A yuk from the past, courtesy of Facebook

Although Facebook users are usually assaulted by tons of little square banner ads, it seems that Facebook runs out of these ads now and again.

Their substitute? Occasionally showing photos from your Facebook friends' photo albums.

I didn't mind this until I was suddenly confronted with a picture of Dismissed Date* - someone I haven't seen or spoken to for over a year now.  It kind of made me jump a bit, as seeing him unbidden (and a few years younger) was just plain weird.

It eventuated that his ex-business partner Brett still had a couple of photos of him in his main Facebook album. And Brett is one of my Facebook friends. I still do editing jobs for him now and then.

I really hope there is some way I can turn this function off. Perhaps I should just dump Facebook altogether, but I'm hooked on Facebook Scrabble.

* See Key to Characters at right.

Local housewarming

After a weekend of unsuccessful bird-watching, including a trip to Gladewater to seek out the elusive bald eagle, I was wandering aimlessly around Chez Melina last night when I smelled smoke.

Since I hadn't lit the fireplace for several days, I began to wonder if my neighbor had let her barbecue get out of control. But then I realized that my cats were acting nervous. I looked out the back window and saw something equally strange: a frightened raccoon running full-tilt towards the back fence. Usually the local raccoons and opossums look at me with disdain as if to say "You just think we're not getting into the cat food".

But the smell was not my neighbor's barbecue, because when I opened my front door, I realized that the house across the street was on fire. Not just a little on fire; seriously on fire. The back of the house was already consumed, along with the adjoining wood fence and a large tree. And I heard fire truck sirens literally the same second I opened my front door.

Of course, this sort of thing brings out the neighborhood, with the primary concern being that nobody could contact the couple who lived in the burning house. But the firemen didn't find anyone home, even the couple's dog, so it was assumed they had left town for the holidays.

Initially I was concerned about the sparks from the fire, which were being blown directly toward my house, setting my lawn or house alight. So I stood outside until the sparks stopped - all the time with my front door wide open.

The upshot of all this is that my entire house reeks of smoke, and even after a longish bath and hair-washing, I'm convinced that I reek of smoke as well. And I woke up with a stinking headache that I'm attributing to neighbor smoke (can't really call it second-hand smoke).

Grasshopper advances

After all the pre-test fear and nervousness I went through during the weeks before my shaolin promo exam, I remember very little of the exam itself. I remember thinking that my forms were wobbly. I remember my legs falling asleep after I sat on them for most part of an hour. I remember my sense of relief when the sifu laughed at me when I limped up to receive my new belt (my feet were almost totally numb).

But what I remember most of all is after I was presented with my new color belt. I stared down at it, still unable to relax, even though I gradually realized that I was holding on to it so tightly that my hands were white. 

However, the payoff has arrived. Now I can attend "color belt" classes and learn new stuff. It's all more difficult - for example, the new 20-point form requires one to peform a simultaneous kick and punch, while the 16-point forms didn't include this. The combined side kick and punch will be diabolical to get right, especially since I am a klutz with a poor sense of balance due to the damaged right ear. But it's renewed my interest. I'm already looking forward to the next belt color.

I suppose the only down side is that it's become more apparent that I could be considerably better if I weighed a little less.  For example, six-point pushups wouldn't wear me out so much if I didn't have quite so much to push up.

Why boys like me

This is what they can look forward to if I invite them over. Well, some of what they can look forward to.

Free speech at Moto Liberty

Owning even a smaller, cheaper motorcycle - like the Suzuki I bought - doesn't mean that you're not going to spend a lot of money on related items. It's beginning to remind me of when I lived in Hong Kong and we owned a boat. Every time you turn around, the boat needed something, or you needed something to take on the boat.

Ever since I saw Ryan's dreadfully skinned knee (he slid and fell while riding a motorcycle through loose gravel), I have been thinking I needed to buy some motorcycle pants with knee protection. So last Saturday I visited Moto Liberty, one of the bigger motorcycle shops.

After trying on about six pair of pants, I finally found a pair I liked. When I went to the front counter to pay, I noticed that  my check was not welcome: