Wired Cola

I was testing out some template changes to The World's Only Cybermorphic Weblog (new archive menu! Flickr photos!) when I found an old post that could use some follow-up.

Here's the updates: The Park Tool levers eventually bent as well, and though I still use them, I just bought some replacement levers, this time Zefals. So far, I'm crediting cheapness over quality.

Sorry about the lack of blogging. I think my recent pictures adequately describe my week. Note that the Date and Time stamps on those photos are accurate.

A pretty good week. My godfather, who I have not seen for about 16 years, came out for a visit, and we had a lot of fun catching up. His youngest son came, too. We spent the weekend doing the usual crazy stuff: aquarium, La Casa Gelato, night market (their first exposure to the weirdness that is bubble tea, among other things), and Robson Street. Fun for all.

My food and exercise journal. Let's see how long I keep this up.

It helps that I'm starting this public insanity when I've never been more fit. Friday is treat day, so watch those for the really wacky food consumption patterns.

Not recommended for mission-critical presentations.

And people ask me why I always seem to be grumpy about Powerpoint.

Okay, I am a darned fine blogger. Easily in the top ten, I know.

But the best blog in the world? The very best? More weird than Eric? More eclectic than Colby? Funnier car obsessions than Coop? More timewasting than Gord?

I sometimes find that very small obstacles to task completion still stop me from task completion. I call the process of getting rid of these obstacles "friction reduction."

Remember - overthinking is the enemy of blogging. Don't think. Blog. Oh dear.

Gord says the secret ingredient missing from this post was flow. He's right.

Flow is your friend. I'll be reading Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's book shortly (the library where I work has it).

About a week ago, I had a neat phone conversation with my father. There was the usual detail-oriented banter (advice on replacing a car battery, mostly), and we drifted into a conversation about his teenage passion, control-line model airplanes.

What followed (with diversions into some amusing stories of a recent old-timers flying meet) was one of the most remarkable insights into my father that I have had. He lit up when describing his passion in a way few people do. I was fascinated.