At this juncture--with the state ofthe economy...

(apologies to Dana Carvey...)

I really wasn't going to write a blog entry today--I really have nothing to say at this time.

THen I thought about it, and it's the last day ofthe month, and now we're into the last hour of the day, so sit down and write something.

So here I am.

I am reminded of an old 'Peanuts' strip I saw years ago--Snoopy's sitting in front of the typewriter

First panel--looking 'at the audience "Sometimes the words come so fact when I'm writing that I can barely keep up!"

Second panel--gazing off in the distance "Sometimes thoughts get so jumbled I can't get them down fast enough"

Third panel--looking at the typewriter "Sometimes I'm inspired so much that I'm overwhelmed"

Fourth panel--again, looking at the audience (with the end quotation marks for eyes--always loved that) "Sometimes"

As in--not now, however.

Kinda like this.

But I'm rambling...

I'm a ramblin' man.

Which leads right into the Sunday Night Funnies and listening to Steve Martin playing the banjo

R - A - M - B - L - I - N ... Apostrophe!!!

Ramblin' man!

I forgot what I was going to say.

Some people come back with 'I guess it wasn't very important or you wouldn't have forgotten it -- Ha ha ha!"

"Oh right, I'm radioactive!! Shake?"

I loved listening to Steve Martin on the Sunday evening funnies--him and George Carlin. Of course, the king of stand up at the time, and probably always will be, was Bill Cosby--

"Monsters can't get ya if you have your music... na na na na naaaa.... na na na na naaaa..."--

"Hey Cos!!"

"Na na--What!?"

"You gotta see it man! Weird Harold's getting a beating!"

"Really? Harold's getting a beating? This I gotta see!!"

K, basically the bottom line is 'wasted youth'. The thing is, Sunday nights were something to look forward to. I know that school was the next day, but that was almost okay if I got to laugh a bit Sunday night. Steven Wright, Emo Philips, and, of course, Dr. Demento... "Dead puppies aren't much fun..."

Well, they're not.

Anyway, that's about all I gotta say about that.

I was really going to get into it, but I deleted it all, and will just put this in--

Proverbs 26:4 - Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself.

Proverbs 26:5 - Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes.

I believe that same sex marriage is just fine, and that God has no problem with it.

I believe that women should aspire to whatever office, religious or otherwise, that they want to and forget about the naysayers.

I believe that over the course of centuries, people have selectively interpreted the Bible to coincide with what they want, either for personal or political ambitions, wealth or power, instead of listening to what God is really saying.

Jesus died for me and my sins. I do not believe, and honestly when it comes right down to it (unless you are a fundamentalist) neither do you, that the only way to heaven is by believing in that. And here's the biggest reason (of many reasons that I could mention)--

God's Chosen people are the Israelites.

Let me reiterate that for those that missed the point--

God's Chosen people are Jews.

Orthodox Jews do not believe the Messiah has shown up yet.

So basically, if you adhere to the idea that the only way to God is thru the blood of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, you are condemning God's Chosen People.

Yes you are.

Quote Scripture to make your point all you want, but, in the final analysis, that's exactly what you're saying. And I don't play that game.

One of the most famous parables is 'The Good Samaritan'. Samaritans were not believers, yet the only one that helped the person in the ditch was the Samaritan. The point, as I understand it, was that everyone has God's Laws written on their hearts, whether they believe in Him or not, and that it is how we convey God's laws to one another that is the important part--'Be good one to another'--The Samaritan knew that. And if this wasn't a parable--if this actually happened--the people who state that the only way to God is thru the 'blood of the Lamb' automatically condemn the Samaritan.

And that's a good thing how?

I'm not a James person--'Faith without works is nothing'. I'm more of a 'Jesus is my personal saviour' but that does not necessarily mean that people that are into Buddhism are automatically 'unsaved'. There are many roads to heaven.

I don't believe that the Bible is the 'literal' word of God for, as shown above with the two Proverbs, the Bible contradicts itself if taken literally. I also believe that specific passages should be taken in context with the entirety of the Biblical message, as well as with the understanding that what we read today has been edited, and re-edited over thousands of years. Compounded with that is the 'evolution' of society--we have an idea of how people did things back then but we can't exactly be sure, for our understanding is already slanted by our way of thinking--Society has changed over the centuries.

All these things must be taken into consideration before you tell other people how they should live their lives--what they can and cannot do.

And any interpretation of any Scripture, be it the Bible or the Koran, or whathaveyou, that creates second class citizens, that takes away rights of individuals based on their sex or sexual preference, is inherently wrong. We cannot say that the 'evolution of society is towards freedom' and then deny that freedom to all individuals in that society.

It's hypocritical and, if I recall correctly, Jesus disliked hypocrites.

I set up a page. It isn't linked anywhere else (yet) but I check it out sporadically.

View Idiot Hacker Attempts

The really sad part is that, for some strange reason, the script doesn't actually list all the hack attempts. To see all hack attempts on Sparky's Space to date (that I know of), have a boo at this text file--

Hacker Attempt Log Text File

It's a little lengthy, but it's just full of idiots who are trying to hack, or idiots who have viruses on their system and don't care that the viruses are trying to hack.

Ahh, the internets--fun place.

Whatever.

Anyway, One hundred and one blogs. Wow. Whoda thunk I'd make it this far? Certainly not me.

Beyond that, I'd like to thank you, the reading audience for the edifying e-mails and words of kindness thus far for this little endeavour of mine. As well, those that actually posted comments (besides the spammers), I really appreciate the efforts.

In this 'blogosphere' of today, where everyone and their dog has a blog, I'm happy just to do my own little thing.

We shall see if I make it to 202.

On a completely unrelated note, my 'step' nephew, Patrick, made me smile at Easter dinner. I don't know the exact details, but he has that old 'mystery show' theme down to a science--y'know, the one that increases the suspense when someone says "I don't know who killed Mrs. Beasely" or when someone dark and mysterious opens a door quickly and steps in and the three notes go DOH DOH DOHHHHHH in a descending scale. I don't recall exactly where it originated, but I've heard it before. Patrick does it beautifully, however.

So I'm adding that to the soundtrack of my life--I open a door abruptly and say 'Doh Doh Dohhhhh!!' and enter the building--or at least I think it when I'm out in public--don't need people thinking I'm crazy or anything.

(no, it's not the Homer J. Simpson 'D'oh!', but it sounds the same)

Actually, right now my significant other is probably thinking I'm a mite 'eccentric' due to my various little quirks--singing in the theatre, playing LEGO, love for anything sci-fi, listening to John Denver, knowing that 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' was Bonnie Tyler and not Laura Brannigan, my absolute devotion to well written television shows, whatever.

Ever notice that crazy people that are rich are called 'eccentric' and eccentric people that are poor are called 'crazy'. Hmmm...

Eh, I warned her--I'm pretty much, as the old term encompassed perfectly--WYSIWYG (wizzywig--ahh, growing up in the age of the Commodore 64)--What You See Is What You Get--it doesn't get much better (don't get much worse either, so at least I got that going for me)

Anyway, welcome to triple digit Sparky's Space blogs (Inverse Hyperbolic Co-Tangent if I ever saw one...)

So there's this weekend. It's a long one 'cause of the Easter holiday and all, which adds yet more time for me to do something, well, slightly not so smart.

First something that I did right--I helped bake this weekend. I'm not talking about opening the oven door helping--I'm taking setting up and putting together and baking and removing from the tray helping.

Better than TV--watching the baking process

So we go for a coffee on Easter Sunday morning. Didn't have to be at Papa's and Dian's until early afternoon so we enjoyed a fine ralaxing cuppa with friends. En route home, we're going thru the list o' things that need to get done for the Easter dinner. One of the things on the list is to wash the car.

Now friends, I've owned a Dodge pickup for numerous years and never felt the need to wash the thing in my driveway. My fear was that of I started to wash it, I'd clean off all the spit and glue holding the Mighty Dodge together and it'd fall apart into a big pile o' rust, so I just never washed it.

Now we have her car, which is a nice shiny blue Sunfire and is worthy of being washed in the driveway at the abode.

I get the buckets of soapy water, the sponges, turn on the water to the garage (had it off thru the winter--don't need no frozen pipes bursting) and proceed to wash the fine automobile gracing our driveway.

Finished that, and look across the driveway at Phillip and Avis's car (wonderful neighbours, Phillip and Avis), and decide to wash their car as well.

Get all that done--both cars are glittering and gleaming in the sunlight and I think to myself, 'Jorb well done!'

Whilst cleaning up the buckets and sponges, I note that the actual driveway still has salt and muck left over from winter, and I thought it'd be a good idea to hose down the asphalt. Which is what I proceeded to do, then I nip back into the house to see how things are transpiring in there.

Few hours go by, we're ready to go to Easter dinner, and we walk out to the car, carrying all the baked goodies and things needed for the dinner.

I look at the car.

"Did we take the car out after I washed it?" I ask.

"Nope" says she.

Hmmm... the car is absolutely filthy.

Waittaminit--I sprayed down the driveway after I washed the car.

Eh, whatrya gonna do?

So how's the 'Misadventures of Sparky' sound for a blog name?

Beyond that, we proceed to Papa and Dian's abode and have a good time of fellowship with the family, so that's the important bit.

Warning!! Cute kid below!

Partaking in the baked goods

and I have as yet to write a blog for it.

SNL's a repeat--saw Paris Hilton doing the monologue so just turned that off.

Nothing else much on Saturday night so after this little posting, it's off to bed for me.

First time for baking for me today. We made mini-buttertarts, which was fun and got flour all over the kitchen.

3 minutes left.

Might as well post before the day ends.

Night.

are voracious feeders. Well, can't really blame them 'cause of the variable weather and all.

Before I go on a totally long story, I'm going to post a picture--

Look! The sock Nyjer feeder actually works! I used a very old work sock that was a little threadbare, stitched the larger holes closed, and just hung it out there. It took a few days for the birds to get used to it, but they eventually did, and now both nyjer feeders are usually covered with goldfinches.

I like this picture--it's the first time I caught a bird in flight on film. That was kinda neat.

Anyway, that's all I gotta say on this. If you were holding out buying a nyjer feeder for the goldfinches in your area, just use an old sock--it works just fine.

I was thinking about that yesterday when I heard about the student that jumped in front of a bullet, saving fellow students. I'm not going to talk about yet another school shooting, or gun laws--I'll save that for another time.

He died for me.

It's Good Friday. Some might say I'm not 'spiritual enough' due to my lack of attending an organized religious institution on a regular basis, but, again a topic for another time.

I'm here to say that believe or don't believe in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit--that's your life walk and your decision--I personally won't fault you. That said, you cannot tell me that the young man who jumped in front of those bullets isn't somewhere, right now, with his Saviour. It's incomprehensible to me that anyone would deny 'eternal salvation' for that student.

He died for me.

The students he saved will go through the rest of their lives with that thought. I can't even fathom what that would be like, except the idea that He died for me. That's as close as I get--He died so that I may live. All my consious life I've been told that statement, and I accepted it, but never really understood it. I'm not saying I understand the entire set of implications of Him dying for me and my sins even now, nor will I ever fully understand it. But today, this Good Friday, when I think about the lives senselessly lost in this tragedy, there is a young man meeting with his Creator.

I normally wouldn't do this, but I'm going to sniv from West Wing--

"More than any time in recent history, America's destiny is not of our own choosing. We did not seek nor did we provoke an assault on our freedom and our way of life. We did not expect nor did we invite a confrontation with evil. Yet the true measure of a people's strength is how they rise to master that moment when it does arive. 44 people were killed a couple of hours ago at Kennison State University. Three swimmers from the men's team were killed and two others are in critical condition. When, after having heard the explosion from their practice facility, they ran into the fire to help get people out. Ran into the fire. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight. They're our students and our teachers and our parents and our friends. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels, but every time we think we have measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we're reminded that that capacity may well be limitless. this is a time for American heroes. We will do what is hard We will achieve what is great. This is a time for American heroes and we reach for the stars. God bless their memory, God bless you and God bless the United State of America. Thank you. "

Put aside the overt Americanism, I shed a tear when I watched that scene from The West Wing. Today I weep for real students who faced real terror and the one who took a stand in the face of evil and ran into the line of bullets. He sacrificed himself so others may live.

He died for that young man so that the young man could experience eternal salvation.

He died for all of us.

He died for me.

Oh so much younger than I am now, in order to stop the fighting between the kids, my mom and dad, with the wisdom of Solomon, designated TV nights (we had dish nights as well, but that's a story for another time).

So I was assigned Mondays and Tuesdays (the 'A Team' was on Tuesdays!), my brother was assigned Wednesdays (see, I had to think about how to spell it again!!) and Saturdays for some strange unknown reason (*cough* Hockey Night in Canada *cough*), and my sister was assigned Thursdays and Fridays. Sundays was left as 'Family Day' where we, as a family, would just watch Disney anyway.

In this fashion, the person who had the 'TV Night' got to decide what all of us watched. It all worked out remarkably well and the bickering amongst the children lessened.

