Prisoner in my own home

Beware: rant ahead.

I spent another day home today due to my unhappy sinuses. I tried to get some work done, but ultimately had to shut the PC down and take a nap.

The phone, however, kept ringing. Telemarketers from all over the planet wanted me to sell my house, get another credit card, send them money, and schedule a day to have my carpets cleaned.

Eventually I had to resort to using Caller ID to decide who I would and would not allow through. This bothered me immensely, because I had no choice in the matter. I could not control when the phone rang, or who would be on the other end. It was an incessant invasion of my privacy, and it ticked me off.

I lost it on someone who called from a call center - you can always tell, because you can hear the din of the floor before the person realizes my call has been "presented". She made a pitch for a product I had never heard of. I asked if they had a web site where I could conduct further research before making a purchase decision (I know, I was being too nice...I should have just told her I wasn't interested, but my wife says I have trouble saying no.) She rudely spoke over me, pushing me to make a commitment right there. By my third repetition of "no", she put her hand over the phone and spoke to her "supervisor", who ordered her to get me to commit to the purchase right now.

I've never been strong-armed by a telemarketer before, so I pushed right back. I recall using the phrase "I don't think you're listening to me" more than once before I finally told her I simply couldn't cope with her tactics. Later on, my wife received a call with the great news that she had been "selected" for a "special" credit card,which she promptly and politely turned down. Not half an hour later, the same call center called back with the same offer. Gack!

Now, today I wasn't feeling well. When I'm otherwise healthy, I occasionally decide to work from home so that I can focus on the task at hand in a peaceful place. The way I write, I need to have large expanses of quiet time. Constant interruptions by telemarketers does not do wonders for my productivity or my mood.

I appreciate that they have a job to do. But at the end of the day, I seriously don't care. This is not a place of business: it is my home. If they want to call me at the office, go nuts. That is, after all, business. But ceaseless calling to my home by the same idiotic people trying to sell me the same idiotic crap that I absolutely do not need does not make Carmi happy.

I look forward to Voice over IP telephony becoming available in my neighborhood soon. Once we switch over to it, it'll be nice to drop off of their telephonic radar for good. It'll leave me more time to speak with the people who truly matter: family and friends. And no one else.

Anyone have any good telemarketer-survival tips? I'm all ears. I'd even go so far as to describe myself as desperate.

Quote - corporate stewardship

Thanks, everyone, for your kind thoughts on my ongoing health fun. My cold has morphed into something sinus-related. I'm popping Sudafeds now and hoping the headaches subside enough so that I can actually function. On the plus side, my voice is approaching Barry White territory.

Now, time for today's issue:

It's not often that the head of a major profit-seeking organization says something that thoroughly impresses me. That's because I've built up some firmly-held biases against the corporate ethos that dominates our world.

Why? I spent years working for huge companies whose leaders made no bones about their pursuit of shareholder happiness to the exclusion of all else. The employees who made it happen didn't figure into their thinking, nor did doing the right thing for the right reason. As long as the bottom line was served, their thinking was, quite simply, "To hell with everything - and everyone - else."

This trickled down into a corporate culture that encouraged unfettered nastiness, immoral behavior and day-to-day flouting of the basic rules of kindergarten (do unto others, etc.) by those occupying the requisite countless layers of management. Cruelties were - and presumably still are - justified by quoting the applicable bureaucratic truth to which the drones subscribed.

I still get e-mail from former colleagues, virtually all of whom share their thoughts on what a miserable environment this kind of thinking has created. If I only had a nickel for every time someone told me, "You're lucky you got out when you did."

Which is why this quote came as such a pleasant surprise:

“Honda’s vision is to be a company that society wants to exist.”

Honda Motor Company Ltd. president and CEO Takeo Fukui said this recently while discussing his organization's pursuit of new propulsion technologies. Honda has been a leader in gas-electric hybrid development, and continues to lead the industry in building efficient, powerful and clean-burning powerplants. If a car company can ever be called green, Honda is likely as close as any such company can be.

Mr. Fukui's quote runs counter to the scorched earth ethics that seem to guide so many large organizations today. Will his words be heard in other executive suites? Will they be understood and appreciated?

I don't have the answer to that, but as consumers, perhaps we can begin to exert our influence by choosing to deal with companies that make it clear their priorities are symbiotic to the environment - social, economic, geographic, etc. - within which they exist.

