The Empirical Manifesto

I don't expect you, dear reader, to commit to memory all my little idiosyncrasies, but suffice it to say, I greatly enjoy the 'diner cup' style of coffee cup. I have a rather impressive collection I do not use from all the U.S. Navy ships I've been aboard, but rarely use them for drink. My most recent is a wonderful 14-ounce sized one emblazoned with U.S.S. Lexington across it from my month long trip photographing museum ships. The one before that is a sadly undersized 12-ounce Death Wish mug I ordered from their online store which I use the most. But before that, hailing back nearly 20-years with an impeccable glaze and logo which still looks brand new, is my favorite coffee cup of all, McDonald Bradley (attached).

There is some disagreement about when/how I actually came into possession of that cup. I believe it was somewhere around the turn of the millennium, given to me directly by Photogoot's (now ex) wife. He believes however, that he gave it to me much later, after having absconded with it in order to smash it at a later date. His recollection of events hold merit over mine because he accurately remembers the discussion surrounding my love of its diner cup shape. But this is immaterial to the present story.

I believe Photogoot has been divorced nearly 20 years now, give or take. So when he came for a visit, and we put him up in the B&B my wife crafted, I removed the coffee cups upstairs and replaced it with that one.

The first time he came downstairs to the kitchen where we were gathered, he gave me a quizzical look and asked, "Did you put my ex-wife's coffee cup next to the coffee maker on purpose?"

I couldn't hide my expression, or the subsequent laughter when I replied I was wondering how long it would take him to notice. Not long apparently. Not long at all.

My children do not call my mother, "Gram Gram" nor did she teach them it is better to be good, "than to not." Nonetheless, I remind them of this so often, and have from such an early age, that they likely believe it to be true and don't even know why.

"We frequently hear of people dying from too much drinking. That this happens is a matter of record. But the blame is always placed on whisky. Why this should be I never could understand. You can die from drinking too much of anything; coffee, water, milk, soft drinks and all such stuff as that. And so as long as the presence of death lurks with anyone who goes through the simple act of swallowing. I will make mine [Scotch] whisky."
-- W.C. Fields

I have two visitors coming over the next couple of months, and I'm very excited to see them both. Though both are able to co-exist collectively (we all did fine in Saint Louis) separately one requires much more attention (at least in preparation) than the other, and the activities I'm trying to plan vary wildly on opposite sides of the pendulum.

Both will require transportation from the airport. As these people are unaware of Dallas traffic, they'll both likely be screaming in the passenger seat of my car (think danzigfried's first visit). I drive as if I were piloting the Knight Bus in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and traffic in the Metroplex is equally as forgiving. That being said, when one visitor arrives she has no requirements outside of transportation from said terminal to our domicile. As it will be later in the evening, her transportation is already set. I see no problems or issues arising from it. The other, however, requires the the vehicle be at exactly 71-degrees and that a measure of single-malt Scotch be awaiting him in the passenger cabin upon his entrance into the vehicle. Though with my first guest there will be much chattering and catching up during the half-hour drive, my other guest prefers silence until exactly 15-minutes into my drive. He's very precise, you see. Needs his time to "unwind."

While both guests and I have plenty of catching up to do, the care and feeding of one is going to be much more simplistic than the other. Both will be sleeping in the kids room's during their visit, but one demands 600-thread count Egyptian Cotton sheets. Our first breakfast will be lots of fun for both visitors, and though the menu of one visitor is not set, she'll no doubt enjoy whatever morning feast we serve, while the other requires a single slice of dry rye toast, and a single egg over-easy and 8-ounces of coffee at exactly 112-degrees Fahrenheit.

Even though I haven't seen either of these visitors in several months, it will be like we were never apart once they arrive. I am notorious for picking right up where we left off and having a really good time. That is, once I get the list of pre-approved conversations from my more *ahem* structured guest. My wife has events planned and sites to see with our first visitor - I'll be lucky to be able to tag along a couple of days into the visit. The other guest is bringing his own agenda. I'm waiting in eager anticipation to see if I'll be asked to accompany him.

With our first visitor, my wife has picked up a couple of bottles of wine and fun things like "chocolate tequila." She is so much fun and so easy-going I anticipate a great time all around. My other visitor is like Madam Maxine's flying horses from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - he only drinks single-malt whisky, so I've been feverishly stockpiling Scotch. No matter how much I have, I'm afraid it won't be enough. He requires a dram an hour. You've heard of a mean drunk? My second visitor only gets angry if he doesn't drink!

I'm very excited to see both my friends.

We're hosting a large block-party for the first visitor - she already engages in conversation with the locals of Anna, and I have people coming from all over the Metroplex to meet her. My other friend, well, not only are his arrival dates and times kept until the most strict of confidences, I've agreed we're not to leave the house except under the cover of darkness, and to avoid as much human contact as possible. He's written a backstory I've memorized to explain his presence here in Texas.

Either way, how much fun can a person have?

I rock.

I've returned from DC, once again with a tale to tell. The last time I was here, I was afforded a stay at the monumental Washington Hilton, where President Ronald Reagan was shot in an attempted assassination. This time, I was not afforded such affluence, ending up in the hotel in which crack-smoking Mayor Marion Barry was arrested with a prostitute in the very seedy hood of South Capitol. The KFC/Taco Bell establishment next door had a counter completely surrounded by bullet-proof glass, and food was served through a similarly configured safety box. Most unsettling. And unlike most cities where the North/South, East/West demarcation lines are other, usually primary roadway, this street was divided by the Capitol itself, a logistical nightmare to navigate. Next time, I'm staying at the George, across the street from the Hall of the States, where I worked. The good news was that I saved myself a four-hour round trip to the VP's house in Mclean, but Friday was no wash either as I was there much later than I had anticipated.

I had mentioned to photogoot that not only was I planning on doing very little over the weekend, I also reminded him that I didn't expect him to entertain me 24 hours a day while I was there. It turns out he took my request to heart and ignored me Friday and Saturday, spending most of his day napping in front of the television. But seriously, we had dinner at a Tex-Mex & Authentic Spanish restaurant which was quite nice, replete with the left-over Asian wall art of the Chinese Take-Out place it replaced six months ago. The place was packed. Later, we shopped for Scotch. We visited the same friendly Indian gentlemen from my first visit there and found a Dalmore Cigar Malt. I've been wanting to try the Dalmore, but I'd never before seen the Cigar Malt variant. Though it struck me as gimmicky, it had quite the bold and unique taste, and yes, we had it with an Arturo Fuente. However, since this was an unknown variable, so photogoot chose to also purchase a Glendfiddich. How very awesome of him! I'd wanted to try the Glenfiddich 15-year (Solera Reserve) recommended by bsdcat, alas, they did not carry it.

During our extended lounging period at the house, and for reasons I cannot recall, I chose to change the colors on my site. The current scheme was initially created to emulate a VT100 green terminal console. That's why, when it came time to create the links color, I chose amber, the only other VT100 terminal color. I don't remember why (and it was no doubt due to photogoot's persistence) I swapped my colors, creating an amber site with green links. No one liked it.



At one point Friday, I was trying to download drivers from Sprint's web page. I couldn't find any. Perplexed, I made a few calls. Four of them in fact, all to Sprint. And was transferred no less than six times. Most of the people I spoke to didn't know what a device driver was. I explained, "You sell equipment which requires operating system drivers in order for them to work. There is no link to these drivers on your page." Finally, I reached a salesman who gave me the following link: http://sprint.com/downloads. "Thank you," I began." "This solves all of my issues but one. Why do you not link them to Sprint's webpage?"
"I don't know." He responded.

Sunday we took a drive out to Solomon Island where we didn't just talk the talk, we walked the walk. It was the perfect end to a perfect visit. Thank you.


photogoot

photogoot arrived safely and contacted me at the conclusion of his first day. I drove to his hotel in order to hit the town for an evening of fun!

Saint Louis has recently made news by being identified as the "Most Dangerous U.S. City." While this concerned me after relocating my wife and children here from Texas, galinda822, a native of this area, has always assured me that the violent crime occurs only in Saint Louis proper - the downtown area and not the suburbs in which we reside. photogoot's hotel was smack-dab in the middle of Saint Louis proper - downtown, and it was dark. Thus began our search for food...

We initially attempted to leave via the front entrance. We were accosted almost immediately. We decided to go the opposite direction, but were stopped again by someone else. I looked past this person and could see every last one of them; lined up all the way down the street at 25 foot intervals. There was no way we were going to make it through the gauntlet unmolested. We re-entered the hotel, and slipped out the back entrance...only to be stopped again. With no other exits, and no other options, we ended up the sole diners in the very fancy Bistro restaurant within the hotel. After we placed our order, photogoot and I each had a single glass of Macallan 18-year scotch...more on this below.



I used to have the big house and the nice car...and six-figure debt. These days, I strive for something I've always heard about (but honestly never really understood) living beneath my means. It took my wife and I awhile, but with hard work, discipline, and some deft maneuvering, we managed to become debt-free. We no longer live paycheck-to-paycheck, but it takes a lot of effort and planning and most of this burden falls on my wife's shoulders. We rarely deny ourselves anything - the difference is, we wait for it. We plan for it. We save for it. Once you're free of debt, you look at the world through different eyes. You no longer care about how low a payment is, you want to know its cost. Cash is king and a very powerful tool in negotiations. I negotiate everything. I wait. And I mean to tell you, I'm a very patient man.

I'll admit to being somewhat of a snob where some things are concerned. Clothing, for example. Years ago I discovered that a $75 shirt will last me approximately 8 years, whereas one from Wal-Mart will last me about 8 months. The trick is to wait until that $75 shirt is on sale for about the cost of the Wal-Mart shirt. Its a win-win. Let's take my scotch - I always compare price vs. performance with everything, and my scotch is no different. Recently, you all have read how I managed to find a bottle suggested by lehah for a mere $25 (pictured above). He confirmed with me today that that same bottle normally sells for $42. By Grapthar's Hammer...what a savings.

Disclosure: "If you know my wife, please refrain from passing this next part on to her. Thank you."

So with all I've said about how and when I choose to spend money, and making the careful decisions, while my wife wouldn't bat an eye at me bringing home a $50 bottle of scotch, I shudder to think of her reaction were she ever to find out that the hotel...

charged me $50 for that single glass!