The one good thing was that, for the most part, the three of us liked the same shows. Sure, my sister's dabbling into 'Falconcrest' left something to be desired, but for such a wonderful sister, little things like that can be overlooked.

The best part about watching the television, way back then, was Thursday nights--Magnum P.I. and Simon & Simon, back to back. Probably the two hours in the house when the kids all got along wonderfully. We would plop in front of the idiot box and not realize that the two hours just flew by. My sister liked Magnum better than Simon & Simon, but since I 'allowed' her to watch Moonlighting on Tuesdays, she 'allowed' me to watch S&S on Thursdays, and all was Zen-like at the Koudys abode.

For the record, we didn’t' watch the telly all the time--the three of us fought over LEGO--I mean, played with the LEGO collection together, played in the treehouse, played in the sandbox, played in the fields... whatever. I look back and am amazed at all the things we did do as kids, and yet still had enough time to watch the boob tube.

Which then leads into another thought (and yes, sometimes I do have those)--I wonder about kids these days when I hear how 'fat and lazy' they are becoming 'cause they're in front of the TV/Game Console/Computer all the time. I was, so I thought, in front of the TV (they didn't have 'puters and we didn't own 'Pong' or an Atari 2600 'in the day') alot, yet still had time to build kites, play LEGO, etc.

So this was a tangent on the topic (Thursdays, in case you forgot).

These days, Thursdays, now that 'Friends' is gone (not that I really watched that), are looking pretty sparse for the television viewing audience. Maybe it's time I left the tube off and got back to building with LEGO. And oh look! Spring's just around the corner--wonder how my Kite's doing? Maybe I'll fix it up tonite.

For some strange reason, I assign arbitrary values to sets of words. For example, we have names for the 'Days of the Week'--Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday (a refresher for those of you who may have forgotten some of them).

Over the course of years, all of us have probably written these words down in documents, letters, transcripts, term papers, whatever--that part doesn't matter.

What matters, to me anyway, is that one of those words, when comapred to the rest, is just glaringly different.

It's not the number of syllables, for Saturday has the same there. It's the idea that Wed Nes Day just doesn't flow like the rest of them--it's a stumbling block for enunciation, for writing, for, well, everything. I mean even Wednesday is attributed to being 'hump day'--halfway from last weekend, halfway to the next one. Wednesday is just so... odd.

Even when you break it down, like I had to when I was a kid to learn to spell it properly--all the other weekdays I learned to spell quite easily but Wednesday was consistently incorrect on my spelling papers--the sub-words are also weird.

Wed -- like wedding? like... whatever

Nes -- like Loch Nes(s) monster? K, that fits into the 'off-the-wall' idea that is Wednesday.

Day -- well, that's the only normal part (Doris aside).

So what we have is the Day the loch Nes(s) monster Wedded? Hmmm...

Then we have the pronunciation--all the other days are easily pronouncable, including Thursday (except for those that may have been missing their two front teeth from the age of 4 until the adult teeth grew in--then the pronunciation, well not so good, but that's neither here nor there) some people say 'Wensday', thus losing that horrible stumbling block that is the middle syllable. Some say 'Wedsday', a little better than above, but still get to lose that third syllable, but the first 'D' gets to be spoken out loud--I'm sure the D appreciates the effort.

I usually try to enunciate the entire word--"Wednesday", 'cause, being the weird word that it is, deserves a little special treatment.

So have a happy Wednesday!

Which then, for those of you who appreciate the fine musical talents of a wonderful group, brings up The Moody Blues.

Ahh, many times travelling around the world in one 1986 Honda Prelude, listening to TMB.

See, it's one of those groups that was 'indie' back in the late '60's, thru the '70's and into the '80's. Not a huge group, but, for me, when compared to the other groups I liked listening to at the time, they were better than most.

Journey was light 'n fluffy--TMB had depth to their songwriting

Foreigner was mainstream -- TMB didn't even try

Floyd... Well, Pink Floyd was too... shall we say, esoteric -- TMB didn't try to be 'out there'

The Moody Blues was just... unique. For me, it's a shame that they weren't, and aren't, better known.

(I won't do the comparison to Supertramp )

Of course, weekends are great 'cause of the 'I don't have to go to work' thing, but then comes the dreaded Monday.

In IS, Monday mornings are usually our second busiest time 'cause the systems have had 2 days on their own to break down and the user shows up Monday morning and realizes that their system stopped functioning sometime over the weekend. That's okay and all, but there are usually on the average of about 20 phone messages when I get to my desk Monday morning. I'm going to start calling it the MM factor.

Friday Afternoons, starting at around 4 p.m. is the busiest time, and I really don't understand that one--it's like the users wait until the very last possible moment of the week and then call me--"Hey Dave, my printer's not working--it's been down since Tuesday but I waited until now to call you..." I don't get that--doesn't everyone feel as I do? The last hour before the weekend should be 'quiet time'?

But I like fixing 'puter related stuff so I take care of it (the better news is that I get paid to do so).

Beyond that, MM factor is pretty high this particular day--servers are dead, people's e-mails aren't working, and I'm taking the time to write this message to y'all whilst I wait on hold to order parts 'n pieces to fix these things.

So there you are.

Not that it's an excuse, but I didn't post yesterday 'cause I was a wee bit busy.

Papa turned 65 years old. We went over in the morning for coffee/lunch to celebrate that remarkable number with him and to hear stories about his and Dian's trip thru the states.

That was a very nice visit and celebration.

Then there were a few items of furniture that had to get moved around at the abode, so that got done.

A good friend, Andrew,also had a birthday celebration in the evening--his 40th--and we all went out to the local pub and had a great time talking about old adventures and such. It's been so long since the group of friends got together like that--just a party to celebrate and have fun. We're all pretty much getting to the point where a) the body just ain't what it used to be--once upon a time staying up to 2 a.m. and partying with buddy's was a walk in the park. Now, most friends have kids at home, and the party was looking prety empty at 11 p.m. and b) the party atmosphere just isn't the draw it once was.

Nevertheless, we all had a good time celebrating Andy's 40th, and then most of us were in bed before midnight.

There's a little lesson there--Even without you realizing it, watch out! Time marches on.

Anyway, happy 65th, old timer!

Happy 40th, Andy!

And having both of you still around is the best birthday present ever!

I was an English major once.

I was also editor of my college newspaper for a year. That's probably also shocking to most.

Further, I published my own paper intermittently for a few years. Egads!!

Those tuning in for the first time might be astounded on hearing these revelations considering my atrocious grammar and my horrible speeling, and my oft-misuse of 50 cent words and such...