Do you believe your voice can be heard? How will you make that happen?

Evergreen icicles

I made it out of the house today - first time since midweek. The cold air shocked my lungs a bit, but it felt good to be outside. I still feel like burying my head under a pillow for the next week or so, but the world doesn't seem to be slowing down to allow me to keep pace. So I'll pop a few more Advils and get on with it.

By the way, I noticed Advils look really cool close-up. Yes, that means a possible photo in this blog's near future. Poor you!

Actually, I was outside yesterday. I spent about 45 seconds on the porch taking the picture below. I was struck by the icicles that had almost covered part of the evergreen bush beside our front door. I know they're evergreen, but the color still seems so alien during winter. Especially so when it's mixed in with ice.

Like all things that are so transient - either due to temperature variations or the curiosity of our children - I knew they wouldn't last. So out I went.

As I stare at this, I can't help but think one of the formations near the bottom of the pick reminds me of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Am I losing it here?

Lick this

I'm still stuck in the house with a stuffed head, congested chest and a miserable mood. So I thought a cool-looking picture from the macrophotographic archives would make me feel better.

It didn't, but maybe it'll bring a jolt of goodness to your life.

What is this picture saying to you (aside from "tongue", of course)?

Readings of the day

The Internet has evolved into an amazing tool to read the work of others we would not otherwise be able to get. As a child, buying the Sunday New York Times was a magical glimpse into a broader world of opinion and thought leadership. Today, it's all at our fingertips: A five-minute search can generate a robust short-list of opinion pieces that should keep the thoughtful among us reading until well after bedtime, and thinking and discussing long after that.

With that in mind, I tried to grab a snapshot of opinion columns and other publishings that I feel are representative of my thoughts and feelings on this day:

• A factory for death (Jeff Jacoby, Boston Globe)
• Reliving a Horror To Decipher an Enigma (Thomas Weber, The Wall Street Journal)
• The legacy of Auschwitz (Samuel Pisar, Haaretz)
• Always, Darkness Visible (Aharon Applefeld, The New York Times)
• What have we learned? (Kyle Spector, GW Hatchet)
• The new promise of Poland (Tad Taube, Washington Times)
• The heart of darkness (Sir Ian Kershaw, Scotland on Sunday)
• Auschwitz anniversary in quotes (CNN International)
  

Other resources for learning more about the Holocaust include Yad Vashem, the Simon Wiesenthal Center, the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, Remember.org, Steven Spielberg's Visual History Foundation and The Holocaust Chronicle.

With that in mind, what are you reading today?

60 years on

Note: I'm home with a horrid cold this morning, so I'll be brief.

I'm not a huge fan of U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney. Yet on this, the 60th anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz death camp, I am moved by his words, spoken to those gathered at the site. I hope you are moved as well:

"The story of the camps shows that evil is real and must be called by its name and must be confronted.

"We are reminded that anti-Semitism may begin with words but rarely stops with words and the message of intolerance and hatred must be opposed before it turns into acts of horror."

Never again isn't just a trite statement to be trotted out on one of the many dates on which we mark another anniversary of a terrible event in human history. It needs to define who we are, and how we conduct ourselves moving forward. As a species, we still haven't learned that lesson, and for that reason I fear for our future.

What does Never Again mean to you? How will you internalize it?

Vacation images - the beach, again

I'm sorry for continually posting beach pictures. But the place fascinates me for a whole raft of reasons. I thought about being there all the way down from London, I loved being there, and as I watch the temperature bottom out again on the way to another wind chill warning, I find myself once again thinking about it. My only regret about living in landlocked London is I don't make it to the shore more often to just stare out and contemplate the meaning of life.

Publish Day - the Prince & the Holocaust

My latest column was published in today's London Free Press. It's entitled Harry, could you please grow up? and it deals with a topic that's somewhat near and dear to my heart: the Holocaust and the tendency of some folks - either through ignorance, maliciousness, or both - to not learn from it.

I realize I've made Prince Harry out to be something of a whipping boy, but if that's what it takes to wake up the collective soul, then so be it.

Tomorrow marks the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. While doing the research for this column, I became saddened by how laissez-faire the world has become regarding how we treat the symbols related to this dark historical blot. That a prince would be so stupid was, to me, the epitome of our planet's inability to appreciate and learn from history. To a certain extent, his behavior mimics that of some elements of society.

