the dwfma blog.

The quest for the playoffs in New Jersey, as told through The Wire:

Tommy Carcetti: “You know, when I was 15 points behind, I was resigned, you know? A landslide, I could live with that. I mean, what else did anyone expect, anyway? White guy, runnin’ for mayor in Baltimore? … But this? … Jen, if I lose this here by two points, it’s gonna kill me. It’s gonna just fucking kill me.”

I had my latest Walter Sobchak moment at work earlier today.  After I spent what amounted to the better part of two hours chasing down some obscure background information about a few misplaced records, my boss was annoyed at the total development man-hours spent on the eventual correction of five records.  Five records, out of about three million.  Yes, the math is somewhat ridiculous, but the work needed to be done for two reasons.

• One, this investigation was in response to a customer complaint; it might have been the author, or the publisher, or someone mentioned in one of the articles; it could have been a fuckin’ homeless guy outside Union Station.  I don’t care.  Someone noticed.  Even with a reactive mindset, you have to actually buck up and react when things happen.
• Two, like a lot of seemingly small data problems, this collection of five could be the tip of a nightmarish iceberg of fact checking and data chasing.  Maybe the past two years of work was flawed in some way.  (The jury is still out here, but unofficially, we may have dodged a bullet.)

But in the middle of explaining these two points, I suddenly started babbling,

Dude, this is a league game.  This determines who enters the next round robin. Am I wrong? Am I wrong?

The end.

Here is our snow-driven traipse along the Northwest Branch Trail (aka the Trader Joe’s Trail).

Unlike our previous hike, when we parked near the TJ’s and headed north along the Northwest Branch, this time we headed south (careful to cross US-29) and enjoyed some beautiful snowy views along the way.  We ended near the Adelphi Mill wombat station, where we started our goodbyes to the Silver Bullet by taking some Craigslist-bound glamour photos.

[gmap]  We covered about 3.3mi.

[gallery]  Including some of the glamour shots, even though they hurt a bit to look at.

GCL: Gym, Coding, Laundry.

Not unlike Marconi, I came up with this little nugget independent of anyone else (except Sitch and Pauly D, of course), then checked to see if anyone else could lay claim.

In closing, I blame Ben Nadel and his oft-posted mixtures of workouts, workarounds, and girlwatching (despite having never met the man during my disjointed CFUN/ited trips).

In the spirit of new year’s resolutions, I bring you a tasty list of moral turpitude.

1. Start working out again.  You said this last year, and meant it last year, but let’s actually make it happen for 2011.
2. Cut out filthy food. Chipotle may be tasty, but just because everything is made locally (and before your eyes) does not eliminate the fact that it’s still garbage.
3. Learn something, preferably more than one.
4. Play something; the dust does little to add to the aura.
5. Clean everything; you have an arduous list assembled already, so why not double the number of items and get cracking?  Those old issues of Maxim aren’t going to throw themselves away.
6. Learn to hit; you’re giant, you should slug accordingly.  Also, thank your friends, but buy your own damned glove.

That’s probably it.  Thank you for reading.

This is the Best of time of year, so I will throw out a few names, with little regard to readership:

1. Distant Relatives, Nas & Damian Marley.
   After a handful of “Featuring”s, the two finally collaborate for a full album of material.  Admittedly overpolished at times, this disc still allows each singer to keep his identity while also seamlessly combining their different styles.  The live show at Sonar did not hurt, either.
2. Diamond Eyes, Deftones.
   After the vague White Pony and panned self-titled effort, this band rebounded solidly with Saturday Night Wrist a few years ago, and with Diamond Eyes has raised the bar even higher.  This was the Deftones album we have been waiting for: loud, crunchy, heavy, low, ephemeral, ethereal, and fucking solid.
3. Witchkrieg, Witchery.
   The lineup change is obvious, with known commodity Legion replacing the obscure Toxine behind the microphone, but the style is still utterly ridiculous and utterly Witchery: galloping rhythms, piercing guitars, and clean penmanship.  Clocking in just over a half hour, this record will be the best $12 you will spend all year.  I am shocked it has not even been remotely mentioned in various hard rock and metal circles when critiquing all of 2010.

Now go to bed.

After months and years of threats, we finally put boots to the famed Northwest Branch Trail (nicknamed the Trader Joe’s Trail, due to its proximity to a certain grocer).

Despite being so close to some of the more snarly trafficked roads (such as US-29 and the Capital Beltway), the walk was relatively quiet.  Various other trails branch off a different points; hopefully we’ll put the whole network down after some more trips.

[gmap] About 3.6mi.

[gallery]  Replete with Jill’s sorta-pants.

Did you know …

The Maryland towns of Bowie and Odenton are share a namesake, Oden Bowie.  Bowie was a successful businessman who had helped organize the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Company.  After a few years of success the B&P was eventually swallowed by the PRR in the late 1800s.  Bowie eventually elft the railroad to serve as governor of Maryland from 1869 to 1872.

Both Bowie and Odenton are well-known local rail stops, ones originally serviced by the B&P and now serviced by MARC trains running over Amtrak rails running along the Northeast Corridor.

Of course, no Maryland history story would be complete without a connection to Cecilius Calvert, 2nd Baron Baltimore.  Bowie’s wife, Alice Carter, was related (through her mother) to George Calvert, 1st Baron Baltimore, father of Cecilius.

This will likely fleshed out later, but it’s a start.  Better research might help, too, especially since I read elsewhere that while Odenton is definitely for Oden himself, whereas Bowie was or may not be named more for his family (and specifically, a father or son).

Aren’t you glad you asked?

 (Originally stared August 31, 2009, at 12:54pm, and eventually posted nearly a year later.  Better late than never.)

(As a preface, this post draft was older than dirt, and so “last night” translates to some point around December 1, 2008.  And yes, “NIC card” is as redundant as “ATM machine”, but this is my fucking blog.)

My NIC card stopped working last night.  Feels like I have skirted by on charm and effervescence … two things I pretty much hate in other people … and so here I am, five years after the start of something new and exciting, four years after the start of something even newer, perhaps less exciting, but altogether much scarier, real, and adult. What has changed in the more recent five years? Much has changed. I met Jill and the dust was upended again, and has settled in those places that no one bothers to look. I moved again, finally leaving the clutches of my two tax havens, Ocean County and Baltimore City.

Endless lists, self-pep talks, inspirational lyrics, tear-inducing concerts, face-choking commercials … I often ask myself, “Where does it stop?”  But perhaps the better question is, “Where does it begin?”  Because this lolly-gagging window-dressing face-melting status quo has got do be broken, crushed, destroyed.  Turned to rubble and a new, fresher self put into place.  It won’t be perfect the first time, or the hundredth time, or ever, but it can always be better, and at the very least must be different, than the rubble under its feet.

So keep with your lists, knowing that they’ll always be replaced, augmented, massaged, whited-out, ripped in half, abandoned.  But always look, act, and be busy.

Stop tripping over wires.  Where does it end?  Hell, this is where it begins.  Start with that fucking NIC card.

Left the Falcon at Wheaton Regional Park, then followed the Sligo Creek to Colesville Road.  Hit the deck soon thereafter.

[gmap]  4.6mi here or there.

[gallery]  Distinct photographic evidence of Jill’s excitement.