Hello to everyone who might happen upon this. This might seem an odd post considering the normal content here, but one I felt necessary just the same. For those of you who don’t know me or anything about me, I make my living in the computer security industry and have for many years. What does that mean? Well, think ‘hacker with ethics’ and you’ll be a large part of the way there. The actual accepted term is that I’m a ‘white hat’ but you get the idea.

So, why does that matter to you? Well, because a security alert surfaced yesterday that is particularly alarming and many if not most ‘normal’ people would not be likely to hear about it. Adobe has announced that the Acrobat reader has a bug that can allow someone to remotely take control of your machine. I know it works because I have the code to do it and have tried it. Unfortunately, Adobe will not have a fix out until March 11th and that is only for the most recent version. Previous version fixes will come out over the weeks following. You should also ake sure your virus definitions stay up to date over the next few weeks. Antivirus software is apt to pick it up far before the actual fix is available, but only if you have the most current updates to your antivirus signatures.

What does that all mean in English? Well, for the next month or more your machine has a huge security hole that could allow someone to remotely take control of it. The good news is that it is easy to avoid since it requires you to do something before it lets them in. The bad news is that most people don’t know any better than to do that thing. What is that thing? Opening files that come from sources you cannot trust. I know, many of you are saying ‘well, duh’ about now. But the thing is, even among the tech people I know, most of them know not to run .exe files (programs) that come from unknown sources. But in this case we are just talking about pdf files. Glorified Word documents practically. So, yeah, it is an easy target. So, if someone emails you some document for you to ‘take a look at’ or something, unless it is a friend you know well and you are expecting the document, don’t open it. Even if it is a friend but it is out of the blue, I would verify. Remember, if someone has compromised their PC they can send email acting as that friend, and they’d have access to the friend’s email address book too. So, I guess if I had to distill this further yet, I would say this: trust no one, suspect every one.

Now that I’ve spread my little rays of sunshine for the day I can go skipping through the tulip fields happily (I would say gaily but, when one is talking of skipping through tulip fields, well, precision in word choice matters a bit more) knowing I’ve saved the world. OK, so, I’m given to hyperbole. I can do so knowing that you’ve been warned. =o)

Peace,
/g

Awaiting the sunrise, my camera in hand
I silently ponder what drives me
From those dark quiet moments I now understand
It’s not pictures I want, but the memories

All the moments in time, looking back on my life
that were precious, but fragile and fleeting
That I now long to hold in more palpable ways
than in memories, ever retreating

Such moments define us, give shape to our soul
to the passage of life and its beauty sublime
People and places and things we hold dear
distant memories grown fainter with time

So I watch through my lens as the world passes by
patiently waiting for just the right moment
The shutter snaps open for the blink of an eye
and that instant is stopped and I own it

Freezing forever the second just past
one tick of the clock I’ve set free
I think it not theft, that one moment from time
from the millions times taken from me

For as long as I live or a little beyond
that stolen moment is cherished
While looking through photos, at faces and times
Until all those who knew them have perished

For time always has the last laugh in this race
to tangibly hold on to history
Once years have gone by, generations gone past
in a drawer it will sit, just a mystery

/g

Christy and I just had an amazing weekend thanks to my wonderful oldest daughter. She came over Saturday morning, picked up her two younger siblings and headed down to see their grandmother in Columbus for an overnight visit. And, while I positively adore both the little ones, they are always ‘on’ and, by the time you get them in bed at night you are simply exhausted.

So, it is with that new-found freedom that Christy and I gleefully set out to do… nothing! We didn’t know, and didn’t care what we were going to do. Just the fact that we could do whatever was half the reward. Ultimately, we grabbed a shower and a nap and then just laid around until we decided to catch a movie. Since we couldn’t decide which movie we wanted to see, we decided to catch more than one. So we went out and caught the early showing of “Bedtime Stories“, which both of us had been wanting to see, then went to Applebee’s for desert (we’d eaten a very late lunch) before catching a later showing of “Taken“. The Applebee’s menu had looked so good the first time, we went back there for a late dinner. The next morning we slept in, laid around some more, then decided to catch the afternoon showing of “Hes Just Not That Into You“, making popcorn our lunch. Oh, and then we went back home and laid around some more until the kids got home around 7:30.

What an amazingly refreshing weekend and, frankly, one that we really needed. Life has been so crazy lately that Christy and I have had scarce little time to spend together, much less alone together. From the time the kids left until they returned, she and I never got more than perhaps 6 feet from each other with the exception restroom visits. No, I’m not exaggerating. I’ve carefully thought through the weekend and I believe that to be accurate. Perhaps the walk around my truck to go to my side exceeded that, but it would be close and there was once that I walked back to the truck to grab her purse for her but that would be about it. In fact, I would go as far as to say that we were actually in physical contact with each other virtually the entire time, either holding hands or cuddled up together (isn’t it cool how the arms on theater seats fold up these days?). And we made a point not to let anything from the outside world in. No discussion of stuff going on at work or with her friends or anything else was allowed. We got shushed at two of the three movies for laughing too loud and, while people who have to be shushed at movies normally annoy me, I really didn’t care about it this time. I mean, it wasn’t intentional anyway and, besides, once was during a preview. =oP It was just what the doctor ordered.

As for the movies, well, that was a mixed bag. I was initially surprised that Bedtime Stories was hard to find still in a theater – it was only in one theater and as a matinee – until we saw it. It stank. It was a contrived storyline that was poorly executed, and that is the nicest thing I can think of to say about it. We both contemplated leaving midway through it and, in retrospect, we should have.

Taken, on the other hand kicked butt. Well, if you are into the Rambo – hold the cheese – bad to the bone good guy lays waste to the bad guys type movie – and I decidedly am – it is worth seeing. Moderate spoiler warning (but most of this is in the trailer) here so, if you think you might see it, skip to the next paragraph. The movie is about this guy (played by Liam Neeson) who was a former government operative of some sort (CIA was implied but never stated) that was obviously a very “hands-on” operator. His marriage had fallen apart and his wife remarried. He realized (at some point before we join the plot line) that he had missed his, now 17 year old, daughter growing up because of his work, and had retired and moved near her to try and make up whatever time he could. He is a very unassuming guy, not at all the tough guy persona that is more typical in these type movies. Anyway, his daughter goes to Paris for the summer with a rich girlfriend (who was 19) with his very reluctant agreement. She is talking to him shortly after she arrives in Paris when the daughter sees (from the other side of a courtyard in the apartment building) some guys grab her girlfriend and bodily drag her away. Daddy immediately drops into professional mode and directs her to the next room under the bed. He tells her that she will be taken but that he will come get her. He also tells her to shout out any details she sees about them while the phone is still connected. He is right, and after they’ve taken her one of the bad guys picks up the phone. The dad can hear that someone is there so he tells the guy that he has no money for ransom if that is what they want, but that he is not someone they want after them and if they let her go he’ll pretend it never happened. They wish him good luck and hang up. He’d recorded her conversation and the recording had snippets of someone talking on it. His former co-worker buddies do their magic with the tape and figure out who the bad guys are and that their m.o. is to kidnap young women traveling alone and force them to become prostitutes. That really happens, by the way, as scary as that is. So, predictably, daddy heads off to Paris to find his daughter. His buddies had told him that he more or less has a 96 hour window, after which she will likely be so far away he’ll never see her again. That precludes official channels so he goes off on his own. He does his spook stuff and lots of bad guys die for their trouble. Ultimately, he finds his daughter, of course, and just in time. I can tell you that I was completely choked up when he finally rescued her and she said “…you came for me…” like she couldn’t believe it. But, then, I’m just a big ole’ softy in my old age. =oP

While, what I’ve described sounds incredibly violent and graphic – and certainly parts of it were – it was largely handled with an eye more toward the story line and not toward shock value. You don’t see a bunch of bloody bodies all the time is what I’m saying. While not something I would take my kids to, I enjoyed it. Being a father of a daughter not far removed from that age I immediately empathized with the hero and know that I would do anything it took to get my daughter back in the same situation. I, of course, don’t have the mad spook skills the protagonist did so I would just succeed in getting myself killed, but that is quite beside the point.

The last movie we saw, He’s Just Not That Into You was also a very enjoyable movie with far more truth in it than any movie I’ve seen in a long time. The basic message could be applied to either gender equally, but it is basically “If they never call you back, quit making excuses. They probably just aren’t that into you. Move on.” Sage advice if I’ve ever heard any.

And now we come to the part of the post where I drag out my well worn soapbox. Both of the movies I actually liked had scenes in the that were either vulgar or overly graphic in some way, and that had nothing to do with the plot line. While, I certainly understand that the last movie we saw would necessarily have some adult-oriented content (you’d have to see it to completely understand what I mean) there was content that went beyond that while adding nothing to the movie. I believe there are subjects appropriate for kids, others appropriate for young adults and yet others that are strictly aimed at adults. Then there are the things I’m talking about here. I don’t need to go into any graphic detail, but if you’ve been to a non G rated movie lately you know what I mean. As I’ve said before, I am not a prude. I recognize that certain movies are going to have that junk in them and I simply avoid those movies, but putting it in in the manner it was in these movies are no better than scatalogical humor; it appeals to the juveniles (grown or not) but only cheapens the movie. On Friday I was discussing this very subject with a friend. This is just another example.

Both movies were rated PG-13 but, I promise you, if I found someone showing a 13 year old of mine some of the junk in those movies, it would not be pretty. I mean, even the plot appropriate stuff – even if entirely fine for an adult audience – was beyond what a 13 year old should be watching. I’m just not sure what the dummies in Hollywood are thinking. I can tell you this: I would never let a child of mine go on an outing if a member of the MPAA rating board was the chaperon. No telling what they would consider acceptable in person! sheesh.

/g

A few nights ago, around midnight, as I sat working at my computer, our home phone rang. Because that is hardly normal at such a late hour – and calls bearing good news almost never come so late at night – I was immediately on edge. On the other end was my oldest daughter, sobbing. After subduing my own panic, I learned what was wrong; her mother – my ex-wife – had swallowed a bunch of pills earlier that night in an attempt to end her life. Rachel was calling me from the ER waiting room and her call affected me in ways I would have never imagined possible. I’ll get to those changes presently but, for it to make sense, I’ll need to provide a bit of context.

You see, my ex (Chris) and I have not had an even marginally good relationship for many years now – and it isn’t the typical “battle of the ex’s” type stuff either. It has been decidedly one sided. Without going into the gory details, let me just say that she has made it a priority to make my life hell for nearly 18 years. Just for sport. To make matters worse, she didn’t hesitate to put Rachel in the middle of it if it suited her purpose. Over the years, each of her attacks added fuel to the burning hatred I had developed for her. And, when I say that, you should understand that I think hate is one of the most powerful words in the English language, and isn’t a word I toss around lightly, at least not where people are concerned. In fact, I would go as far as saying that she is the only person I’ve ever really hated.

And that hatred was fueled not only by her provocations, but by my own impotence to do anything about it; if I fought back, only Rachel would get hurt – Chris wanted a fight – and I couldn’t defend many of the lies she told Rachel about me because doing so would involve bad-mouthing her mother or telling her about events she shouldn’t know about. I’d vowed years ago I would never do that, and I hadn’t. So when, shortly after Rachel turned 18, Chris sent me an email starting her normal junk, the time-worn floodgates that had so long held back that raging hate finally failed. She no longer held any power or wielded any control over me through Rachel; Rachel was at an age where she’d figured enough of the truth out all on her own, so I no longer felt I had to make nice as I always had. I had never had any intent to go back and “settle the score,” but that snide email from her simply flew all over me. I had nearly 18 years of stored indignation and hatred; I was a tightly wound spring with a hair trigger, and she came stomping in. I wrote her a long email (and you know if I consider it long, it was long) telling her so many of the things I’d so long wanted to. I “vented my spleen” as the saying goes. I had to re-write the email about 10 times to get it as far as even remotely civil. It was still extremely sarcastic – I don’t think I am capable of suppressing that in a situation like this one – but factual and as close to civil as possible, considering the message. When I hit send, I was prepared for full out nuclear war – in fact, I think I was hoping for it. Instead I got this terse reply: “Now you’ve gone and done it. I’m going to have to send you a bi**hy reply.” (the asterisks are mine, she spelled it out); but that reply never came. She knew me well – she is one of the most empathic (though not sympathetic) people I’ve ever known and we had a long history – and she must have seen where I was. I suspect that she re-read my email again and realized that I was right, and that this was a fight she didn’t want and couldn’t win; she was right. I felt at least a little vindicated, but that changed nothing about how I felt about her personally.

As the following days turned into weeks and then to months with no further contact with her, the hatred I’d so carefully nurtured for all those years dwindled from its usual white-hot intensity to a slow smoldering ember, though it was no more likely to go out than before. I was glad to be done with her. In fact, as far as I was concerned I would be perfectly happy if I never got another email from her, never heard her voice and never saw her face again. I was done. I had even stopped to consciously count the occasions between now and when I died that I would have to see her again – Rachel’s graduation, her wedding, the birth of any grandchildren, etc – and, while anything greater than zero was too many, I decided I could live with it. I would have to, really.

The thing is, she has not been “right in the head”, for years. Her behavior had been self destructive for as long as I could remember. I didn’t realize it until that call came but, somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d been expecting it; I guess that deep down I always thought that is how she would die. It wasn’t something I’d given a single moment’s thought to, though, so I hadn’t really considered what, if anything, I would feel about it. If I had, though, I think I would have said that I would feel a mixture of pity and release; pity for what she had become, release from the sense that someday, somehow she would again find a way to attack me or my family – particularly Rachel. There would be no joy in it – I never wished even her dead – but no real sadness either. The only real sadness would be for my daughter.

When the call came, however, I would have been proven wrong, and not by a small measure. The reality is that, quite unexpectedly, I had an almost visceral reaction. It was like a desert flash flood ripping through me. It wasn’t a sense of loss like you would feel for a loved one; rather, it was a profound sadness for what could have been; what should have been.

Instead of the 18 years of torture, my mind was filled with vivid, almost palpable, memories of long before. The kind where you aren’t so much remembering as re-living; where you can actually feel that long ago wind caress your face and smell the faint scent of pine carried on it. Memories of that very first time I met her; of that 13 year old girl that I (also 13) eagerly followed up Pine Mountain on the youth outing her grandmother had brought her to (and how I’d deliberately followed and not lead because the view was better, God bless Pierre Cardin and his jeans). Memories of the many thousands of hours spent on the phone talking about everything and nothing – as often as not, just listening to each other breathe – through which we would build a deep, abiding friendship. Memories of eager anticipation of her trips to town (she lived 100 miles away) and how excruciatingly slow time seemed to pass during those waits. Memories of that first date, and of that first kiss out by Spring Lake, and of the hours spent sitting together in the edge of the woods overlooking that same lake just being together. Memories of how she smelled and how I would keep the shirt I’d worn the day she’d gone back home, unwashed so it would still smell like her, stashed away until the next time I saw her. Memories of the girl I grew to know and of the young woman I fell so impossibly, deeply in love with. Memories of the beautiful young woman I once stood at an altar, before God and family, and swore wedding vows with all those many years ago. And memories of the woman who had borne my first child – and of the shattered plans and dreams I once had for my young family.

If it sounds like I was secretly still in love with her in some way – and I could see where it might – that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I guess any love for her had been bleached from my bones as the years passed, and I am very happy with my family as it is now. I love my wife completely, and can’t even imagine that not being so. And, though I’ve always wished I could have given Rachel a “normal” childhood – whatever that is – and have always more than a little guilt that I couldn’t, I’ve long since passed the point where I could even imagine life as it might have been. But I guess what I am trying to convey is that, in that moment, I was transformed in some way; I was able to remember the person I once knew and loved, and I experienced the years worth of stored up sadness that she no longer existed for me. I was able to wonder how things could have been different and wonder what I could have done differently that might have saved her from the tragic arc she set out on so long ago. Regardless of how I might have felt about the Chris that currently existed in my world, the Chris(tie) from that time was worth saving. And I mourned her loss when I got that call because certainly something of her still existed in the woman who had taken those pills. With her death, what little remnants remained in this world would be gone from all but my memories. Forever.

Without ever realizing it, I had been poisoning myself with that hate for her over all those years, but it was a bit like taking a little cyanide each day and hoping it would kill someone else; It didn’t hurt her at all, but it hurt me a great deal. I had let that hate for her consume me to such a degree that it redefined me. When I was younger, I was almost always happy. I expected the best from life and was surprised when life didn’t deliver, but, over the years, I’d become jaded – I expected, and got, noogies, wedgies and swirlies from life – and that hate was the catalyst; it had been the transformative agent in my life. And, while I’ve long recognized how jaded I’ve become, I never realized how much it was driven by that poison that I had not only allowed, but invited into my life. For whatever reason, that flash flood of unexpected feelings washed it away, leaving me feeling as scoured and bare as a desert dry wash. I’m just left to sort through the rocks.

I was left feeling profoundly sorry for her – not in the way she wants everyone to, but for what she has become – and completely devoid of any traces of those burning embers. The net effect left me unsettled for a couple of days, but feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my chest.

In the end, she was unsuccessful in her attempt to end her life. She was brought to the hospital in time to prevent any lasting harm – at least to her – and was released to go home the next morning. From what I’ve heard from Rachel about her behavior since her release it appears that, as unlikely as it seems, her attempt to end it all changed everyone in her life but her which is terribly sad. I will keep her in my prayers and sincerely hope that one day she finds whatever it is she is looking for.

