Curious story...

The Cookie Thief

A woman was waiting at an airport one night,
With several long hours before her flight.
She hunted for a book in the airport shops,
Bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book but happened to see,
That the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be.
Grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between,
Which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.

So she munched the cookies and watched the clock,
As the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock.
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,
Thinking, "If I wasn't so nice, I would blacken his eye."

With each cookie she took, he took one too,
When only one was left, she wondered what he would do.
With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh,
He took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, as he ate the other,
She snatched it from him and thought...oooh, brother.
This guy has some nerve and he's also rude,
Why he didn't even show any gratitude!

She had never known when she had been so galled,
And sighed with relief when her flight was called.
She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate,
Refusing to look back at that thieving ingrate.

She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat,
Then sought her book, which was almost complete.
As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise,
There was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.

If mine are here, she moaned with despair,
The others were his, and he tried to share.
Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,
That she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.

Valerie Cox

How many times in our lives, have we absolutely known that something was a certain way, only to discover later that what we believed to be true...was not??

Something to think about.

Cheers...

On the subject of "good fences"...

I have no idea why today seems to be my day for posting poetry, but I heard the following poem The Fence that Me and Shorty Built, recited on KRTS-FM (92.1) this morning. While the format of the station is typically classical music, this morning's program had a "cowboy" theme in honor of the imminent start of the annual Rodeo event here in Houston, which lasts for several weeks and raises oodles of money for scholarships and education in Texas.

The poem touched me.

THE FENCE THAT ME AND SHORTY BUILT

We'd picked up all the fencing tools
And staples off the road.
An extra roll of 'bob' wire
Was the last thing left to load.

I drew a sleeve across my face
To wipe away the dirt.
The young man who was helping me
Was tuckin' in his shirt.

I turned around to him and said,
"This fence is finally done,
With five new strands of 'bob' wire
Shinin' proudly in the sun.

The wire is runnin' straight and tight
With every post in line.
The kinda job you're proud of,
One that stands the test of time."

The kid was not impressed at all,
He stared off into space.
Reminded me of years ago,
Another time and place.

I called myself a cowboy,
I was full of buck and bawl
I didn't think my hands would fit
Post augers and a maul.

They sent me out with Shorty
And the ranch fence building crew.
Well, I was quite insulted
And before the day was through,

I let him know that I'm a cowboy,
This ain't what I do.
I ain't no dadgummed nester,
I hired out to buckaroo.

He said, "We'll talk about that son,
When we get in tonight.
Right now you pick them augers up.
It's either that or fight."

Boy, I was diggin' post holes
Faster than a Georgia mole.
But if a rock got in my way
I simply moved the hole.

So when the cowboys set the posts,
The line went in and out.
Old Shorty's face got fiery red
And I can hear him shout.

"Nobody but a fool would build
A fence that isn't straight.
I got no use for someone who ain't
Pullin' his own weight."

I thought for sure he'd hit me
Glad he didn't have a gun.
I looked around to find a place
Where I could duck and run.

But Shorty walked up to me
Just as calm as he could be.
Said, "Son, I need to talk to you,
Let's find ourselves a tree."

He rolled a Bull Durham cigarette
As we sat on the ground.
He took himself a puff or two
Then slowly looked around.

"Son, I ain't much on schoolin',
Didn't get too far with that.
But there's alot of learnin'
Hidden underneath this hat.

I got it all the hard way,
Every bump and bruise and fall.
Now some of it was easy,
But then most weren't fun a'tall

But one thing that I always got
From every job I've done,
Is do the best I can each day
And try to make it fun.

I know that bustin' through them rocks
Ain't what you like to do.
By gettin' mad you've made it tough
On me and all the crew.

Now you hired on to cowboy
And you think you've got the stuff.
You told him you're a good hand
And the boss has called your bluff.

So how's that gonna make you look
When he comes ridin' through,
And he asks me who dug the holes
And I say it was you.

Now we could let it go like this
And take the easy route.
But doin' things the easy way
Ain't what it's all about.

The boss expects a job well done,
From every man he's hired.
He'll let you slide by once or twice,
Then one day you'll get fired.

If you're not proud of what you do,
You won't amount to much.
You'll bounce around from job to job
Just slightly out of touch.

Come mornin' let's re-dig those holes
And get that fence in line.
And you and I will save two jobs,
Those bein' yours and mine.

And someday you'll come ridin' through
And look across this land,
And see a fence that's laid out straight
And know you had a hand,

In something that's withstood the years.
Then proud and free from guilt,
You'll smile and say, 'Boys that's the fence
That me and Shorty built."

   RED STEAGALL/1993

Cheers...

Back to the 'dane stuff...

One file has come through for translation so far today in the Ops Planning area, and it's long done and gone. I'm on my third cup of coffee, and trying to take it easy, considering that once this assignment is finished at 5 pm today, I don't have to be back here until 7 hours later, at midnight tonight.

In setting up my personal laptop for work today, I found out that I'd moved all of my previous execute package translations off the machine. I seem to recall having transferred them to my desktop at home, where they are currently of no benefit to me. On the other hand, I suspect they wouldn't be all that helpful to me even if they were on my laptop.

Still no resolution regarding why I can't access my home server. A look at the logs shows that the machine is under persistent attack by people trying all sorts of techniques to get into the thing. I can't help but think that, eventually, one of these attempts will succeed.

There is, however, nothing much I can do right now. I'm better than a thousand miles from home and I need to focus on the tasks at hand. Moreover, I need to focus on some tasks that, while they are not at the center of my life, need attending to (unfortunately, I shall not be able to do much about them until Monday).

Cheers...

Data on cats...

There must be something in the drinking water today, as I am noticing poetry all over the place.

Now I've run across the following verse - tacked up over a colleague's workstation - that has tickled my fancy, not as great poetry, but for the music in the language (okay, it's funny, too). Not surprisingly, the words can be found at many places around the Web.

ODE TO SPOT

by "Commander Data"

Felis Catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped carnivorous by nature.
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defences.
I find myself intrigued by your sub-vocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents:
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counter-balance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
Oh Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array,
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend
I none-the-less consider you a true and valued friend.


(from Star Trek: The Next Generation, episode "Schisms")

In other news, nothing has been received since this morning from the Russian side in terms of radiograms. Everyone is eagerly anticipating the "Form 24," including me, since I can't really go home until after that bad boy has been translated. Technically, this assignment doesn't end until all the translation is done, but if I end up staying past 5 pm, that will throw a wrench, a pair of pliers... in fact, the whole tool chest into my plans to grab a few hours of shuteye before coming back to support the Russian team tonight.

Nothing to do but wait, for now.

Cheers...