This is an AWESOME little tool. I spend quite a bit of time adjusting window sizes for screenshots at work - and this is going to be a BIG time saver.

I work with proprietary software that doesn’t resize using external apps. This tool, however, gives you dimensions as you resize - so you can just drag the corner to the right size! So simple, but SO useful.

http://www.brianapps.net/sizer.html

What a bizarre night we had last night!

We had friends over for dinner because Bethany just finished the last of her classwork for her master’s degree (congrats, Beth!). We were just about to sit down to eat when I remembered I had to take a phone number over to my neighbors’ house. I ran it over, and in the process heard a story about how Deb and Jim ended up with a rooster. A real, live, crowing rooster. Their daughter had, she thought thoughtfully, brought her mother a rooster for an early Mother’s Day gift. Because she’d always wanted one. We had a good laugh about what an odd gift it was, and at Deb - what was she gonna do with a rooster? (Besides, of course, name it “Dumplin”)

After dinner, I went upstairs to take a call (didn’t want to talk while friends were watching TV) from the Ridgeback Rescue (and, sadly, the dog we were hoping to adopt has been adopted). We’d finished running through her form questions and were just chatting when I went over to the window and looked out over the front yard. And there, in the street just in front of my house, was a rooster! It was running for all it was worth.

I told the lady I had to go catch a rooster (she laughed) and hung up really quickly. Ran down the stairs and over to the neighbors’. They were eating dinner and watching TV - didn’t know their rooster was on the lam. So, they threw coats and shoes on and Deb ran out the door with me. We looked silly, I’m sure, as we waved our arms and corralled the rooster between our houses up against our privacy fences. Jim stood on his porch laughing, and when Deb asked [shrieked] for help, he said, “It’s YOUR rooster!” She finally got Dumplin’ backed into a corner. The stupid rooster stuck his head in the fence and got stuck, butt out.

Deb yells to Jim, “What do I do?”
Jim yells back, “Grab it by the neck.”
“I can’t see its neck!”
“Grab it by the ass and drag it out, THEN grab its neck!”
“I don’t want to get pecked!”

She eventually gets ahold of the animal, then turns frantically back to Jim.

“What now?”
“Toss the damn thing over the fence!”

So she chucks the rooster over the 6-foot privacy fence and it clucks off into their yard. We all look at one another and burst out laughing. We make some jokes about how Dumplin’s gonna end up (as a dumplin?) and about how their daughter didn’t seem to know what she was talking about when she said that the rooster wouldn’t leave the yard if they put down corn for it to eat. After some good laughs, we all say goodnight and I head back in to hang with the company.

I told David et al about the rooster chase, and they laughed, saying they’d heard it for a few minutes before I came down the stairs to chase it. I asked why someone didn’t bother to tell the neighbors and David says, “I don’t know. They let their dog run around…”

I shook my head, and started to say something about why he should have said something to the neighbors. And then I heard clucking. Coming from the front of my house.

So I took off my socks (didn’t want to get them wet in the wet grass) and ran back over to Jim and Deb’s. Only this time, they’re in the backyard trying to figure out how the bird got out the first time. I knock and no one hears. Finally, desperate because the rooster’s running down the street really fast, I yell, “Jim! Deb!”

They come running out of their house, and so do some of our neighbors. And my company. Deb gives me a big bouquet of lilacs, then takes off down the street. I stood there for a few seconds wondering why and what to do with them, then laid them down and joined the chase. And a chase it WAS. Bethany and Deb were waving their hands and running it back toward the house when a car pulls up wanting to pass them on the street. The driver sees what’s going on and helpfully shouts, “Run straight at it!” So, we all do and the bird panics.

All this time, David has been trying to put together the crate we borrowed from Denise and were going to give back to her. He finally gets it together and we corner the rooster - but no one really wants to get pecked and he’s looking mean. The neighbor from across the street, who has usually had a few drinks, and takes much pride in his homosexuality and plays up stereotypes (lisps, hand-waving, strutting, “girlfriend!”ing, calls himself “Miss Ricky”), waltzes over. After seeing the hysteria and the bird jumping like mad trying to get up onto our porch and away from everyone, he walks straight up to the rooster and slaps it. It falls in a daze and he grabs it and tosses it into the crate, singing to himself, “Fag saves the day! Fag saves the day!”