In short, he deserved a journalistic smack upside the head.

A couple of interesting things to note:

• The Tehran Times published a typically usual anti-Semitic, Holocaust-denying piece of tripe. If you're in the mood to be sickened, click here. In the great Iranian tradition of a free press that maintains open dialog with readership, the feedback link on the site returns a canned error message. But their advertising links still work.
• The Canadian Press is running this piece on the anniversary. As you can imagine, it's based on a somewhat more rational reality than the earlier example. Bear in mind we'd all be living under oppression - or not at all - if the zealots had won the war.
• This piece from Germany's Deutsche Welle speaks frankly about the challenge of educating future generations after the last survivors have passed away.

Big questions. No easy answers. But to simply let the dust of history cover it up would be a crime. We owe those who perished, and those left behind, somewhat more.

Snowy branches

If anyone wants to know how we're doing these days, this picture should explain all. I know being repeatedly dumped with tons of snow doesn't make it any easier to get around, but it sure makes for beautiful, temporary sculpture when you take the time to smell where the roses would otherwise be.

Top of the pop (cans)

I have no idea why I:

• Took this picture
• Posted it here

Yet this unconventional image of the mundane speaks to my unconventional view of the world. I'm sorry I didn't also get pictures of the people who watched me point the camera straight down. I think they thought I was losing it. Maybe they're not all that far off.

What other incredibly mundane scenes should be captured on my wandering SD card? Ask, and ye may have it appear here in the weeks to come.

Why we are all doomed

I'm admittedly as shallow as the next person when it comes to wanting new stuff. For some reason, we feel better when we buy or receive consumer goods. A new doodad can often lift our spirits and convince us that all is right with the world.

Alas, with the passage of time, that lovely sense of warmth is replaced by a sense of obsolescence, of emptiness. Somehow, filling the cart doesn't fulfill the soul as much as we thought it would when we first walked into the store. It gets pretty old pretty quickly.

In my blatantly biased opinion, this product, Chia Shrek, spied at a Florida pharmacy, typifies the rampant consumerist ethic that's threatening to destroy any depth of being that remains in modern society. It is obscenely cheap, unbelievably useless, and most likely to end up forgotten and forlorn mere days after it crosses the threshold into your home.

The world seems to be populated by countless factories pumping out massive amounts of pure garbage that we neither need nor truly want (think, would you actually set out from the house with your heart set on buying one of these?)

At some point, the buying-for-the-sake-of-buying has got to stop.

Fun with pets

The joy of owning a cat is, apparently, never-ending. I brought our black-furred feline to the vet last week for a followup visit to see if his new diabetic-formula food is helping. Short answer, it is. But before the vet was able to deliver the happy news, he needed some blood from our fearless friend.

A little context before I continue: the only thing Shadow hates more than being in the car (where he will meow incessantly) is being at the vet (where he will growl and carry on like a tortured prisoner in a desert nation awaiting the election of its next dictator.) So I thought I'd help calm him down by holding onto him while the vet drew "just a bit of blood" from his paw.

That was my first, second, and last mistake of the day.

I held his head as firmly as I dared while the vet took the needle out and approached him. My sweet little Shadow then did his best Linda Blair/Exorcist impression as he twisted his head back and bit my finger. This wasn't a little nip: his tooth went full-on, deep into my finger. Blood flowed as freely as a mountain spring during the post-winter melt.

I swore. Profusely. Then apologized for swearing. Doc apologized to me, got all sorts of cleaning doodads out for me to wash it out, then scooped my still-hissing Shadow up in a towel and whisked him off to a back room. As I washed and hydrogen-peroxided myself to remove the lovely cat-bacteria from my bloodstream, Shadow's otherworldly screams (who would have thought that cats can actually scream?) echoed throughout the building.

I was embarrassed that my cat, my pet, could behave in such a manner. Then I realized: he's a cat, you doofus! What else did you expect?

After what seemed like a very long time, a now-flustered doc returned him to me, muttering something about not getting a Christmas card from Shadow this year. Yup, good call on that one!

Then we discussed tetanus, and how it would be a good idea for me to get myself checked out lest I die from it. Yum!

