I really like the song that Apple is playing in their new Macbook Air commercials. (Plus I think the laptop itself is pretty sexy.) I'm currently using Rhapsody To Go as my music service because it works with Pocket Tunes. So I searched for the song (it's "New Soul" by Yael Naim) on Rhapsody.

Sure enough, it's not there. You have to wonder if Apple purposefully chose a song that was only available through iTunes.

Luckily, though it's available as an iTunes Plus track, meaning it's unprotected. So it plays in Pocket Tunes.

Why I hate MySpace...

My sister just sent me a link to join her MySpace network. I already have a MySpace account, so this should be dead simple, right?

Wrong...

I click on the link in the email. It asks me to sign up for a new account. Squirreled away in small print is an option to log in with an existing account. I finally find this option and click on it. It logs me in but fails to accept my sister's invitation.

No amount of screwing around has enabled me to accept her invitation.

I've been programming computers all my life and every time I interact with MySpace, it makes me feel stupid.

Well, I can't say it much better than Engadget:

http://www.engadget.com/2007/11/05/palm-assimilate-with-android-or-die/

Wow, my first earthquake!

I am traveling in the San Jose area (for the Business of Software conference) this week. Last night I was out at dinner in Sunnyvale with a colleague, and suddenly the room started swaying left to right. It felt as if it was swaying as much as 6 inches, but nothing was falling off tables, and it felt mostly gentle but random. There was no rattling and no thunderous noises as might be expected from what Hollywood has told us.

It lasted about 20 seconds, and then I had the strange sensation that maybe the ground was still moving, but I couldn't quite be sure. Similar to the sensation you get when leaving a cruise ship after a few days.

Apparently earthquakes of this magnitude (it was 5.6 and located about 8 miles from San Jose) are not super common, so I was "lucky" to experience it.

A couple of months ago, I was considering creating a website for St. Croix restaurant reviews. The idea would be that it would be all user-contributed reviews and easily updatable, like a wiki. Well, it's been done! Take a look at Yelp.

I've started writing reviews for all of the St. Croix restaurants I love! Check out my Yelp page.

Seth Godin has an interesting post about bundling.

It got me thinking about how this applies to software. One application is this: General purpose software often doesn't stand out as much as software with a sharp focus, even if it's as good or better.

Part of the reason is due to the effect that Seth talks about. When someone searches for a product, they search for something that solves one specific problem. So what they find first are the products that focus specifically on that problem. The general-purpose apps fall to the bottom of the list.

Of course, part of the problem is likely due to the fact that it's hard to create general purpose software that excels in several areas without being hard to use or expensive. But I recall in the early days of Palm OS, there were tons of specialized database apps and a few really good general-purpose databases. The specialized apps always seemed to out-sell the general purpose database apps, even when the general purpose apps were just as good. Some of those database applications even came with hundreds of templates to make them work just like the specialized apps.

How do you get around this effect if you have a really good "bundled" application (e.g. a product that solves more than one problem)? One extreme idea is to create separate products. Market each one at one of the problems it solves. It's actually the exact same product under the covers, but it's targeted at just one problem instead of several.

I find it interesting that, even as Steve Jobs praises DRM-free music, he likes the DRM concept when applied to locking out applications from the iPhone.

The Vista Shuffle

Anyone who knows me knows that I detest Windows Vista. Yet I use it on my laptop because that's what it came with, and I need a Vista machine for testing compatibility.

Here's my latest gripe; I call it the Vista Shuffle.

We use a Windows VPN at NormSoft. Windows Vista has a new method of connecting to a network. When I'm traveling, I use WiFi or a Sprint mobile broadband card, so I have to go to the "Connect to a network" screen. I enable the Internet connection, and then I open the same screen to connect to the VPN.

