Apple/iPhone/AT&T FAIL

So I headed down to the Apple store in downtown SF this afternoon to get an iPhone 4. I've been on the wait list for months with AT&T and RadioShack, who will buy back my old phone on the spot, but I'm still months away from fulfillment. I was talking to the Apple store on another matter and was told they had the iPhone 4s in stock right now, so I left for the Apple store and planned to meet Skot Land for happy hour. Multiple Muni fails delayed me by an hour, and Skot was kind enough to wait in line for me.

When it was out turn, the Apple dude rang me up in about five minutes, but the discount to Mobile Me didn't register, so he canceled the transaction, and tried to ring me up again. But according to AT&T I just got a new phone (the transaction he just canceled) and so am not eligible for another phone for another two years.

Then came lots and lots of calls to AT&T. AT&T/Apple partners. AT&T Corporate. AT&T local stores. An hour passed. AT&T refused to be helpful and reset my eligibility. The Apple/AT&T liaison spoke to me, and said that there is an entire customer service department at AT&T set up to do nothing but reset eligibility in cases like this, which are common (why they can't just fix their checkout system is beyond me). However, this "customer service" department can't reset eligibility for at least 72 hours. OMFG are you kidding me? AT&T actual can't affect their own records for three days?

Then the Apple/AT&T rep told me they just usually work the the AT&T store down the street, because from the store level computers, they can reset eligibility instantly. WTF? My Apple guy kept trying to call the local store but they would not answer their phone. Other stores refused to assist and only referred him and me to the national call center, who can't make changes for three days. Again, AT&T service FAIL.

Ultimately, the Apple guy decided to just take my ID, new phone, secret info and everything down the street himself and get it done. They do this all the time, no problem. (It seems this eligibility snafu during the purchase process is common.) He said we could just chill around the store or meet him back at the count in 10-15 minutes. Skot had already been kind enough to wait through my Muni nightmare, and wait in line, and wait though all of this crap, just so we could go for 2-4-1s, so I offered to get him a drink in the neighborhood while we waited. Apple dude had my number and would call or text when all was good.

Skot and I went down the block to a dive-ish place advertising cocktails, in theory to avoid hotel bar price points. We stopped into Jack's Grill, which was packed with tourists and claims to be "The Home of the Maltese Falcon."


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My phone had no service, less than a block from the Apple Store. Again, more frustration at AT&T. We came back to the Apple Store around 8:00.

Apple dude doesn't seem to be back yet, no one can tell me anything other than that AT&T is an uncooperative partner, my phone is dead, and I am approaching rage levels. So Skot and I sidled up to an iMac to blog this, and express my frustration. It's been two hours. The process from front of line to exiting the store could have been five minutes without the frustration from AT&T.


Grr.

Update: Dude is back. The manager at the local AT&T store refused to help him. First he service-blocked to keep another employee from helping him. Then flat out lied saying they can't do that or access my account from there. They do this all the freaking time. I spoke to a half-dozen Apple employees who have dealt with this same issue at that same store repeatedly without incident. The AT&T employee even started to show the manager how to fix it and was shut down. Then the manager said I had to be there in person, even though there was an Apple guy, done this before, in uniform, with my ID and papers and everything, and the AT&T online account notes indicated all of this, with my permission and the manager continued to refuse service. The Apple guy tried to call and text me to come over in person, but by then AT&T had deactivated my existing phone because the system thought I was using the new one they wouldn't let me purchase! Again, AT&T FAIL!

Is having an iPhone really worth suffering through AT&T? No, clearly it's not. Sure, our experience in SF is that their actual phone service sucks beyond all competent measures, but to add the insult to injury of aggressively offensive customer service? If so much of my life weren't so fully integrated with the Apple platform, I'd be out in a heartbeat.

Just yesterday some frustrated iPhone users were saying that we use the iPhone less as a cell phone and more as a portable computer so that AT&T's miserable service was just an annoyance rather than prohibitive. Now I'm rethinking that assessment.

Especially when I heard that one of the reasons the Manager refused to assist was that it was quarter to closing time and he wanted to leave. He actually said as much. So that when I met up with Apple guy at 8:03, it was too late to do anything about it.

So now my levels of frustration are off the scale-incredibly frustrating trip downtown, hours wasted in the store, missing our happy hour appointment, spending $20 for two vodkas while waiting to fix a $30 error, and having a simple electronic switch turned into a bureaucratic nightmare by a behemoth tech company that seems to, from the CEO to the personal level, make it their stance to screw their own customers at every turn because they can.

