You either give things up, or you take them on. I happen to be happily attached to my several vices. So today I took on re-building the cruelly damaged file system of the auncient G5 Mac desktop. On account of the fact that I’d cruelly damaged it by being impatient during a file transfer to the all-new iMac 24″ machine that was meant for to take its place. Disbelieving, as it were, that a Firewire transfer could take anything like 11 hours, 51 minutes.
Two words: Disk Warrior. It goes where Disk Utility deigns not to tread.
That has taken all the morning not devoted to our, well: Devotions. And now I’m going flying, amn’t I? Just for the proficiency that’s in it.
Pray for me brothers and sisters: No, not about the flying thing. Eighteen years old today I was gazing upon the quivering chin of my first daughter. A wee, sma’ thing. I held her first, her dear mother being quite knocked about by the experience of introducing her to an amazed world.
All grown up now. Beautiful, mysterious, artistic, complex and entirely too like her dear ol’ da in ways that make us more fretful rather than otherwise.
Nevertheless, the gray hairs are, I prefer to believe, largely coincidental.
Happy B’day to DNO. Any excuse for a party!
Thank the Lord she takes after her Mother! Tell her Happy Birthday from the blogodytes.
A good tip on DW- in the toolkit of all my techs. We’ve also found that on damaged HDs, stickin ‘em in the freeze locker for about 20 min or so will often let it spin back up so you can retrieve file structures. We’re seeing more “mainstream” users switch to Macs. Guess they’re fed up with Vista, Vista fix numba who knows, Win 7 beta, etc. When she heads off to college get her a top of the line laptop- cheap ain’t the way to go when she’s off in the Wilderness.
So that would leave you with an 18 year old and a 15 year old, no? And so far you’re still alive to tell about it, right? All right, there might just be hope for me and mine…
Happy Birthday to the Biscuit, then. And Happy Flying to you.
An 18 year old and one rapidly approaching 15 years of age. And it seems to me that launching teenage daughters successfully down range is not unlike flying a taildragger – you’ve got to stay vigilant, all the way to the end. And keep your fingers crossed. And pray. Lots.
All true but the more I think about it a healthy dollop of luck is part of the equation. But then, you have a lot to do with increasing your odds.
Been right where you are but it was only one and done for me.
I have noticed that having children does not give one gray hair. It is the transition from childhood to adult that gives one gray hair, heart attacks and sleepless nights.
Lex,
Happy birthday to your eldest. May she have another century of them, and take after her father’s adulthood maturity as after his youngerhood strong-headedness.
Not having any sage advice that a father of two daughters does not already know, I will move on to the Mac, where my experience is about as long-lived as your eldest.
Make it a habit that whenever you install any application, and especially when the OS is updated, to:
1) reboot in safe mode (i.e., hold down the shift key upon rebooting until the gear starts spinning). This cleans out various cruf in the system
2) then reboot normally and run disk utility to repair. Yes, it takes too long to read the permissions database, but it is well worth the time invested.
And, need I remind… backup, backup, backup. Now with Time Machine, it is just so easy.
Happy Birthday to the Biscuit from snowy AL!
From the dearth of posts, I figured you were already flying today.
Hah! Happy B-Day to dollink dotter! Kindly posta picover.
I spent the past two weekends upgrading disks for the family: from 40 GB each =>to 160 GB each.
NExt, to go over the recovered data of a mistakenly trashed 500GB drive. Yes, it’s possible, thx to Stellar Phoenix, and all it takes is about 50 hours or so — piece a cake! That done, ’tis time to sort through the heap of four people’s data.
BTW, here in SJ it’s all a-rain, with ceiling zero, and quite warm. Kinda pretty, actually. Can’t see the redwoods in the back yard, and they’re close by. I think, I think, I’ll have anudda drink!
Gead you can enhance the av-skills!
Lex:
Please pass on birthday wishes from me and my wife to the biscuit. We hope that she has a happy 18th.
Happy Birthday to the Biscut, from the Badger’s Burrow.
Dating Rules
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka – zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car – there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Mike, while helping a neighbor with his jalopy last night we discussed the joys of parenting, particularly of raising girls, and allowing as once being boys we were terribly, terribly afraid.
I’ve been invited to a party during her prom night. It’s in her driveway. There will be at least a dozen of us, on the motorcycles, smelly leathers and sneers painted on so the young miscreant she’s dating won’t see the chuckles.
Yeah, I remember when I was young. That’s what scares me.
– Max
Coincidental gray hair, Lex? I’d say they’re silver and we’ve each earned them.
Nope, definitely not coincidental…
Happy Birthday to the Biscuit…if you really want to bring in the grays, remember for her next birthday she’ll be off at college.
Dangit, Mike beat me to it. Oh well, not like you haven’t already prepared your own list of demands for certain enterprising young men, right Lex?
Here’s a few relevant verses for you, Lex; the first, mebbe notsomuch (you were, after all, a fighter pilot…)
– the others, moreso. If the 2nd one makes you feel bad, just skip it and go straight on to the 3rd one.
Proverbs 16:31
Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life.
Proverbs 20:29
The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old.
Isaiah 46:4
Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.
And of course, Proverbs 31 should be read to your daughter.
No need to fret as the biscuit comes from good stock. Just keep an eye out if she takes a shine to racing Jaguars. Gray hair is all part of the deal.
Happy birthday to your daughter and hope the flight was fun.
Late in the day B-Day greetings and second the Proverbs 31 advice.
Oh, interesting, earlier this day, I found this very link regarding a scientific reason for gray hair. Hint: It does not involve too many hours slaving for an unreasonable “boss,” an ‘uncooperative’ in law, nor even young women arriving at the 18 year mark.
Think peroxide. Hydrogen peroxide.
Lex and Mrs Lex,
Congratulations!
Your post Lex was enough to get me to haul out the first photos of my little girl (I got to hold her first too of course) but even then I didn’t bring her up in the same conversation as a damaged file system.
Happy best wishes on your daughter’s 18th birthday. May she and you have many happy returns!
Cheers
Curtis
As I read the comments, I noticed a few ripe opportunities to snark on Lex re: age and wisdom and grey hairs. However, in deference to the aged who are “almost old enough to be my father,” I will refrain. At least I’m closer to your age than hers… barely.
Happy Birthday to the Biscuit! Best wishes, and may all the love and devotion poured into you come back out in full measure on the world as you make your way in it.
Grats to the Biscuit and Her Familial Support Group. May there be many, many more.
Drive Genius 2 isn’t too bad either, btw – and you can use it to change partition sizes without reformatting.
I also find CheckUp useful, fwiw.
Lex/
Re: Gray hairs.
As my Dad used to say: “Let it gray–but let it stay!”
So Lex,
Out here in Mozilla Firefox land we see all comments to your most interesting site are repeated again in order which doubles the number overall. Have you joined the One in selling substances of the air over reality or is this just another back end glitch the likes of which I could never understand or fix?
18 fine years old, heading off to college. East coast. I know you have a lot on your mind. Don’t sweat it. Have a pint on me.
Curtis
Hmm. I’ll get around to that one of these days too. I hope.
Happy Birthday to the Biscuit, and many more to come.
Fortunately for me, my hair was gone gray (preceding my entry to high school) before the first of our three arrived. Keeps them from being able to keep score. Some.
And yay for Disk Warrior. Good thing it’s all post-thesis, huh?
Pint,
Perhaps not. I went to paypal and entered all the appropriate information and it decided that I must reenter all that information again. I’m a little wary now. I’ll slip you a fiver the next time I see you.
Speaking of grey hairs, earned or not, I’ve noticed something recently that does not bode well. It being winter on the High Plains, facial hair of the thick and insulating variety is the uniform of the day. It’s a bit more salt than pepper these days, but I don’t mind that so much — grey insulates as well as red and that’s all I’m after.
No, what got me was this bristly, gun-metal blue eyebrow hair. Long one too, about an inch and a half. Must grow at three times the rate of the normal hairs. Wiry little thing, practically took a pair of dikes to cut it. Found more in my beard, once I started looking for them. None in the ears yet, thank goodness, but is it only a matter of time?
Looking at the mirror I was at once overcome with remorse for all those jokes I’d made while driving as a youth, about the blue-hairs in their old Dodge Darts and Plymouth Fury’s.
Thank you, Lord, for teaching me humility.
Seriously, I’m not kidding, here — when did I turn into my grandfather?
– Max
Max,
You think that’s interesting? Wait until you reach the age where gravity takes control of your hair, and starts pulling it through your scalp and sticking it out your nose and ears…..
Heck, I stopped wearing anything red because I got tired of hearing folks singing “Here Comes Santa Claus” every time I entered a room.
So, Yeah… I hear ya, though.
Not sure about all of the other Lex Babes here but I, personally, am a fan of salt and pepper. It’s a distinguished look that carries with it a sexiness all of it’s own.
MacGyver’s another that says “Let it gray – but let it stay.” So far it’s worked for him. Of the 3 boys in his family, he’s the only one with hair left. And he’s the oldest.
Happiest of birthdays to your daughter, Lex. And many prayers for you. I think each one of the gray hairs my mother has came from the years in my late teens and early 20s. But it all turned out just fine. Like Wilko says, she comes from good stock.
Congrats on getting this far, and many happy future daughter birthdays!
Where’s the nearest Marine recruiting station?
Happy Birthday to the Biscuit!
And commiserations on the rebuilding of the file system…
This may not apply to girls but my brother-in-law did this for his sons. For a lesson on sex education, he drove his three boys down to a local factory at quitting time there in Illinois (yeah, they still have some left). He just sat there in the parking lot and said observe. They sat there and watched (on that hot and sunny afternoon) the workers trudge away from the place. The boys even saw some older young men they knew from high school in that queue.
After awhile he just said “If you DO NOT want to end up here working for minimum wage to start, just to support an accidental family, you’ll keep it in your pants.” heh.
I was a little more graphic with my two sons and did the whole “If you start ‘em, they are YOUR responsibility” talk. They also have a friend with a slightly older sister that has a child out-of-wedlock for an emphasis on hormone management. (her ‘boyfriend’ fled the state)
Sometimes graphic object lessons (must not call it schadenfreude) provide an illustration that all the parental hot air cannot.
Happy birthday to the Biscuit, Lex!
Lex sure does know how to bring out the cold sweats in this old gray size 7 1/2 head! And he did it it one impact sentence. I got a 13 year old in the pipeline…
Happy B-day darling and go easy on the old man. He’s your best friend!
Mike,
That’s the best objective gouge I’ve seen on the taboo subject. Thanks! With minor modification I claim ownership if you don’t mind!
b2
Sure, use it any place that you think might be of warning to Fathers of Daughters when the “Boyfriends” start to gather.
Happy Birthday and many Happy Returns of the Day to the Biscuit.
I’ve just come home from watching my Dear Daughter become part of the most powerful Navy in the world. I will take the time to post about it soon. All I’ll say here is I ran across the drill hall, gave my grinning daughter a big hug, and then she said, “Dad, you have more gray hair. Must be me being at Boot Camp.”
At least me and my Gray Hair were there.