New Dice

My spontaneous trip to Jackson yesterday was fruitful, if you can believe it. I stopped by Game Zone in the Northpark Mall, looking for dice to add to my collection. I almost walked away empty-handed, but the store manager had some interesting dice behind the counter. In fact, he had two sets. The first was a set of dice carved from turquoise. I noticed that one of the dice was not balanced properly. You could tell merely by looking at it. For the price they were asking, I'd want every one of the dice to be playable, even if they were only for show.
The second set of dice was made of unikite, and much more reasonably priced. The dice were also well-balanced. Unikite is a stone that is a mix of salmon pink feldspar and green epidote. It's found in the Unikite Mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee.
If you're into that New Age stuff--which I'm not--Llewellyn Encycopedia says about unikite: "The pink in unikite speaks to the heart chakra to awaken the love within. The green lends it healing qualities to any hurts which have been sustained. The pink in unikite is a deeper shade of pink and is more grounding than that found in rose quartz. This stone has a leveling affect, and helps to balance the emotional aspects of the body. It is an earthy, peaceful stone."
Each of the dice is smaller in diameter than a penny.

Limerick of the Day

I hope you don't think me a prude,
When I mention what I think is rude.
You have nothing to gain
When sleepwalking's your bane,
By insisting to sleep in the nude.

Top and Bottom

When top is up,
And bottom is down,
Turn them upside-over,
And bottom is the crown.

So…

When you have a circle,
And the circle’s round,
Take a look, stand on your head,
The shape’s the same—it’s bound!

But…

When a shape has three sides,
“It’s a triangle!” I would say,
But turning it upside-over,
Would make it look quite a different way.

Message to Space

Several years ago--about 8 or 9, I think--Internet users were given the opportunity to send a message into space, for any extraterrestrials that might be monitoring our activities. Audio and text messages were collected, and then burned to a CD, which was loaded into a satellite and launched, taking the messages into the darkness of the unknown. Mine was a simple text message, a hope that if our societies ever met, the encounter would be a peaceful one. This message was not sent with the belief that aliens were indeed "out there," but predominantly because the idea of sending something I had written into space was a cool one.
Months after I had written my text message and forgotten all about it, I received a CD in the mail. It contained the messages of hundreds of would-be alien ambassadors. Four or five changes in residence later, I have no idea where this CD might have gone, and no recollection of what the satellite's name was. Anybody out there remember? Wouldn't it be a blast if my doorbell rang one day, and there was an E.T. waiting at my front door with a basket of fruit?

Beam Him Up

Yesterday a TV legend died.

James Doohan, of Star Trek fame, died at the age of 85. His family plans to send his remains into space in an aluminum capsule, where he will be alongside the remains of Star Trek creator's remains, Gene Roddenberry.

I had the opportunity to meet Mr. Doohan once, back in the summer of 1990. I was working that summer in the St. Louis area, and heard that he was going to be attending a Star Trek convention at the Holiday Inn near the airport. I'd never been to one before (and never have since), but I loved the television show. This was on a Sunday afternoon. I left for the convention immediately after church.

Along the way, my 1983 Nissan Sentra hatchback decided to die for no apparent reason, but I got it going again, and it was Star Trek or bust. The price of admission was 14 dollars. The room was filled with Star Trek memorabilia: phasers, comic books, glossy photos of the cast, tricorders, communicators... If you can think of a Star Trek prop, they had it.

Then there were all the people. I remember seeing a family of four dressed as if they worked in Starfleet, in movie-style uniforms. There were aliens as well. I was one of the people dressed like a fan. I suppose that if I'd had time to prepare, I might have tried to make a decent costume.

I was late getting there, thanks to my car trouble, but not so late that I didn't get to hear the man speak. It was strange at first, hearing him speak without his famous Scottish accent, but then he toasted us with a Scottish toast, his words unfailingly Scottish sounding. Afterwards, the fans were allowed to approach his table and meet the man who saved Kirk's ship from disaster so many times. He wore plaid, and to me he seemed more like someone's grandfather than the Chief Engineer of the Enterprise. I had my picture taken with him and told him to have a nice flight home. At these words, a thoughtful look crossed his face. I didn't think about this until later, but I don't know if he understood that I meant a flight in an actual airplane, and not the fabled Enterprise. There are fans who cannot cross the line into reality. I'm just one who enjoys the show; I don't actually live in that universe.

Somewhere around the house, I've still got that picture. I can't locate it this morning, so I'll try again later. If I find it, I'll scan it and post it here.

Live long and prosper.

My Best Zuma Score

Ever played Zuma over at pogo.com? I'm hopelessly hooked. I've been trying and trying to get my score under 20:00 minutes, and today I did it! I hereby challenge you to try and beat my time!
Here's a screen cap of my score:

To play, head over to www.pogo.com

Action

Last night's events gave me something new to write about, breaking my holding pattern of over a week of no updates.

It was 8:30, and I was in my skivvies, attempting to get ready for bed. Ditto for the wife. I had already suffered a very tiring day, and to my chagrin, discovered that it was not entirely over just yet. This is when the phone rang. Having caller ID, I tend to screen my calls. Although we're on the national do-not-call registry, a few solicitation calls still slip through the cracks, pretending to be surveys or alumni information updates.