Finally (finishing this at home now): I have to go down to AT&T in person, myself tomorrow and argue that they reset my iPhone eligibility. Then go back to the Apple store, where they said they could not hold a phone for me but there "should be enough," and pay through the nose for the new iPhone 4 and go through this process again. I was hoping for an iTunes card, and asked for a magic trackpad, for all of this hassle. They threw in a year of AppleCare for the phone, which I wasn't going to buy anyway. Meh. (And the trackpad even costs less.)

The worst part of all this though is that it ruined a perfectly good Friday night. I got my wrist and jankle worked on and was feeling good, was excited about a new toy, and looked forward to some cheap TGIF drinks with friends, instead I spent three times as much as I would have, missed the Friday after-work fun altogether, and multiple muni rides. Now my association with the product is nothing but bile.

But at least I got to have fun Skot times and he was great company throughout even though I could not set aside my rage enough to ever relax.

Maybe the shiny new features, once it's all installed and crap, will snap be back to a good mood.

Update 2: Went down to AT&T store today (painful way to spend a sunny Saturday), waited in line, and was finally assisted by a manager who was nothing but smiles and controlled demeanor while dealing with frustrated customers (he has been trained very well, and never once cracked under the unpleasant pressure—I say this to his credit.). However, it really doesn't matter how pleasant the manager was when all he could tell me was that he was incapable of actually fixing my problem, a problem not caused by the customer mind you, but by their own systems. It basically felt like someone was saying, "fuck off and die, we don't have to care because you don't have any choice," but saying it with a smile and a pat on the back. With all of the teabaggers and militia and gang crazy people out there, and the United States' inability to deal with meaningful gun regulation, I am genuinely surprised there is not more bloodshed at AT&T storefronts. And I worry for the few friends I have who are employed by AT&T. Is their corporate plan to inspire so much ire as to create a violent response? Is that some sort of corporate/Republican regulation conspiracy? What the hell is with these people?

I was assured that while they could send a request to reset my eligibility, there was nothing they could do to actually remedy the situation for three business days. Apple has to use an AT&T database to authorize iPhone purchases. But AT&T only updates that database over three business days, and Apple doesn't have any access or authority to override any of the shit it spews out, regardless of circumstance. Some partners.

So now, the AT&T computers at the AT&T store say I am back to being eligible for an upgrade. The AT&T servers required to be accessed by Apple do not. I went back to the Apple store as instructed. My new Apple Dude, Tomas was exceptionally understanding, kind, articulate and competent, and he really spent the better part of an hour trying to do whatever he could to remedy my situation and let me just freaking pay for and leave with an iPhone 4.

AT&T servers repeatedly refused to allow the transaction to continue, claiming I was ineligible. I witnessed this myself on their screens.

Tomas then spent another 15 minutes on the phone with their hotline to AT&T.

Best they can do: I have to come back THURSDAY—yes, a feaking week after I waited in line and tried to buy one the first time, just so AT&T can have time to update my status and allow me to spend my hard-earned dollars on the damn new phone.

If AT&T presumes to be a competent global tech company, they should be able to update their own databases in less than 72 hours three business days.

Oops, I said "competent." Actually, I typed it. If I said over a phone call it would have been dropped by now. Ever since they scuttled Cingular's towers there has been no coverage in my neighborhood. Every time I call or write customer service, I am assured "they're working on it." Empirical evidence does not support that assertion, rather the contrary.

Based on their customer service assertions, I have been conditioned to perceive every communication from AT&T to be not something honest-but-erroneous, but an intentional lie.

Rumors of potential availability of the iPhone on other carriers are just that: rumors. And often easily dispelled. I wonder how many will jump ship, and happily pay for the termination privilege, just to deal with a carrier, any carrier, other than AT&T. And honestly, if fat Luke Wilson shows up talking about AT&T wireless coverage in San Francisco one more time, the nearest San Franciscan will be serving up a bitch slap right quick.

that's just rignorant

From PBS's Need to Know: Palinese: the language spoken only by Sarah Palin.

Including "rignorance;" such as calling for more deep sea drilling in the face of an unprecedented ecological disaster.

Watch the full episode. See more Need To Know.

BP is Creepy

From our friends the Kinsey Sicks:

it all comes out in the Wash

In honor of last night's screening of Serenity, I offer this to Jim, James, and Steve:


And of course it's from my good friends over at ThinkGeek.

