Will at Home

The Outsourcing of America?

2008-11-08T07:56:00.000-05:00

When I was young, I guess I was still naive enough that I thought there existed businesses whose ultimate motives were altruistic. Now I've been in the world long enough to know that some do exist, but they are exceedingly rare. (I would lump Christian Hedonism in with altruism, because from the world's perspective, the two are indistinguishable.) I guess while I still had that mindset that there were a large number of businesses that just wanted to help people (long before I had a Christian perspective), my father wisely instructed me that businesses exist to make money. A profit is the ultimate goal.

Because I believe in capitalism, I think that's a good thing. I'm not going to go all Gordon Gekko on you, but the desire for companies to make money is what makes capitalism good for the company, the employee, and the consumer. Now, all people will have to give an account for what they did with what God gave them, so how people in businesses made their money and what they did with what they made are important, but there's nothing inherently wrong with making a profit, or even a large profit.

Simple economics lesson. In a free-market economy, the two ways to maximize profit are by: 1) making more money, and 2) reducing expenses. Consumers demand lower prices, so companies have to come up with ways to sell their goods and services at lower prices and still maintain their profits so that the stockholders gain. All of this means that reducing expenses is a major part of maximizing the company's gain.

At odds with this is the phenomenon of trophy kids coming into the workforce in much larger quantities. The cost of a single employee per year is substantially more than their salary. In order to attract and retain the best employees, (thereby raising product quality and increasing revenues) businesses have to provide employees with benefits. Medical insurance, life insurance, time away from work (sick and vacation), training, stock options, bonuses, and a towel with the company logo for Christmas. All of this adds up. Employees have the right to demand more, but companies have the right to refuse it (at least in most states).

Now, back to Trophy Kids. When the workforce is saturated with Trophy Kids, and the consumer market is saturated with "Trophy Consumers" (who demand better products for somewhere between free and really inexpensive) the business has a decision to make. If there are few to no other options in the workforce for reducing their expenses, one very reasonable way to do that is to streamline their processes as much as possible, make all work as akin to a robot-operated factory line as possible, and outsource for the labor.

I hate the idea of outsourcing America. It makes me sad to see hundreds of local jobs go to another country. Those are real people who do those jobs, with real families and real bills to pay. Unfortunately, many of those real people have chosen to live an unreal lifestyle. The workforce has raised its standard of living so high that the market is naturally going to have a hard time maintaining it for them.

In other countries, there are enough people whose demands are small enough, that the labor force is so extremely competitive that companies can pay much less for the labor. Not only that, but it's so competitive that the employees are willing to work extra long hours, and be self-trained just so they can get and keep those jobs. They understand that there are only a few jobs to be had, and they know full well that there are 10 people standing in line behind them waiting to take their position. A labor pool like that is good for businesses, and good for the consumers. In order to make it as an employee in those cultures, you have to be the opposite of a trophy kid. You have to be motivated by supporting your family. You have to be willing to spend less and work more. You have to be willing to do the extra work necessary to make yourself more beneficial to the company than the next guy in line waiting to take your place.

So do I like the outsourcing of America? My word, no I don't! Do I understand the outsourcing of America? Absolutely.

Trophy Kids?

2008-11-07T15:18:00.000-05:00

Mrs. At Home and I have had some discussion lately about folks cut from a different cloth than we were. I don't think it's just generational, because there are lazy people and hard workers in every generation. Mrs. At Home referred to the younger generation of these folks coming into the workforce now as "Trophy Kids"

The phrase comes from something that had become popular in the 1990's - you know, when men weren't allowed to be men anymore - where kids weren't allowed to be successes and failures. Everybody was rewarded for participating, regardless of how well they had done. This was the age when municipal sports programs wouldn't keep score, there were no losers, and everybody got a trophy. There was no need for improvement because success wasn't measured by excellence at the task, but in simply showing up.

Evidently, those folks are coming into the workforce now, and corporations don't know exactly how to handle them. These folks have been trained to accept only praise from others, and to take, take, take. Employers can't pay them enough, can't train them enough, can't give them enough benefits, and for heaven's sake, can't expect them to work. I had a discussion with my teaching mentor last night, and evidently one of his new reports is unhappy because he's never been expected to work so hard or so much before, and he simply has too much going on in his life to have to do this sort of labor.

All of this makes me sick. I know exactly how corporations should deal with the problem, and the solution is very unpopular to American culture. I'll post about it later on because I hate to dump really long, unfocused posts on you. I doubt you'll like my solution, but corporations really have no other option - because these are the only new workers available in the workforce.

As with all problems, a Christ-focused life is the solution. Paul's last instruction to the Thessalonians was this:

Now we command you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you keep away from any brother who is walking in idleness and not in accord with the tradition that you received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, because we were not idle when we were with you, nor did we eat anyone's bread without paying for it, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you. It was not because we do not have that right, but to give you in ourselves an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. 2 Thessalonians 3:6-12

Billy

2008-10-25T21:43:00.000-04:00

On that first day of digging in the dirt, it was clear who was in charge at this work site. Billy was clearly the one making decisions, and Ralph was glad to do whatever was necessary to build this house.

But the first time I rode back to the church with Billy, I realized that he wasn't a member of the church we were working with. He was another one of the tireless retirees who were called by God to help out in Mississippi. In fact, immediately after Katrina, he had given 2 ½ years of his life to this region and the city. He lives just south of Meridian, but he and his wife loaded up their Class C RV and parked it at the church. He worked so many hours for so long that he had to give it up for a time. He had worked 6 and 7 days a week for those 30 months, and it was taking a toll on his health.

Prior to Katrina, Billy had had a heart attack and had bypass surgery. Within 4 weeks of his surgery, his wife was calling the surgeon to find out if it was okay for Billy to be doing construction again. The doctor asked, "does he want to?" His wife said he did, and the doctor's reply was that it was the best thing for his health. Billy is 76 years old now and attributes his good mental and physical health to the fact that he's remained active for so long.