So fast-forward to today. I looked up my records and confirmed that, yes indeed, it had been 10 years since my last tetanus booster. So I made an appointment with my family doc and took the kids with me - in the blizzard, yay! - so they could hold my hand and keep me from crying. Truth be told, blood donation needles are a LOT bigger, and they stay in for 30-45 minutes, and I go through that every week. So a little jab in the shoulder wasn't going to phase me. But I figured the kids would find it a hoot to watch dear old Dad get stuck. So off we went.

They huddled around me in the examing room as the good doc got the needle ready. She smiled as I told her the story of how I came to be in her office on a snowy morning. The shot took the usual three seconds to administer, and my kids were entirely fascinated by how much fun I seemed to be having. After the regulatory band-aid, I was good to go.

We bundled ourselves up before heading into the howling storm to the video store to load up on some snowy-weekend-kids' movies. I'm not sure how long they'll remember the time when they helped Dad get his needle. But I'll cherish it as yet another one of those wacky moments of parenthood that even if I tried, I couldn't have planned it better.

Vacation images - wetland leaves

I'm often criticized for "wasting pictures" (their words, not mine.) I don't shoot the standard head shots of family or the usual postcard touristy images. I grab pictures of the weirdest elements that jump out at me and stick in my head. (Don't worry, I ignore the critics as I keep shooting. No sense caving in to the whims of those who settle for mediocrity and conventionalism. But I once again digress...)

While walking through the wetlands (see earlier post/duck picture for more details on this wondrous place) with our brood, I found myself staring at the leaves that seemed to float just above the surface of the water. No colorful flowers, no funny-looking animals. Just an almost-endless sea of green that seemed to pull me in (not literally, though...there was a gator nearby!)

I write this as a massive snowstorm pummels the region. Out my window, the snow is flying sideways as it slowly (OK, not-so-slowly) paints our world white. We're all spending a quiet weekend morning in the house, watching the cold world outside and enjoying our warm little world in here. A sea of green seems to hit the spot right about now.

Today's questions are decidedly temperature-related:

• How do you stay warm when Old Wo/Man Winter closes in?
• What does the word "warmth" mean to you? (Don't be literal here...stretch the definition a bit.)

Chill, people

You can tell much about people by how they complain about the weather.

London is experiencing its first real cold snap of the season. The temp went down to something like -24 Celsius last night. Adding in the brisk winds that are blowing through the region brings the wind chill down to something like -35.

For some ridiculous reason, Canadians have to be different in everything they do. As a result, they use the metric system. In Fahrenheit, last night’s temp was -11, and the wind chill was -31. Whatever number you use, it was really cold.

I must admit I’m having a good time listening to folks whine, moan, and, yes, bitch about the temperature. I like to smile as they rant, letting them get it off their chest before I shrug my shoulders, look them right in the pupils and ask what they expect me to do about it? Do they want me to haul out my planetary space heater? Would a more regionalized hair dryer help?

Growing up in Montreal, where winters are somewhat more severe than they are down here in relatively balmy southwestern Ontario, I always looked forward to snowstorms and cold snaps. Maybe I was just being a kid – a kid who didn’t care about little things like working or paying bills – but I enjoyed the feeling you got when things were tough outside and you needed to get tough yourself if you were going to make it through. Sailors batten down the hatches before a storm hits, and this phrase often crosses my mind whenever I hear severe weather is rolling in.

My advice to the weather-whiners is simple: weather's going to happen whether you complain or not. Accept the simple fact that you have no control over it. A little variety - from sunny and warm, to cool and wet, to downright sub-Arctic - is a good thing.

And while you’re at it, please stop blaming the “weather man” or the “weather girl” for “getting it wrong. Television weather forecasters read the same Environment Canada (or wherever) web sites that you do. They just have nicer suits than we do.

The next time you wake up to a cold house on a frosty morning, try to repeat the word “Manyana” a few times. Pull on some layers of warm clothes and wear fluffy slippers on your feet. Look for something – a trinket or a tchatchke – that brings you comfort. Have a mug of tea. Linger over the paper for a few minutes longer. Enjoy the moment of peace that you wouldn’t have otherwise had if the weather hadn’t reminded you who’s really boss.

Bad weather builds strong character – and strong characters. We wouldn’t be who we are if every day dawned sunny and warm.

Vacation images - a little girl colors

I am convinced that adults don't spend enough time watching children being themselves. If we did, we'd learn quite a lot about how we should be leading our supposedly grown-up lives.

