You know, I really only do two things for Novell. I mean, there’s the research, the meetings, the email, and all that stuff that I lump under “preparation,” but through it all I’m really only preparing for two things:

1) Presenting to the public
2) Negotiating with Engineers

I’ll liken these activities to the martial arts.

Presenting to the public is like performing the katas. You study the forms, you rehearse them slowly, and then you perform them at speed. It’s physically draining, as you’re supposed to be putting every bit as much power into those moves as you would be if you’re sparring. Ultimately, though, you’re in control. Sure, sometimes when I present to the public there’s a hostile out in the crowd, but I’ve prepared for this, and it’s in the context of my “show,” so it’s never a real threat.

Negotiating with engineers is like a street-fight. All those katas, all that rehearsing, all the study of the forms… it all comes down to surviving for the next thirty seconds. It’s just as physically demanding as kata performance (obviously), but there’s also a mental aspect to it that is completely exhausting, as you act and react real-time with your opponent, knowing that the stakes are a lot higher than missing a jump, pulling a muscle, or falling down during tricky footwork.

I have a two-hour street-fight scheduled to begin in forty-five minutes, and I’m currently sick. I need the martial-arts metaphorical equivalent of a handgun, so I can give all that exhausting stuff a wide miss and just FINISH HIM!

–Howard

I read three reviews of The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, which was released on DVD on June 22nd, and all three of them told me the movie would be a nigh-complete waste of my time.

Naturally, I ran right out and rented it.

The movie was filmed in the style of the campy Sci-Fi B-movies of the 1950s and 1960s. It’s in black-and-white, the dialog is bad, the acting is bad, the plot is bad, the science is bad, and the special effects are atrocious.

It’s perfect.

Well, almost.

You’ve probably heard the old saw about little kids and their parents: “Daddy means fun, Mommy means business.”

Well, DADDY means business.

Long story shortened: Gleek wakes up with a fever and some snot-induced gag vomiting. Not a full stomach purge. Not flu. She needed some fever reducer and some night-time meds, and was unwilling to drink it.

Sandra and I fought with this for 20 minutes, wiping gag-vomit from the kitchen floor, and catching a double-handful as the only barely-preferable alternative to cleaning vomit from the carpet, before I finally got fed all the way up. Her tantrum was preventing her from getting medicated, and she needed to be snapped all the way out of it.

So in a somewhat quiet moment, and with just the right hint of anger in my voice (no need to feign it… I was upset) I explained to this three-year-old that there were three ways she could take the medicine.

1) drink it yourself.
2) Mommy squirts it in your mouth (and makes you gag, and you barf in Daddy’s hands again — option #2 is ruled the Hell out)
3) Daddy takes you to the Doctor and they give you a shot.

“Are you going to drink it yourself?”

Tears, negation-noises, kicking and screaming.

“Okay.” I scooped her up. “Let’s go to the Doctor and GET A SHOT.”

Within 2 minutes I had her drinking her medicine enthusiastically. Because Gleek knows that Daddy Means Business.

I’ve washed them twice. My hands still smell like barf.

–Howard

Between the post-nasal drip and the diarrheah, I’m sore at both ends. (TMI, I know).

I’ve got mandatory meetings at the beginning and the end of the work-day, today, so I think I’m going to take four hours of sick-leave and try to sleep this off midday. I’m even putting it in my GroupWise calendar.

Sandra’s illin’ too. Gleek has a fever. Patches has goopy-nose-and-ears. Link’s fine, and Howler is well. Sounds to me like a rhinovirus is making the rounds, though, with three of us down with similar symptoms.

Funny thing: my shoulder feels better. I’m not going to go play disc golf today though — it was 79F (26C) this moring at 8:00am. I’m sure it’ll be a hairs’ breadth from 100F (38C) by lunch today, and I’m not going to take my sickly self out in that heat. Besides, it’s probably just the twisted ear effect. You know, you twist a horse’s ear when you brand it so it’s paying attention to pain up there on its head right up until it’s too late and its butt is on fire. This cold may be making me not pay attention to the shoulder.

Whatever. Rest, vitamins, fluids… it’s all on the schedule for today. My co-workers can scan my schedule for free slices in which to schedule meetings, and there won’t be any.

–Howard