1. Mercar brócolis cando vostede sabe que xa é máis que suficiente na neveira.
2. Go for a run. Cool off. Take off clean pillow case and replace with T-shirt. Cover with clean pillow case.
3. Ao dirixir, preguntar se hai que ir polo camiño mal por unha rúa de sentido único.
4. Para 15 anos, todos os domingos que suxire esposa ir a un museo, expresa sorpresa que os museos están abertos os domingos.
5. Para 15 anos, occasionally suggest going to the local book store on Sunday. Express surprise that they are not open on Sunday’s (moitas grazas Leis Azul!).
6. Usar 20 puntos para facer un 3 point turn.
7. Nunha tarde de outono cedo legal, walk into the room and turn on the A/C. Complain that it’s cold. When wife says, "then why did you turn that on, parvo" e obtén-se desactiva-lo, grab the warm spot she had on the couch. Bonus points if she does not realize you did it until much later.
8. Abrir unha lata de atún delicioso branco e come-lo directamente da lata, na cama, á noite.
9. Vaia á cociña mentres a muller está comendo a cea, abrir o caixón de cubertos e utensilios de empurrar ata berros muller, "what are you looking for!"
10. Momento da recepción de novas tarxetas de visita, secretly place them all around the house: Under the bed, in pillow cases, inside coffee cups, in her purse, in coat pockets, car glove compartments, the pantry — anywhere you can think of.
11. Write blog entries about your wife.
12. Wake up.
13. When walking the streets of New York City, be on the alert for "crusty" objects on the ground. Keeping in mind your wife’s special fears, reach down as if to pick one up up and ask, "hmm, Eu me pregunta o que é?" (Be prepared for wife to body slam you as if she’s a secret service agent protecting the President from a sniper or you’ll find yourself laying on your back on the sidewalk).
14. Drive twice around a parking lot looking for space. You know you’ve really hit pay dirt when your son in the back seat yells, "Oh no! He’s doing it novo!"
15. Write "top 10" lists that don’t have 10 items.

===

Bonus wife joke:

Two male co-workers go out to lunch. One of them tells the other, "I let loose an embarrassing Freudian slip the other night."

"A Freudian slip? What’s that?"

"Well, when we finished eating, the waitress came by and asked how we liked our meals. I meant say, ‘I loved the chicken breast’ but instead I said ‘I loved your breasts’. I was so embarrassed."

"Ah," his co-worker replied. "I had the same thing happen to me this weekend with my wife. We were eating breakfast I meant to ask her to pass the butter, but instead I screamed at her, ‘You ruined my life!'"

</final>

Preto de seis anos, os meus catro anos de idade, fillo e eu estabamos alí enriba asistir a unha Discovery Channel "shark attacks" especial (posiblemente esta). He was very young at the point and I was always worried what he might see on a show like this and how he might take it. I didn’t want him to develop, por exemplo, calquera medos especiais da auga ou tagarela algo impropio aos seus amigos e, finalmente, causar a súa rede de amigos bebé para derrubar.

Discovery handles these kinds of subjects very well. It’s not about creating a medo de algo, but rather to show how unusual it is for sharks to attack humans.

Así, we’re watching it and there is this one particularly scary attack involving a small girl. As Discovery is building the drama of the attack, meu fillo (que sempre foi moi axitado calquera maneira), is getting very excited. I make some noises about how unusual it is for sharks to attack people, and how bad the poor girl must feel. I’m trying to explain that people recover from these events and become stronger for it. Con todo, I had misinterpreted his excitement. He was not worried about the girl at all. Pola, mentres a aplaudir, el me di, "The sharks love it! It’s terrific. It’s wonderful. Its a DREAM COME TRUE!"

Eu pensaba que iso era Hilario, but also very disturbing. Por unha banda, Quedei contento — ata un pouco orgulloso — que podería ter fortes sentimentos de empatía, cross-species though they may be. As humans, we need to develop our "empathic muscles" para falar ou vai acabar como este cara 🙂 On the other hand, he was feeling cross-species empathy toward a species who was exhibiting behavior inimical to his own. I was really struggling with this when the narrator used the word "paradigm". My son picked up on that and asked me what that meant.

Isto non é unha palabra tan fácil de describir a un neno de catro anos, but I gave it a try. When I think of the word "paradigm", Thomas Kuhn is never far from my thoughts. I read A Estrutura das Revolucións Científicas de volta ao Lafayette e para mellor ou para peor, the word "paradigm" is pregnant with extra meaning for me. (Sort of like the word "contact" despois de escoitar unha voz Teléfono película me onde eu podía ver que dicir esta película [Eu penso que o libro era mellor]; Sempre digo para min mesmo, "CONTACT!" whenever I see or hear someone say "contact").

De calquera xeito, Estou tentando explicar a el unha definición kuhniana, that it’s "a historical movement of thought" and that it’s a "way of thinking with a number of built-in assumptions that are hard to escape for people living at that time." Por suposto, non se pode falar así dun neno de catro anos, so I’m trying to successively define it to smaller pieces and feeling rather proud of myself as I do so. (Eu só Sabía que alguén de fóra da facultade lle importaría que eu lera Kuhn!).

I’m just warming to the task when he interrupts me. Waving his hand na miña dirección xeral e nunca tirar os ollos doutro ataque de quenlla brutal, el só di, "Yeah, si, si. Blah, blah, blah.".

So much for that 🙂

Nese punto, Decidín fuxir, retoricamente fala, sentir-se, e divírtete asistir tiburóns atacan o ser humano co meu fillo.

</final>

Volver preto 1999, Eu estaba gastan moito de semana en Santa Barbara, CA, traballando a un cliente, leaving my poor wife back here in New Jersey alone. I dearly love my wife. I love her just as much today as I did when she foolishly married me 1,000 years or so ago. Nalgún lugar ao longo da liña, I coined a phrase, "special fear", as in "Samantha has special fears." She as a special fear of "bugs", which to her are not flies or ladybugs, but rather microbes. She’s afraid of this or that virus or unusual bacteria afflicting our son, or me, but never really herself. (She is also specially afraid of vampires, miniature evil dolls (especially clowns) and submarine accidents; she has out-grown her special fear of people dressed in Santa Claus outfits).

Un día, my co-worker and I decided to drive up into the nearby mountains near Ohai. At one point, we got out of the car to take in the scene. When we got back into the car, I noticed that a tick was on my shoulder. I flicked out the window and that was it.

That night, I told her about our drive and mentioned the tick. The conversation went something like this:

S: "Oooo! Those are bad. They carry diseases."

P: "Well, I flicked it out the window."

S: "They are really bad though. They can get under your skin and suck blood and transfer bugs. You better check your hair and make sure there aren’t any in your head!"

P: In a loud voice: "My God! CAN THEY TAKE OVER YOUR MIND???"

S: Literally reassuring me: "No, they’re not THAT bad."

</final>

Nós compramos noso primeiro (e só) "luxury" car back when hurricane Floyd nailed the east coast of the U.S. We got a LOT of rain here in New Jersey and Varios días pasaron before life returned to normal. Just before Floyd struck, fixemos unha oferta para un Volvo usado 850 GL e despois chegou Floyd, levou-o a casa.

It was our first car with a CD player. Like most new car owners, fomos un pouco tolo CD, revived our dormant CD collection and went on long drives just to listen to CD’s in the car. Like all fads, this passed for us and we ended listening to the same CD over and over again. No noso caso, era Jesucristo Superstar.

Un dos (moitos) pezas brillantes en que opera rock é cantada polos tipos relixiosos establecemento, liderado por Caifás, the "High Priest". They sing their way into deciding how to handle the "Jesus problem" and Caiaphas directs them to the conclusion that "Jesus must die". The refrain on the song is "Just must die, debe morrer, debe morrer, this Jesus must die". You hear that refrain a lot in that piece.

No momento, my son was about three years old. You can probably see where this is going.

I came home from work one day and my son is in the living room playing with toys and humming to himself. I’m taking off my jacket, mirando a través do correo electrónico e todo o meu walk-in-the-door habitual cousas e de súpeto podo entender que el está só dicindo, realmente non cantar: "Jesus must die, debe morrer, must die." I was mortified. I could just see him doing that while on one of his baby play dates at a friend’s house — probablemente a última data do xogo co amigo bebé.