Here's where the fun starts. About 50% of the time, next to the NormSoft VPN entry, Vista says, "This connection requires an active Internet connection", and the Connect button is grayed out. Well, I do have an active Internet connection (I'm posting to this blog, aren't I?). Typically if I disconnect my main connection and reconnect once or twice, the NormSoft VPN entry will eventually be enabled, and I can connect. But sometimes, like this morning, I can never get it to show up.

Even worse, sometimes the VPN entry becomes enabled for about 2 seconds. If you don't click on the Connect button in that short time window, you're SOL. Hence why I call this the Vista shuffle. (Imagine a heavily-drugged psychiatric ward patient shuffling down the street. That's how I feel.)

Verisign - just a pretty name?

Wow...  Our credit card processing gateway just went down.  It is rejecting all charges and authorizations with some obscure error message.  I tried calling their tech support number, and they're closed.  They have a $500/month support service that gives 24/7 telephone support, but there's no way to buy it off-hours.

You might guess that we're using some mom-and-pop discount gateway.  Nope, it's Verisign.

I don't understand how a company like Verisign can let this kind of thing happen...

Blogger is acting up today. It is not letting me post my blog entries.

My Treo is on the Sprint network. Lately they have taken to calling me once a day on my cell phone as "a courtesy call to see if we can save you money on your phone plan" (i.e. upsell me on their new services). When I complained that I didn't want them calling my cell phone unless there is a problem with my particular account, they got defensive and said, "It's a free call, sir."

I don't care if it's a free call! You are interrupting my time on my cell phone, which is only used to receive important calls! The fact that it doesn't cost me anything on my Sprint bill does not affect the fact that I do not want to be interrupted.

This is compounded by the fact that, most of the time that I receive these calls, there is no operator on the other end. So for 3 days now, I have gotten a call from their 800 number, only to be hung up on as soon as I answer it.

Ahhh, Germany. I am on a business trip to receive training from one of our partners.

Currently I'm in the Frankfurt airport waiting for my connection to Nuremburg. My data connection seems to work here, but I'm sure it is costing and arm and a leg...

My lunch consisted of a sandwich that looked (and tasted) like a big piece of pretzel shaped like a bun with some salami and pickles in it. There was also some kind of spread, butter maybe. It was quite yummy. They call it a Laugenbr�tchen Salami, which, for all I know, simply means salami sandwich...


[Posted with hblogger 2.0 http://www.normsoft.com/hblogger/]

How to Register Your Car in the Virgin Islands (aka How To Waste 10+ Hours of Your Life)

Well I am finally the proud owner of a VI driver's license and plates for my car that I shipped down. If you have never had the pleasure of registering a car in the Virgin Islands, you are probably unimpressed. If you happen to live here, you are probably amazed that I am still sane (or am I?).

Before I begin, please understand that I tell this story not as someone complaining and fed-up with the process but as someone amused and bewildered by the inefficiencies of the system. Luckily for me I could see the humor in the whole process, so I had a smile on my face most of the time (and I still do).

It all started a few months ago when Gerald and I decided that we should probably get our driver's licenses. Should be easy, right? Well...

First, you have to go to the main police office, which is about a 20 minute drive from our house. There, you pay $2 and pick up an official photocopy of the driver's license application form. No, you can't download it off the Internet, and no you can't have it mailed or faxed to you, and no there's nowhere else on the island where you can get it. It's just a regular photocopy, but you're not allowed to make duplicates. Not too hard, and the woman at the police office was very friendly and helpful. (In fact, almost everyone I met during this process was friendly and helpful, but extremely rigid on the rules; no exceptions!)

Next, you have to go get two 2x2 passport photos. They don't actually use these photos for anything; they are just tossed in a filing cabinet with your paperwork and then they take a digital picture of you for the license. Getting the photos was easy. There's a popular photo shop in the main shopping plaza on the island, and they take 5 minutes to take your photos and have them ready in a half hour.

Next, you have to go to your doctor's office to get your application stamped, saying that you are not insane, have corrective lenses, etc. etc. When you go to the doctor's office here, there are almost always 4-5 walk-ins waiting to be seen. Luckily our doctor takes appointments, so we were sure to make one. But due to squeezing in the walk-ins, you always have to wait. And because our doctor is an honest sympathetic kind of guy, he didn't charge us for the appointment.

