My First iPad, My First Blog Entry Written On It, My First Blog Entry In Six Months!

So, I got my tax refund a few weeks ago. It’s one of those things I both love and hate – I love getting money that I didn’t have in my pocket, but I hate that I gave the government an interest-free loan. Nonetheless, we have extra cash, and that meant it’s time to get my deferred Christmas gift! Woo-hoo!20130407-155537.jpg

So, I ended up getting the iPad with Retina Display (a.k.a. iPad 3), with 128 GB storage, and Verizon Wireless cellular connection. I have to say, it’s pretty sweet, and I was reluctant to become a tablet user for a while.20130407-155954.jpg

A big part of my enjoyment is this little number – Logitech’s Solar Keyboard Folio for iPad. This links up via Bluetooth to the iPad, and is a comfortably-sized keyboard. My biggest hesitation for getting a tablet was the awkward soft keyboards they typically have. With this Logitech item, I have a nearly-perfect replacement for a laptop.20130407-160324.jpg

Right now, as I type this, I’m at Coco Key in Mt. Laurel, NJ for a belated birthday celebration for my middle daughter. Due to a killer headache, I’m on the side of the pools and rides, in pain but bored. So, I decided to activate this iPad’s cellular connection. Since I’m using this new toy, I wanted to share it with you!

What strikes me at this time is how easy it is to connect to and communicate with the world, AND how many people, myself included, take this for granted. I shudder to think of how we would react if it were suddenly taken away from us! :-O

So, anyway, if you have an iPad, take a look at Logitech’s keyboard. If you’re thinking of getting a tablet, look into the iPad, or, if not the iPad, look at a keyboard for a tablet. For me, it makes the difference between an awkward, expensive, but useless piece of technology and a useful tool capable of replacing a laptop.

Final note: If anyone knows of a way to insert pictures and change the options in the mobile WordPress app in the same way as the web interface, please let me know. I wanted to post this using solely the iPad app, but I’m not happy with the look, and may modify it once I get home.

Sick Days

The Doctor, by Sir Luke Fildes (1891)

The Doctor, by Sir Luke Fildes (1891) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today I’m staying home from work.  I’m staying home from work because my oldest daughter is sick.  She had a stomach ache and nausea last night after dinner, and she woke up with those two symptoms, and a headache and sore throat on top of that.  It sucks, for her, of course, but also for me.  As a father, I hate seeing my children suffering.  Nonetheless, here I am.

The worst thing about it, other than my daughter’s discomfort, is that this is a bad time to be away from work for me.  Next week is the paper mill’s annual maintenance down, and I have a million and seven things to do yet to prepare.  So, I suppose I’ll have to take my lumps on Monday and hustle my big bum around the mill.

But, since I’m home, I figured it’d be a good time to write a post or two on this here blog before the dust gets too thick upon it.

Anyway, my daughter’s sick day got me to thinking – I hated to stay home from school when I was sick.  I would much rather suck it up and get through the day so I wouldn’t get behind in my work.  This habit has followed me into adulthood.  I don’t like taking sick days.  I’d rather go to work and get something done, even if it is only half my usual work output, than stay home feeling like sorry for myself.  Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s my work ethic, or maybe it’s subconscious masochism, but I have to do whatever work I have on my plate.

This reminds me of one day in high school.  For a couple of weeks, I had been feeling like garbage – fever, headache, sore throat, drained of energy, you get the idea.  My muscles ached!  I had a hard time walking, picking up my backpack, heck – even holding up my head.  One thing that I had never felt before this time, though, was my eye muscles.  Well, the muscles that you use to move your eyes up, down, left and right.  Even those muscles ached.  I had never even given those muscles a second thought.  But, I couldn’t ignore them now, not when even they were screaming at me for using them.

English: Miniature of the sick-bed of Louis le...

English: Miniature of the sick-bed of Louis le Gros, with doctors administering medicine with a spoon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

One event in particular I recall about this time was when I was talking to my friend Quigs in school.  I told him about how crappy I was feeling, and explained to him how even my eyes were hurting.  “What?  That doesn’t even make any sense,” he laughed.  “Well, if I move my eyes up, down, left, right, the muscles hurt,” I explained.  “So, if I hold your head steady,” he said, mimicking with his hands how he would hold my head, “then say, ‘Hey, Mark, look over there,’ then you would be in pain?”  “Yeah, Quigs, that’s right,” I answered.  He laughed about it, and, I have to day, so did I.  Granted, the laughing hurt, but I wasn’t going to let pain stop me from enjoying myself.