Well, I learned very early that there will always be those that need to nitpick.

So right there, on the second page of the Crown (my college paper), I put the following 'small print'--

'Spelling slips and grammatical gaffs are purposely placed for the perfectionists to point out.'

When you're reading these blog articles, or surfing around my site, and you come across a type-o, or a misused word, think to yourself, "Did he do that on purpose for me to find something to nitpick about? I wonder..."

Actually I never purposely place speeling mistakes, but I thought a little 'heinie coverage' would be appropos.

If you are so inclined to point out such mistakes, I have no problem receiving e-mails listing such affronts to the English written language and even less problem editing my website to remove said mistakes.

I don't use a spell checker--I think that the occasional slip just makes this place look a little more 'homey'.

But that's just my opinion--you can point them out if you so desire.

The goldfinches just feasting on Nyjer seed--it's my very own little 'Wild Kingdom' out there, but scaled down to just 'da boids!'

Looks like I'm going to have a heck of a mess to clean off my patio in the Spring, but that matters little to me--more of God's little creatures are being looked after--and that's the important bit.

I might not be on par with the 'natural habitats' as described at the National Wildlife Federation but, as I always say, you do what you can.

So there you are.

Wil Wheaton (those that remember him as just a lowly Starfleet cadet have to check out his website--there's so much more to the guy) has an entry about goldfinches and Nyjer seed and such backyard related things.

I've been running this website for a few minutes now, and I've come to the realization that people are just idiots.

Not the everyday layman to be sure, but those that think that sending 'spam' (unsolicited bulk internet information like e-mails, posts, whatever) is a good thing.

At this time, I cannot think of a single redeeming quality that spam offers. Those that get it are annoyed--probably to the point where had they been interested in what you're trying to sell before they received your spam, are completely not interested at all after receiving said spam.

So I start this blog. I've been around the interent a few times and thought I knew the trials and tribulations of running a blog--the spammers and such.

But I was ill prepared for the sheer volume of spam that my little blog would receive. These spammers must have quite the refined automated searches for new blogs all the time--it wasn't a few weeks before my first case o' spam arrived on my doorstep--and I deleted those entries quickly so you, the general viewing audience wouldn't see 'how to win at roulette' or other such fascinating things.

But now, on a daily basis, the blog is flooded with spam attempts--10, 20, 30 at a time.

The good news, as I alluded to with the word 'attempts' above, is that for whatever strange reason, the people who developed my blog software also implemented an 'anti-spam' module. Basically there's a database of known spammers, and the blog software won't allow posts from anyone listed in that database.

As well, the anti-spam software limits the frequency of posting--post once, then you have to wait 2 minutes to post again. THen it's 4 minutes after that before you can post again--then 8 minutes has to go by in order for you to post a reply. I know that's a burden 'cause I write so much good stuff that you feel the urgency to write a rebuttal, but you have to learn to pace yourself--reply as time allows.

For me, the more I get into fully running my own server for everything related to the internets, the more I'm astounded by the sheer idiocy of these spammers--get a clue--no one wants you around and we all work really hard to prevent you from doing what you do!

If I wasn't wanted, I'd sure clue in and stop what I was doing.

Eh, life goes on and I spent yet another blog article discussing the idiots on the internet.

Doctor Who is returning to the telly!

Just click on the link--I'll say no more other than I'm extremely excited!!!

I get home from work yesterday and there's a note in my mailbox. Yes I have a mailbox--I know how quaint that is, but there are folks who still like sitting down and actually putting pen to paper and sending such correspondance via a stamped envelope.

Anyway, I get home yesterday and there's a note in my mailbox. For those of you who haven't seen my mailbox on my house, there's a very big sign taped to the outside stating, in a nice fashion (if I do say so myself),

"Save The Environment (in bold red letters)

Please--No Fliers, newspapers, or unsolicited mail

They go right to the recycling bin anyway"

I thought it was short, sweet, and very much to-the-point (something I'm not bothering with right now in this particular blog entry). Yet I still have pizza fliers, 'Dear Occupant' letters, and the Hamilton Spectator, in their esteemed wisdom, drops off a copy of the 'Free Press' weekly! I call up the Spec weekly and tell them to stop it, but no one at the Spectator seems to have a clue how to do that.

Anyway, I get home yesterday and there's a note in my mailbox. Turns out that Phillip, my neighbour, saw the Postman had delivered a box. I had ordered a few LEGO sets a week ago and the postman usually comes to my house during the day whilst I'm at work, and Phillip, being the very conscientious type, noted that the box was sitting in my door--anyone walking down the street could tell that there was a box at my door for the box was holding the outer door open.

Being March break and all, Phillip saw many kids running around and playing, and thought it would be prudent for him to take the box over to his place until I got home.

I get home, read the note, and proceed over to his place. He gives me the box and explains what happened.

The thing of it is one cannot ask for better neighbours than that. Seriously, he didn't need to do that--he was under no obligation to do it, but he did it. I really have the best neighbours in the world.

Anyway, bottom line is that I'm pretty happy where I am--it's the people around you that make a place worth living at.

Well, really kidding on the 'or else' part.

I've recently added the ability for you, the viewing audience, to contribute funds to the maintenance of Sparky's Space! Yippee!!

I'm going to state emphatically right now, for the record, that Sparky's Space isn't going to be turned off due to lack of funds. Pretty much everything about running my website is free--all except my monthly cable bill, which gives me my internet connection from which you have access to my webserver. I run Apache Web Server (free software), I use DNS2Go to keep my webserver 'on-line' to the rest of the internet, and really not much else. I'm running a PIII 450 chassis with 2x 20 gig hard drives (mirrored) so there ain't much there, either. The 'puter was once my EverQuest system so it does have a pretty high end video card--64 meg Voodoo 5, but that's really not useful for anything these days.

That said, I have been running this little website since around '93ish and the cost of upgrading and software purchases can sometimes hurt the ol' pocketbook. So if you happen to have 10 bucks burning a hole in your pocket, instead of buying the latest WWE magazine or that 2-4 0f Canadian, throw it my way via the 'PayPal' buttons you see strategically placed on these here blog entries and otherwise dispersed througout my website.

Any donations towards Sparky's Space would be, by me, appreciated.

(now where did that quotation get ripped from? Here's a huge clue--"Well, not speaking in iambic pentameter might be a step in the right direction")

Oh, and if you feel like discussing the plusses and minuses of donating to a website, or any other issue you wanna discuss like PayPal, et al., well, here's a good a place as any--add a comment (or two!)

Everyone loves pineapple. Well, maybe some more than others, but everyone should eat pineapple and plenty of it.