Now you have to go back to the police station. But wait! The driver's license application asks for your blood type (nobody knows why). What if you don't know your blood type? Well, you have to get a blood test and get it typed. So back to the doctor to order you a blood test. Then off to the Island Medical Center to have the test done. The waiting room is like most waiting rooms on St. Croix. You walk in and take a ticket from the ticket dispenser. Then you sit down and wait for your number to be called. Then you tell the receptionist why you are here. She then tells you to have a seat, and you wait for your name to be called. Once the blood is drawn, they inform you that the results will be ready in about a week. A week for a blood type test?! Yes, they have to send off for it. But the hospital is right next door, and they can do blood typing in minutes in the ER. Shrug...

So now the whole process has ground to a halt. I can't proceed until I get the blood type results. Oh well... Luckily my Massachusetts driver's license is still valid. Technically it's only valid for 90 days after moving here, but no one's called me on that yet...

So a week later, I was in Rhode Island with my car that I wanted to bring to St. Croix. In order to get it there, I had to drive it down to Tropical Shipping in West Palm Beach, Florida. So I'd planned my road trip to Florida and my flight back to St. Croix. The trip went well, and I enjoyed the drive in my car. When I got to West Palm Beach, I once again remembered what it felt like to be bewildered and bemused.

I drove to the container port. Straight in front of me were two guard gates with clear signs indicating that no one was to enter without a valid container port ID. To the right were 5 lanes of trucks next to a small unmarked trailer. Since I didn't have a container port ID, I parked next to the trucks and walked into the building. There were two other people waiting. After a few minutes, someone came in and started creating IDs for everyone. I got my finger prints (from both hands) taken for the first time in my life, and my photo taken and printed out on a small ID.

Tropical's shipping location was a small unmarked trailer (sound familiar?) sitting in a parking lot. I found my way there and entered and waited for the right person to show up. She came in and reviewed all my paperwork. They then checked my car, and I removed all my luggage. They then pointed across the street and said to go to Customs to get my documents stamped and then I could go.

Across the street was a huge warehouse and a parking lot, all behind a fence. With my 3 bags in tow, I trundled across the road, dodging trucks and cars entering the container port. There was no entrance door in the fence, so I had to go around. I saw someone behind the fence and asked him which way to walk around; he pointed right. So I walked about 100 yards, trying to keep from tripping over my luggage. I finally arrived 2 feet from where I started but behind the fence. I walked into the large warehouse to find no one there. I again asked the person where to go, and he shrugged his shoulders. Hmm, okay. Finally someone showed up and demanded, "What are you doing here?" I explained my plight, and he said, "You have to go all the way around the building and go to the unmarked door at the end for customs." He must have sensed my exhaustion at this point (maybe it was my sweat-drenched shirt that gave me away; did I mention that it was 100 degrees?), and he looked around conspiratorily and said, "Follow me".

He led me through a door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" and pointed to the unmarked customs door 30 feet away. I thanked him and walked into Customs. They stamped my paperwork and said I was ready to go.

This all went fairly quickly, and I had asked for a cab to show up before I started. Sure enough, the cab was waiting to pick me up, after I trundled back up to the container port entrance gate with my luggage. I had two options to get to the airport; I could take the Tri-Rail, which arrived only 1 hour before my flight. The cabbie told me that I wouldn't make the flight because you have to take a tram from the train station to the airport, and you need to check in 45 minutes prior to departure. The other option was to pay the cabbie $180 to drive me 65 miles to the Miami airport. After agreeing to this outrageous fee, I thought of a third option too late; it would have been cheaper to rent a car.

Back in St. Croix, I awaited for the arrival of my car. Thanks to a friend with connections, I found out that the car was ready to be picked up half a week earlier than estimated. The bad news was the list of TODOs looming ahead of me to get the car in my possession...

