never hit the ground below. It must've landed on that magical shelf where every screwdriver I've ever dropped in my truck's engine bay lands. The magic wand never reappeared, and there were many tears.
     
    Fast forward ten months to last Monday. Susan, Morgan and I all had Columbus Day off; Mason had school. I guess they have to learn that dumb "In fourteen-hundred-and-ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue" poem sometime. While the girls and I found ourselves at Party Bizarre (formerly MG Novelties) browsing though Halloween crap, Susan ran across magic wands for a dollar. The minute I saw her pick the wand up, the two of us came up with the same plan at the same time -- go back to the train, plant the wand, and let Mason discover it.
     
    At 3:30pm, we picked up Mason from school. I made up some BS excuse for driving downtown and when we passed the train Mason said, "hey, there's the train where I lost my magic wand!" Hook, line, and sinker. This was going to be easy. "Do you want to go look for it?" we asked. "Yeah!"
     
    So I park and the kids run toward the train cars. Susan and Mason go around one way and I go around the other. Susan palms the wand from her purse and sneaks it to me; I slip it into my pocket. As Mason begins looking on one side of the train, I drop the wand under the steps on the other side, where he lost the wand. Unfortunately for the boy he searches for things like I do which means there's no chance of him ever finding the wand on his own. After a little coaxing, I lead him toward the area where I've planted the wand. Eventually, he spots it.
     
    "MY MAGIC WAND!" he exclaims. Quickly, his smile fades.
     
    "This isn't my wand," he says.
     
    "What do you mean that's not your wand," I say. "Of course it is!"
     
    Mason studied the wand carefully. "Nah, this one's thicker."
     
    "Thicker? Mason, what are the odds that two magic wands have been lost here at the train?" I said.
     
    "Nah. The ends are all wrong on his one," he said, holding the wand up and looking through the end of it.
     
    Keep in mind that the kid hasn't seen his old wand in ten months. Scrambling for a way out of this one, I came up with this gem. "Maybe someone else found your old wand, felt bad about it, came back and left you their wand." He seemed okay with that.
     
    As Susan and I made our way toward the car with Morgan, I heard Mason shouting behind us.
     
    "Dad! I lost my wand again!"
     
    This time it was just the white end piece, which did manage to avoid landing on the magic shelf and worked its way out to the ground below. We snagged it and quickly ran to the truck, before the train could eat another wand.
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