Did you know that this wonderful tropical fruit not only tastes amazing, but is high in the enzyme bromelain and the antioxidant vitamin C, both of which play huge roles in the body's healing process?

Bromelain is a natural anti-inflammatory that has many health benefits and encourages healing. Bromelain is very effective in treating bruises, sprains and strains by reducing swelling, tenderness and pain. Neat, eh?

Pineapple also has a very high content of Vitamin C. Vitamin C is a commonly known antioxidant that protects the body from free radical damage and boosts the immune system. Of course we have all read about the benefits of antioxidants and how they help reduce the risk of some cancers.

So, the next time you have a cold or swollen joints, forgo the orange juice and aspirin, and grab some pineapple instead.

Whether you eat canned pineapple, fresh pineapple, pineapple juice or even a Hawaiian pizza (mmmm, a favourite of ours), you can be assured that you are doing your body good by enjoying this lovely fruit.

The history of 'Dave's Life' is fraught with trials, tribulations, adventures, romance, and, well, just about anything else you could possibly want.

For example, I haven't always lived in the abode I own today. Nope--me, being the world traveller I am, have resided in many locals and was thinking about that today.

I was born in the small village of Grimsby. If you don't know where Grimsby is, no worries there--I don't want to remember where it is, either. The year--1967, the month--May. Blossoms on the trees, flowers blooming, and I arrive on the scene to the expectant one Mr. Martin and one Mrs Lynda Koudys.

The good news is (and this is how I read it), in order to get ready for my arrival, my dad, Marty, built a house. He always said it was his Centennial Project (1967, for those not in the know, was Canada's 100th birthday), but we know better--the house was built for me.

And I lived in it, along with my older brother Brian, and younger sister Terry, and mom and dad. Thankfully the fates were kind to us and dad decided to build his house in the even smaller village of Winona instead of Grimsby.

Ahh, the childhood years were wonderful (insert rose-coloured glasses here)--I had my sandbox, my field for flying kites, my treehouse, my woodpile, and basically anything that would keep the attention of a rambunctious boy so he doesn't do such crazy things like wander out onto the major highway or anything...

But, alas, such sweet joy was doomed--we moved from that house to another in 1979. I was all of 12 when this occurred, and, at the time, quite heartbroken--many tears were shed for I was leaving the house that was built for me!

But it was for the best and we moved to the far off land known as, well, Winona. K, it was a few blocks, but it was the 'other side of the tracks', see. That's the good bit--we moved to 'higher society'.

After the move, I promptly built a treehouse and did fort building with Brian and Terry and the kids around the neighbourhood in the overgrowth behind our lot. Which, again, kept me out of mischief and such.

Attended high school whilst residing at this abode, and even the first few years of college. Then I decided to take the plunge and move out on my own at the ripe age of 22ish.

Moved far away--k, Winona again--this time to a house down by the lake. Got 3 of my closest friends and we lived together in this house for a year. Then we moved into an apartment, and now things get a little fuzzy...

I stayed with mom for a while, stayed with big bro for a while, had an apartment on my own for a bit--actually, lived in various apartments whilst working and attending college. I stayed at a friends place for a few years, then I decided to try to hang my shingle at one place for more than a bit of time. So I moved me and all my stuff into an apartment when I was 30.

It was a nice apartment, and I kinda liked it. My LEGO was there, my 'puter, and other things that kept me from getting into trouble. I was there for a few years, but then dad got this idea that I should move back home for a while--save for a house and all. We had just finished building a nice basement apartment so I thought 'why not?'.

I moved back to dad's house and stayed there for a bit. Then for a variety of reasons, I found an extremely inexpensive rental unit and decided I'd move there.

(with me so far? The good bit's coming right up)

At the age of 36 I finally had enough of renting, no matter how inexpensive it was. I decided I'd buy a house. Looked around and found something for an extremely reasonable price and bought it--I became a home owner (finally). That was a year and a half ago--August of '03.

I was single, wasn't interested in starting anything with the 'fairer sex' at the time, and quite happy that I had a place to call my own. So this place was going to be 'home'. It wasn't in Winona, to be sure, but, eh, Winona isn't what it used to be when I was growing up--it really is true--"You never can go home again" (cliché #1). Life changes. I've changed. Winona changed. I'm not saying it better or worse, but I am where I am, and happy about it, and that's the important thing.

Here's where the second cliché comes in. The thing about clichés is that, as I stated in another blog, yes they are overused, but the reason that they are overused is because there's truth to them. I've moved many times in my life. Not far away from where I was born--I think the farthest I've lived from where I entered the world 38ish years ago was about a 30 minute drive (all the way out in Copetown when I was a student at Redeemer University College) If you weren't keen on adhering to speed limits, that number could be drastically smaller if you took all the backroads.

Anyway, I've crashed in many different beds, ate in many different kitchens/dining rooms/etc, showered in many different bathrooms, and there's one incontrovertible truth--

Home is where the heart is.

It doesn't matter what bricks, wood, mortar, drywall, whatever, surround you--wherever your heart is, there will your home be.

I really was going to say something exceedingly sappy right now ('cause I'm a romantic), but I think I'll save it until I buy a ring...

She knows where my heart is, though--with her, always.

Some people are obsessed with weight and attaining the lack thereof on their bodies. Perfectly fine. I don't really give a flying rat what my weight is--as long as I think I'm healthy, I'm not going to go to extra-ordianary means to shed a pound and a half to conform my physical image to what others may like or dislike.

But here's where the hypocritical tendancies play in, and it drives me stark raving bonkers!!

A co-worker had a wedding shower for a friend this weekend. There was cake left over and she brought it into work to share with us ("You're bringing us used dessert???"--try and guess which show that came from). Anyway, so what was left-over was 3 inches by basically the length of the cake. Really nice for thinking of us, her fellow co-workersm when she brought the cake in to share.

I see the cake when I'm making my morning tea, and, after a polite span of time (to let others partake in getting some cake), I go back to cut myself a slice.

I get there and there's a person (who shall remain nameless) who is cutting like a half inch by 2 inch piece of the cake. "I'm on a diet", she says as if I needed to know.

Here's the thing--she cuts off the bottom outside corner--basically all icing.

Yeah, whatever.

If you're going to do something, like a diet, or quit smoking, or give up any other 'bad habit', at least be honest about it. If you sneak a smoke, and I can smell it on your clothes, don't go lying about it--"I didn't have a smoke!" What, my olfactory sense took a leave of absense just then? If you're dieting, then diet--sneaking junk food or eating basically pure icing is not dieting--it's not that you're being dishonest with me that's the issue, it's that you're deceiving yourself. Diet or no, matters not to me. Smoke or don't smoke--again, doesn't factor in my life. But coming up with these little deceptions to hide or justify--well, that's an altogether different animal.

