lefse

I'm Norwegian. No, I wasn't born there, and can't speak the language, or write it, but I have Norwegian blood. (well, 7/8, the other 1/8 is Swede, but being a polite Norwegian, I won't speak of that) All good Norwegians, at least those I knew growing up who were all related to me, ate lefse. Lefse is made from potatoes, and resembles a tortilla. Only better. My grandmother made lefse every year so we could eat it with our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Grandma was an opinionated person, she wasn't shy sharing how she felt. How uncharacteristic of a Norwegian. And Grandma knew how lefsa was to be eaten. Spread some butter, sprinkle a little white sugar on it (optional), roll it up, eat it. Don't dip it in gravy, or fill it with stuffing, or peanut butter or God knows what. Butter, roll, eat. That's it. Anything else and you would get a disapproving look, and a few words on lefsa etiquette. A few days ago at work, we had a little debate on how to eat lefse. Sugar, no sugar, brown sugar, margarine, butter, peanut butter. Everyone has an opinion on lefsa. Wow, if we only had some lefsa to sample. One day later, I was shopping in a warehouse store and there was lefsa for sale. Norwegian potato lefse, in sealed plastic bags, made in Gonvick Minnesota. For less than 3 bucks you can get about 6 sheets of lefsa, nice and neatly trimmed to size. I bought a few bags and the next day brought some lefsa, butter, white and brown sugar in to work so we could enjoy this delicacy. Grandma would be proud. She would have more than a few words to say about the neatly trimmed edges and plastic bags, but she would like the lefsa. And by the way, the hands down favorite at work is butter and white sugar.

November 22

As almost anyone from my generation and older knows, today is the day JFK was killed in 1963. If you don't know who JFK is, stop reading, as I won't take the time to explain that. I was only 4 years old, and was sitting in front of the TV having lunch when the news came. My brother, who was in high school, was sent home, as they closed the schools. Imagine that. I am now reading the latest Stephen King novel about a guy who travels back in time to prevent the JFK assassination. I'm only about a third through the book, so I don't know if he was successful. Anyway, it occurred to me that JFK was about 46 when he died, the same age as my best friend when he died. It wasn't an assassin's bullet that killed Gene though. He just didn't take care of himself and his heart gave out. If given the chance, I'd go back in time and try to prevent that. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him and miss him. I'd go back in time, way before he died in January of 2006, and tell him to take care of himself, that if he went away a lot of people would miss him. I can't say that I ever missed JFK; he is just a historical figure to me, a President that was martyred by a killer. Gene wasn't a President, or martyred. He just lived an all too short ordinary life. He died suddenly and left a big hole in my life, and in many others too. I miss my best friend.

we went with someone else

Last week, I interviewed for a job. This would have been a step or two up on the ladder, managing a large staff and undoubtedly presenting many challenges. Well, as the title suggests, I did not get the job. They went with someone on the inside. I am disappointed, but this is not the first time someone takes a pass on me, and probably will not be the last. Yes, it's nice to be even considered, to have someone outside of my present environment think I am worthwhile. Coming in second in a job search is not much consolation, as there is no prize for second place. So, for awhile, I am still (stuck?) in middle management. But I made sure to send a thank you note to the interviewers, you never know, their first candidate may enter a mid life crisis and run away to Mexico. I stand at the ready.

the internet is slow

If a tree falls in the woods and there is no one around, does it make any noise?  If the Internet is slow, does anyone care? Today, the Internet was slow. Slow enough to notice, which, according to our measurement, was about 100 milliseconds slower than usual. That's right, milliseconds. This is similar to the difference between 30 and 100 MPH. At 100 MPH we can look out the window of the car (not for long, keep your eyes on the road) and see the scenery go by. You can do this at 30 MPH too, but at that rate the scenery doesn't change very often. So this morning I had to wait an additional 10 or 20 seconds for my email to appear on my screen. An eternity it seems. I work in I.T., so to us, it was a matter of grave concern. To some of our users, it was a calamity. I think some users were convinced it was a prelude to Judgement Day, the Rapture, the climax to a disaster movie (I colllect these, they are great fun and remind me that we're all gonna be ok). Luckily, the Internet returned to normal, so I won't have to stock up on canned goods and bottled water. Whew.