Here, Dahlia taught me that it's possible to be at peace even when the world flies by at 120 km/h and you're hundreds of kilometers from home. I love this picture because it is so reflective of the soft little bubble that a girl builds around herself when she simply wants to be a seven-year-old child.

I love this picture for how it makes me feel. I'm blessed to be her Dad, to be able to peek into scenes like this no matter where we are or what we're doing.

How do you - or your children, if you have them - find small slices of peace amidst the bustle of life? Why do you feel this is so critical to your well-being?

Helping...

Slight warning: I'm on a bit of a pre-bedtime rant. Apologies in advance.

Now, on with the show...

I live my life with the belief that people are fundamentally good, and generally want what's best for those around them. Which is why I am always rather disappointed when I encounter the odd person who seems so focused on his or her own needs that simplicities like saying thank you or dropping me an e-mail to let me know the time I spent proving aid was appreciated and resulted in [fill in outcome here] are completely forgotten.

Over the past few months, I've been burned by a couple of folks who I'll simply call "takers". I'm sure they didn't overtly set out to leave a bad taste in my mouth. But after taking time out of my life to help these folks in any way I could, I was nastily surprised to find out that I seriously overvalued my contribution to their respective lives.

I guess because I'm a writer with a fairly deep knowledge of technology, I'm often approached for help with resumes and job search coaching. I edit what's sent my way, counsel over the phone, via e-mail and IM, and generally do whatever I can to help them through a challenging time. I likely say yes too often, because it seriously cuts into what little free time I have. But I figure people appreciate it, so I do it.

Maybe my breath isn't up to snuff, but the e-mails from my temporary proteges seem to stop as soon as said individuals find employment. I often hear about their new jobs from others because they were clearly too busy to let me know they were hired on. Some of them seem to drift back into my purview only when they're seeking employment. As soon as they hitch up with a company, they forget I exist.

It ticks me off because I invested time in these people that could have otherwise been spent with my family. I'm also trying to add momentum to the rolling snowball that is my writing career, and time spent on unappreciative souls doesn't really help the cause, y'know? Consequently, I need to change my approach a little to preserve my sanity. Here's how it'll work:

I'll continue to help. It's in my blood. I can't say no to someone who needs a boost when I clearly have the skills to help him/her out.

I will, however, have zero tolerance for "takers". Show any sign of being a one-way receiver and I can guarantee you it'll be the last time you receive any assistance from me. I'm not being mean: I'm only being fair to my wife and kids, who clearly value every second we spend together, and who end up getting ripped off when I waste my time on self-centred boobs.

I'll feel guilty, because my nature almost compels me to set my annoyance aside so I can help anyway. But such is life when there's only so much of me to go around, and not everyone has the vision to realize that being appreciative and nice is really quite a bit simpler than they were raised to believe.

I have some questions for you to ponder:

• How do you handle self-centredness when it rears its ugly head?
• Do you take the passive-aggressive stance and say nothing?
• Do you cut the SOBs off?
• Do you confront them?
• Why/why not?
• What strategies for handling "takers" have you developed in your own life?

Please do tell in the comments section below!

If you're reading this and you recognize yourself as one of my "takers" (doubtful, given most of you seem so intent on your own needs that you pay no attention to the little details of others, but nevertheless possible given the ubiquity of the Web) I apologize for causing the flushed cheeks that you're feeling right about now. Next time, show a little grace when someone extends a hand. And if you ever have the opportunity to help someone else out, consider taking it. You might learn something about yourself in the process.

There, I've vented, and I already feel better. Thank you for allowing me this catharsis.

More admin work

I've replaced the old blue template because it simply wouldn't stop blowing up in Internet Explorer. Even after I reapplied the original template, the sidebar continued to slide to the bottom of the screen.

Much frustration ensued, and as a result I decided to pull the plug on the old template and pick another conservative-looking one from the Blogger list. Although I tried to find something more unique elsewhere on the Internet, I ended up settling for this basic one because, frankly, I didn't want to endlessly fiddle with tags and lose sight of why I write this blog in the first place: to write (and not to code.)

So I hope you like it as is. From what I can tell, it seems to be behaving itself in both Internet Explorer and Firefox. I have not tested it in other browsers (Mac folks, feel free to chime in here) but I invite your comments on how it works for you now.

Thanks for your patience and advice, everyone. We now return to our regularly-scheduled blog programming.