After MUCH hilarity, joking, prancing (on the part of Miss Ricky), crooning to the rooster (Deb was trying to calm him down by talking to him through the crate), we all said goodnight for the last time and went into our houses.

It was so hysterically funny - we laughed so very hard. My stomach hurts today. =)

I got a kick out of this:

After every flight, UPS pilots fill out a form, called a ‘gripe sheet’, which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight.

Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS’s pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers.

By the way, UPS is the only major airline that has never, ever, had an accident.

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit.
S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield.
S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent
S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S: That’s what friction locks are for.

P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode.
S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.
S: Suspect you’re right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.
S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny.
S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.
S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.
S: Cat installed.

And the best for last:

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.
S: Took hammer away from midget.

This is a really great, and very easy to make, dish - thought I’d share it (Leah, Melissa).

• 4 boned/skinned chicken breast halves
• 1/3 cup mustard (1/2 dijon, 1/2 coarse pommery)
• 1/3 cup vermouth or dry white wine
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• to taste freshly ground black pepper
• to taste salt

1. Coat the chicken with mustard and set in a covered bowl. Marinate for 2 hours.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
3. Arrange the chicken in a baking dish. Scrape out remaining mustard (from the marinating bowl) and spread evenly over chicken. Season with pepper and pour white wine over.
4. Back (basting occasionally) in center rack of oven for 30-40 minutes.
5. Scrape mustard off and back into the backing dish. Transfer chicken to a serving platter and keep warm.
6. Skim fat from cooking juices and set in baking dish over medium heat. Bring to a boil and whisk in sour cream. Lower the heat. Simmer for 5-10 minutes or until reduced by 1/3. Season with salt and pepper and pour over chicken. Serve hot.

Friday night, we went to see Derek’s art at the Stutz open house downtown.  Derek is a coworker friend and a fellow TU grad - and he’s really talented.

Some of us made an evening of it.  We went out to dinner with some coworkers and then to Derek’s studio.

Dinner was an adventure.  We started at a really neat place downtown called the Rathskeller, but since it was such a crush - no room to stand without being jostled - we decided to leave. 

We had paid $10 to park at the Rathskeller (a popular place any night, but especially on a nice weekend night), and since we were only there for a few minutes before deciding to leave, John (the friend I was riding around with) tried to talk the parking lot attendant dude (who was incredibly rude) into refunding him the money.  It was a no-go, so John just got into the car and backed out.  And then Denise (who was riding in the backseat) started yelling, “stop, stop, stop, John!”.  So John stopped.  She said, “there’s a huge lightpost behind you!”  John goes, “oh” and then steps on the gas.  But he forgot to put it in drive, so he reversed straight into the pole.  As the car thunks into the pole, he says, “that lightpost?”  =)  We all had a good laugh - he didn’t hit it hard enough to cause any damage to his car.

We all ended up at a dive called “the Tip Top Tavern”, close to the art show.  Had dinner, drinks, and many laughs, then headed out to the show.

It was huge!  None of us had been before, so none of us expected it to be three buildings (lots of floors, each) of studios to wander through.  There was live music, tons of people milling around… It was really neat.  I’ll be going back next year for sure, and leaving more time to look through.  As it was, we arrived late enough at Derek’s studio that most of us were tired and/or sick with serious allergies.  By the time we’d spent an hour and a half looking around and talking to Derek, we were ready to go.

Anyway, go check out Derek’s site (it’s a group site with some other folks): http://www.limnersociety.com/.  His latest, and my favorite, stuff isn’t posted there yet.  Hopefully he’ll get some of the photos from the event online so you can see his work.  I took a couple with my camera phone for John, but feel weird about posting them without Derek’s permission.

Fact:  Goat fur is called hair.

Fact:  Goat hair grows at a rate of 3/4″ per month.

When Leah was a little thing, she used to sing “homagin, homagin!” over and over as we pulled up the driveway and into the garage.  I thought that as the plane taxied to the runway in Indy…  I’m home again!

David met me at the airport when we flew in after several delays, saying he had a surprise for me.  He had tickets to a concert.  I was floored, thinking “What?  David bought tickets to a concert?”

We’re not concert people.  And he’s not a ticket-buying person.  Turns out, though, that my world is still intact - they were bought by a friend’s boss and his date stood him up.  He gave the tickets to my friend, and my friend gave them to David.  Which is why David was standing there with tickets to a Michael Buble concert.  Again, something we NEVER would have gone to see.  But, we’re usually up for something different.  We decided to go - knowing full well that we’d spend most of the concert being amazed at the cheese and the crazy ladies.

And crazy ladies there were in abundance.  Screaming ladies, yelling ladies, swooning ladies.  And teens!  So many of them… screaming “I love you, Michael” at every quiet moment.  It was insane.  Oh, yeah - there was also this super man fan sitting next to on top of me.  He’d had four beers before he took his seat (the cups were stacked and he smelled).  A few songs in, he and his date got up (spilling their beer all over the floor and my foot) and started dancing (drunkenly and a bit like hippies) in the aisle.  They never did come back.

Aside from that mess and the sheer cheese of a crooner concert, we had a good time.  We laughed a lot, at the people there and at Michael himself.  He was a lot funnier (and fouler) than I thought he’d be.  He has a great voice, and his jazz stuff was really good.  His swagger, his jokes, his personality onstage - it was like he was channeling Frank Sinatra.  The worst part of the evening was the pop set - those songs sucked.  Really badly.  David and I left when he made the crowd stand up and clap with him.  I just really don’t go for that stuff.

All in all, it was a good way to spend a Friday night - doing something different.

I’ve been having a good time visiting family.  It’s always good to see them, and especially good to see them in teh continental US.  Don’t get me wrong - I LOVED Hawai’i, and would drop everything to go back, but I’ll tell you what.  It’s infinitely easier and more enjoyable to fly an hour instead of 15.

This is the first time I’ve flown to see my family since they’re back from HI.  As I was packing for the trip, I started piling up books and stacks of DVDs to take in my carry-ons.  David watched me for a few minutes, and when I asked him for help fitting everything into a bookbag, he reminded me that I wasn’t going to be flying for 15 hours.  =)  I happily took out the stacks of books and DVDs and wow… it’s great having a feather-light carry-on!

So, anyway, I’ve been here with my family for a week.  When I visit, we typically pack the time full of visits from and to family friends.  Those meetings are always wonderful - I don’t keep in touch with folks as well as I should.  I have all these great intentions, but I never seem to have time to follow through.  The good thing is, these people watched me grow up (as much as any non-family member has ever done, anyway - being a military brat, not too many people get to know me past 2 or 3 years).  They know me well enough to know I love them even though I don’t call or write.  It’s great.

What isn’t great, though, is the thought of running into folks I went to high school with.  I DREAD the experience, and I know it’s just bound to happen.  Each visit to my parents increases the odds that I’ll run into someone I know.  For some reason, small towns have always made me feel trapped - like if I wasn’t careful, I’d get sucked in and never escape.  I watched it happen to people who were older than me, and I couldn’t wait to get out.

I really like who I am now.  I really like my life.  I don’t want to go back.  High school wasn’t the height of my life.  It wasn’t the best thing that ever happened to me.  I’ve moved on.  And I don’t really want to talk to or meet anyone who hasn’t.

That said, there are some old classmates that I REALLY enjoy seeing.  Sarah Camp (I’m so sorry about Joe!).  Sarah Green (thanks for having lunch with me!).  Adam Donius (I’m SO glad you came back to see if it was me - congrats on the baby!).

It’s been a good trip.  =)

I never realized how pretty this little town is.  I’ve spent years thanking my lucky stars that I escaped small town life… but there’s something to say for the quaint.  Nothing in my neighborhood is… quaint.  It’s ghetto.  Some pictures (I know, they don’t really show the town):

walkin’ around Waynesboro, originally uploaded by tara.aukerman.

It’s spring!