Thursday, 2/9

Without even realizing it, I could break The Streak.

A couple of years ago, a few of you may recall, I had a streak going. Whenever it's above freezing I run in shorts. Even if it's 33 degrees, I'll will shed heavier gear and run in shorts. And a couple of years ago, I had a streak going where I was able to run in shorts at least once for 35 months straight. That, of course, means, that the temperatures here in Marquette were above 32 at least once a month for 35 straight months.

Then, of course, we had a cold march and The Streak came to an end.

The Streak popped into my mind yesterday when it was in the 40s and I ran in shorts for the first time this month. During the run I wondered if there was another Streak to be had, and when I finished running I looked back in the running logs I keep (and yes, I keep running logs, but that's a whole 'nother story). The last month that I was not able to run in shorts at least once was February of 2021, which means that this current Streak is now 24 months old.

Now, assuming March is anything but an arctic wasteland, I'll be able to run in shorts at least once. We then get into spring, summer, and fall, all months when I DO run in shorts, and by the end of the year we're looking at a streak of 34 months.

Just two shy of tying the record.

Now, I'm not a weather forecaster, nor do I play one on TV. But if we've gone through several years of Januarys and Februarys where I've been able to run in shorts at least once, you could make the assumption (and yes, I know what they say about assuming things) that when March of 2024 rolls around I will have a streak of 36 months going. In fact, since spring, summer, and fall are the months when you can count on wearing shorts at least once, that means by the end of 2024 the latest Streak will be at 45 months and counting.

So there's that.

No; I don't know why I keep track of things like that. I just do. But when you're out running and letting your mind wander, the strangest things can pop into it.

The Streak is proof of that.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 2/8

The stack of index cards keeps staring me in the face.  Or, at least, it would if it had eyes and could stare.

The stack to which I'm referring is a stack of 91 index cards, each one of which has the information for an interview clip for my upcoming "The Greasier The Spoon" documentary, debuting four weeks from tonight at the Marquette Regional History Center, written upon it.  I have to take those 91 cards, put them in some sembelence of a coherent story line, then provide context through a script, record that script, and then edit it all together to make something between an hour and an hour and ten minutes long that people enjoy.

Oh, and did I mention that those clips added together are already over an hour in length?  And that's even before I provide context and a coherent story line.

This will be interesting.

I really shouldn't be complaining; after all, so many people were so giving of their time and the memories for the interviews.  And it sure beats the alternative--not having enough material, and having to figure out how to get to the proposed running length.  But when you have an embarrassment of riches like this, you have to go through and not use stuff that you really wanted to use.  Not only that, but if you take something out that affects part of the story a little bit down the line, you'll have to change that piece, as well.  In a way it's like a giant house of cards--pull the wrong one out and the story collapses through a sheer lack of context.

Although, in this case, I suppose I should refer to it as a giant house of index cards, which could then collapse under a sheer lack of context.

My job, now, is to figure out what stays and what goes.  And that's why the clips are on the index cards, so I can lay them out, see what goes where, and move them around so that the story, in whatever form it ends up taking, makes sense.  Then I have to do all the other things I mentioned, and hope that the final product does what I hope it'll do.

Bring a smile to the faces of the people who watch it.

So wish me luck.  Hope that I'm able to get that unwieldly stack of cards a little more, uhm, wieldly.  Hope that what I take out doesn't disappoint people who were hoping to hear a particular story.  And hope beyond all hope that four weeks from tonight it's done, it's screened, and it's well received.

I know I'm asking for a lot, but a boy can dream right?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com), fighting the good fight against the stack of 91 index cards.

Tuesday, 2/7

It's Chicky-poo's birthday again. 

My dad turns another year older today, and while it's not a milestone birthday it IS a semi-milestone birthday, which means that it ends with a "5".  In keeping with the Koski family credo/phobia about age I won't mention what's in front of the 5.  Suffice it to say, if I'm not as young as I used to be then he's definitely not as young as he used to be.

So let's just leave it at that.

My dad will probably spend his birthday doing one of two things.  He'll either be down in Florida terrorizing the pickleball courts or he'll be in South Carolina babysitting my nieces' daughter, his great-grandchild.  That's one thing you can say about my dad--he's never sitting around bored.  He always has something--usually several somethings--to do.

And you wonder where I get that exact same issue?