Vacation images - Jellico cliff

As you've no doubt figured out by now, a recurring theme of our travels is the relative frequency with which we must stop so that our kids can use the washroom. Our eldest child was blessed with the constitution of a camel. So we naively figured all kids were similarly easygoing in this department. Yeah, right.

When we heard the furtive "I need to go..." call from the back, we pulled off the highway in a desolate place called Jellico that was stuck hard up against a hillside within a broad valley. Lovely scenery in nature, but the human presence in this area was anything but pretty, or intelligent.

In a fit of bad planning, the gas station/convenience store sold more fireworks than I've ever seen in my life. As we walked past the long rows of gaudily-packaged explosives on our way to the washroom, my daughter told me what a bad idea it was to have fireworks so close to gas and matches. A seven-year-old's wisdom: priceless.

We had parked the van at the edge of the parking lot, facing a fence half-covered with peeling white paint and a fading "Stuckey's" logo on it. To our left, an ancient and rusting truck trailer, its best miles clearly behind it, sat right next to an add-on to the store that was clearly not built according to any recognizable building codes. All told, this little anti-oasis was old, worn out, and badly in need of a do-over.

[Hint: here come today's questions...]

Yet beauty still abounded in a cliff face that towered over the fence and diverted our attention away from the murk. Even now, I'm not sure what I saw in these rocks. Perhaps you can tell me what this is supposed to be. Any ideas?

And while you're answering questions, I hope you'll help me with this one as well: what the heck was I thinking parking next to the bubba's equivalent of an ammo dump?

Pause for administrative notification

Although I tend to fiddle with the mechanics of the blog more than I should (really, just ask my wife), I typically don't write about it because I'd rather focus on the actual writing than on the technology that delivers it.

I'm breaking that tendency a touch with this post. I simply wanted to let y'all know that I have added a whack of stuff to my sidebar. Specifically, I've added a couple of sections that you may find useful:

• Quoted: As part of my day job - Senior Research Analyst for the leading mid-size technology research firm - I am often asked to share my thoughts on the world of technology. It's almost spooky that I'm asked for my expert opinion. It's like giving the kid the keys to the Maserati. But drive I do. This is one of my favorite aspects of the job; I guess I love talking to smart people.
  
• Commercial/Journalistic Blogs: I realized my list of linked-to blogs was becoming a bit unwieldy. So I split it up into Favorite Blogs (written by real people) and this category. These blogs are typically written by professionals, industry insiders, reps of major ISVs and other vendor types. Why these? Simple: because I read 'em and obtain value in the process.
• Technology Columns/Columnists: As with the C/J Blogs, these are more traditional, columnar-format publishings from industry-leading writers. Similarly, these represent the core of my own must-read list.
  

I've also expanded the Favorite Blogs list because, frankly, my little world of known bloggers continues to expand. Cool!

I'll likely never finish tweaking, pulling, prodding and twisting the contents of my sidebar. Spend any time there and you'll get a good picture of where my gaze rests on the outside world. That should provide additional insight into what I will soon be writing in the main column - and elsewhere.

I figured this round of changes was significant enough to make mention of the process. Thanks for bearing with me - and for continuing to read, to comment, and to share your thoughts and encouragement. I appreciate every crossed electron that zings through my router.

But back to the important stuff: the process. Your turn: Who are you reading these days? Should any of these folks be in my sidebar? Why? Why not?

Vacation images - ducky

One fine afternoon, we took a drive north and ended up at a wetlands preserve that blew us away with its richness and diversity. Initially, we weren't sure if the kids would be keen to walk on a three-quarter-mile boardwalk through what is essentially a swamp, but they ended up bubbling about the experience more than we were - which says something.

We saw all sorts of animal and plant life during our stroll through the Wakodahatchee Wetlands, but my joy came from watching our little folks experience it. Here's another link.

This little fellow swam under the boardwalk, so I made sure the camera strap was securely wrapped around my wrist, then shot almost straight down. As I continue to review the pictures we took, I am amazed that no matter how much time has passed since then, merely looking at a given picture takes me right back to the very moment it was taken. I can even remember what it felt like as our daughter tried to (quietly) coax the duck to stay close so she could talk to her (she insisted it was a she.) I could easily spend a lot more time sitting under the gazebo just drinking in this most unique of environments.

I seem to be evolving a strange tradition where I ask questions whenever I post a picture. Since the last thing I want to do is threaten a tradition, here's my question:

What's the duck thinking?