Knowing that I would need to have insurance on the car, I first drove to my insurance agent and got the car added to the policy. This was easy enough to do but took an hour to complete.

I then drove to the container port in St. Croix. The woman at the guard gate told me, "Just drive straight ahead and you'll see the signs for Tropical." Easy enough. I drove until I saw the signs for Tropical (only vaguely aware of the signs that said "Authorized Personnel Only"; I was authorized by the guard gate, right?) and parked in the rear of the trailer. There was my car! It must be the right place. I went to enter the building when someone waved frantically at me through the window. The security officer came out and told me, "You can't park back here. You have to park over there." She pointed to the parking lot 20 feet away from where I'd parked. "Do you want me to move my car?" "Yes."

After my scolding, I came back with my tail between my legs. She checked my ID and said I could go in. When I entered, no one was there, so I looked through my paperwork and waited. Someone came in and greeted me. When he saw that I was there to pick up the BMW, a huge grin appeared on his face, and he told me how much he liked my car. He then told me that unfortunately, I was in the wrong place. He then went down the list of tasks I needed to complete and said, "And then you can come see me! You've got a long day ahead of you." Indeed.

My first task was to go to the other Tropical building. The one before the "Authorized Personnel Only" sign. The one that you couldn't see unless you happened to have made a right turn at an unmarked parking lot. A very friendly woman checked my paperwork and gave me a form that listed all of the day's tasks. She then gave me a form that I had to fill out, where I hand-wrote my credit card number and name. "We don't have a swiper; we use the Internet," she explained. The woman next to me was less trusting than I. She refused to write down her credit card number and insisted on leaving and returning with a certified check instead. Her day was bound to be longer than mine...

Next I went to pay my excise tax in a trailer several doors down. The woman there went through my paperwork and asked me how much the car was worth. I gave her an estimate, and she said, "I need to have something in writing. You can go on the Internet and look it up. My blue book only goes up to 2001." I had no intention of going all the way home to go on the Internet, this early in the progress! So I asked her how else I could get her a price. She said that I could go to Customs next door and see if their blue book had the price. I checked my watch: 11:45am. Her sign said, "Closed for Lunch 12-1".

I hurried over to Customs and told him my story. He checked through my papers and told me I didn't need to pay any import fees because my car is made in South Carolina. But he had some paperwork for me to fill out. He then looked in his blue book, wrote down a price, and stamped it with his Customs seal. He then told me I'd better go next door before she closed. I made it with only a few minutes to spare. She took my official Post-It note and finished up my paperwork. I paid my excise tax with my Mastercard; I was relieved to see that she had a swiper. She tried to derail me one last time, "That's an expensive car, mon. Are you sure you don't want to look up the price on the Internet and get it cheaper?"

Next I headed over to the Virgin Islands Finance building. This is a white building hidden behind the loading docks near K-Mart. As usual, there were no signs about where to go, so I wandered through the building, trying to find the most-travelled paths. When I reached a receptionist, I showed her my paperwork, and she politely pointed to a cashier window. I filled out some paperwork that she gave to me. One of the fields was "Vehicle Weight". Oh crap, I hope they don't have to weigh it. I left it blank. I honestly expected that she would tell me I needed to go back to shippers and get a bill of lading to get the weight. Instead, she looked up the weight in a book and entered an estimated 3,000 lbs. Close call...

One final task remained before I could go home for lunch and get Gerald to help with the retrieval of my car. I drove to the main police station and walked in the building. I asked the woman there where to get a temporary moving permit. You need this to allow you to drive the car out of the container port and back to the police station to get it registered. She said, "Oh yes, I can help you with that. But first you need to go over to the cashier and pay for it. Then come back with your receipt." She gave me some paperwork and told me to go outside and look for "Cashier #3 or #4". I walked in the direction she indicated and found several unmarked trailers. There was no one around them so I assumed they were unused and kept walking. I finally came upon something that could not possibly be the cashier's station. It was an open-air building with several benches with a dozen people sitting on them. Next door were several student drivers apparently taking driving tests.