So, I guess that’s another habit I carried with me into adulthood – I ignore my pain and discomfort, and just plug along.  Maybe it’s not the best thing to do.  Oh, well.

So, how about you?  Do you force yourself through work or school when you’re sick?  Or do you take the day off to rest and get better?

Safari 6.0 for Mac OS X – Disabling Asking To Save Passwords

I’ll admit – I’m a neophyte when it comes to Safari 6.0, or any version of Safari for that matter.  Historically, I’ve used Mozilla Firefox and, for the last two years or so, Google Chrome.  But, with the recent upgrade to Mountain Lion, a.k.a. Mac OS X Version 10.8.1, I figured I’d give Safari more of a shot again.  While there are a few gripes I have about it, or rather, the extensions available for it, one of the issues I had was with its constant request to save my password for each and every site I visit and enter a password.

Now, in other browsers, there were options to select that made them never ask to save a password again.  But in Safari, the setting eluded me.  Until, just a few minutes ago, I did a little search.  This is what I found.

  1. In the menu bar, click Safari -> Preferences….  You can also use the keyboard and hit ⌘-, (that’s Command-Comma) to get the same result.
  2. The Preferences Window will pop up.  Click on the Auto-Fill icon in the top row.
  3. Remove the checkmark from the second box, like so:

Preferences Window, Auto-Fill Tab

…And there you go!

Picture – My Daughters’ First Day Of School

I’ve quite enjoyed this week’s Back To School Blog Challenge.  It’s been fun sauntering through the old memory banks and writing about my past.  Today, however, I want to wrap up the challenge with a post about the present.

My two oldest daughters had their first day of school this past Wednesday.  Now, if you’re like me, you’ll think of your first days of each school year, and remember that it was actually the first day back to school, not the first day of school.  Sure enough, it was the same with my girls – the first day consisted of going to their classrooms, having papers handed out to them, meeting their new teachers, then going home.

Surprisingly enough, they did get homework assignments – bring in a picture or pictures of their loved ones.  In a move that I hope is not indicative of the remainder of the school year, they waited until the night before it was due to find the pictures and print them out.

Well, in that spirit, I’d like to share with you a picture of my two loved ones, all dressed and ready for their first day of school.

Good luck, girls!  Daddy’s very proud of you!🙂

My Two Eldest

This post concludes the September Back To School Blog Challenge, hosted by Matt Conlon on Join Something.

September Back To School Blog Challenge

Art Class – My Achilles Heel

Henry Fitch Taylor

Henry Fitch Taylor (Photo credit: Smithsonian Institution)

This could be part of my Least Favorite Subjects post, but there is a story involved, so I think it merits its own post.

In elementary school, I loved every one of my school subjects.  Now, I didn’t really count two of them as actual classes, because they weren’t really something to learn.  Art and Music were just supposed to be fun time, as far as I was concerned – there wasn’t any real work being done or lessons learned.  OK, art and music teachers, please don’t send me hate mail – although I’m sure it would be beautiful prose.  Please remember – this is all from the point of view of a four- to ten-year-old boy.

In fact, that boy had one trait that made this opinion of art class inevitable: a complete and utter lack of artistic ability.

I’m serious when I say this, too.  I had trouble drawing a convincing stick figure, lollipop-style tree, or even a straight line with a ruler.  To be perfectly honest, the adult into whom this boy grew still can’t draw worth squat – hence my lack of original artwork on this and my other blog.

To add to my frustration, it seemed all my friends had the artistic ability of a Michelangelo or Picasso, which made my work seem like poop.  So, it may have been an ego-defense mechanism to downplay art class in my mind.

One art project in particular stands out in my mind.  I think I was in fourth grade, which would be the 1979-1980 school year.  The school had a kiln, and we had spent a fair number of classes making cups, bowls, plates, and other things out of clay, painting them, and the teacher would fire them up in the kiln.  So, my bowls resembled broken pancakes, my cups pinched popcorn, and my animals some sort of animal dung.  Then, the art teacher, whose name escapes me, sprang this little project on us.