Billy has also been a missionary in Japan rebuilding churches. When he retired from the workforce, he had worked through a great deal of effort to become a full-time missionary until the organization laughed him away because he was 65 years old at the time. But rather than spend the rest of his life discouraged, Billy has remained faithful to what God has called him to.

The church has a great deal to thank Billy for. He was personally responsible for much of the portion of the church that was rebuilt. He personally did the wiring and architecture, and much of his time and effort were poured into that church. And the region has much to thank Billy for since the church has served as a center of operations for the area.

But Billy, like Ralph, doesn't crave the admiration of men. He's happy to be pleasing his God, who is the real reason for him to want to do the work. He's thankful for the work a carpenter in Nazareth did for him so long ago, which is why he's a carpenter for that Nazarene now. I'm so happy to have met men like Billy.

Ralph

2008-10-19T20:41:00.001-04:00

On the first day of work in Mississippi, the church administrator, who had become the Katrina Relief Administrator took us to a couple of the homes we would be working on during the week. The administrator kept talking about the work that needed to be done, most of which would require some degree of skill. I mentioned that I have no skill, so I ended up getting sent to a property that they were building from scratch to help dig footings for a slab.

While I was there, I was working with a gentleman named Ralph. He seemed to be a long-term sort of guy, possibly a member of the church. I was just doing what I was told, so didn't spend a lot of time getting into a conversation with him that morning.

Until he got a phone call.

At one point during the morning I was holding buttresses in place while Ralph nailed them to stakes that had been driven into the ground. But Ralph got a phone call, and I couldn't help but overhear the conversation. Ralph's end of the conversations was filled with "oooh kayyys" and "soohhhs". But not a single "ya; knoooww?". So when he got off the call, I just had to ask what part of the Midwest Ralph was from.

He was originally from Ohio, near Toledo. When he graduated from a Bible high school in Atlanta, he was doing construction work back home when a friend asked him if he wanted to go to a county fair in Michigan with he and the girl he was dating. Ralph didn't want to feel like a third wheel, so the friend got him set up with a blind date. A month after the blind date, Ralph had bought Ruby an engagement ring, and a year later they were married. They've been married 53 years now.

It turns out that Ralph and Ruby are some of "those" people Mrs. At Home had told me about. They were people whom God had told to go to Mississippi to help out after Katrina, and they just haven't left yet. They've been in Biloxi for about 2 ½ years now. They had done the typical American retirement where you drive around the country seeing all the beautiful places, but they've now "unretired" and are working in Biloxi with the rebuild effort.

I have so much admiration for folks who value doing His work more than they value their own comfortable retirement. And I have a lot of admiration for Ralph and his life experience. The time of work was good work, but during the morning work and afternoon work, I couldn't wait until quitting time so I could ride back to the church with Ralph or Billy and hear their stories - how they got there, what God has done through them in those places, how God got them there, or just to hear their great stories of growing up and maturing in wisdom.

Samaria

2008-10-13T17:31:00.000-04:00

He said to them, "It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by His own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth." - Acts 1:7-8

This week, I'm in Samaria. Not literally, but in Mississppi. In Biloxi, actually. Where Katrina did all the damage you didn't hear about. Yeah - that Katrina. The one three years ago. Biloxi is still trying to recover.

The church here has been running recovery all over the city since right after the storm. The church itself had been flooded by five feet of water, and they managed to recover pretty quickly and then the church became a center of operations to help the remainder of the city recover. The church we go to has had a partnership with this one for quite some time, but we never made time to come here. This year, there was a trip for families to go and help the recovery effort.

Even after only one day of work, I have so many stories to tell. I got to work with Ralph and Billy today, and just the stores of how they got here are amazing enough. This storm is full of stories, and I'm so happy that we decided to come here, because I want for all of us to have stories like those of our own. And I want to keep hearing all the other great stories.

So I will do my best when I have time this week to post some of those stories. You won't want to miss them. But my biggest hope is that you might be motivated to help wherever Samaria is - Iowa, Galveston, California, or even Burma.

A Bubba Story

2008-10-06T17:21:00.000-04:00

I have a friend whose nickname is Bubba. And by all the things he works himself into, he's earned the title. He's just a great guy to get to know, but many of his stories sound like he's telling a joke, and you're just waiting for the punchline. Only the punchline never comes. Because it really happened. Here's an example from today:

I love living in Lowell!

True Story - I'm driving back home from our all-hand meeting in Charlotte - and running low on gas. When I get off 85 I see the first gas station has gas! Whoot! So I pull in behind this big F350 at the pump.

Well, I sit there a bit, I can see the nozzle in the truck, and figure the driver is in the store. I get a chaw of tobaccy and sit there a bit longer.

Eventually, I decide this is taking too long, but the dang lot is filled up, and I got a line behind me and to both sides and can't move - so I get out and go in to see if we can get stuff moving again.

I go into the counter and the lady what runs the place meets me at the door and says, "I know, he's been sitting in here with his friends eating lunch and say's he'll move it when he's done. I called the sherriff and he oughta be here soon."

I asked her, "Which one is he?"

She says, "The big one."

So I go saunterin' into the back of the store where they got the picnic tables and sure enough, there ain't no question about which one is the big one. Cornfed country boy! I mean, that boy looked like a Brahma Bull personified, musta been like 6.5' tall too! Sittin' and eating a samich with about 6 other guys - all of 'em in there
mid-twenties I suspect.

I walked up and said, "Excuse me, reckon that's your truck out there slowing things down?"

He stood up, looked down at me, and said, "Yea grandpa. It is. Wanna fight about it?"

I said, "Sure. Inside or outside?"