[reference]

joining the club

Mau Tani of 77 El Deora posed the question earlier, "Is there an equivalent to the Mile High club for sex in the workplace?"

Some folks gave answers such as "the Conference Room Club" and "Employee of the Week." (Alternatively, others referred to "sex in the workplace" as "wrong" and "lawsuit.")

I think we should refer to having sex in the workplace as "joining the Desk Set."

As in, "I finally got that hot UPS guy alone in my office and totally joined the Desk Set."

in the zone

So NFL players can't celebrate touchdowns with dances and whatnot anymore. What if they start taking lessons from that other football game?

Via Laughing Squid:



Love.

Honky Dore

As I mentioned earlier, Dore Alley/Up Your Alley was its usual low key fetish fun, even though it's getting bigger and bigger each year and is in danger of becoming the mess that if Folsom, whose original scene it was meant to sort of replicate. If you want all sorts of outlandish and debauched photos, head over to Flickr or try an unsafe Google search. I had no intentions of "documenting " this event and even forgot my camera entirely. I did, however, snap a few shots with the iPhone of scenes which amused or provoked me.

So here's some quick observations from my actually lovely day at Dore Alley —

First, here's a cute shot of Matthew.


I believe 99% of the photos ever taken of him are in leather or comic book-related garb. A truly pleasant surprise was hanging out with First Runner Up IML Lance Holman (old friend of the blog) and his IML blue-haired buddy visiting from L.A. and representing Oil Can Harry's, which is our SoCal gay country dance bar.

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Greg cracked me up because even though none of us had flashes on our camera phones, he still managed to have his eyes closed in every shot. Okay, now this is the typical Dore Alley festival goer.
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It's a safe place for not just fetish play, but fetish celebration. Most folks aren't actually all that into whatever fetish garb they adorn, but they are in the spirit and celebrating freedom of kink. This is a leather/sex fetish fair, so really, do you think this is the best street fair for a hipster hat vending booth? I'm thinking "wrong demographic."


WTF? I saw some crazy shit on Sunday, like these feather back piercings,


and I still think that the hipster hat booth was more fucked up. That, and the situation of a site called "cumhunt.com" next to the Stop AIDS booth.

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Then again, Jorge (above right) was there raising money for Stop AIDS by whipping and flogging people who paid to be chained to a post and, well, be flogged at whipped. To each his own. My "fetish" gear was just cowboy garb, and it was nice to walk around this year instead of running a Rodeo-benefiting beer booth. (I did get to spend some time with my boys at the Rodeo exhibit booth.) The man that totally turned my crank was in some subversive fetish wear: a perfectly tailored suit, double Windsor, cuff links, and he wore it well. Other notable sights among the pretty muscle, fur and leather (oh my):

Super hot straight couple, shopping for toys:

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Welt in a perfect handprint shape from a significant slap on the ass:

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The boy that was not only hot but clever—he had rigged just a belt and a bandanna from one hip to hold his business. He posed for me to take a photo when a more professional photographer got in there, took his pics close up, and then began to unwrap his model (so my first shot of the clever little sling is skewed, and overshadowed by the odd masked guy walking by).

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Those photos are set as 'restricted' on Flickr but online if you'd like to see them and have your safety settings off. They will not be posted here (have to keep some semblance of PG-13 here).

Finally, a fun shot of the guys working one of the beer booths. One guy had a serious shiner on his left eye. Check out the name tags.

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Upon closer inspection, the shiner was real. I am hoping the abuse was not.



Update: Michael Smith, local photographer whose images are consistently stunning, has uploaded his views from the day.

illumination of muni movement

Muni Diaries' Jeff Hunt put together this very cool visualization of Muni's movements using real time tracking data for the month of June.



It's like the lava lamp of public transit.

Via the SFist.

Correction from Jeff Hunt of Muni Diaries: "Hi there. Thanks for posting this, but, as much as I wish I had created this nugget of awesome, credit goes to Eric Fischer, who's on Flickr here."

in case you needed it

Here is some cuteness for the day:

Check out the three penguin chicks taking their first dip in the water at the SF Zoo.

Or watch a bulldog and a turtle eat Cheerios together:



Oddly comforting.

For all my library peeps

Someone called this "a blond joke for intellectuals."

I am reminded of the Sesame Street sketch where Cookie Monster visits the library and keeps asking for a box of cookies, which was comedy and educational genius.