Make A Logo For Your Parents

That’s right, she wanted me to make a logo out of clay.  It had to be some real, honest-to-goodness corporate or product logo.  “Great,” I thought, “I don’t even know what any logos are, let alone what my parents would like.”  We were to go home, look through magazines for advertisements, and bring in the page to use for a model.

At home that night, I started going through my parents’ magazines, looking for the simplest logo I could find of a product that my parents would be even remotely interested in.  I don’t remember how long I looked, but I do remember what I selected.  At the time, my dad smoked cigarettes.  His brand of choice was Marlboro.  And, no – you can be darn sure I didn’t choose Marlboro’s logo!  It was too involved, contained letters, three (THREE!) colors, and that ribbon-shaped thing.  Oh, no – there was another cigarette brand.  One with an easier logo.  I can’t tell you the name, because I sure as heck don’t remember it.  What I do remember is the logo itself: two concentric circles, one blue, one yellow.

Clay II Class - Kiln Loading

Clay II Class – Kiln Loading (Photo credit: Paul Chenoweth)

My idea was brilliant!  An easy-to-make, simple logo of a cigarette for my dad!  Sure, my dad didn’t smoke the brand, but it was something I could do!

I brought the magazine page into school and got to work during art.  I grabbed a compass, and drew a circle.  OK, so the compass got a little wider as I used it, so the lines didn’t match up.  I widened the compass for the outer circle, and this time the compass wiggled out of the first hole.  So, the outer circle was wobbly, with a straight line at more than one place.  I took that template, cut out the clay, and painted it.  I handed it to the art teacher, who gave me a dubious look, but took it anyway.

The next art class, we got our logos back.  Honestly, some of my classmates’ logos were awesome: Ford, with the cursive lettering; Coca-Cola, again with cursive; Marlboro (uh-oh, that should have been me); Duncan Hines; J.C. Penney; Eric Theaters; General Mills….  Each logo had two or more layers of clay, beautifully carved lettering, or pictures.  And… there was mine.

A bumpy, misshapen, blue, yellow and purple (where the two colors had mixed) imperfect dodecagon, or, at least, something that was most definitely anything but a pair of concentric circles.  “Wow,
I thought, “I really stink at art!”

“What the heck is that?!”  The other kids teased, “You really stink at art!”  They had me there, for sure.

So, I brought home my logo.  It was so lumpy that it couldn’t even serve as a coaster.  I gave it to my dad that night.  I remember him looking at it, giving me the same dubious look the teacher gave me, and asked, “What is it?”

“It’s, uh, a logo.  You know, for <Whatever> cigarettes.  I know you like to smoke, so…,” I trailed off, not sure what else to say.

“Oh, OK.  Well, thank you,” Dad managed to say.  But I could see him thinking, what the heck should I do with this?

So, Art class was my one stumbling block in school, and a source of much teasing from my classmates.

So, how about you?  Was Art class your source of embarrassment, like for me?  Or were you more like some of my classmates, one masterpiece away from the art galleries?

This post is for the September Back To School Blog Challenge, hosted by Matt Conlon on Join Something.

September Back To School Blog Challenge

Early School Memory – Car Doors And Hands

William Penn Center

Inspired by Matt Conlon’s first and second post of this blog challenge, wherein he regales us with some early school memories, I will take this opportunity to share with you one of my own.

Way, way back in the mists of pre-history, in the Internet sense of the term at least, my parents enrolled me at the William Penn Center.  I’m pretty sure I started there in 1974, when I was about to turn four years old.  Go ahead, do the math and find out how old I am – I’ll wait…

OK, that’s out of the way.  Oh, while I’m at it: Hey, you kids – get off my lawn!

OK, I’m done now.  Anyway, like Matt, I remember a lot of things from that time of my life.  Sometimes I feel like I remember more of the first half of my life than the latter half.  One of the first things that comes to mind when I think of this school is a scary incident that happened.  Now, it’s not scary like a parent would think of it – no one tried to coax me into a white, windowless van or anything.  But, to a four-year-old, it made quite an impression.

My mom and a few other parents would take turns driving us to and from school every day.  Back in the 1970s, this was no big deal – you didn’t need notes from every parent every morning with fingerprints, DNA samples and whatnot.  What a different, less-paranoid time it was, right?

So, on this particular day, my mom was the chauffeur. I remember sitting in the back seat with one or two of my classmates.  Again, back at the time, we didn’t need car seats.  As a matter of fact, we didn’t even need to wear our seat belts!  Weird – that just came back to me.  So, we were sitting in the back seat, two kids were in the front seat(!), and we pulled up to the drop-off.