Uncertain, I walked up the bench area and looked around. There, I saw 4 windows: #1, #2, #3, and #4. This must be it afterall... There was one person each at windows #3 and #4, but no line. Were the people on the benches in line? If so, it must be some incomprehensible system. I lingered for a minute and someone finally queued up behind one of the people at the window. Aha, that's how it's done! I joined the line and suddenly someone sprang up from a bench and made it obvious that he was in line too. I guess I didn't completely understand the system yet.

Once at the head of the line, the cashier took my $5 and paperwork and gave me a receipt. I took this back up to the police station, and the woman signed the paper and said I was all set to go.

Now I needed Gerald to drive the truck back home while I drive my car. So I went home to meet him, and we headed back out to the container port, armed with an arsenal of mangled papers that looked more like a hairball than official import paperwork. We drove into the port and past the "Authorized Personnel Only" sign; this time we really were authorized. We parked in the correct parking lot, and I walked towards the building where I had started the day.

There's an interesting thing I've learned about Crucians. Once you get scolded by someone, you create a kind of rapport. Upon returning to the woman at the Tropical building, she gave me a huge smile and waved me in. "Do you need to see my ID?" "No," she waved her hand, "just pretend I checked it." I received a similar smile from the man in the building, and I smiled back just as big; I was about to finally get my car. He checked over all my paperwork and looked impressed. We then chatted about cars for a bit, and then we headed out to inspect mine. Everything looked fine, so I took the keys and drove off.

After 10 yards, I noticed that the flat tire light was on in the car. Oh no... The car has run-flat tires, so you can't tell if they're flat by looking at them. Instead, the computer monitors the rotation differential for all the wheels and notifies you if one of them is rotating at a different rate than the others, which indicates a drastic drop in pressure. Since I had purchased insurance on the car, I decided I'd better tell them about the problem. Luckily, they said they could air up the tires to the correct pressure to see if they had a leak. After 10 minutes, they showed up with a pickup truck with a huge engine mounted on the rear. The engine was attached to a compressor and a hose. Sure beats the car-battery-powered compressor I had.

The tires looked okay, so I reset the tire monitor computer, and headed off. It was 3:05, and the Tropical guys had told me that the car registration building closes at 3:30. It was only 10 minutes away, so I could make it, and then my journey would be complete! However, upon arriving, a friendly gentleman told me that they had closed at 2pm, and he handed me some "homework" and told me to come back tomorrow morning.

This morning, I resumed my expedition in earnest. I had my car, and the end was near; I could taste it! Feeling ambitious, I also retrieved the partially-completed paperwork for my driver's license. I would get that finished today as well. First, I needed to get my blood type.

I called the Island Medical Center and asked for my test results. "I can't give out results on the phone due to privacy issues, but I can tell you that it's ready." Not wanting to argue, I agreed to stop by in a few minutes. On arrival I repeated the usual steps (take a number, sit, wait your turn). Turns out my blood type is O+. So there! I have defeated the medical center's privacy measures by posting this publically on the Internet.

Next stop: the registry. I pulled in to find the parking lot nearly full. I found a spot and walked up to the gentleman who had given me my "homework". He looked it over, stapled a few things together and mumbled something about needing the original title. He then pointed me over to the receptionist. This time I walked up to Window #2 (having learned that this is the correct window by listening to what other people were asking the cashiers) and handed in all my paperwork. The young man took my paperwork and motioned for me to sit down.

After a minute, the young man came out of a door and waved to me. I got up, and he pointed to a line on the form where he had added an "X". The line read, "mailing address, if different from above". I had left it blank because it was the same address I had entered above. I tried to argue that but he stuffed the form in my hand and closed the door. Puzzled, I duplicated the information and handed the form back through the original window.

I sat for a minute and then a great idea occurred to me. I knew that I would have to pay for my driver's license eventually, so why not use this idle time to wait in line to pay it. I got up and entered the line for Window #3, which I guessed would be where I would pay for the license.

I was right! When I got to the cashier, she took all the paperwork and asked for my payment. I handed her the credit card I had used all along. She came back a few seconds later and pushed the card back to me, explaining, "It was declined." (The credit card company had called the previous evening to make sure that all these charges to various VI government offices were authorized. I told them they were. I can only assume that the credit card company did not believe me and has locked my card.) I handed her another card, and it worked. She told me to go back up to the police station to finish up.

Meanwhile, a woman handed me the certified copy of my title and explained, "Your registration is complete but we can't give you the plates until you give us the real title." I did not want to argue, so I said, "Okay."

Before leaving, I went to the police station and greeted the woman at the front, who had gotten to know me; this was afterall my 4th trip there. I obtained my driver's license (which entailed having my finger prints taken for the second time in my life) and walked down to my car to go home and get the title. While leaving the police station, a police officer waved me down. I opened up my window to see what he wanted. He pointed at my plates, still the Massachusetts ones, and asked why my car was not registered. I explained that I needed to get the title to complete the registration process. He looked dubious. I then said, "I have a mover's permit." That did the trick. Without asking to see it, he nodded and waved me off. The $5 mover's permit had come in handy afterall.

Finally arriving back at the registration office, I handed in my original title at Window #2 to the young man whom I had originally spoken with. He looked at me funny and said, "Who asked you to bring this?" I sighed and pointed to one of the women behind him, and he waved me off. I then sat down to wait for my name to be called. A few minutes later, I was summoned to Window #3. I paid my bill using my other credit card, and received my vehicle registration and plates. I'm done!, I thought. "Next, you will need to go to the police station to get a copy of your new title." But, but...

After my run-in with the cop, I decided that I'd better install my new license plates before leaving. So I asked the gentleman outside for a screwdriver and put them on. I then went back to the police station and greeted my friend for the 5th time. Getting my new title was effortless.

Easy, right? I'm off to our favorite restaurant for a rumrita...

The Attack of the Iguanas

We just had an iguana traipse up to our pool to see what was going on...

The Best Mojitos

It's often hard to find fresh mint on St. Croix.  The fresh herb section in the supermarket is often lacking.  Some of the restaurants here grow their own herbs because of this.

However, mint seems to be available in abundance recently.  We picked some up at Plaza Extra and experimented with mojito recipes until finding just the right combination!  The key to a good mojito, we learned, is to use a pestle to grind the mint and lime wedge on the bottom of the glass.  The mango rum is just sweet enough (but not too sweet) so you don't need to add simple sugar like other recipes call for, and has just enough fruity flavor so you don't need lemon juice.  Here is the recipe, for your enjoyment.

4 fresh mint leaves
2oz Cruzan Mango rum
4oz soda water
1 lime wedge, plus 1 for garnish (optional)
1 sugar cane stick (optional)

Squeeze 1 lime wedge into a cocktail glass.  Using a pestle, muddle the mint and lime wedge in the bottom of the glass.  The mint leaves should be well bruised, but not broken into little pieces (which get in your teeth, etc.)  Add the rum and soda water.  Garnish with another lime wedge and sugar cane stick or sprig of mint leaves (optional).

If you make a second (or third... or fourth), re-use the same glass with the left-over mint (and optionally the lime).  They'll get better each time!

Phone's Dead

Well apparently we've been lucky.  Since we've gotten here, our phone has never been out.  All of our friends who are also newcomers to the island have been complaining about how often and how long their phones go out for.  Well today we finally got hit, and our phone is dead.

Luckily we've been preparing for this ocassion, and we have 3 backup plans (before we go to smoke signals, that is).  Gerald and I have two cell phones on different networks (which are working great).  Plus we have an Internet phone number through Skype.

4,000 lbs of stuff

We recently decided to sell our house in Millis and move to St. Croix full-time.  (If you're interested in a beautiful 3 bedroom, 1.5 bath house on a private lot with a gurgling brook in Millis, MA, send me an email, and I'll hook you up with our realtor!)

Part of that meant moving all our stuff.  We decided not to move any furniture (except for one piece).  So we expected that there wouldn't be very much stuff.  Well, after piling up books, computers, games, CDs, treadmills, TVs, and kitchen appliances, the total rang in around 4,000 lbs!

We used Allied Van Lines to move.  They came to our house in Millis and carefully packed up every piece.  The movers were phenomenal; very careful, friendly, and professional.  They packed everything into large wooden boxes, which would then be placed into a cargo container and put on a ship.  Then the ship sails from Boston to St. Croix, and they unload it when it arrives and bring it to our house.

It's just arrived, so now we have cardboard boxes all over our house waiting to unpack.

How Not to Change a Tire

This one's from Gerald...

Every once in a while. Just every once in a while. Why can't a simple thing in my life be simple???

Tim and I have been planning to put new tires on the truck for about a month, then Brien and Susan came down. We all know what happened then! Woopie, new baby!

Last night we went out to dinner at Cheeseburgers in Paradise with some friends down from MA for the week. Gravel parking lot. Screw in the tire. Ok, made it home safely with no flat. Scotty (one of the friends from MA) was going to come by this morning, run to the auto store to pick up a patch plug kit. He came by but the tire was holding air so we decided it would probably be ok if I drove on it again to go buy new tires. So I did, but...(here's where it starts to get complicated!)

The guy who sells tires doesn't mount tires. This is St. Croix. You go to the tire guy, buy your tires, then go to a tire "shop" to get them mounted. Seems simple enough, right? Simple unless you have a screw in your tire.

I made it to the tire guy, bought 4 new tires. Headed off to the tire shop to get them mounted. Got less than a mile and had a flat. How on earth did that happen you might ask? Well, dumbass me was driving with a screw in the tire (I really thought you'd get that one.).

So I pull into a shopping plaza. Called Tim. Asked him to call Scotty to come help me. He couldn't reach Scotty by phone, so he rode his bike down to their house. No one home. He rode back to our house to call me. I told him to call our friend Julie. Surely she could help or know someone who could. Her assistant Jill picked Tim up and brought him to me so we could change the tire. Oh...but we couldn't find the tool you use to lower the spare from under the truck! Yeah, ok, still with me?

So Jill calls Honnie, our realtor here. Honnie has this woman who changes her flats for her, so she called the woman to come help us. Woman calls me on cell, I tell her where to find me. She comes but it took her over an hour to change the tire. I swear, it must have been the first truck tire she'd ever changed. She didn't have a clue. But imagine if you will, Tim and I standing there watching this woman crawl around on the ground changing our tire...there's a picture for you!

Anyway, she finally got the tire changed so we got on our way to the tire shop. He got us in relatively quickly, put the spare back under the truck, mounted and balanced the new tires in about 45 minutes and we were off! Finally! Headed home to clean up, relax, and figure out what we would do for supper.

About a mile from the tire shop we go around a curve and hear a sound like we had clipped an aluminum can and sent it scurrying off across the road. Hmmmm. Ok, next curve same sound, except much louder and this time accompanied by some very alarming clacking noises. Oh yeah, this is Gerald's life. So I whip into the parking lot of a closed Feed store before the tire could fall off. It nearly had. The lug nuts were barely hanging on. So Tim gets out the lug wrench and proceeds to tighten down all the lug nuts.

Yes, we actually DID make it home and are about to go have some supper. But an hour or two errand turned in to an all day affair for me with drama at every turn, literally. Such is my life. Please...trade me???