8-)

As I've mentioned in here before as I get older I see more and more of my dad in me, and not just in the "I can't sit around bored" realm, either.  We both seem stuck with that endearing klutziness that has caused me a fair amount of grief but has landed him, on occasion, in the hospital.  We're both either blessed or cursed with the slightly swarthy Mediterranean complexion that comes from his (believe it or not) Irish ancestors, which means that while others burn we just get really really tan.  And, as I've noticed recently, I find myself copying certain facial expressions of his while exasperated.

And, as we all know, I've been exasperated a lot recently, which is probably why I've noticed it.

But in the end, you know what?  I'm fine with that.  I hit the dad jackpot, and whether the grand prize was the klutziness or the facial expressions or something I have yet to discover, that's cool.  I'm the winner in this whole thing.  And why?

Well, it's because I have the greatest dad in the world.

Happy Birthday, Chicky-poo!!!!!!

Love,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 2/6

Even if I had the ability to find out the answer, I don't know if I'd want to.

As some of you may know, I kinda (understatement alert) like chocolate. While it's not my favorite food in the world, it probably is in my top five, and I do consume quite a bit of it. Now mind you, the kind of chocolate I do eat—dark chocolate—has less sugar and more antioxidants than the chocolate that the majority of Americans devour, but I don't know that that makes up for the amount of chocolate I consume.

I'm just saying.

With that in mind, during a conversation I was having with someone this weekend about my chocolate consumption, the question was posed—just how much chocolate DO I eat on a weekly basis? How many calories of my weekly intake come from dark chocolate, as opposed to, say, vegetables or fruits?

That's a good question. And, like I said, I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

Part of me feels like I wouldn't be shocked by the number; after all, my entire diet isn't chocolate and, as I keep saying, the chocolate I do eat is the “better” chocolate than most (“better”, of course, being a comparative term). So maybe I'd see the figure, shrug my shoulders at its insignificance, and move on with life.

Or...

I'd see the figure, give an audible “yelp” at the scope of it, and vow never to eat the food again, even though both you and I and everyone I've ever met knows that's a vow I could in no way, shape, or form keep.

It would be one of the two. I have the feeling there's no middle ground here.

Maybe—just maybe—one of these days I'll sit down and figure it out. Maybe—just maybe—one of these days my curiosity and/or sense of masochism will get the best of me and I'll look at the empty wrappers in the garbage, pull them out, and do a little math. Or maybe—just maybe—I'll realize that despite the purported health benefits of dark chocolate the calorie count just isn't worth it.

Of course, that would be the day that hell freezes over and/or the Lions win the Super Bowl (actually both one in the same), but you never know. Stranger things have happened, right?

I just don't know if they'll happen with me figuring out just how much chocolate I eat on a weekly basis. Maybe there are some things that we are better off just not knowing.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 2/3

Because it's been an insanely hectic week and because I have to go be on TV in a few minutes I'm gonna leave you with something I wrote three years ago (right before the world turned on its axis). But it's also apt because I did the exact same thing this past Wednesday (prior to a DFB Pokal match for the same team I mention in the blog).

Who knew I had it in me?

8-)

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

(as originally posted 2/20/20)

I was almost a guy yesterday.

Seriously. I did a very guy-like thing yesterday. I know I'm usually not a guy. In fact, I think we were even discussing this a few days ago. But I did a very guy-like thing, and because of it, you would have thought the world had shifted on its axis or something.

I wore a sports jersey to work. I don't think my co-workers will even be the same.

Because they were playing their first game in the Champions' League knockout round yesterday (where they beat Tottenham 2-1) I wore an RB Leipzig jersey to work. It's one of, I think, two sports jerseys I've ever owned, and since Loraine had brought her RB Leipzig scarf to her job, I figured I'd share her spirit of support. Obviously, it worked because of the final score of the game, right?

8-)

Anyway, my co-workers acted if I'd come in wearing a canister of Coronavirus germs, or something. Jen wondered what was wrong, if I was making some kind of cry for help. When I told her why I was wearing it, she then told me all about her pretend boyfriend, David Beckham. My boss had to stop and stare at me for a few too many uncomfortable seconds, as if I'd grown a third arm or an extra head. And then Tanner, our sports director, a guy who wearing sports jerseys ever single day of his life, had to point out that even he was wearing a “normal” shirt for the day, and that for once I was the oddball.

Then it's a good thing I'm comfortable being an oddball, isn't it?