Last night's call was from a Warren County office. Since the ID block on the phone only shows so many characters, I couldn't tell which office. I figured it was probably Brian, my best friend's brother, calling from the fire station with some questions about computers. It turned out not to be.

It was dispatch, at the police department. They were receiving an alarm from my inlaws' home. Since my wife's people could not be reached, dispatch decided to call us instead. We've already had one false alarm this week, but this alarm was different, they said. There was an open door in the house. So Liz and I dressed, jumped in her Saturn, and missiled outselves out to the house on the hill.

The open door was actually just an unlocked door on the pool house. "There's a VCR in there with the cords wrapped around it, like someone might have been trying to make off with it," the detective said. Looking at the VCR, I noticed the finger smudges and layers of dust, and explained that the VCR had not been moved recently. There was a uniform layer of dust across all the smudges.

Entering the house proper, I turned off the alarm and a thorough walk-through of the house was performed. Finally, after a complete examination with no would-be killers, thieves, or rapists lurking in the shadows or under the beds, we exchanged pleasantries with the detective and his deputy, and returned home.

We figure one of the rooms has a faulty motion sensor. It's only been three or four days since Liz had to go out there for a false alarm. And we thought we'd only be responsible for walking and feeding their dogs.

The Big, Bad Meme Short Story Challenge

EDIT: The Big, Bad Meme Short Story Challenge is back! After a few weeks of rest, it has decided to re-emerge from the depths of blog sleep and tackle blog society anew!

Ive posted a couple of paragraphs of a new short story that I have started, and ask that volunteers finish it. Here's the way it works:

1) I post my couple of paragraphs.
2) Volunteer No. 1 puts the next couple of paragraphs on his blog, and leaves a link in the comments.
3) After the link is posted in the comments, I will edit my blog and post it there.
4) Volunteer No. 2 follows the link to the next blog and picks up where Volunteer No. 1 left off.
5) This continues until the story is finished.

I'd like to see just how far this story goes, and how it is resolved. I'm not grading this, by the way. The purposes of this exercise is just to see what direction the story takes, and to have fun.
Enjoy yourself!

The Corpse of Danny Kilgore (Part I)

A dead man is lying in the intersection, but not even the passing motorists notice his body. Traffic stops as the “walk now” light flashes on, and pedestrians walk around him, oblivious to his presence. Tall buildings touch the sky on all sides of him, yet even the workaholics who enjoy the luxury of window offices do not see him.

It is a typical Monday morning, but for the presence of Danny Kilgore’s corpse.

A little girl is walking hand-in-hand with her mother through the crosswalk, already five minutes late for an appointment with her pediatrician. She has a small cough, and her mother is worried. If the little girl could see Mister Kilgore’s body, she would ask her mother why he is so badly burned, so hideously scarred. The pair continues walking, however, and the stiff form of Danny Kilgore continues what it is doing.

Go Read Part II - by Cavan Terrill, author of the Blurred Line

Another Little Johnny Joke

Little Johnny and his family were having Sunday dinner at his Grandmother's house. Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served. When little Johnny received his plate, he started eating right away.

"Johnny wait until we say our prayer."

"I don't have to," The boy replied.

"Of course, you do," his mother insisted. "We say a prayer, before eating, at our house."

"That's our house," Johnny explained. "But this is Grandma's house and she knows how to cook!"

Who Would Win?

Just finished watching X-Men 2 again, and having just seen F4 the other day, I got to wondering.
Who would win:

Pyro, the kid who can control fire from X2
or
the Human Torch

????????????????

Fantasic Four

Tonight the wife and I will do our summer movie-going duty and help make the Fantastic Four a blockbuster hit. I've mentioned previously that I'm into comic books. I don't buy them like I used to, because of the lack of neccessary fundage, but that doesn't stop me from attending a movie adaptation. I'm really anxious to see if Stan Lee can do for the F4 what he did for the X-Men with his new movie. If not, it still promises to be a fun time.

It's clobberin' time!

Decision Made

Well, folks, the big decision has been made.
I will not be re-enlisting in the National Guard. Although the signing bonus would be extremely nice, there are other factors that influenced my decision, such as the current war in Iraq, and the possibility of being sent to fight, when I should be at home, taking care of things here while my wife concentrates on school. It's not that I'm not a patriotic citizen who refuses to do his duty. I have already served for 10 years in the National Guard. Now, as my 2 years of inactive reserve status are coming to a close, I really battled with the choice I had to make. It was not an easy decision.
I strongly encourage my readers who are young enough and physically capable to consider serving in the armed forces. It is my understanding that there is a new minimum enlistment obligation of one and a half years. For an enlistment of six years, you can receive $15,000 in a lump sum for many MOS's (Military Occupational Specialty). Of course, you can still receive educational assistance, as well as benefits such as VA loans for buying a home (We used this in November, and it sure helped us out!). But don't join just for the benefits. I found a side of myself that I didn't know existed. I grew up quite a bit during my 9 weeks of basic training. After that, the camaraderie you share with others in your unit is like no other. You tend to make friends that you remember for the rest of your life.
For those of you who lent me their support, or their opinions, thank you.

Thought of the Day

Is an alien from another world still an extra-terrestrial if his world is entirely composed of water or gas?

Another Six?

Tomorrow. 0900 hours.
Army retention officer.
Big bonus.
Lots of questions.
Still uncertain, but leaning toward putting the uniform back on.
We'll see.
Hooah.