Blowout party in St. Croix

Gerald is planning a huge party for my 30th birthday.  He's got space reserved at the Cormorant Beach Club in St. Croix for hors d'ouevres and drinks.  And, he's reserved B & the Buzz, a phenomenal high-energy jazz band!  The party is scheduled for 8pm-12am January 15, 2006.  Guests can arrive around 7pm.  If you'd like to come, send me an email, and I'll send more details!

Crucian Baby

Well I really ought to be writing in here more often.  You'd think that we're having a nice quiet life down here.  On the contrary, it's been an exciting rollercoaster ride!

We recently hired Brien Wheeler as the Vice President of Engineering at NormSoft.  We're very excited to have him on board, and we're sure he'll do a great job managing our engineering resources.

We decided to fly him down to St. Croix for his orientation two weeks ago.  His wife Susan was seven months pregnant at the time but decided to come along as well to get some good relaxation in before the baby was born.

Everything started out great, and we were having a great time coming up to speed on business and relaxing in our spare time.  Then on Tuesday night, we went shopping to make dinner.  When we returned home, Susan was not feeling well.  After a call to her doctor, they decided that they'd better go to the hospital to have her checked out.  So I drove them a few miles down the road, and they spent an hour in the ER.  They hooked up a baby monitor and everything looked fine with the baby, so they told her to go home.

A few hours later, Susan was not feeling any better.  They finally asked me once again to take them back to the hospital.  Nervous and concerned, I drove as safely and quickly as I could.  Upon arriving at the hospital, Brien put Susan in a wheelchair and whisked her away.  I parked the car and waited in the ER for 20 minutes, worrying about what was happening.  Finally, someone there told me that they didn't know Susan's status because they had taken her to Labor & Delivery.

At this point, I was still in disbelief that Susan was having her baby.  One of the security guards showed me over to the main hospital entrance.  I said to him, "I can't believe she's having her baby now!"  He responded simply in his Crucian accent, "Believe it."

When I saw Brien a few minutes later, his face was red with mixed concern and joy.  He said, "We're having our baby!  You'd better go home; we'll call you."  I was dumbstruck and walked out of the hospital like a zombie.  I don't remember the drive home, but I do remember that I didn't get much sleep.  Finally, Brien called me shortly after midnight to say they'd had a baby girl, and they'd named her Greer.  Everyone was doing well.  He would call me in the morning.  I finally caught a few winks.

As it turns out, the neonatal intensive care unit at the hospital on St. Croix is top notch.  Greer had excellent care, and the nurses were warm, friendly, and knowledgeable.  Greer is fully expected to make a full recovery.  However, Susan was having a few complications, so they kept her in the hospital for a few days' observation.

Susan's parents quickly made plans to fly down to visit.  Dan and Dianne were excellent guests and were relieved to finally see Susan and the baby doing well.  Feeling a bit helpless, Gerald and I did the best we could to make everyone feel at home.  We knew that Brien and Susan were likely to be here 6-8 weeks until Greer was ready to fly, so we started making long-term arrangements.

Things progressed for several tense days, and then Susan was told she could go home.  Greer would be kept in an isolette in the hospital until she could breathe and eat on her own.  Everyone took turns joining Susan going to see the baby over the next several days.  Susan was still feeling ill, and eveeryone was concerned, including the insurance company.

Amazingly, a representative from Tufts Health Care called Susan and asked if she'd like to be medflighted back to Boston, fully covered by the insurance.  After some discussion, they agreed that would be the best option so that they could be with their family and regular doctors.  They started working on the arrangements, and Susan, Brien, and Greer were finally flown back to Boston on Thanksgiving day.

We're now without guests and without excitement.  We feel enormously relieved that Greer is back home with family and doctors that they know.  But we can't help but feel a bit saddened that our Crucian baby has left us.  Brien and Susan proclaimed us Uncle Tim & Gerald, not honorary, but real uncles.

Brien and Susan have since let us know that Greer and Susan are both doing wonderfully, and Susan was released from the hospital in Boston with a clean bill of health.  Greer will be going home in a few weeks as well.

We've had lots of other excitement as well, but I'll leave that for another post.