I had no idea that being a “guy” for a day would engender such a reaction. Can you imagine what would have happened had I also come in wearing camo pants or drinking beer or doing whatever else it is guys do? I would have driven them insane. Or, at the very least, caused them to grow a third arm or an extra head. And while that does give me an idea or two for the future, it also just makes me laugh that little laugh that we all do when things get a little strange.

Today, I'm back to not being a guy. I'm wearing a brightly colored shirt and a dark jacket, because I know that I look really good in contrasting colors. I'll have some tea, and then go to a meeting about a charity fashion show with which we're helping out. And not once, not at all, will I say anything about sports, sports jerseys, or the sports fans who wear sports jerseys.

If only because I did enough of that yesterday.

Thursday, 2/2

How much is a person's entire financial identity--their social security number, credit card and bank account numbers, credit history, et al--worth?  Most people couldn't put a financial amount on it, but I can.

Because mine's apparently worth $5.21

Long time (and I mean looooong time) readers of this may recall that I was one of the people whose financial information was stolen in the great Equifax data breach of 2017.  I was one of millions of people whose financial identity--their social security number, credit card and bank account numbers, and credit history--was lifted from the companies by hackers.  Thankfully, my portion of that data hasn't (or at least hasn't yet) been used, and I've spent the last 5+ years checking every so often to make sure my financial identity--one of the cores of who we are these days--has remained safe.

Knock on wood

By the fact that I was one of the victims of the data breach I was also entered into a class action suit against the company, and although it took 5+ years I finally received my settlement from the lawsuit.  I had no idea what the amount would be; after all, I filled the paperwork out back in (believe it or not) 2019, but a mere three years later, there it was, finally in front of me.

A check for $5.21.

In one respect, the amount didn't matter.  What was important is that Equifax made sure the breach never happened again.  After all, when you're entrusted with some of the most sensitive information a person has you NEED to make sure that information is protected.  But in another respect...

$5.21?  For having my most sensitive information stolen by hackers?  Seriously?????

There were millions of people who had their data stolen, and all of us deserved justice.  I don't know if we needed the psychic slap in the face that our financial identities are worth the approximate cost of a cup of coffee, but that's the world we live in.  Whether the settlement amount was absurdly small or the lawyer's fees absurdly high is something that, I suppose, I could look into.  But like I said, making sure it doesn't happen again is the most important thing.  The settlement amount was secondary.

But $5.21?  That's...eye-opening.  I received more than that in another settlement, one fifteen years ago because the first iPod I bought didn't come with a carrying case.  I received $25 bucks for that, which means that (if I'm doing my math correctly here) that iPod case is five times more valuable that my financial well-being.

That seems logical, doesn't it?

But it's done.  My aforementioned financial identity seems to be secure, the company has promised it'll never happen again, and the justice system has compensated those of us who were injured.

Now, if you'll excuse me, even though i don't drink it I'll go buy a cup of coffee to celebrate.

Geesh...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 2/1

Well, it worked. Kinda. Sorta.

After four months of database work, file tweaking, and general gnashing of teeth our new computer system is up & running at the station. There still appear to be several more months of file tweaking and general gnashing of teeth ahead as we discover all the little problems and issues that go along with a huge computer switch, but it's running, nothing blew up, and no one died.

So that's a good thing. And, please—you're gonna hear mistakes the next few weeks. You're gonna hear things that aren't going right. But those issues will eventually (I hope) get worked out.

Be gentle with your criticism.

8-)

As I've said before, going from our old system to the new one is like going from German to English. They're both in the same language family, so you get the basic structure and a few things are similiar, but all in all they're two totally different things. Just being on the air yesterday was a trip, having to use a mouse instead of a touchscreen, having computer monitors in new, unfamiliar places, and wondering why this button did one thing while on the old system it did another.

It's a learning curve. That's for sure.

But that might not be a bad thing. You know how they say in order to keep your brain supple you should constantly challenge it to do new things, like learn a new language? Well, I'm guessing that the next few weeks could cause my brain to become the most flexible organ in my body.

And it may prove that you actually CAN teach an old dog new tricks.

That, of course, was the last item to check off in my “January from Heck” list. So now, I can concentrate on two things—fixing all the little mistakes that will arise from the switch, and seeing just how supple my brain will become. Because, as we all know, that's one area in which I could always use a little help!!

(jim@wmqt.com)