Huffman Coding

I started this blog (same software, but at a different URL) at the end of 2002. When I first mentioned it to my family, I referred to it as my “web log” because I didn’t want to bother explaining the word “blog” to them. Today I embrace the term because it seems to have entered the vernacular.

But family and friends have mentioned to me that it is an “ugly” word. I don’t know what causes a word to seem ugly. Perhaps because it ends with a hard ‘g’ sound. But, regardless, there seems to be a consensus with this one. Geeks and non-geeks alike seem to agree that the word is disagreeable.

It has made it into the Oxford English Dictionary and, according to that source, it originated with Peter Merholz who later admitted to someone “I like that it’s roughly onomatopoeic of vomiting. These sites (mine included!) tend to be a kind of information upchucking.” For my blog, it’s that… minus the useful “information” part.

And blogs, in general, are ugly. They are meant to be spur-of-the-moment, don’t-think-twice, get-it-out-quick messages. The other parts of my website (the parts no one visits) are lovingly hand-edited HTML because they stay the same for months on end. But almost every blogger, myself included, is too lazy to hand edit the HTML on their blog page. It’s all maintained by databases and web scripts, so all you have to do is fill in a text box and press the [Save] button. The only time wasted is that of your readership.

Same thing with the word “blog.” Only the laziest of people would bother abbreviating something that is only two syllables and six letters in the first place.

Meanwhile in meatspace (another ugly geek term, this one meaning “the real world”), one of Chris’s relatives sent a pleasant handwritten note to us today. She is from a generation that still cares enough to do such things. She also happens to not have a computer and quite some time ago Chris snail mailed her a printout of some of my blog entries. Mildly amused, she wrote back thanking us for the gesture.

Since she mentioned my blog droppings again in today’s note, I am compelled to reach back into the archives and pick a few newer entertaining entries to mail her. Anything to increase my audience. Perhaps something non-vomitus.

Marissa wanted to play Ticket to Ride again with me last night (yeah!), but we needed to put Claire to bed beforehand, as she can bet quite disruptive when board games are being played.

Marissa readily accepted the delay, as it meant she got to stay up beyond her normal bedtime. While I changed Claire’s diaper and brushed her teeth, Marissa decided to read my latest copy of Newsweek.

Marissa, being in first grade, merely skimmed the magazine just looking at pictures. When the diapering was done, I turned to Marissa and she announced, pointing to the painting on page 46, that the picture on that particular page was her favorite.

"The Return of the Felines After the Circus" by Jean Leon Gerome

She liked it because it had animals. I didn’t point out to her the bloody dismembered body parts of Christians that are strewn across the Roman Coliseum floor.

The Midtower is the newsletter at Scioto Darby Elementary, my older daughters’ school. They have articles about upcoming events, what some of the classes are learning, and the occasional note from the school nurse.

On page two of this month’s newsletter is a blurb from the gym teacher. Under “Athletes of the month” it listed “Marissa Huffman, Mrs. Thurston’s class.”

This was unexpected.

Just between you, me, and the two other guys reading this blog: I have a sinking suspicion that I’m not her biological father.

Amazon.com allows you to keep a wish list of things you want to have people buy for you. Sorta like a wedding registry, but for everyday begging. I reluctantly allowed Chris to register us at a local department store when we got married and I think this kind of nonsense is even more egregious when it is for no such life changing event.

I’ve seen bloggers, especially teenage girls, put links to their wish lists on their blogs.  They basically believe that if they appear cutesy or suggestive enough on their website, total strangers will buy them the latest Christina Aguilera CD.  Pretty blatant.  To me, this is one step up from solicitation. Blech.

With that formal disclaimer out of the way: I am going to admit to having an Amazon.com wish list too.  I don’t however, tell anyone where it is.  I use it to keep track of things I want to buy for others.  That way, when a birthday rolls around I have a better chance of getting something they might like.  Oh yeah, aunt Marcia mentioned she wanted an electric loofa a few months ago. More often than not, I don’t end up getting wish list items at Amazon.  It’s just a way of reminding myself.