He asks, "Are you serious?" (Friends laughing)
I said, "Well, I was raised in a trailer park in Misipi. Spent two years in the Army and ten in the US Navy, three of which I served as a drill instructure. On top of that, I got five kids and everyone of them woke up in a bad mood this morning, which didn't help mine. So, I'm betting I know something you don't know. Not that I can benchpress more than you. Beside which, yer daddy ain't here to beat yer butt for disrepecting your elders, and I reckon he'll appreciate me doin' for him."

He said (with a skeered look on his face), "You know my daddy?"

I said, "I told ya I know something you don't know."

He said, "Excuse me sir. I appologize, I thought I'd just have a little fun with ya, um...I'll go move the truck right now .. and, um ... I didn't mean nuthin' by the grandpa statement ... I got nothing but respect for my elders and veterans. Please don't mention this to my pa, I'm real sorry."

He left to move the truck (which he pulled outa the parking lot and didn't come back) and the little lady walked over and asked me, "Do you really know his daddy?"

I said, "No ma'am, don't have a clue who he is."

His friends was rolling on the floor laughing, and I got a free tank of gas out of the deal!

You just don't meet better people than Bubba and his running buddies and all their family. Good to see Bubba get a free tank of gas. And I bet you don't believe the story. If you knew Bubba, you'd know it was all true.

THEY

2008-09-28T22:38:00.000-04:00

For those who don't know, Charlotte has been having a bit of a fuel crisis over the past couple of weeks. About the time Ike was turning toward Houston, and it was announced that the refineries in the Houston area would be shut down in preparation for the hurricane, Charlotte magically ran out of petrol. It's amazing how the shortage happened before the refineries were shut down.

The problem has been going on for a couple of weeks now. Prior to Ike, prices rocketed to close to $5/gal here, then dropped off sharply - because there was no more fuel to be had. When I returned from a business trip, many gas stations were selling fuel for 0.00USD/gal - meaning the tanks were empty. Any gas station that had fuel had lines for a quarter of a mile or more. Things are still that way today.

While having the refineries turned off in Houston has contributed some to the shortage of fuel here, the shortage is mostly complicated by local paranoia that there might not be enough fuel. I suspect that if people had not heard about Ike, we wouldn't have the fuel problem, and people wouldn't make a run on all the gas stations. If you're getting images of Jimmy Stewart looking hopelessly into the bank's shoeboxes because people came to get their money out of the local S&L in "It's a Wonderful Life", that's precisely what happened - had people not panicked about a lack of fuel (real or not), there would be no real shortage of fuel.

And then, I sat down to breakfast yesterday with somebody who insisted that THEY were to blame. You know who THEY are - the people all the conspiracy theorists blame for everything. THEY are the ones that you'll never know personally because THEY like it that way. Then the guy started saying that THEY were to blame because he went to other places and had no problem getting fuel. And the governor of North Carolina and the mayor of Charlotte are personally to blame for the shortage as well because they haven't like struck some under-table deal with OPEC to thwart THEIR attempts to keep Charlotte from gasoline. I tried as calmly as possible to explain that this was all because people in the Charlotte area have made a rush on gasoline, even if they didn't need it. I didn't get around to telling the guy about all the pictures of people with Honda Civics (i.e., not farmers) with 5 10-gallon gas cans on the ground filling those before Mrs. At Home rescued me from almost certain embarrassment because I just don't deal too well with conspiracy theorists.

So is the fuel shortage in Charlotte real? Yes. Is it necessary? No. Will I be topping off my tank as soon as relief hits the local pumps just because I know the next load might be 18 months out? Heck no. I won't keep the paranoia engine going.

And by the way - watch the video highlights of today's football game in Bank of America Stadium - from those, it sure doesn't look like there's a fuel shortage in Charlotte. Highway traffic doesn't indicate that people have felt the pinch and decided to stop driving. I haven't driven by local bars, cinemas, shopping malls, or anything, but I doubt their profit margin is down too substantially, either. And church was pretty full this morning. It may be hard to get fuel, and people are complaining about it, but the shortage isn't substantial enough yet to prevent people from doing what they value.

Who Needs Stuff?

2008-09-26T21:38:00.000-04:00

Mrs. At Home told me tonight a story about a family that has way too much stuff. Mrs. At Home thinks she's becoming a convert of the idea of simplifying, but if you heard how much stuff these folks had, you would think it was too much, too.

Sometimes I wonder if my dislike of stuff is a little odd. Most people have trinkets of important events of their lives that remind them of the glory days. I won lots of trophies from academic events - they've all been chucked. I got rid of my letter jacket. I got rid of my class ring. When we move, I throw away tons of stuff.

A few years ago, Mrs. At Home and I talked at length about our stuff problem. We had a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood. But we had two sets of living room furniture, we had a sitting room in our master bedroom that we rarely sat in. We had an extra office/guest room that rarely got used. I don't think we were necessarily careless in the home purchase, but didn't have the right perspective.

But while I think my dislike of stuff is healthy, I have three areas that I think are probably unhealthy with it. First, while I try to get rid of stuff, there are lots of things I still have too much or too many of, but I've been unwilling to get rid of them completely - I'm too dependent on electronics, and have too many computers and gadgets. Second, many people have trinkets that remind them of the good old days, and sometimes that's healthy. I have very few such things, and it's probably too hard for me to draw up those good memories of loved ones and enjoyable times. Thirdly - and this is the worst of the problems - I have a superiority complex about my dislike for stuff. When I don't understand why people have so much stuff, rather than try to understand, I make logical reasons why my philosophy is better.

BSF Excellence

2008-09-19T23:25:00.001-04:00

First a couple of introductions, then I'll merge the thoughts...

Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) is an international Bible study that probably meets in a town near you. It doesn't matter your denomination, or even if you're a Christian - if you want to learn more about the Bible, it's a great place to learn how to study the Bible. On any given passage, you'll study it four different ways - individually with your Bible and the Holy Spirit, answering questions, then sharing those responses with others who studied the same passage that week, then you'll hear a lecture on the passage by the speaker, then you'll get to read review notes over the same passage. They have day and evening classes for women, and they have evening classes for men. Preschool kids can go during the day, and school kids can go in the evenings. All BSF's around the world study the same materials on the same week.

