The Good Life... a weblog about life, technology, and the Opera web browser

Driving along the Capital Beltway (perhaps I should say, Captial Parking Lot) tonight, I noticed flames spewing from underneath a Jeep Wagoneer. I saw the vehicle pull over and--without thinking-- I steered to the side of the rode in front of the Jeep, stopped, grabbed my flashlight, and walked to the flaming vehicle. I was somewhat surprised when I noticed the driver continued sitting in the car, oblivious to the fire just below him. As I approached the car, the driver stepped out to greet me. Not knowing what to do, I simply said Sir, your car is on fire. Not registering with the driver, I repeated, Sir, your car is on FIRE.

The driver quickly put the flames out with a rolled up flannel jacket and a bottle of Gatorade. After several unsuccessful attempts to restart his car, he collected his things and asked for a ride home. Again, without much serious thought, I agreed. After dropping him off, I continued home. When I told my parents about the evening's events, my step-mother said I would have killed you if you had died doing something like that. Indeed.

Our new house came furnished with an in-ground pool. The first one in after a long day's work isn't the aching humans. No, it's the insubordinate Chocolate Lab (AKA Mandy). I've learned two things from Mandy: 1) the real way to make puppy-dog eyes, and 2) how to doggy paddle.

Shortly before I left home last week to return to school, my beloved cat, Mia, passed away. She went quickly and unexpectedly. Behind our pool, our property includes several hundred feet of woods. Mia found her final resting place amongst the trees, out in the wild where she belongs.

I never realized you could love a pet so deeply until her death. She was a wonderful cat and I had looked forward to including her in my search for a place of my own. In any case, she's better off were she is now.

The morning after my father calmly requested I leave the house, I received an e-mail from him informing me that he had over-reacted and would very much enjoy my help with moving and that he didn't really want me to leave. Christ triumped!

Of course, I had already made arrangements to return to school early. So, I helped my parents move boxes Wednesday night, went back to school Friday, and returned to help them with the bulk of the moving this weekend. In fact, I believe all this worked out for the best, as I enjoyed the remainder of my break while in the comfort of my room at school, secured myself a single for the school year, and did a bit of web site work for the Office of Residence Life (who were kind enough to allow me to return to school early in the first place).

Trust in the plans that God has made and things will work out splendidly.

...and then you have Microsoft, re-inventing the wheel, with corners. -- more Microsoft bashing in the opera.* newsgroups

Don't miss Don't Be Rude: Part 1, Kindness by Margaret Berry. Etiquette isn't dead.

For eight years, my father and I have been fighting each other. Some people might call this insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I call it my reality. The years of fighting culminated tonight when my father explained that I must be out of the house by Thursday at noon. Upon requests to talk about it, I was greated with a simple Nope.

Saying that I'm faultless for this would be far from the truth. My parents are moving next week and need help. I have not offered to help. I should have. Since I don't seem to be interested in helping move, it would seem reasonible that I'd be in the way, thus my presence in the house is a nuisance. Thus, I'm not allowed to be in the house.

I have places to go, but that isn't the point. This is unhealthy. This needs to be dealt with. I don't want to end up (more) estranged from my family. I'm already bad enough at communicating.

Tammie, the staff worker for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship at Lynchburg College and Randolph-Macon Woman's College warned the up-and-coming leadership group that the devil would do all he can to prevent us from completing our mission at our school. I believe this is part of his attacks on me.

Satan, listen up. You will not win. Christ will not let you win. We will fight you and Christ will be glorified. I will not give in to your attacks.

Prayer would be appreciated from whomever is willing. I would like to reconcile with my father; I would like to communicate better with my family; and I would like to glorify Christ by serving Him at LC. Thanks.

Over the past week, I've been in eight states: confusion, joy, contentment.... Err, eight of the United States: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Rhode Island, and Pennsylvania. I still have more I'd like to write about the trip, but I may not have a chance.

The train home passed through many beautiful areas of New England, enough to make me consider living there after college. Tons of water, cute towns, and distance, but accessibility to big city life all add to the charm of the areas we passed through. I want to move away from DC, Baltimore, and Annapolis--things are too busy here. Annapolis is a great city, though, and I'll miss it. The beauty of New England looks like it'll be hard to beat.

Helen's birthday was July 27th 22nd. I missed it. She's 20. Happy birthday, Helen. Sorry I missed it.

Rebekah's birthday is today. She's 21. Happy birthday, Rebekah.

I need to go to bed. It's 1am. Good night, Tim.

If you were wondering, I'm currently being serenaded by my cousin in his apartment at UConn. Tomorrow I head to Providence, RI to hang out for a bit before I catch the 150 mph train back home.

Last night, my sister, myself, my sister's roommate, and her friend (Ed) went to Boston's North End for dinner. Dinner was at a wonderful Mediterranean restaurant, Alloro, where we were served the the greatest waitress ever. It wasn't her service that made her so terrific; it was her accent. She had this Italian-Boston-nasal-high-pitched thing going on--she was the stereotypical greasy mobster's girlfriend. After dinner, we went to a dessert place and I accidentally shared a $3.75 bottle of sparkling water with Ed. We just wanted tap water.

Walking around Boston, we noticed that most of the bars/clubs/restaurants had front windows that were open to the street, no matter the type of street. Everyone seemed friendly and was having a good time.

Overall, I'd say Boston is one of the nicest, friendliest large cities I've ever been to. It's certainly the city to visit if you need some hands-on experience parallel parking.

My sister's new roommate, Melissa, worked at an arcade on the shore in New Jersey for a while. The arcade was owned by a Mob boss. The job was minimum wage, so Melissa took up gambling to supplement her income. She'd bet anyone willing $5 that they couldn't eat five Saltines in one minute. Melissa never lost. Saltines are so salty that there isn't enough saliva in your mouth to break down the final crackers before time is up.

The Mob boss came by the arcade one day to check-up on business. He observed Melissa's gambling scheme and pulled her aside.

What's going on here, Melissa? (think Robert De Niro from Analyze This)

Melissa then explained the fun with Saltines.

You. I always knew you were a smart one. You're going places. You.

Though Melissa left the arcade a long tme ago, she's kept in touch with some of the employees. Several of them have mentioned seeing some guys in black suits enter a back room of the arcade followed by the Mob boss carrying a box of Saltines.