While rubber-necking the deals scrolling by on techbargains.com, I was spotted a good deal on a wish list item for an April birthday girl.  The downside was that I would have to hassle a rebate to get the 37% off, but it was from a website that knew pretty well and the shipping would be free.  I put the gift item in my shopping cart and in another browser window went to remove it from my Amazon wish list.

While winnowing the gift from my wish list, I was reminded of another item on the list.  At this point I should mention that I also use my wish list to keep track of things I might someday buy for myself.  Turns out, the same vendor had a wireless notebook mouse for 40% off (with another friggin’ rebate).

If I want something badly enough I’ll just go ahead and get it, so my wish list ends up being a purgatory for the things that I don’t really need or might not like if I indeed did get them.  Well the wireless mouse is no exception.  Wireless mice offer these “advantages” over their wired brethren: you gotta feed them batteries, you gotta remember to turn them off to prolong the life of said batteries, and they can’t be, by nature, any more reliable/responsive than the simple wire they are replacing.  Besides that, my current notebook mouse (which had acted up a lot last year) has been uneventfully reliable for the last few months.

So despite being 40% off, there was no logical reason for me to get the replacement mouse.  I knew it would be a dubious purchase prior to check out, so my mouse sat in the buy.com shopping cart for the longest time while I mulled over throwing my money away.

Sometime next week when it arrives I will have to explain to Chris why she needs to start unplugging the mouse transceiver when she is done with the laptop.

You saw that coming didn’t you.

A few months ago Claire slipped getting out of the bathtub. As a dutiful mother, Chris went out and got four 6-inch, rubber, suction cup-bottomed micro-mats that will prevent the girls from slipping while in the tub. Two are in the shape of green frogs and other two are matching lilypads.

Here is a picture of Claire applying the non-slip mats to the bathing area.

Claire Tossing her Frogs

We are now set if any of the girls attempt to walk on the bathroom walls.

On this dreary afternoon, we took the girls to Chapungu at the Franklin Park Conservatory. In addition to the stone sculpture the girls were largely disinterested in, the greenhouse gardens had their annual butterfly show.

While Marissa was uncharacteristically frightened of them, Katie tried to catch one. After a few failed attempts, she succeeded.

Seven seconds after the picture was taken, she smashed it. JUST KIDDING.

When I got home from work yesterday, Chris sent me out to pick up a 12-piece family bucket at KFC. I trolled for other family members to join me and, as usual, only Katie wanted to go with me.

On the way there, Katie’s choice for the topic of conversation was the color of my new car. She asked me why I got a red car if green was my favorite color. She also asked if I still liked blue. She asked why there were small holes in leather seats. She remarked that she couldn’t see out the side windows because she sat lower than in the car than she does in the minivan. At the fast food parking lot, Katie opened her rear door and said “you car looks exactly like that one,” pointing to the car in the adjacent spot.

So what kind of car did she say looked like mine?

One of these. (The olive drab one parked next to us wasn’t in as good a shape.)

So much for impressing the ladies with my car.

According to John Gibson of Fox News:

“The basic idea behind marriage has been to set up a system for the raising of kids” and if you have to go “to the abandoned kids store” to have them, you should be “out of the marriage game.”

Gee, I think it is a good thing if a couple wants to provide a home for an orphaned child or two or, in my case, three. In my book one or two parents is better than zero.

He’s trying to take a swipe at gay couples (cause bigotry against them is okay on his channel), but in the process he’s calling my marriage a sham.

Chris, holding a pan from the stove: Does anyone want more sweet potatoes?

Katie: I want cottontail.

Me: What’s that?

Katie, pointing to the counter behind my wife: That.

Chris, turning around: Katie, that’s fruit cocktail.

A conversation while bringing the girls home from a birthday party in my new car:

Katie: Is this car made from animals?

Me: Well the outside isn’t, but the seats are made from cow.

Katie: Ewww! Cow butt!!!

Me: No, the seats are made from the skin of the cow.

Marissa: Well there is skin on the butt of a cow.

Katie: Ewww! Cow butt!!!