We pulled that CD out of the Volvo after that 🙂

</final>

Así, esta mañá, meu fillo está determinado a ver un halo de idade 13 restrinxida 3 vídeo en Gamespot. I’m outside shoveling snow, so I’m not there to help or hinder. Necessity is the mother of invention and all that … he has a eureka! moment. He realizes that even though Gamespot wants him to enter his real data de nacemento, el realmente pode entrar calquera birth date he wants. Once he realized that, fixo-se vello o suficiente para ver o vídeo.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about this 🙂

O primeiro traballo fóra da facultade en 1991, Tiven a sorte de traballar para unha empresa de manufactura con 13 locais, not including its corporate HQ in New Jersey. I joined just when the company was rolling out a new ERP system. We were a small IT department of about ten people altogether, two of whom Did Not Travel. Part of the project involved replacing IBM System 36 boxes with HP hardware and HPUX. Everyone used green tubes to access the system.

O proxecto rula ao longo e estou enviado a Baltimore cun novo compañeiro de traballo, Jeff. Our job was to power up the Unix box, comproba se o A / S estaba funcionando, instalar o sistema ERP, configurar ERP, train people on the ERP and do custom work for folks on the spot. (Este foi un traballo de soño, sobre todo vindo en liña recta fóra da facultade). Before we could really get off the ground, que necesitabamos para descomprimir todos os tubos verdes, put them on desks and wire them. And the best part was that we had to put the RJ11 connectors on ourselves.

Por algunha razón que eu nunca entendín e realmente nunca pensei en preguntar sobre o tempo, Nós tiñamos tido algúns empresa contratante vir e executar cabo en toda a planta, but we didn’t have them put on the connectors. Así, there was a "patch box" with dozens of of unlabeled cables in the "computer room" e estes serpenteava en torno do edificio para varios lugares do edificio.

Traballamos o noso camiño a través del, ao longo dun fin de semana, probar cada fío, poñer un conector (asegurarse de que era recta vs. cruzado), garantindo a configuración de bits nos tubos verdes e impresoras estaban correctos, labeling wires, making sure that "getty" was running correctly for each port and probably a thousand other things that I’ve suppressed since then. It all came together quite nicely.

Pero, there was one important cable that we couldn’t figure out. The plant in Baltimore had a relationship with a warehousing location in New Jersey. Some orders placed in Baltimore shipped out of that location. There were two wires that we had to connect to the HPUX box: a green tube and a printer. The green tube was easy, pero a impresora se converteu nun pesadelo de tres semanas.

Se non sabe, ou que suprimiu, xestionar tubos verdes e impresoras deste xeito, there are various options that you deal with by setting various pins. 8-bocado, 7-bocado, paridade (par / impar / ningún), probably others. If you get one of those settings wrong, o tubo ou a impresora aínda mostra cousas, pero será xerga total, or it will be gibberish with a lot of recognizable stuff in between. Por suposto, these pins are hard to see and have to be set by using a small flat-edge screw driver. And they are never standard.

Montar a primeira de moitas chamadas rápidas co NJ cara (un inimigo ordenador grisalho que probablemente nos maldí até hoxe). We got the green tube working pretty quickly, but we couldn’t get the printer to work. It kept "printing garbage". We would create a new RJ11 connector, switching between crossed and straight. We would delete the port and re-created in Unix. We went through the arduous task of having him explain to us the pin configuration on the printer, nunca está seguro de se estaba facendo isto correctamente.

É hora de ir en directo, todo en Baltimore está cantarolando, pero non podemos comezar a impresora maldito en NJ para traballar! We’ve exhausted all possibilities except for driving back up to NJ to work on the printer in person. To avoid all that driving, we finally ask him to fax us what he’s getting when it’s "garbage", coa esperanza de que quizais haxa algún indicio de que o lixo que vai nos dicir o que estamos facendo de malo.

Cando chegamos o fax, we immediately knew what was wrong. Ver, our method of testing whether we had configured a printer correctly was to issue an "lp" comando coma este:

lp / etc / passwd

Basicamente, we printed out the unix password file. It’s always present and out of the box, always just one page. You standard Unix password file looks something like this:

ferreiro:*:100:100:8A-74(oficina):/home / smith:/usr / bin / sh
:*:200:0::/home / invitado:/usr/bin/sh  

We had been printing out the password file over and over again for several weeks and it was printing correctly. Con todo, para o usuario final, it was "printing garbage".

</final>