My mom got out of the car, went to the passenger side, and opened the door.  She looked at me in the back seat and told me, “Now, Mark, you stay in here.  I’m going to let you out at the next door.”  She let the two kids out who were in the front seat, popped the latch on the seat to lean it forward, and let the other kids out.  Four-year-old me, forgetting what Mom just said, leaned toward the door, stretched out my hand to get out and…

SLAM! Just as my mom swung the door shut, my hand was against the edge.  The door shut – right on my hand.  Immediately I began yelling, scared out of my mind, and tried to yank my hand out of the door.  In a panic, I kept yanking my hand, but it was stuck firmly.  I remember my hand being stuck for like ten minutes.  Of course, it really was more like three seconds.

My mom heard me panicking, and opened the door.  I pulled my hand back and looked at it – no damage.  I wiggled my fingers – no pain.  I was fortunate that my mom didn’t slam the door shut, she only pushed it slowly enough so it would close.

Crying from the panic, I remember my mom looking at my hand.  “It doesn’t hurt?  You can move your fingers?  Well, you’re lucky – you could have broken your hand.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it now.  But why did you do that?”

“I was trying to get out!  I thought you forgot about me!”

“What?!  Mark, I told you to stay in!  You have to get out at the other door.”

“….  Oh,” I mumbled.

I did remember that, now that she reminded me.  Well, no harm done, right?  But I’ll tell you this much – I don’t put my hand near a car door until I’m sure that it’s not closing now.

That this post is for the September Back To School Blog Challenge, hosted by Matt Conlon on Join Something.

September Back To School Blog Challenge

My Least Favorite School Subjects

This was long thought to be the only portrait ...

This was long thought to be the only portrait of William Shakespeare that had any claim to have been painted from life, until another possible life portrait, the Cobbe portrait, was revealed in 2009. The portrait is known as the ‘Chandos portrait’ after a previous owner, James Brydges, 1st Duke of Chandos. It was the first portrait to be acquired by the National Portrait Gallery in 1856. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Consider this post the flip side of my last post.  I figure that while my favorite subjects may divulge certain things about me, my least favorite subjects will do the same.  In fact, it may show even more.


The only science that I couldn’t stand, biology was a learning experience for me.  It was the first subject in school in which I got less than a B+.  It was a struggle for me – I studied hard for it, but it didn’t make sense to me.  The problem, I believe, is that it is more memorization of facts than derivation of ideas built upon the basics.  In other words, it is the least mathematical of the sciences that I have studied.  If you read my last post, you’ll recall that I have a mathematical mind, so it stands to reason that I would have trouble with biology.  I wish I had understood more about biology, but, at the time, it was just this far beyond my complete grasp.

Creative Writing

This was another difficult subject for me.  At the time, when I was in high school, I hated to write – especially about something that I didn’t quite understand.  Even if I enjoyed the topic about which I wrote, I just wanted to get done with it.  What I learned from this class were concepts such as opening paragraphs, bodies, closing paragraphs, summaries… no, let me correct myself.  What this class taught me was to add extraneous adjectives, adverbs, and clauses to reach the required word count.  It also taught me proper spelling and grammar, because the teacher would deduct points for mistakes.  The fact that I have not one, but two blogs shows that I have overcome my aversion to writing.  In fact, I quite like to write now.

British/American/World Literature

Related to the above paragraph, I couldn’t stand these classes.  Part of it was because we were required to write papers about the literature, but the biggest reason was because I hated to read!  In fact, I hated to read so much that I would take notes during class about whatever I was supposed to be reading, then write my papers based on the notes.  Not the best, or most intelligent, strategy, but it must have worked – I passed the classes.  Oddly enough, just like writing, I changed later in life, and now I love reading.  One of my favorite electives in college was Shakespeare, and I still enjoy reading his works.


Of these three subjects, two of them have made 180s, and now I love them.  The third, biology, I wish I understood better.  It’s funny, but people can change.  At the time, I would never have thought it possible that I would one day love to read and write.  Thank God I have.

How about you?  What were some of your least favorite subjects?  Has your opinion changed since then?

This post is for the September Back To School Blog Challenge, hosted by Matt Conlon on Join Something.

September Back To School Blog Challenge