The other introduction. When I travel on business, I generally get a hotel as close to the place of business I'll be working at as possible. And I generally try to fly into the closest airport possible. I hate renting a car in a place I've not been to many times before. And I really dislike meeting new people. It makes me very uncomfortable.

BSF has some pretty strict rules - you won't find your speaker's lectures on a Podcast. You won't find the questions in reprint. You won't find the study notes in reprint. And you don't dare miss a week. When you miss a week, you have two options: get the notes mailed to you (meaning you give your small group leader an S.A.S.E beforehand) or you visit a class in the city you're in.

Last week, I was in California on business. And nowhere near a major airport. So I had to rent a car. And I didn't want to miss BSF. I had not yet met my small group leader (this was only the second week), so I couldn't get the lesson mailed to me. So I decided to go to a BSF that is not my own in a city that is not my own by car that was not my own. When I arrived in the hotel, I looked up when the local group met. 9:10pm!?! That's like way past my bedtime. And on the day of, I happened to check again and realized that because of a bit of poor navigational choices on the BSF website (they spend all their time putting together good lessons, you see), and my own inability to read, I was seeing a 9:10am women's day class. I checked again, and my class was on Tuesday, at the usual 6:55pm for men's classes - but in yet another city 15 miles away.

By Tuesday afternoon, my business trip was becoming frustrating. I missed my family, my own bed, and just wanted to be home. I decided there was no better cure than to go to BSF. So after work, I got a bite to eat, double-checked the directions, packed up my notebook and Bible, and headed down. Right into rush hour traffic. Did you realize that in California, highway exits aren't numbered? And they don't necessarily read what Google Maps says they should. I kept looking for Exit 40 (they're not numbered, nor are there mile markers) or Road to Danville (that's what Google Maps said it would say). After 30 minutes in rush hour traffic, I thought I had gone well past the exit and had almost given up.

But then I saw it - the exit I was supposed to take, in the city I was supposed to go to, off of the road I remember the church being off of. I hit my exit, took a quick turn West, staring right into the blinding sun. But I made it to the church. I parked, and there was a gentleman towing a luggage cart full of BSF materials into the church, so I knew I was in the right place, and he must be the class administrator (the very person I was supposed to talk to).

I chatted with the Administrator for a few minutes, filled out my vital information card (which BSF has really improved - you only have to fill it out once now instead of thrice) so that if I should have a heart attack they'd know who to contact, got my name tag, and was left on my own to wait for 6:55 to roll around. While I waited, I looked up the church's Statement of Faith (although a local BSF class is in no way related to the church where they meet - 20% of contributions by attendees of BSF go to the host church, but that's it as far as association). When other men started piling in, I was still looking for hymnals. In BSF, we still sing from hymnals (which I like) whereas many churches have moved to CG (character generation) on big screens and praise songs (which I also like). A cart started rolling by where we picked up our hymnals.

After our two hymns, I was directed to the small group. It went very well - even though I was the outsider in the group, I was asked for responses a few times. I really appreciated everybody else's responses, and was most encouraged just by being with other men who had put the time into studying God's word that week.

The lecturer was very good. He's not the most gifted speaker, but his message was arranged in such a way that it made a lot of sense to me. I had lots of notes to take home and think about, and a couple of applications.

So in the middle of a very frustrating week, I decided to step out a bit from my usual out-of-town habits, and I'm so glad I did. It's such a huge encouragement to be around other men who love the Bible enough to study it, take notes, and discuss it with other men. It's also encouraging to sing hymns to God with other men. And of course, all time spent with God and in His word is time well spent, right?

If you'd like to learn more about BSF, visit their website at www.bsfinternational.org and find a local class. New member classes are generally held on the first meeting day of the month, but use the Contact Class Administrator link on the website to find out for sure when your local class has their new members class. You can join at any time during the study, but obviously, the earlier in the year (they start right after Labor day), the better.

On Camping

2008-09-13T18:41:00.000-04:00

Now that we live in such close proximity to some of the most beautiful scenery God has seen fit to place on the earth, I've grown quite fond of camping. When we were first married, I couldn't stand to go camping. I was convinced there was nothing to do in camping (and now my problem is there's too much cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cleaning to do) and that it was just plain boring. Being in the heat of Texas probably didn't help much, either.

When I was young, though, I loved camping. My parents had bought a small tent that we only used as a family a very small handful of times. But often, they would let me go "camping" in the back yard. On one of these back yard "camping trips", I had my best friend, Clint, camping with me. We had prepared everything - bug candles, bug spray, tent, sleeping bags, a change of clothes, the obligatory sporting projectiles, and flashlights. Missing from all this equipment was food. We had no idea that hunger comes when you stay awake far too late.

We stayed up far to late, and became very, very hungry. But there was no way I was going to venture into the house and show to my parents that I couldn't make it through a whole night outside in a tent. We thought we could get by the hunger by keeping ourselves busy, but the more football we played, the more stories we told, the more army we played, the hungrier we got. Soon it became nearly unbearable. But I was convinced that feeding myself was not worth the humiliation of waking my parents and convincing that I just wasn't cut out for the great outdoors.

My folks had a deep freezer in the garage. We kept it locked at all times because we lived in the sticks, and opossums and raccoons are wily critters who could easily figure out how to open a deep freeze. However, it wasn't a very good lock - good enough for the variety of raccoons for that area (there are other raccoons who could easily pick that lock). My dad also kept a couple of utility knives in the garage. So with a bit of work with a knife, we had the freezer open.

It was the best frozen (and I mean frozen) French bread pizza I ever ate. I guess there's a bit of redneck in me after all.