Via Alert reader Jeff Javits.

Update: Oh Goodness! The Cookie Monster bit is on YouTube! Happy dance!

I think I'm alone in the bathroom now.

Our dear friend Brain and Jeff have been kind enough to include me in their pool parties this sumer. Their guest bath, which is also the bath pool guests are encouraged to use, is a beautiful wash of Tiffany blue.


Working with this theme, the bathroom is adorned with boxes from Tiffany & Co. as well as a vintage handbag of Tiffany blue, and a frilly dress (perhaps a tutu) of the same blue hue.

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Last week, I brought a little host present and quietly left it in the Tiffany bath for them to discover and enjoy.


They knew it was from me right away.

HYP3D

Like many movie-goers, I am over the 3D movie hype. Avatar aside, 3D these days isn't adding value to the storytelling, just dollars to the price.

Matt Wasser has summed it up for us colorfully with his new t-shirt design at threadless:



Right on.

Scott Capurro should just shut the hell up.

I have never had someone ostensibly trying to make me laugh evoke such hatred in all my life. This "comedian" fills me with nothing but loathing. His status with me starts with the baseline that he's just not funny. From that baseline add the arrogant homo 'tude and the bile meter starts to rise. His only shtick is being the "outrageous gay guy" to bland straight audiences. Sarah and Vinnie (Vinnie just returning from a finally successful stint at rehab) have a popular morning show I also can't abide, mostly because they are so vocal and adamant on matters of which they have no actual knowledge. Mildly entertaining, Sarah and Vinnie are morons with megaphones, but such is the nature of the top 40 radio morning show. But Sarah and Vinnie think Scot Capurro hung the moon and they have their lips firmly ensconced on his ass. Alice (the name of the radio station) books him on air at every opportunity and it always has me crawling at my skin in rage. (Unfortunately in my valley, Alice is the only station my clock radio can receive, other than mariachi music and NPR. Since I don't want to wake up to Spanish language chatter or stories of Middle East unrest, it's Alice or the buzzer).

Capurro is apparently "big in Britain," but no one here finds him all that funny, unless that one is a straight white person titillated by gay stuff. The typical review of his British act is that he riffs on psychotic dysfunction and calls it typical behavior of the gay community, then picks a straight guy and makes him uncomfortable with all the sexy man-on-man stuff he would do with him.

Here's the sad truth for the self-described "gay comic": gay's don't think he's funny. He's embarrassing. And he's sort of fucking it up for the rest of us by exaggerating the over-the-top fetishes of the gay fetish community to conservative white folk and packaging it as true scandal. It's not really funny, and it's certainly not clever. It's hyperbolic gossip. That may be the best description of his act—that he's not a comedian, just a bitchy gossip queen who continues to exaggerate or make stuff up for the attention.

Kevin and I had a theater night last Tuesday (Young Frankenstein, hilarious) and backed it up with an excursion to "Speakeasy" night at Truck. This night requires a password, and patrons are encouraged to check their clothes as an "underwear night." Most do not, but those that look good wearing little often engage. The vibe is intentionally somewhat seedy and gets progressively frisky. The heat is bumped up and some porn label is promoting something, and showing a video against the back wall. It's good, clean salacious fun that can turn into a heavy petting zoo.

This is an underground sort of thing. It's sort of almost a secret sex club sort of idea, but you can also just enjoy having a drink with your friends while various degrees of disrobed debauchery may or may not play out around you. Very uniquely and lovingly San Franciscan. It's a gem, and a special secret sort of fun that everyone recognizes for what it is and either celebrates it or moves on. And it's rather tame by SoMa bar or SoMa street fair comparisons.

Capurro is in town trying to peddle his snake oil, and of course Sarah and Vinnie can't get enough of his trumped-up antics. I imagine Sarah and Vinnie have no other gay friends. When Fernando and Greg had their show on another station (ultimately bought out and canned), they were forced to book Capurro once and, according to the producer I spoke with, got all sorts of irate calls begging them to ban Capurro from ever returning. With other gays at the mic, Capurro just isn't funny, and in his flailing panic he goes for his usually easy money shots of degrading the gay community (or actually successful gay comics such as ANT). When the audience is the gay community, they want him to just shut the hell up. They certainly aren't laughing. If no one is laughing and everyone is cringing, some of them looking for torches and pitchforks, Capurro becomes less of a "comedian" and more of a "douchebag."

I woke up Wednesday last week to Capurro regaling Sarah and Vinnie about his ribald date with some 20-something baby gay who does porn videos and was enamored with Capurro over his six seconds of screen time in Mrs. Doubtfire. After their dinner they went bar hopping and the porn baby wanted to go to Speakeasy night at Truck.

On air, Capurro went off on all the wild sex acts going on at Truck and Sarah and Vinnie gasped, clutched their pearls and begged for more! And more they got, and having actually been there, I would say that 99% of what he described was lies. The bartenders were and never have been naked. Everyone was not naked. There was no sex going on all over the place. Some guys in underpants and with their shirts off? Sure, but not all that many and for most tastes not enough. Some guys venturing some exhibition or touching here and there? Sure, that's what the shadows in a dark bar with a password are for. Wild reckless sexual sadomasochistic abandon? Not even close.

Even with that one grain of truth in the dry desert of Capurro's tale, here's the thing any cool gay person would know and every other fucktard should: The first rule about Secret Club is DON'T TALK ABOUT SECRET CLUB. Here's this neat little underground sexy scene he was lucky enough to be allowed into without the password—it's called "Speakeasy" for a reason—and he exposed and exploited it on the radio for just another 30 seconds of desperately-needed attention.

So now it's gone. It got too much notice. By prudes. And columnists. And the "that's just not proper" alarmists, who then demanded action from the police.

And now what was once an occasional bit of salacious indulgence and slight secret-society thrill is gone. Another jewel of classic and underground San Francisco exposed to raw light and ruined like so much undeveloped film.

It's like the guy whose first thought wasn't "This is so cool that I get to party with Michael Phelps" but rather "I can make some money by taking a photo of Michael Phelps with a bong at a private party." Capurro's first thought wasn't, "This is cool and I'm lucky I got to be a part of this secret society." No, he had to be a dick about it, make it more than it was, shout about it, and ruin it for everyone else.

For all of us who have a sense of frolic, and a sense of humor, I beg you Scott Capurro, just shut the hell up.

Up your alley

Dore Alley was cool but cool this weekend, and I forgot my camera. Good time was had by all. Kevin peaked a little early and made his way home, and I enjoyed the company of IML Lance Holman and his blue haired buddy Greg from L.A. Get all the skanky photos you want from Flickr. I'll upload my little iPhone shots soon.

Second Annual 39th Birthday Party

I finally found a venue, so invitations are going out. The club claims they can hold a thousand people, so I don't have to be skimpy on the invite list. I am hosting an afternoon of country/western dancing, with an 80s music block thrown in. AND 77 El Deora has agreed to play a set or two as well! Unfortunately, it looks like Jenn (female lead singer) won't be able to make it so half of my favorite songs are off the set list.

My budget for this thing is nearly gone after I had to lay out $3,500 for the new transmission. Grrr. But Club Cocomo gave me a good deal on the space, and I won't be hosting the bar anymore so it's just food stuffs I have to deal with.

A full afternoon of drinking and dancing in warm weather in an indoor/outdoor club with all my friends—a great birthday plan!

Poster and invite:

Sci-Fi Wednesday

Jim Rudoff usually hosts a Sci-Fi Friday dinner party at his place. He's participating in another benefit ride soon so I'm hosting a Sci-Fi Wednesday fundraiser this week. 20 bucks gets you dinner, booze, and a big screen blu-ray viewing of Serenity.



I also mocked up this one, but it seemed a little quiet.



Who's in?

PeeDeeBeeDee

Yesterday was PeeDee's birthday. And my Dad's. Happy birthday to Paul Day and Papa John!

Paul Day loves cake.


Fans of Strangers with Candy know who else loves cake.

life's a Stinson

Gabriel Gracita invited a few of up to his new place overlooking Stinson Beach last weekend, which sort of turned into a comedy of errors. To being with, the typical 30-minute trip took me over two and a half hours, mostly due to tourists clogging the way the the Golden Gate and have no clue how to approach or enter through a toll plaza, that does not collect tolls northbound anyway. I wasn't sure what to expect at the beach as during the trip the various neighborhoods and highways I crossed ranged from broiling to sub-zero. I've never had to pop over to a friend's house and have to alternately run the AC and the heater along the way.

It was a "bring your meat" cookout, but Gabriel managed to break his stove the night before, and the grill became non-functioning. So it was a lot of boys with raw meat. Oh look! Wine.

