The marrow of history

Y’all know that I’ve been following the story of the discovery, recovery and subsequent enshrinement of the remains of Richard III as the focal point of a tourist attraction in Leceister, England.

Well, a while ago PBS showed a docu on the process that scientists followed to authenticate Richard’s bones, which I found fascinating. I mean—I don’t’ very often actually sit and watch something on TV, but this one had me riveted.

In particular, I was interested in how they found someone who had scoliosis (the condition which evidently gave Richard the hunchback appearance) and essentially tested him to verify whether a sufferer could wear plate armor and fight on horseback.

First of all—how is it that someone refuses treatment for a treatable condition? But whoo-hoo, what an amazing validation of how Richard might have lived.

Watch it. Really.

Purple squirrels

Regarding the job hunt here in the Valley They Call Silicon, I came across this the other day, and I have to say that it pretty much says it all:

 

Just a small bouquet

Right about now my friend MLD and her mom could probably use a bit of natural beauty, so special post of flowers for them:

Take whatever you need, ladies.

Virtual Public Sleaze

This story came to my attention via one of my email lists: a Reston, Va.-based cloud computing company called FORTACloud tweeted a spectacular offer of a 50% discount to the first 150 customers who sign up for services on a Monday.

And here’s the tweet:

Because obviously nothing conveys a hosting company’s hardware reliability and “up time” like a chick sprawled spread-legged across a large bed wearing nothing but bra, panties and strappy high heels.

What’s rather interesting to me is that the vast preponderance of responses were from males and appalled at the ploy.

But even more interesting was FORTACloud’s defense:

In essence, it was of exactly the same puerile level as the ad, meaning, “It’s totally not sexist! Besides…everyone else does it, so why can’t I?” They even cited Wikipedia as the clinching arbiter.

However, the scores and scores of responses that followed were not buying that, as per this brief sample.

Notably, FORTACloud has made no further attempts via Twitter to ‘splain to us why their ad is actually cool in a James Bond kind of way and not sleazy and pathetic in a geek fantasy kind of way.

Stalling for time

Panera Bread has been one of my regular coffee spots since I moved to the Valley They Call Silicon. I don’t actually eat there, beyond a bagel or the occasional bowl of oatmeal, but they provide an acceptable place to spend a couple of hours researching or writing.

Also, the people-watching is pretty good. And there are three that are geographically adequate jumping-off points for other activities in the day—Cupertino, Sunnyvale and Mountain View.

As a restaurant chain, you find the kind of standardized experience you’d expect—layout, décor, Stepford Wife interaction at the counter. (Why do they inevitably ask, “Do you have a Panera card with us?” when you’re holding it out to them?)

What’s interesting, if less attractive, is that they also seem to have no budget for maintaining their toilet facilities. (Well, the Women’s Rooms; I have no experience of the Men’s Rooms.)

Of the Sunnyvale two regular and one handicapped stalls, only one door actually can be secured with the latch. The others will only precariously hold until someone opens or closes one of the other ones, which sets the others swinging open. This is not at all restful. And it’s been that way for the three years I’ve been patronizing the place.

Curiously, the one closeable door’s bag hook has been in this condition for well over a year:

There’s never been any attempt to fix it, or to realign the doors. I wonder if no store employee ever uses the facilities to report this situation? Or perhaps if there have been reports, the parent company just declines to invest in repairs.

Over at Mountain View, now, which has been open for only a couple of years, the doors do indeed stay closed. But one of the stalls has looked like this for months:

Again, it’s as though management either doesn’t know or doesn’t care enough to make repairs.

(Actually, I noticed this week that the Sunnyvale store isn't even bothering to repair ripped booth seats.)

I wonder where all that maintenance money is going?

Gratitude Monday: Wine, Blob and Paris

Today I’m grateful that my friend Heather and her brother John are exploring one of my all-time favorite cities, Paris. It gives me a chance to revisit the place, even if only vicariously.

Plus, I take great joy that one of my favorite people is visiting one of my favorite places, because Heather is a real poster child for friendship and generosity. She’s also an exemplar of civic participation, neighborliness and curiosity. When I’m faced with the choice of trying something new (which I think I might not really find congenial), I ask myself, “What would Heather’s approach be to this.”

More often than not, I give it a shot.

Heather and her brother were the ones who introduced me to several Virginia wineries on a day-long jaunt. It was such a hoot listening to some of the pretentious spiels, especially when rattled off by 17-year-old probably Baptist boys. We had a picnic at one of the wineries and tasted a whole bunch of offerings.

I’m sure some of that is going on in Paris.

Once I sent one of my emails out, with a Washington Post story about the impending closing of a, oh, a kind of institution called Blob’s Park—out in the backwoods of Maryland, where they served German food and beer, and people danced the polka. A day or so later, Heather emailed to ask if I wanted to go on an expedition to Blob’s Park with her, her wife Jamie and some friends. And then there we were, trying to follow MapQuest directions in the country darkness to this VFW-like place, where we ended up having a ball.

One of the things that I love about Heather and John’s trip to Paris is that they take a different approach than my other friends Dick and Carolyn (who are currently on a trek throughout Italy): where Carolyn plans meticulously, with military precision (including restaurant ratings, train and bus schedules and museum hours and entry fees), to maximize the experience, I think Heather has a general plan, but lets the details fill themselves in.

On Saturday, after they spent several hours waiting in line to get to the top of the Eiffel Tower (selfie of the two drinking some celebratory Champagne, with photobombers), Heather’s last Facebook update of the day announced they were “playing with Siri (live looking for a nice place for dinner)”.

By profession an IT program manager, Heather astounds me with her many, many skills. She and Jamie “own” part of a cow (they get a certain amount of milk on a regular basis from an Amish or Mennonite farm), and they make a variety of cheeses. Years ago they started making pizzas, and I’m here to tell you that I’m salivating just a little even thinking about them. She grows vegetables every year and cooks with them to great effect. She refloored part of her townhouse, using a circular saw for the hardwood portion and a tile cutter for the rest of it.

There’s nothing she won’t take on with a sense of curiosity and an eagerness to learn. That is amazingly inspiring. Not being neighbors with her and Jamie is one of the worst parts about living here in the Valley They Call Silicon.

So today I’m overriding my envy about someone else being in Paris when I’m not, and just wallowing in gratitude that Heather’s having that particular adventure, and that I’m a friend of hers.