CHESS: 2008-09-01

2008-09-01T21:57:00.000-04:00

White: K
Black: willathome
1. Nf3 d5
2. Nd4 e5
3. Nf3 Bc5
4. Nxe5 f6
5. Ng4 Bxg4
6. Nc3 Qd6
7. b3 Nd7
8. g3 Ne5
9. Bg2 c6
10. Nxd5 cxd5
11. h3 Bh5
12. Bf3 Nxf3+
13. exf3 Qe5+
14. Kf1 Qxa1
15. Kg2 Qxa2
16. Qe2+ Ne7
17. Qb5+ Nc6
18. Qxc5 0-0-0
19. Ba3 b6
20. Qxc6+ Kb8
21. Bd6+ 1-0 (resigned)

CHESS: 2008-08-31

2008-09-01T20:38:00.000-04:00

White: K
Black: willathome
1. Na3 c6
2. g3 Na6
3. Nf3 d5
4. Nd4 e5
5. Nb3 Bb4
6. Bh3 Bxh3
7. c3 Bxc3
8. dxc3 Qd7
9. Nc5 Nxc5
10. Rg1 Bg4
11. b4 Bxd1
12. bxc5 Bxc2
13. Kd2 Ba4
14. Ke2 Qg4+
15. Kf1 Qd1+
16. Kg2 Qc2
17. Re1 Nf6
18. Ba3 Qxc3
19. Rab1 Qxa3
20. g4 Qxc5
21. Rec1 Qa3
22. g5 Qd6
23. gxf6 Qxf6
24. Rb4 Qg5+
25. Kf3 e4+
26. Ke2 Qg4+
27. Kf1 Qh3+
28. Ke2 Qxh2
29. Rxa4 0-0
30. Rb4 Re1
31. Rbb1 Re5
32. Rh1 Qxh1
33. Rxh1 c5
34. Rc1 c4
35. Rb1 c3
36. Rc1 d4
37. a4 Rd5
38. a5 Rxa5
39. f4 Ra2+
40. Ke1 Rh2
41. f5 Re8
42. exd4 Rh1+
43. Ke2 Rxc1
44. Kf2 e3+
45. Kg2 e2
46. d5 Re3
47. d6 Rd1
48. d7 Rxd7
49. Kf2 Rd2
50. Kxe3 e1Q+
51. Kf3 Rd4
52. Kg3 Qe3+
53. Kg2 Rd2+
54. Kf1 c2
55. f6 c1R#

Wedding Day Post 3

2008-08-23T20:10:00.000-04:00

After the wedding, Mrs. At Home and I had a good laugh about not being introduced as a married couple, then were shuffled quickly back in for pictures. Pictures with the bride's family, pictures with the groom's family. Pictures with the bridesmaids. Pictures with the groomsmen. Pictures with the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Pictures with the groomsmen with the bride's family. Pictures with the bridesmaids and the grooms family. The picture I still keep around from all of that is the one with her hand and mine with the rings on an open Bible. At the moment, it wasn't open to anything specific, but some friends of ours claim Ecclesiastes 4:12 as their marriage verse. I like to think of that picture as somehow representative of the same.
After all the pictures, we went to the reception where we boogied down. Actually, this was a Baptist church, so dancing was strictly prohibited. But we had cake, nuts, mints, and punch. I was mean and shoved cake into Mrs. At Home's mouth and it made it into her nose instead. So she tortured me beyond belief. The groom's cake had fresh, chocolate-covered strawberries, and she made me eat one. I like strawberry jam, strawberry preserves, strawberry shortcake, and this morning had some amazing strawberry bars. But I don't like fresh, whole strawberries. After that moment, Mrs. At Home never did anything mean to me. She's just like that.
During the reception, one of the odd traditions I wasn't familiar with was when the groom takes the garter off the bride's leg. I also wasn't aware that she had to sit on my best man's lap to do this. So all this is going on, photographer taking pictures, and I have no clue what to do. So I bend down to take the garter off, and there's just this enormous mound of doily over her feet. Of course, we're in a place where dancing is prohibited, and my groomsmen have already embarrassed me in front of the pastor, and I'm not aware that in this place, it's not okay to dance, but it is okay to expose your bride's leg up to the knee. So I was ridiculed for that for awhile. (I got over it - I can see her legs up to the knees in the privacy of my own home now).
After the discomfort of undressing my bride in public, I had to turn my back to all the unmarried guys (all my friends at that point were unmarried), and snap the garter over my shoulder. I didn't see what was going on, but the pictures show that the garter went straight to Mrs. At Home's kid brother (who was 11 at the time), and my pal A was diving over brother A to rescue the garter from hitting the ground. Right after he rescued it, he immediately handed it to brother A. Friend A was not the first of the men married after that point, but I got to be a groomsmen at his first wedding (grumblegrumblegrumble).
After snacking, pressing palms, and so forth, it was off to a quick change operation to prepare for the exit.

Wedding Day Post 2

2008-08-21T18:19:00.000-04:00

After the reception, we got all dressed up and made our way through the parade of onlookers with birdseed. My oldest brother whom I trusted had taken very good care of my keys - I suppose he promptly passed them on to the guys I hung out with in college. And for any ladies who read this, these are not the types of guys you take home to dinner. Guys, these are not the kind of guys you want your daughters marrying.

Anyhow, my brother, whom I trusted (silly me) passed the keys on, so my college buddies did their best. This is a PG blog, so we'll just leave it at that. Confident that my new father-in-law was going to revoke his approval of his daughter's hand, I raced my new bride to the car, and we sped away. I honestly don't know any other details of the parking lot - just that we needed to get to a car wash - and quickly.

So our first stop on our honeymoon was to the spray-n-wash in Forney, TX. I suppose I had enough cash to make change for quarters, because we got most of the shoe polish off. The stuff on the headlights remained there until we sold the car before a trip to San Antonio a couple of years later.

As we started down the highway, Mrs. At Home reminded me that she had eaten nothing that day, and nor had I. I had begun feeling ill that morning, and never really bothered to eat until the reception, and even then, it was just a strawberry after all. So our first dinner together as a newlywed couple was at Jack 'n' the Box.

Somehow, she's forgiven me. I've not acquired any grace yet for special occasions, but I think that's one of the reasons she likes me - I'm her "work in progress".

Wedding Day Post 1

2008-08-20T21:33:00.000-04:00

Since Mrs. At Home gets to post our adoption story, I thought I'd post about our wedding day. But I thought I'd do it in reverse order.

About 9pm, we pulled into San Antonio in our Ford Escort, got checked into the La Quinta (I was a college student, after all), and headed out to the Riverwalk. The hotel was alright, but it was a Saturday night on Memorial Day weekend, so it was hard to get a place. The following night, we would check into the Emily Morgan.

After getting checked in, we made the dangerous walk past Denny's, down toward the Alamo, then hopped onto the Riverwalk. San Antonio is one of our favorite places to vacation, and the Riverwalk is such a great place to walk (hence the name, I guess), relax and unwind. We walked the Riverwalk for quite awhile, stopped of to get something to drink, and I had started my first vacation married to the most amazing woman you'll ever meet.

LT

2008-08-19T22:13:00.000-04:00

It was the NFC championship game. The 49ers are down by a touchdown with seconds to go against the New York Football Giants. Joe Montana was 18 for 20 on the day, throwing two touchdown passes, but the 49ers still found themselves behind. With under a minute left in the game, Montana had constructed a masterful march down the field, but were still only on the Giants 40-yard line.

With seconds left in the game, the 49ers were out of time outs, and had failed to move the ball on first down and had to spike the ball on second down to stop the clock. It was third down (because fourth down with only seconds remaining would just be too dramatic).

Out of the huddle, Montana had control of the entire stadium. He got under center, barked out the count, the ball was snapped, and Jerry Rice juked left, then right to shake his defender. Montana threw a perfect spiral right over Rice's left shoulder, and Rice watched the ball straight into his hands - hitting him in his dead sprint. The ball was perfectly tucked away, then....

BAM!!!

From out of nowhere, Lawrence Taylor blindsided Rice, forcing him out of bounds, dashing the 49ers hopes of reaching the Superbowl for the year.

Actually, my best friend and I were playing football in the back yard. We were pretending to be the players in question. And LT was replaced by a very mature oak tree in Clint's back yard. My face was scarred for weeks. It was a beautiful pass, and a great catch, though.

CHESS: 2008-08-18

2008-08-18T20:23:00.000-04:00

White pieces handled by: K-athome
Black pieces handled by: willathome

h4 e6
Nc3 Bd6
d3 Nf6
Bg5 Bb4
Rh3 c5
Re3 h6
Bf4 Na6
a3 Bxc3
bxc3 Qa5
Re4 Qxc3+
Qd2 Qxa1
Qd2 Qxa3
Rc4 b6
g4 Nxg4
Rxg4 e5
Rxg7 d6
Bg7 Nd4
Bxc8 Bh3
Nxh3 Qd4
Be3 Qxh4
Qa1 Qxh3
Qxa7 Qh1+
Kd2 Qb7
Qxb7 h5
Qb8+ Ke7
Qxb6 Kf6
Bg5+ Kxg7
Qxc5 Kxa8
Qxb4 Ra2
Qxd6 Ra1
Qxe5+ Kf8
Qxa1 Ke8
Qb2 Kf8
Bg5 Ke8
Qb8#

White wins! First time K has actually beaten me. (She's stalemated before, but never checkmate).

CHESS: 2008-08-17

2008-08-17T19:28:00.001-04:00

It took me several tries to record this right, so I apologize if there are some mistakes in here. I've replayed this version, and it finally seems to be right.

White pieces handled by: Willathome
Black pieces handled by: K

d3 a5
Nf3 c5
Nc3 Ra6
a4 Nc6
Be3 b6
Ne4 Nf6
Ra3 Nxe4
dxe4 Nb4
c3 Bb7
cxb4 axb4
Rb3 c4
Rxb4 Bxe4
Rxc4 Bd5
Qxd5 Ra5
Qe4 f6
Bxb6 Qxb6
Rb4 Qd8
Qf4 Ra8
b3 g6
e3 Rg8
Bd3 Bh6
Qxh6 e5
Qhx7 Rf8
Qxg6+ Rf7
Bc4 Qe7
Qg8+ Rf8
Bf7+ Qxf7
Qf4 Rc8
0-0 Rh8
a5 d5
Qxc8+ Ke7
Rb6 Qg7
Rd1 Rh6
Rc1 Qh7
Rc7#

The New Work Situation

2008-08-17T18:38:00.002-04:00

I get asked a lot "where do you work?" Not as in "for whom do you work", but physically where I work. When I try to explain it, it gets a little confusing, so I thought I would clarify how work is working out now for those who are interested.

The company I work for is a great company. In order to reduce their expenses in leased space in expensive areas, they're allowing many of their associates to enter a program whereby they can work "in a variety of locations". In order to do this, employees who voluntarily enter the program give up their office space and cubicle and permanent location. Yes, I'm a wanderin' man - but not a Ronin.

Now, at this point most people assume I work from home. Or that because I have my employer's blessing in working from home that I choose to do so. Don't get me wrong, I love working from home sometimes, but in our current situation (read: third-grade and pre-K classroom in the same house) it's difficult to work from home. Many people who enter the program work from home most of the time. I only work from home a couple of days a week, and that's assuming there's not construction in the parking lot or some reason to meet teammates face to face in the office. When we move into the new house, I'll work from home more often.

My employer rents space in buildings here in the suburbs of our beautiful city. In those spaces, they set up cubicles with phones, network connectivity, and all the supoort needed for a normal office environment. But the cubicles are not assigned. Those are called "satellite locations". I can work out of a satellite location if I choose, but I have to reserve my cubicle in advance - or find one that nobody else has reserved.

Also, for those who did not enter the program to work from a variety of location, the company has opened a floor for my department out here in the suburbs as well - in a different building about 300 meters from the first one I mentioned. That one is mostly "traditional" space with assigned seating and you can keep family pictures around and stuff like that. I don't work in one of those.

On that same floor that is reserved for my department are more of those cubicles that belong to nobody, but must be reserved in advance. Also, since those cubicles are on a floor designated for my department, the people who reserve those cubicles can only come from my department.

So, with all that introduction out of the way, here's where I work - BB&BetiHixonHills. And yes - my cell phone carrier works there.

The two buildings where I reserve a spot and visit are only 10 minutes away (8 with no traffic and if I catch the lights just right), and all the local eateries there are far too expensive to eat on a regular basis, so I've been much better about packing a lunch. The days I work from home, if the girls are here, I have lunch with them. I need to force myself to take a walk after I quit work so that I have a clear line between being "at work" and "at home". Sometimes I get up from the computer early but go back and back and back to it well into the night.

So there you have it. If you ask me where I work, I'll just tell you "a variety of locations" and hopefully you'll understand. I love the program, and I don't really miss having a cubicle I can call my own. (Although, I do miss having two screens most of the time).

I Don't Know How She Does It

2008-08-17T18:20:00.000-04:00

Mrs. At Home is amazing. If you ever hear me say anything to the contrary, shoot me.

The one example I have today is just running some errands. You could probably surmise from My 25 Things that I don't do too well with crowds, either. Tonight, we went to the library, the local game store, and to Target. All of them were crowded, and when I get in a crowd, I get really frightened.

As much as I love K and L, they complicate my fear of crowded places. They did nothing wrong tonight, so there was nothing to correct them for. But they seem to be incapable of looking out for other people or staying out of the way of carts, stock persons, clerks, or large moving equipment. They never collided with anybody, but just walking through the store with them, I'm constantly watching out for them, knowing that at some point I will have to yank one of them out of the way of somebody who was just practicing defensive shopping. But then again, this is America - if you've ever seen the traffic on (and off) the streets of any city in China, the same disorder exists in any retail store here in the US.

I know it seems like such a small thing, but how does a stay-at-homeschool mom deal with hundreds of events like that in a day? The last thing I want you to think is that I'm daughter bashing - on this trip, they did nothing wrong, nothing for me to complain about or correct. But adding them to my fear of crowds makes things tougher.

Publishing Chess Games

2008-08-17T16:28:00.001-04:00

During Summer Tour Stop 2, JMMM spent quite a bit of time teaching K how to play chess. She enjoyed it very much, and I played JMMM a few times and got slaughtered each time. K and I determined that we would begin playing so that the next time we get together with the MMM's we'd be more of a challenge for JMMM.

As I understand it, one of the best ways to get better at chess is to record your games so that you can review them later. In that spirit, I intend to begin recording the games that K and I play, and I thought I'd add a web-ish twist to it and post those on my blog so that the two of you who actually read this can have something more regular to read - although it won't be of much interest to you. I also have selfish motives - that maybe somebody who actually plays chess will happen by and see the recorded games and offer help.

So if you see them and want to play them out yourself, feel free - particularly if you're willing to offer suggestions on how to improve our games (unless you're just trying to sell us a book).

On Bad Code in Books

2008-08-13T18:53:00.000-04:00

I saw this in a book that's not yet been published. Can you find any security or code correctness flaws with it?

#import <Foundation/Foundation.h>

int main (int argc, const char * argv[]) 
{ 
  FILE *wordFile = fopen ("/tmp/words.txt", "r"); 
  char word[100]; 
  while (fgets(word, 100, wordFile)) { 
    // strip off the trailing \n 
    word[strlen(word) - 1] = ‘\0’; 
    NSLog (@"%s is %d characters long", 
        word, strlen(word)); 
  }
  fclose (wordFile); 
  return (0); 
}

For now, we'll disregard the trustworthiness of /tmp/words.txt - we'll just assume we trust that it is indeed a normal file.

What is the code flaw? fgets() reads at most size bytes minus 1, but will stop reading at a newline. Then it appends a null byte to the string it read. Pretty safe, right? Well, not if you care to keep all the bytes of your data. Suppose you have a line greater than 99 characters long - what will happen? fgets will read 99 characters, and put a null byte in slot 99 - so far so good. Except now, the length of the string is 99, and we always assume that the last char is a newline, so by replacing that last char, we lose some of the user's data. Yes - this works in all cases but the unexpected ones.

Just goes to show that even the books can use a good code review.

My 25 Things

2008-08-08T16:40:00.001-04:00

As seems to be the trend, I'll tell you 25 things about myself you probably already knew, but never read in a list of 25 things about me. Since this one is boring, be sure to read Mrs. At Home's.