And, while am anything but glad that she attempted to kill herself, I am grateful for the relief I found as a result of it. In the seconds before that call came, I had no idea such a fundamental shift in my life was so imminent – I suppose that is how many life-altering events are – but who would have thought a call so late at night could be a wake-up call? And yet, for me, that is exactly what it was.

/g

More than one friend has emailed me because of my sudden stop in posting here. One of them told me that the complete stop after a fairly steady pace of posts had him concerned; he said he was worried that I’d been ‘hit by a bus.’ Well, no – not literally anyhow – but close enough. I’ve been on a project for work for almost a month now that has consumed every waking moment (and then some) so I’ve been unable to even think about the blog, much less spend time writing posts. I am now at the end of that project (hopefully) and have a work sales conference starting tonight and lasting through Friday then I should be done for a while, so life should be returning to (ab)normal over the next few days. I don’t know that I will maintain anything like the frequency of posts I did in Dec but I will try not to go weeks between posts either.

I have several posts in progress that I will hopefully find time to complete after I take a couple of days to recover. In the mean time I have a couple of things I’ve been meaning to post – all to do with Courtney, oddly enough – but haven’t found the time to. So, in no particular order, here they are:

Every year the school Courtney goes to has a big deal around hitting the 100th day of school. I don’t know if that is common or not – it wasn’t when I was a kid – but it is the norm here, at least. As part of that whole event the kids were given assignments related to the number 100. One of those was to take 100 of anything and make something interesting/creative with them. Courtney decided that she was going to get 100 paperclips and link them together into a chain. Since that would be terribly boring and would require nearly zero effort I told her we should find something else to do. We ultimately ended up sticking with paperclips, but decided we would make a mobile. I thought it would be fun to do, more interesting than a chain and would have educational potential as well. This picture is what we ended up with. I obviously handled bending out the paperclips to act as decorations at the bottom of each chain but we worked together on the rest. We met the requirement of using 100 paperclips but, more importantly, we had a blast doing it. Before I get any criticism on my involvement, making this a parent/child project was encouraged.

And, speaking of Courtney’s school, we finally got to go in and meet her teacher for the gifted program. The program is amazing, and the teacher is awesome. She seemed to be one of those rare teachers who takes an intense interest in her kids. Well, to be fair, Courtney’s school has an abnormally high number of those – her school cluster is why we live where we do. The classroom was engaging and the curriculum… wow! I can see why they are so stringent on the entry requirements for the program. We discussed lots but I can summarize fairly neatly: We will need to come back in a couple of months to see the PowerPoint presentations each kid will have produced presenting the results of their research into some subject. As soon as they are done with that they will start algebra. This is first grade.

If I can take a moment to brag on her school a little more (as if the above isn’t enough), I discovered that her school grouping is one of the very few in the state who was given the ability to set curriculum independent of the state guidelines. They earned the right because of the consistently high test scores they had. The state superintendent of schools came to spend a couple of days there talking to teachers to try and figure out how they are doing it. And last night I learned that, starting next year, the highschool will have a program in place to have students participate in joint enrollment at Georgia Tech!! While that won’t matter to Courtney for another 8 to 10 years, it is still amazing. For those not familiar with GaTech, they are consistently ranked in the top 5 engineering schools nationally along with little schools like, oh, I dunno, MIT. The beat out other, better known schools like Carnegie-Mellon by a significant margin. It is truly one of those “pick your job” schools. In case you can’t tell, daddy is very pleased with the meeting, teacher and school.

And last, but certainly not least, Courtney celebrated her seventh birthday a few weeks ago. We had eight six and seven year old girls spend the night. It was…interesting. If you are ever in a similar situation, let me share this one bit of advice: You don’t want to be too close to the girls when a Hannah Montana song comes on on Disney radio. Trust me. I’ll just be glad when I get my hearing back. Anyhow, here are a few pictures of the ‘big event.’

Until next time; peace.
/g

While waiting on the rest of the girls to arrive they sat in a circle on the floor and gossiped. How early it starts!

Them congregating on the stairs (I didn’t put them there or pose them) for some reason. I just realized looking at these that I never got all of the girls in a single shot. It was truly like herding cats.

A “Fur Real” turned out to be her favorite present.

Her opening presents with Emma’s help

…and opening…

…and opening.

ohmgosh!

She dug her new PJs.

The beginning of a teddybear relay. They had to run to the next room, put one article of clothing on the bear and bring the bear back to the next on their team. First team to get the bear fully outfitted, wins. This was one of the several activities to make them think they were having fun while, in fact, wearing them out. -muh-ha-ha-ha-