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Of course, with the many mile stretch of 1 merely inches from the cliff's edge and a cold, watery death below, more than one glass was not advised for the drivers returning to the City.

Of course, absence of courses did not mean that a good time was not had by all. I don't know where Brian pulled this wig from, but it was nice for Gabriel to have the same do as his dog.

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I thought Brian looked rather like Bruce Vilanch. Buddah got in on the action too.

While the grill would heat up but not actually cook anything, it really just became a large dehydrator, turning the veggie kabobs into shriveled skins and the sausages into jerky. Much later, sometime, one of the grill's burners did catch, and cooked briefly but fiercely, reducing everything inside to its carbon elements.

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As a final comment in passing, I wanted to note that Gabriel had moved into this place just a week or so prior, and is only staying for seven months until the new owner razes the site for a multi-million dollar new home. Whenever someone displays their video collection, I am reminded of the old theory that you can judge tell a lot about a person by their DVD collection.



I was a little disturbed by all the SVU box sets, but singularly taken with the Thundercats box set. It's right there below Wonder Woman and above Shallow Hal. Make of it what you will. Gabriel says that Lion-O is what made him gay.

rate that quake

Via my Facebook feed, friends were having betting pools regarding the quake rating before it got posted to the USGS site. I love San Franciscans who are that jaded. I think quakes are cool, and do that sort of sideways glance to see how long the shaking lasts before determining if I need to get up and do something about it. Other I know, who shall remain unnamed, get all Chicken Little with every little quake. (Which I suppose is ironic as it is the earth falling, not the sky.)

Ramirez reported that the ratings in his pool ranged from a high of 5.1 to a low of "that was just a fat guy walking by."

Shilpa commented that when you've experienced a BIG quake, all these little tremors are nothing. We both find earthquakes interesting. "Shilpa, "It's interesting, tectonic plates shifting and all of that." I am more of the mind, "It's interesting—the earth moved. It was like, I had it right there, and now it's moved!"

Skot Land had the best comment for all of the Nervous Nellies on Facebook: "Skot Land is laughing at all of you making such a big deal out of a 3.5 earthquake. As a native Californian, let me put it to you this way: a 3.5 is the equivalent of getting a hand shake when you were expecting to get laid."

country pride

There's a sausage joke in there somewhere.

I finally went through a batch of photos the other night and got around to uploading some pics from this year's Pride. Muni again was a big mess of FAIL (two hours to get five stops? An influx of a half a million commuters on a Sunday and Muni doesn't plan for it?), so spent most of Pride Sunday volunteering at the book check at the Sundance Saloon stage. It was a hot and sunny Pride, as usual, and a lot of fun.

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three point five

but almost below my feet. That was a noticeable shove. Epicenter was just off shore, about 40 blocks and a hundred yards west of here.

necrophilia versus beastiality

That's pretty much the "Edward versus Jacob" Twilight challenge. I cannot tell you how much I hate the Twilight books, not so much for the story per se, but for the terrible, terrible writing. Undeadly God awful. And Stephen King is with me on this. How is this such a runaway money-maker?

Oh, right.

While Stephanie Meyer can't write for crap, this guy who made this is a genius.

I just wanna dance with somebody

that is, somebody who loves me.

Brain Farts is a great weekly outlet to chill and enjoy myself, surrounded as I am by witty people such as Pollo Del mar, Skot Land and the Shilpa. And we have begun to really enjoy taking in an hour or so of 80s dancing down the street afterward at Trigger's Testarossa Mondays.


We get so emotional.

cover me

My sister-in-law Emily's family has a wonderful old house on Pickwick Lake, and we've had some amazing family vacations there. I also love the area for taking photos, and shared some with Emily's mother Pat. Pat was particularly impressed with some of my shots, and continues to compliment my eye toward the place. These are some of hers and mine favorites:

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For Mother's Day this year, I printed out several 8x10s of my best shots and sent them in a suitable frame to Pat. She was so touched that I thought of her (I could not admit that I was two years late in finally getting around to having them printed and finding the perfect frame), she sent me a thank-you gift.

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Of course, now I needed to send a thank-you note for her thank-you note and this could quickly have gotten out of control. I sent an e-mail with the pic of me in the hat instead.

So a big shout out to Pat! The Hardcastles are a bit, well, much for Pat's good sensibilities and I love that she loves me even though I am often far, far too much. Sometimes too much can be just right.

Maybe not in a parent, but certainly in an uncle.