I snore. Bad
I'm OCD about using certain words correctly. Many people call a list of 25 things about yourself a "meme", but they'd be wrong. If 25 things about you were a meme, we'd all know all 25 of them just by being members of a common society.
I'm a compulsive non-shopper. Many times, I'll load up a shopping cart of shiny computer gear, make my way to the register, then think "naaahhh, it can wait."
I'm fairly good at a lot of things. I'm not really good at any.
I'm claustrophobic. On airplanes, I prefer a window seat so I can look out the window and feel like I'm flying the friendly skies all alone.
I'm either the seventh of seven children or the second of two in a "second family". My parents had a child-bearing drought of 10 years between child number 5 and child number 6.
I learn computer languages very easily. I just need a good reason to.
I learn human languages with better-than-average ease. In my trips to China, people ask how long I've studied Mandarin. I've not seriously studied Mandarin yet.
I'm scared of meeting people. I have very few friends - all of them are very close.
I don't talk about work when I'm not at work.
I see patterns and odd relationships with numbers. Think The Number 23 or Rain Man, but not quite as scary. We were watching Rain Man the other day, and in the toothpick scene, he said "82, 82, 82 - 246 toothpicks". It was immediately clear to me that he was able to see sets of 82 like you and I see sets of 6 or 8 and automatically know how many there are. I also noted that three sets of 82 is 246 and that 82 is the number of games in the NBA and NHL regular seasons, which is why the number 82 probably stuck out for him. Mrs. At Home said something sarcastic about the observation.
I have an addictive personality. It's dangerous for me to pick up anything new because I tend to obsess about it for awhile (but generally don't get very good at whatever it is).
I can't stand hot (as in over 70 degrees) weather. Anything below like 40 is great, even sub-zero temperatures.
One of my favorite things to do is sit outside and watch and listen to the rain.
My favorite song is probably Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, although I love loud cacophony, too.
My mother once took me to audition for a play. I got on stage, and the director asked me my favorite name. I said "Tommy" (probably from 8 is Enough). The director told me to pretend that Tommy was moving away, and that I was asking him to come back. I couldn't do it, so I didn't get to be in the play.
I love almost all manner of sport, except for American Football and NASCAR, both of which I loathe. But I'm not a very good athlete.
I like to cook every once in awhile, and my family sometimes tells me I'm pretty good at it. I think it's just average and they want me to keep it up.
I had a root canal once, and the dentist had televisions in the ceiling and headphones. I had laughing gas, so I was watching some show about Hitler, and I was laughing uncontrollably at something so tragic. I love History Channel now.
After K, I swore we were done with children, then got exited about adopting L. Then I knew we were done. In the past several months, I've secretly harbored thoughts that if God chooses to bless us with another child, that'd be okay.
I hate the telephone. I think it was a necessary evil step on the way to Twitter, but I can't stand talking on the phone. I'd much rather email - I'm more likely to give you a meaningful response online than on the phone.
I don't value stuff. Unless it's somethng that's actually useful, I just don't collect things. I feel bad turning down or getting rid of pictures, love letters, trophies, family heirlooms, but I just don't know what valu a thing has if it's in a box taking up space. The only token I really have from my parents or childhood was a windbreaker my Dad wore that I just couldn't give up. I think I finally left it on a bus somewhere.
I have a peculiar birthmark. It's two large red spots and a divot on my left thigh just above my knee. I don't know if I've had it since birth, but as long as I can remember
I don't have perfect pitch, but I do have a very good pitch memory. Mrs. At Home has good relative pitch, but she sings songs in whatever key is comfortable to her - it always bugs me because I'm actually not able to do that
I keep ranked lists of dumb things. My ten favorite movies. Lists of actors and actresses who are always typecast. Ten things I never want to do. And on and on. Oh - and 25 things you probably didn't know about me (but do now).

You say "toe-MAY-toe", I say "toe-MAH-toe"

2008-07-30T19:46:00.000-04:00

As I'm sure Mrs. At Home has or will be filling you in on, we filled out some paperwork on buying a townhome today. And a funny thing happened with it.

It was quite a steal in price. It's new construction, and a gentleman was having it built to his specifications. And with some deals the builder is running, the gentleman who was going to buy it had lots of upgrades going in. With all the upgrades, we decided this could potentially be a very wise investment because of some of the other things that are supposed to be going up in the area.

So the original buyer had lots of upgrades ordered, and decided to back out of the purchase. The builder can't just keep it at inventory, so they're letting it go for a pretty good price. We received a listing of the upgrades, and the last name of the buyers was on the form (not good). We didn't think much of it.

Today, we were walking through the house, and the selling agent started telling us a bit about the original folks who were going to buy it. Between that information and the name from the upgrade sheet, Mrs. At Home realized that we knew the people who were originally going to buy the house. Not only do we know them - we like them. Not only do we like them, we consider them friends. Not only do we consider them friends, we're in Sunday School with them.

As soon as we had the realization, the seller said it was "fate". When we went back to the office, the selling realtor told her partner the story. He called it "fate". I told some friends about it, and their first response was "providence".

There's a difference between the two. Fate just means that by chance, it was a thing that "was meant to happen". I put the phrase in quotes, because for most people, the passive voice implies that a thing just happened. Fate means it was our destiny (but nobody maps that destiny out). Providence, on the other hand, means that God willed a thing to be. It wasn't a thing that was meant to happen, but that the unspecified entity meaning for it to happen didn't really exist. Providence means that God meant for a thing to happen and caused the thing to come about.

I often don't know the reasons why God chooses to do things the way He does. Actually, I do. God does all things for His own glory - that we would give Him praise because He is good. But I often wonder in the short term how things bring about His long-term fame. And this is certainly one of those cases. Why would God choose to work things out so that our friends might not get this home, but that (for the time being), we might? Of course, He might divinely appoint that something happens where we don't get the house. And I'm okay with that, too.

But this was not fate. It was providence.

Mobile Me

2008-07-27T19:59:00.000-04:00

At some point, I decided to follow the conventional wisdom and try out Twitter, and it took me awhile to catch on to it, but now I love it. But I still wanted to be able to leave long blog posts, or send pictures and such.

Also, I'm a huge fan of Google Reader, and some of the cooler features there are the ability to share (tell the world) about articles you see there and like. And recently, they added the ability to add comments to those.

So I decided to set up a profile at FriendFeed. FriendFeed allows me to tell it where I keep my Flickr photos, where my blog is, where my Twitter page is, and where my shared Reader items are. And a whole lot more. But then what you see on my FriendFeed page are all of those things (and more) rolled into one. And of course, it's in RSS goodness.

And then, when you've added your own FriendFeed account and added some friends besides just me, you can use something like Alert Thingy to see updates to all your friends' FriendFeeds all in one convenient desktop app - which will also allow you to post stuff.

So if you like the longer blog posts, by all mean, just keep this on your reader. But I share so much "micro" information between Twitter, Reader, and del.icio.us that if you want to follow all the things I find interesting, follow my FriendFeed for sure. A couple of you (you know who you are) have already started - thanks, and awww shucks.