In response to spudart's post Counting by tens instead of ones: What if we were on a planet where it took (or if Earth took) 100 of our normal days to make a full revolution around the Sun? When you had been around for 10 of our current years, you'd actually be over 36 years old.

People could live to be over 365 years old!

Obviously, since it's been about 3 and a half months since my last post, I'm interpreting the word "daily" very loosely.

Here's a quick update of what's happened since my last post:

• A few weeks before my birthday I started looking at houses that were for sale. (this would have actually started before my last post, but I'll allow it)
• On my birthday (March 26) I put in an offer on a house I really liked (still like), and it was accepted. It fits me pretty perfectly.
• May 10th I closed on the house and started moving stuff in less than a half hour after signing all the paperwork.
• This week Tuesday and Wednesday (July 2nd and 3rd) I had the old shingles removed and replaced.
  I knew I would need to do this when I bought the house, the shingles were still intact, but they were definitely at the end of their lifespan.
  …Unfortunately, I mentally estimated a replacement cost that was just a couple thousand short of reality. But whatever.

Right now I'm trying to come up with ideas for web sites/services that would be useful and possibly generate some income.
I think the most useful one right now involves providing info to bands about music venues.
But if you have any suggestions for passive income sources, let me know!

I had a really weird dream last night.
Everyone I knew was getting the brand new super-hyped cell phone. It was all the media was talking about. I felt I had to switch just because everyone else was. Everyone had this phone and said it was the greatest thing ever. But at no point did I actually see one. I never saw anyone using one, never saw an actual picture, nothing.

So I bought one. It had to be activated before I opened the box, I would have to switch carriers and port my number over (something I just did in real life), so there would be no going back (easily at least).

I bit the bullet, opened the box, and inside was a whoopee-cushion with an ancient Nokia candybar phone inside it.

And then I noticed all the people walking around with whoopee-cushions held up to their heads.

I think it's been about a year and a half since I stopped using Pandora and switched to Spotify.

In an attempt to lazily build a new playlist, I thought I'd give Pandora and its magic song-picking algorithm another shot – I'm off to a slow start, but it's still going much faster than if I had to actually think of songs and curate them myself.

I have a bit of a beef with Pandora though:
They don't display the title of the current playing track in the browser title!
Looking at the browser tab and seeing "Pandora Internet Radio – Listen to Free Music You'll Love" is not terribly handy.
Looking and seeing "Awesome song – Some band I've never heard of | Pandora" would be so much more useful.

This has always bugged me, and I think I've been using Pandora since at least early 2006. I think that puts the chances of this feature ever being added at just under 0% – which means that I'm satisfied with the number of songs I've found using Pandora… it's right back to Spotify for me.

And, because apparently the Universe doesn't feel I've gone through enough right now…
Jury duty.

"Afraid" and "Sad" are two of the last things my dad wrote, eyes closed, Sunday while recovering from surgery earlier that morning. I had gone home the night before, and got back to the hospital shortly after the surgery was completed. I guess he had spoken a little after the surgery, but by the time I saw him, he was trying to write letters on my arm and chest with his finger. The only thing I could make out was "I love you" and after awhile I had to apologize to him for not being able to understand what he was trying to write. I told him I knew how frustrating it was to not have me understand him, and he put his fingers together and made a writing motion. It took the nurses forever to find me a clipboard and pencil, and most of what he wrote was illegible, but asking him to hold up 1 finger if I got the word right, and 2 if not – I could read those 2 words. Afraid. Sad. I told him not to worry and to get some rest. He gave me the pencil and that was the last I saw him responsive.

I know most of the people that somehow happen across this blog have no idea who me, or my dad, are… so this post is mostly for me. I feel lost and don't really know who to talk to, or what to say. And I feel that if I don't write something down, I'll forget things. Forgetting anything about my dad seems as scary as losing him in the first place.

My dad had a stroke Saturday morning. Around 5am. My brother was up and talking to him while it happened, and being an EMT realized what was going on and called an ambulance immediately. Life felt like it was going in slow motion. Nothing was real. Every night I've gone to sleep knowing that I'd wake up and be able to tell my dad about the horrible dream that I had. Sunday morning I had even woken up thinking that he was asking me if I wanted anything for breakfast – that split second that my brain had tricked me was probably the happiest moment of my life – followed by the crushing realization of.. reality.

From the moment he got to the hospital, everyone was optimistic. The doctors were very positive that everything would be ok, and that because it had been caught right away, a nearly-full recovery was not out of the question. But it seemed like after every "everything went as well as we could have hoped for", that things were less promising. Looking back, it seems like they were lowering their expectations, and gauging the current situation on that – without really letting anyone know that this "things are looking good" wasn't as good as the last one.

The gravity of the whole thing still hasn't really hit me. Even holding his hand until the very end, I only had glimpses of the pain and sadness that I would end up feeling. Knowing my dad, I think it's more likely that he was trying to tell me not to be afraid or sad for him. He was the strongest, and most stubborn person I know, and the greatest, and I know that even faced with all that, he'd be more worried about me than himself.

And around 10:30pm, January 1st, 2013, I had to say goodbye to him. I miss him so much, and can't imagine my life without him. I don't really want to. I shouldn't have to. This wasn't fair for him at all.

I love you dad. I love you so much.

Spudart recently posted the following reader request:

Hey, I have a reader request. I am a reader. And I have a request. Thus, I have a reader request. Ready? ahem. mememememe. mememememe. Ready?

I want a blog post where I can talk about how many comments I have. And how many you have. I often talk about the number of comments I have on random blog posts. But it would be really nice to have all those comments under one blog post. Then I can always go to that blog post whenever I want to say something like, "wow. i have 771 comments." Then I can go back and relive the memories when I said, "wow, i have 498 comments." Or some other random number.

So… here is that post. If anyone else wants to talk about the comments they've left, or the number, or whatever. Here. This place. I'll even make it easy to remember by giving it the url "sparxmind.com/comments".