Anyway, that's my little rant for today.

Yesterday was a little busy for me--was spending time with the most beautiful woman in the world, so the blog wasn't anywhere near the priority (or even once on my mind...)

But now I'm back, with absolutely nothing to say (again!). Someone once stated that quality is better than quantity. In this regard, you'd think that I'd save up and write very good blog entries every so often instead of ramblin' about nothing every single day.

Well, those that know me know that I'm not really one for quality--quantity is where I'm at, baby!

Anywho, on a completely unrelated note, we watched 3 episodes in a row of 'Gilmore Girls' yesterday. Some might call that a complete waste of time--those that would are really missing out on one of the best hours of television one can watch in this day and age.

So there's this wonderful show I discovered a few years back, and now I have the first two seasons on DVD (that's how much I love the show). And, after watching numerous episodes, I kinda got the theme song down pat (over the years I've memorized a few theme songs to television shows I watch alot--'KRP, Happy Days, Greatest American Hero, etc.). So the significant other is spending time at my abode and we're watching GG, and I start singing the theme song to her (it's a really nice theme song for a couple in love or other such related romantic stuff)--she pretty much swooned over my sweet melodious voice.

Well, not so much--she giggles and laughs alot, and pretty much I know she's laughing at me instead of with me, but I don't care--I'm having fun and it's a wonderful little song.

I'm told that the way to a man's heart is thru his stomach. Well, the way to a woman's heart, besides offering security, trust, protection, and all that, is thru laughter--if I make her laugh alot--make her happy and such, I'm pretty much doing okay.

So there you are.

Gilmore Girls is a pretty funny show to watch together as well, so I've got that going for me.

This is tougher than it looks--trying to write something every day looks like it could be a snap on paper, but when you actually try to do it--not so much...

Eh, whatever

A Friday every month we in the local LEGO User Group (LUG) get together for dinner somewhere in the Greater Toronto Area. I drive into the GTA from the Greater Winona Area to spend some time with my LEGO buddies. It's always a good time with much chatting and sometimes someone brings something built from the famous plastic brick to show the rest of us.

Tonight was no different. With 13ish of us at the Swiss Chalet, we talked about our favourite hobby, and talked about everything else as well. Poor Melissa, our hostess, had to put up with us, but she handled it in fine form.

As usual, people attending had their opinions about the happenings on LUGNET, chiming in on various soap-operaish sagas such as the colour change, 'time-outs' and other fun things. We also talked about upcoming events, like our next robot competition, maybe a LEGO RC car event, and the big trip to Washington for BrickFest.

Most of you probably don't really care about any of the above, but I wrote it anyway.

So there you are.

Next time I'll write when I'm less tired.

Tonight--March 10th, 2005, we're expecting approximately 5 cm of snow. That's not huge in the grande scheme of things, but I'm kinda looking forward to spring now--winter has just overstayed its welcome.

Of course, a 'Daveism' states that getting angry about the weather is akin to getting angry at the sun coming up in the morning--nothing you can do to change it so why be angry?

I'm not angry that this winter has lasted so long. On the contrary, I'd much prefer the winters we've been having these last few years, instead of those 'winters' where it snows one day, melts the next, is cold for 2 weeks but there's no snow anywhere, and snows again, then melts again, then is cold but no snow, repeated through the months of January/February. Now that we actually have winter from before Christmas (White Christmases again--Yipee!!) to March, like the winters from my childhood (who here remembers the blizzard of '77?), I'm pretty much happy.

But I do want 4 seasons, and it's time for winter to bow out and make way for the 'blush of gold' called Spring. I have tulip bulbs in the ground that want to do something, and with all the snow on the ground, they aren't allowed!

Anyway, yesterday was an impromptu test, to see if anyone would post something on a (mostly) blank blog...

Test done--no one posted

Anyone who is a fan of Babylon 5 will know that these are two very important questions.

Even before Babylon 5 came on the telly (many years ago), I had this 'Daveism' that basically went like this--

Who are you when you're in a group of people?

Who are you when you're with someone special?

Who are you when you're alone?

I was of the opinion back then that in these 3 instances, the 'you' should pretty much be constant. I wasn't saying that you have to 'act the same' in all instances, but you should pretty much be consistent--if you are polite to people in a group setting, but rude to that special person in your life when it's just the two of you, that's not consistent.

A tangent on this is the old "'Will you sleep with me for a million dollars?' 'Yes' 'Will you sleep with me for 1 dollar?' 'What kind of person do you think I am??' 'We've established that--we're just negotiating on the price'" story.

If you come across a 10 dollar bill on the ground, do you put any effort in returning it to the rightful owner? What if you came across a wad of, say $2500.00? A bag falls off the back of a Brinks truck, containing hundreds of thousands of dollars--How much effort would you put into returning that money to the rightful owner, or would you? Is there a 'scale of effort'? If 10 dollars, eh, just pocket it, but thousands, that I would expend some effort--why the difference? K, money isn't the best example--trying to find out who lost a fin is hardly worth the effort. Or is it?

I dunno.

THis is what I do know--if being polite in a group situation is worth the effort, then why is that effort not needed when you're with that special someone? Isn't your significant other 'worth more' than anyone else?

Anyway, I was just thinking about this the other day. Dunno why I even brought it up.

For myself, I try to keep consistent, no matter where I am or who I'm with. I even try to say 'excuse me' when I burp and there's no one else in the house but me.

Hey, it's the polite thing to do.

So we're rearranging rooms and generally in a 'pre' spring cleaning stage--that's all well and good.

The issue showed up when I plug in the telly--sparks start flying out of the wall socket!

I proceed downstairs, pull the fuse, and then run back up to take a closer look at the socket. Not so good, as it turns out!

First, complete news to me--aluminum wiring in my house. I hear from those 'in the know' that aluminum wiring, whilst not illegal, is not really good.

As well, this plug is on an outside wall and there's wuite the draft coming thru when I removed the outlet. I note that the backside of the actual socket is all corroded--nice--NOT! and it's probably due to moisture condensation on the steel.

Beyond that, now I'm concerned about the abode. THe tentative plan, at this time, is to visit the local Home Despot and pick up a box of outlets--high end ones and such, and just start replacing them--start wit hthe outer walls first.

I was also planning on trying to get some sort of insulation behind the receptacle boxes to stop the drafts, but that, I've been told, is not too much fun to stop. I'll try it once, though, and see what happens.

The trials of home ownership--at least I didn't burn down the place.

Is to update your blog daily for the month of March--don't miss one day, no matter what the excuse!

Well, that's the plan--so far I've managed to do it a whole 5 days in a row!

Anyway, My friends Jeff and Jen just had their, well, what they call on that side of the lake, Stag and Doe (but what we call on this side of the lake 'Jack and Jill', but that's neither here nor there...). Beyond the semantics, we ended up driving to a little town named 'Sonya', which is north of Port Perry, which is north of, well Brooklyn, which is itself north of Whitby.

A little out of the way, but here's the thing about me that the general masses might not know--I'vedriven to the Manitoba border on a whim--I wanted to see the sign, 'Welcome to Manitoba'. Of course, I was younger and less prone to responsibility back then (and gas was significantly cheaper and I was driving a car whose one claim to fame, besides being the best looking car ever made by the Honda Motor Corporation--one 1986 Honda Prelude, was driving to Sault Ste. Marie on 1 tank of gas--yep, 1000 kms on one tank--wonderful car....) but the wanderlust still resides on my very soul, so given the opportunity to go on a bona-fide adventure to Sonya, I'm all for it.

So we get there, have a wonderful little shin-ding--meet the parents, the relatives and close friends of Jeff and Jen and generally have fine fellowship chatting away and such--good times, people--you are who you hang around and I've been very fortunate that the friends that I have are pretty much top-notch. Well, all of 'em 'xept that Jeff character--what's Jen thinking??? :p

So the few hours of meet 'n greet and opening the shower presents is over and we have to hop back into the automobile to return to our repective abodes--Right around 6-7 p.m.--just in time for the spectacular sunset.

Seeing as how we had to drive a little west and mostly north to get to Sonya, I quickly realized that if we retraced our steps, we would have to drive mostly south--well, that just wasn't kosher for me! I wanted to watch the sky turn various colours--the various stratii of clouds that night were already looking spectacular, and I wasn't going to waste my time driving south.

THe problem is, the road system in the northern parts of the greater Greater Toronto area, the roads going north and south are usually all paved--the ones going east/west, on the other hand--well, there's 7 (paved) and a few others, but it's hit 'n miss to find a paved road going off into the sunset. If it was my car, I'd chance the dirt roads running between the acres and acres (or as we in Canada should say, hectars and hectars (speaking of which, I wonder what Hectar's doing now?) of farmland.

But we found a (paved) road flowong west and put our wheels on it, and enjoyed a wonderful little sunset.

I wasn't too worried about getting lost, for I did say that we were in cruising in the general vicinity of the northern parts of the greater Toronto area, and I expected highway 48, 400, and, if all else fails, 27--any one of which would take us nicely into the southern parts of the GTA.

We cross over 48, and decided to keep going in a westerly direction on backroads. I'm thinking that the trip has been fun thus far, why stop now?

But then it gets dark, and no stars (clouded over and all that) and here we are on some back farmers lane and stuff, and I'm kinda anxious for the 400.

How could I forget? There's one other major highway going north and south, between 48 and the 400. It's often overlooked 'cause most people only use the highway between the Gardiner and the 401--yep, the DVP, excelt it's not called the DVP above the 401--it's just known simply as the 404.

Kinda appropos (for me anyways, at least that night) See, if you're lost on the information superhighway, you get a 404 error. Last night in the real world--I wasn't lost but was getting anxious to find a nice safe way home and, lo and behold, looming in the darkness, a sign that said '404 South'.

Done Deal.

Many good things are along the 404 highway--Buttonville Airport for one. Another would be the Canadian Office for The LEGO Company.

Those are just 2 things, actually... but I'm throwing 'em out there just to increase my word count for this particular blog.

Seriously, look at the word--

Marshmellow.

Does it describe what they are?

Do these white, fluffy, almost-pure-sugar things even look like they come from marshes?

It just hit me that the word 'marshmellow' is a very interesting word, and that if you look at it long enough, it kinda looses all meaning--the word 'believe' does that for me as well, but that's another story.

Can anyone tell me the history of the word 'marshmellow'? Was it invented for, well, marshmellows? Or was there an older use of the word? I dunno, but would love to find out.

And why do they go so well with hot chocolate?

Anyway, nothing more to say about that?

I've just been told by someone 'in the know' that marshmellows are fat free--eat 'em up, boys and girls!!

Where's my coco?

A little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion - Francis Bacon

Since everything that needs to be written has been written, so I'm told, I don't have to say anything else. I mean, if I can't come up with anything new, why bother? Maybe I'll just get a bunch of monkeys and typewriters, throw them in a room together, and see what transpires.

Speaking of monkeys, I could talk about atheism. Here's a radical concept-not believin' in nuttin'-how long did it come to come up with this grand idea. "What do you believe in?" "Nothing!" Hmmm...

Forgetting what was perhaps the best line in recent movie history ("You think that over 95 percent of the rest of the world are suffering from some sort of mass delusion..." - Contact, paraphrased), I am more of the opinion of Ferris Bueller, when Cameron said he had witnessed 'nothing good'-I am flabbergasted. Wha-I mean how-like... what are you thinking? With a person's capability of reason, how can anyone sit there and say, "There is no God?" The very statement defies reason.

Oh, where is the sea? The fishes cried, As they swam its crystal clearness through. - Minot Judson Savage

I'm not here to prove there is a God, for proof denies faith. But wrap your minds around this logic:

Oh, a brief tangent might be in order-I am not a philosopher. I took a course in philosophy in my first year of college and didn't like it. Just so you know a bit about my philosophical past.

So if we have approximately 5 pounds of grey matter which we call a brain, and our mind is encompassed somewhere within this mass, then we can conclude that our minds are finite.

Again philosophy rears its ugly head and says that, theoretically, there can be an infinite area within a finite volume. I read about chaos mathematics and fractals-know about it a little, and I agree, in theory. But since we are discussing nerves and synapses inside the skull, which need a specific size to function properly, we can't go on dividing things in half ad nauseum to infinity. So the premise stays-our minds are finite. They are a work to behold, but are finite.

My atheism, like that of Spinoza, is true piety towards the universe and denies only gods fashioned by men in their own image, to be servants of their human interests. - George Santayana

The universe is also finite. If we believe in the big-bang theory (which I don't have a problem with but it would take another huge article to justify that one), then the universe must be finite. A finite mind, then, can grasp a finite concept, like the universe it's in.

With me thus far?

Here's the next radical concept-we base our understanding of the universe on the 5 senses, the 5 inputs. Sure we make machines to better our inputs, but in the end, it's these 5 inputs that relay information to the mind, where the signals are processed, stored and thoughts are formed.

