New Computer Diary: The Computer Arrives

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It’s here in record time.

Not bad for free shipping. I just placed the order on Wednesday. That’s less than a week. I think that the more you spend at the Apple Store, the more likely they are to get it delivered to you quickly.

The computer I ordered is a 15″ MacBook Pro. Here are the specs, right from the confirmation e-mail I received moments after placing the order.

MacBook Pro, 15-inch, 2.16GHz Intel Core Duo
1GB 667 DDR2 – 1 SO-DIMM
100GB Serial ATA drive @ 5400 rpm
SuperDrive (DVD±RW/CD-RW)
MacBook Pro 15-inch Widescreen Display
Apple USB Modem
Backlit Keyboard/Mac OS – U.S. English
AirPort Extreme Card & Bluetooth
AppleCare Protection

This is my latest Mac test mule, destined to a life of leisure, sitting quietly, powered off, waiting for me to call it into action to run software while I write a Mac book or article.

Although the more I think about it, the more I think I might want to use it a tiny bit more often. Heck, when I spend that kind of money on a computer, I want to get my money’s worth.

It arrived in a brown box that was surprisingly lightweight. The FedEx Ground guy brought it to my office, even though it was addressed to me at my house. This is Wickenburg and there’s just one FedEx Ground guy. If he knows where you’ll be during the day, that’s where he’ll bring brown boxes from computer companies. Oddly enough, he wasn’t quite sure where I’d be and seemed relieved when I opened the door and he recognized me.

“I couldn’t remember which apartment you were in,” he admitted.

This didn’t surprise me. I don’t use FedEx Ground very often because they usually can’t find my house. I think this guy had been tipped off about my apartment-based office by the FedEx overnight guy. Neither of them like taking their trucks down the road to get to my house. And they like making a U-Turn in my driveway even less. UPS is the same, although I had to put a stop to them delivering my stuff to the airport.

“If there’s a red vehicle in spot number 18, I’m here,” I told him.

I signed for the computer and he went on his way. Then I left it by the door so I wouldn’t forget to take it home with me.

Yes, that’s right. I didn’t open it right up. That shouldn’t surprise you too much. It took me a whole week to open my PC laptop when I bought it two months ago or so.

Why? Well, I’m busy. Today I revised Chapter 8, the last chapter, of my Excel 2007 Visual QuickProject Guide. I had a bad headache all day and it was hard enough to keep my mind on my work without being distracted by a brand new Mac.

When the chapter was done and I called it quits for the day, I carried the computer out to the Jeep with a few other things that needed to go home. Jack the dog was with me. He jumped in and we started out. I had to stop at the post office on the way home. And then pay a visit to Dr. Saxby.

Dr. Saxby is a chiropractor. But unlike the chiropractor I once visited regularly back in New Jersey for my sciatica, when Dr. Saxby adjusts you, you don’t need to visit three times a week. You go once and he cracks you all over the place, leaving you feeling like … well, like shit. The next day, though, you feel great. He put me on the roller table, where the rollers rolled up my back. Then, on the adjustment table, he cracked every joint in my body — including my toes. Another patient, who had taken my place on the roller table, let her dogs wander around the office. A third patient, a man, was holding one of the dogs on his lap when I emerged, sweating and exhausted.

Jack the Dog and the new computer were still in the Jeep when I came out.

We went home. I picked up the mail along the way — our mailbox is about 1/4 mile from the house. My royalty statement from Peachpit was among the big envelopes. All 67 pages of it. Sheesh. Wouldn’t it be nice if all the books in the statement earned money at once?

Finally, I could wait no longer. I went back outside and got the computer box. I opened the box and found a smaller box, wrapped in plastic, nestled in foam corners. I pulled it out and stowed the foam corners back in the brown box.

Apple has incredible packaging. It makes you want what’s in the box. That in itself is odd when you consider that the boxes are never displayed where the computers are available for sale. So that beautiful packaging is obviously intended for the end user, a kind of gift that’s meant to be opened and kept. I guess that’s why I still have the boxes for all the Apple equipment I still own. They take up a lot of space in the back corner of my hangar.

Nestled inside, in custom-carved white foam, was the computer and it’s accessories, including the power supply, video adapter, external USB modem, and Front Row remote control. There was also a flat square box that had a tiny manual, Restore DVD, and a bunch of warranty stuff I’m sure I’ll never read.

The computer looks remarkably like my 12″ PowerBook. It’s just a lot bigger. That’s unfortunate. What I really wanted was another 12″ PowerBook with the new processor and a bigger hard disk. I found the 13″ MacBook tempting because of its size, but was completely turned off by the cheesy feel of its case.

Of course now that I’ve shot my load on a 15″ MacBook Pro, Apple will probably release the computer I really wanted to buy. My luck, you see.

I opened the lid and pushed the power button. The computer bonged to life. It then went through the video thing it does right after you install Mac OS X. When it was finished welcoming me in every language known to man, I went through the configuration process. From power on to running and connecting to the ‘Net took all of three minutes — most of which was spent on that silly welcome video stuff.

The computer appears to be loaded with iLife and iWork software. I expected iLife, which I already have on disk, but not iWork. There are some demos, too. And an app called Photo Booth, which I’d never seen before. This is the first Front Row-compatible computer I’ve bought (timing is everything) and it’s a good thing I bought it. When I revise my Mac OS X book for Leopard, I can include coverage of Front Row. I guess I’ll have to learn how to use that remote.

Mike came home as I was taking a photo using the built-in iSight camera. He got in the picture. It’s now my icon throughout the system. Oddly enough, I can’t figure out where it’s stored on the hard disk, although I do know how to change it.

Software Update popped up, telling me I needed about 700 MB worth of upgrades. Later on, after dinner, I plugged in the computer — I really do like that magnetically attached power cord — and let it suck updates off the Internet. It was still working on it when I went to sleep.

Contributions Corrupt

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From a Slate.com piece.

Political corruption abounds. This paragraph appeared in a Slate Magazine article by Roger McShane.

In a nifty little investigation, the NYT details how political donations are corrupting the Ohio Supreme Court. The Times found that Ohio’s top judges “routinely sat on cases after receiving campaign contributions from the parties involved or from groups that filed supporting briefs. On average, they voted in favor of contributors 70 percent of the time.”

If highly paid judges are corrupted by political contributions, then how do you think small-town politicians react?

Who’s paying for your favorite candidate’s campaign? And why?

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So Many Books, So Little Time

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But they never seem to be the right books.

I have a problem: I’m addicted to books. I must have mentioned this somewhere else in this blog, but I really don’t feel like searching.

Over the past six months or so, I’ve been picking up books here and there and stacking them on my beside table for reading. The stack is now as high as the lamp there.

I’m in the middle of reading two books:

  • The Art of Fiction: A Guide for Writers and ReadersThe Art of Fiction: A Guide for Writers and Readers by Ayn Rand (which I’m sure I discussed here) is not exactly stimulating reading. Although Rand has some good, solid advice for writers about characterization and plot, it’s pretty obvious to me that she’s the only author who ever followed that advice. And I have to admit that I’m getting a little tired of her bashing the work of other writers (Sinclair Lewis comes to mind) and praising her own. Talk about big ego!
  • 100 Ways America Is Screwing Up the World100 Ways America is Screwing Up the World by John Tirman is downright depressing. I picked this book up in Canada, where it was a featured book on a shelf just as I came into the store — shows you what Canadians think of us — and I started reading it, mostly to see if I agreed or disagreed with what the author said. Not only do I agree with most of it, but he’s shed a lot of new light on a lot of topics. Yesterday’s chapters on dictators we’ve befriended over the years made me pretty sick. I don’t think I want to read any more.

Obviously, I need something lighter to read.

The other books on my night table are a mixture of political commentaries and current bestselling novels, such as Water for Elephants: A Novel by Sara Gruen and The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards (loaned to me back in May by an editor). I don’t think any of these books will be lighter.

I just checked my Amazon.com Wish List, the place I store books I want to read in the future. I hope to get many of them from the library, so I don’t have to buy them, but I have such a dismal record of returning books late that I’m embarrassed to go in there. Besides, a few of the titles you’ll find on that list are not likely to make their way into the public library of a conservative town like Wickenburg.

Unless, of course, I buy them, read them, and donate them when I’m done. Which is pretty much my plan for some of the titles.

The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop: A Memoir, A HistoryBut there are a few other titles that qualify as light reading that I know my library doesn’t have. One of them is The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop: A Memoir, A History by Lewis Buzbee. I read about it in an independent bookstore newsletter back in May and put it on my list. Unfortunately, it’s on my list and not on my table.

That’s the problem. I put books on my list when I hear about them and they sit there. Once in a while, when I have to buy something else at Amazon (most recently, a pair of batteries for my DustBuster), I add a book to the order to qualify for free shipping. But I always seem to order the wrong book — just another one for the pile — and not the one I feel like reading when I have time to read.

Your Own WordsOne of my recent acquisitions is a book called Your Own Words by Barbara Wallraff. It’s yet another one of the books about words and language that I like to wade through. I heard of Ms. Wallraff on a Slate.com podcast that I may have mentioned in another blog entry. Slate had a contest for euphemisms and Ms. Wallraff was involved in the judging. That got me interested in her work (that was the point, wasn’t it?) and I decided to give this title a try. Maybe I’ll read it next.

If you have any suggestions for some light, intelligent reading, don’t keep it to yourself. Use the comments link to make a suggestion. Keep in mind that I like books I can learn something from. Or books that make me think.

La Jolla Winter Sunset

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New Years Eve at the beach.

Mike and I spent New Year’s Eve 2004/05 in the San Diego, CA area, in a town on the coast called La Jolla (pronounced la hoy-ya). It was an escape from home, made possible by our friends John and Lorna (hi, Lorna!) who house-sat for us and watched our menagerie (and taught Alex the Bird to say “maniac”).

La Jolla, CAOur hotel was on the beach, with a private patio overlooking the ocean. It was very pleasant. I took this photo just after sunset one evening.

It rained a bunch when we first got there — Southern California was having all kinds of flooding problems — but cleared up for the rest of the stay. We visited San Diego, Coronado Island, and a great little aviation museum in a San Diego park. Then we drove back to Wickenburg on back roads along the Mexican border. It was a great trip, a nice getaway.

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Searching for a Stolen Truck

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We don’t find the truck, but we do find two cars and a motorcycle.

I was hard at work on my Excel Visual QuickProject Guide (really, Nancy!) when my office phone rang. It was my friend Tammy. She told me that a white dualie pickup truck had been stolen from in front of a house in Wickenburg. It had some unusual cargo, which I prefer not to discuss, in the back that made its recovery rather urgent. If I was out and about in the helicopter, could I look for it?

I did better than that. I offered to take her and one of our local police officers on a flight to find it.

(If you’re from the east coast or a metro area and don’t know what a dualie is, it’s a pickup truck with four back wheels. It’s better for towing but also sucks more gas. I suspect that many dualie owners buy them because they think dualies are cool. Until they have to replace the first set of six tires.)

We met at the airport. The officer, decked out in his dark uniform and looking bulky with his flack vest on, climbed in. His gun hung right over my collective. He later told me that his utility belt weighted about 27 lbs. Tammy rode in the back. I had our three doors off.

If this was a typical stolen vehicle, it would be stripped of anything easily strippable and ditched somewhere out in the desert. There were a number of usual places to look. So that’s where we started.

We flew around the outskirts of town, up and down washes and dirt roads. We didn’t see the truck, but we did see some cows, a tent pitched right off Constellation Road, lots of shiny windmills, and more dumped junk than you could imagine. We headed south toward Wittman, passing over the concentric circles of Circle City.

We crossed the Hassayampa River way down south and flew over Whispering Ranch, a rather notorious collection of off-the-grid ranches south of Vulture Peak. It was there that we saw a two cars and a motorcycle hidden under trees in a wash. I used my GPS to set a waypoint so I could give the police the GPS coordinates to investigate later. (There are no street signs down there.)

Then Vulture Mine to Vulture Mine Road to Vulture Peak Road. Then around Constellation Road and across to Moreton Airpark. Then south to Route 60 west of the airport, skirting around the hills out there.

The dualie was not in sight.

If this was not a typical stolen vehicle, it could be in a Phoenix chop shop. Or down on the Mexican border, getting ready to pick up Mexicans crossing over into the remote parts of the southern Arizona desert.

Or if someone stole it for its cargo, it could be anywhere.

We came back to the airport. It wasn’t a total loss. The police officer now had a whole different perspective of Wickenburg, along with GPS coordinates for three potentially stolen vehicles that he could hand off to the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office. Tammy had gotten a second chance to see Wickenburg — and a whole lot more — from a helicopter. I’d gotten a chance to fly about an hour and a half and provide a service for Wickenburg.

It’s true: I didn’t get paid. But the Town of Wickenburg did pick up my fuel tab.

Update, October 1: I tried to keep the cargo a secret, but KTAR didn’t.