Help someone return your camera or phone

In the past few years I've helped reunite two cameras (one was actually a phone with a lot of pictures on it) with their rightful owners. The first my parents found at the state capitol building here in Jefferson City, and thanks to the miracle of Facebook we had it back to its rightful owner within a day. The second the kids found in a snow field on the Continental Divide in Colorado last July, and that took much longer and some real sleuthing. But since one of the girls in the pictures was apparently in the "Make-a-Wish" program, I was bound and determined to get it back to the family and after a lot of emails, spamming every Make-a-Wish foundation in the country, I was able to do so.

One of the sites I used while researching was I Found Your Camera. Basically, if someone finds a camera (or lost memory card, which happens a lot since they are small and easily misplaced), they extract a few pictures of people from the camera and post it along with where and when it was found. While it wasn't part of either of my successful attempts at reuniting cameras and owners, I think it's a great idea. And while looking at it today in prep to sending the link to my aunt and uncle who just lost their camera on vacation (if anyone finds a camera in Gulf Shores, let me know!), I saw this post, which is brilliant. The basic idea is to write up a contact sheet of info for getting in touch with you (email and phone number - no, not the phone number of the phone you plan on losing! - and in big bold letters is probably best), and then take a picture of it and always leave that picture on the camera or phone!

Then, if someone finds your camera (phone) they will see that pic, read the contact info and you may just get your camera back much, much quicker. What a great idea! Go, do it. Do it now!

I Am Standing Upon The Seashore

I Am Standing Upon The Seashore

by Henry Van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says;
"There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she
left my side and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.

Peach salsa

I made some peach salsa yesterday for dinner at church last night. We eat after service every week - it's a fundamental part of our theology. After I made the salsa I decided to take it in along with broiled fish and shrimp and the makings for fish tacos. It was yummy.

Ingredients

• 3 ripe peaches, chopped
• ½ onion, chopped (I used red, I think a sweet yellow onion would've looked better and tasted better, too)
• 6 Hungarian yellow hot wax peppers, chopped (Anaheims or similar would have been good, too)
• 1 Tbs brown sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• fresh oregano, minced (about 1 Tbs worth)
• fresh sage (2-3 leaves), minced (I chose this over cilantro, since some people hate cilantro)

Directions

Mix it up. Refrigerate for at least a few hours to let the flavors blend. Serve with fish or shrimp tacos or whatever sounds good (the leftovers were good with chips the next day). The sage was inspired, actually - I thought it worked really well with the fish and shrimp tacos.

Alterations

• I didn't put in any habaneros although I have some on hand (my hab plants are producing months early this year). I think one or two would have added a nice kick with the fruitiness of the habs mixing nicely with the peaches, but most of the people at church are not "hot heads," so I didn't go there.
• I think cilantro instead of the sage/oregano would be good, if you like cilantro (mmm, cilantro).

A bridge to nowhere

I have recently finished reading a new set of kōans for programmers. I have long loved reading kōans in general. I like their paradoxical stories, even if I don't necessarily achieve enlightenment while reading them.

Given the nature of my personality, today I thought of the idea of writing "anti-kōans." Just like what Despair.com has done with (de-)motivational posters, I wondered, "How could you come up with kōans that bring home a lesson, a real, valuable lesson, but about something that is not necessarily positive or enlightening?" Below is my first example, something I call a "grōan" (pun intended). I am thinking of writing a series of them called "The Hateless Hate" (based on The Gateless Gate - get it? :)

A bridge to nowhere 

Once the prince came to Jiǎogēn, the humble monk tasked with making sure all foot, rider and wagon traffic moved on the kingdom's roads as quickly and directly as possible. The prince declared his vision for a new bridge, which would become the main bridge by which the many merchants, pilgrims and others in the kingdom would cross the dangerous, raging river to reach the imperial city, replacing the sturdy, if old and rather ugly stone bridge that was used now. The dream of the new bridge that the prince described to the monk was indeed impressive. It was to be built entirely of spider silk, renowned for its strength and versatility, and would be the envy of all rival kingdoms near and far. 

"Surely it will take many years to construct such a worthy edifice, especially considering the need to use materials unfamiliar to any of the kingdom's craftspeople, requiring them to learn new skills," thought the monk. Caution would obviously be warranted, since if the bridge failed it would send whoever was on it - merchants, visiting dignitaries, perhaps the king himself - plummeting to their deaths in the rapids below. Therefore, Jiǎogēn asked how much time would be available to create such an impressive structure.

"Three months," answered the prince.

"Three months?" replied the monk, unsure that he had heard correctly. "Surely you mean three seasons? Or perhaps even three years?"

"Three months. It must be ready in time for the opening day of the large summer fair in the city. It will be the showcase of our power to all around."

"But in just three months time, we might just possibly be able to gather enough spider silk to build a simple rope bridge," protested the monk.

"The treasury has been instructed to allow you to purchase whatever you need. You will have your silk."

"And none of our engineers are familiar with working with spider silk," continued Jiǎogēn.

"Here are some scrolls describing how monks in other kingdoms have been able to build simple ladders using such silk," replied the prince. "A ladder is just like a bridge - a bridge between different heights instead of different sides! Such examples must be similar enough to be useful to you. And I have great confidence in your ability to take these descriptions of such puny attempts and expand them far beyond simple toys and build a bridge impressive enough to make our kingdom famous far and wide!"

"But even if we can purchase all the silk we need, and even if I can draft every worker in the countryside, and even if I can decipher these arcane scrolls and extract any useful lessons from them, three months gives us barely enough time to build such an edifice. There won't be time to make sure it can withstand the massive amount of people, animals, carts, chariots and wagons that will be crossing it to enter the city for the opening of the festival!", cried the monk. "How can we possibly open the new bridge if it hasn't been given a fair trial? Who will test it?"

"The travelers are aware of their role," calmly answered the prince, as he strode from the room.

Upon hearing this, Jiǎogēn became benighted.