Pretty easy stuff.

However, what if something lies outside of the detectable range of our senses? What then? Make a machine? You can try but if we don't even know where to start looking, can we even start to develop a machine to do so?

Sure we discovered (maybe) quarks and boojums (whatever you want to call them) by developing machines that can detect particles smaller than atoms but we started higher up the scale:

"Oh look," says primitive man, "There are some sort of flecks in this rock when you look really close. Wish I could see it better. Oh look, there are those bright lights in the sky at night that move differntly than the other bright lights. I want to see those better, too." Thus man, being ever inventive, made microscopes and telescopes.

It went on from there to scanning microscopes, electron microscopes, and radio telescopes. With all that progress, we just increased the 'focus range' of what we can see, from the smallest particle to the edge of the universe.

So this brings me to God.

What if God is someone we can't touch, taste, see, hear, or smell with our usual senses or even machines that expand our senses? What if? Our rational thought says, "Well how can that be? How can anything exist outside our realm of senses? I say, "How can we say nothing can't exist outside our sphere?" It's just a ludicrous, pretentious egotistical man-based idea that says nothing can exist that we can't find out about by throwing enough mechanisms and rationalistic though at.

Further, how can you get a finite mind to wrap around an infinite idea such as God. Yes I said infinite, for if there is a God, he must be bigger than this finite universe. Okay, it's a little shaky because you might say that if God made the universe, then he just has to be slightly bigger than the universe and therefore can be finite. I disagree with that concept more than saying that there is no god at all. Either God is All, or God is nothing-no in-between (I do appreciate black and white concepts, but again, later articles).

Not one of them who took up in his youth with this opinion that there are no gods, ever continued until old age faithful to his conviction - Plato

The longer I live, the more I question those who stand there with crossed arms and say, "There is no God" and turn their heads away, noses up in the air. Yes I can't prove there is a God, but looking at the world, at the universe, how can anyone say for certain that there is absolutely no possibility God could even remotely exist. I'm also too old to start battles over these things. I'm not in the mood to stand here and get involved in mud slinging. I am a huge pacifist and always had the belief that you live your life the way you want, as for me and my house… Well, if you get the reference then I don't have to go on.

Just remember that we are involved in a continuing battle, the battle between the stubborn 'there is no God' atheists and the stubborn 'my god can kick your god's ass' fundamentalists. But that's a different story.

There are no atheists in the foxholes. - William Thomas Cummings

My truck was making a horrible racket yesterday morning after I started it. When I had a quick perusal, and using all the automotive expertise I'm known for, I said "Water Pump". Much to my surprise, I was pretty much dead on. But that's neither here nor there.

I takes de vehicular rustbucket over to my friendly neighbourhood automekanic. He confirms my diagnosis--water pump--and mentions that I probably shouldn't drive it until the truck is fixed.

So I left the vehicle with him and go about my daily business using a borrowed vehicle from a family member.

Now friends, there are a few points of note here--my mechanic took a look at my vehicle immediately and added it to his already busy schedule for the day so I could get it back by end of day. He didn't have to do that, but he did. Further, I wasn't able to return to the shop until 10 p.m. due to other obligations, so, again my mechanic went out of his way to make sure the vehicle could be picked up after working hours.

Anyway, I get my truck back last night at 11 p.m. and it's sounding just fine, thank you. I look at the bill and it's less expensive than I was lead to believe, which also helps.

En route to work this morning, I thought it'd be a friendly gesture for me to give him a call and thank him for the wonderful and quick job he did for me.

So that's what I did--"Thanks!", I said to him on the phone.

He was mildly surprised for the call--most people, he lets me know, usually call to complain about something else that he may have missed or they think he forgot to check.

"No, just thanks for doing a great job!" I assure him.

Why is it such a surprise in this day and age when someone gives someone else a heartfelt "Thank you"? Doncha think that people deserve a thank you? I mean, sure it's his job and all, but I appreciated the effort and what did it cost me to say thanks?

Nothing. Nothing at all. (well, air time on the cell phone, to be sure) And yet it made my mechanics day just a little better.

I'm just saying...

"More and more we've come to expect less and less from each other."

-Aaron Sorkin, West Wing and Sports Night (same quotation used in both series)

This is readily apparent no matter what stage you happen to be during your worldly walk.

Whether driving on the road, walking in a mall, conversing on the phone... It just seems that the trend is moving towards abruptness, rudeness and an "I'm first" attitude.

I was at Tim Hortons the other day, in line waiting for my extra large tea (three sugars, teabag out, please) and my muffin (though this week was 'Happy Cookies' (smile cookies, monies going to charity)) and guy parks his car right in front of the entrance, blocking the road access, walks up to the counter, ignores the other people in line, and places his order.

I, being pretty much oblivious to people stepping on my own toes, didn't really notice this until after the fact. Maybe I've just got to the point where this type of behaviour is just 'background noise' like the birds chirping or the wind whistling, and one just sort of 'tunes it out'..

Anyway, apathy is running rampant.

No solution, except that I'm going to endeavour to be the opposite.

But that's just me.

Happy Birthday Mom!

It's a few days late, and my humblest apologies for that.

Since I'm noticing you read these blog things written by me, I thought I'd say it here, for all to see--

Love you, Mom! I don't know how you've managed to put up with this kid for 37ish years, but thanks for everything

Just one thing--you do realize that I get 500+ visits daily to my website, from people all over the world... Just thought you might need to know that before you post some embarassing story...

Anyway, again Happy Birthday, Mom!

Love,

Me.

And pretty much have kept it updated. Sure there were a few days missed, but I'm pretty happy with how it's going thus far.

I would like to write about other issues, but as of late, I'm finding my time to be in high demand/low surplus. So those thought-provoking tirades some normally associate with me will have to wait for another day.

In the interim, you'll have to put up with this blog talking about the wonderfullness that is Greymatter. Greymatter is the software that I'm using to run my blog site. Sure you can subscribe to some off-site hosting company, like Blogger.com or other blogging site, but for Sparky's Space, I like to keep everything regarding my website on my own server.

So I downloaded it, installed it, ran into a few issues that the folks over at Greymatter were more than willing to help with, added certain features, and basically custom tailored the Greymatter software to fit in with the rest of Sparky's Space. And I think it turned out better than I could have hoped.

Now, going into month 3, I find that the excitement is still there, but I have to pace myself. I like going on about anything, but if people are actually reading this stuff, maybe editing would be in order.

So with that, I'll endeavour to stay more focused, more 'on topic' and more consistant with my blogging endeavours...

Well, I'll try anyway.