Archive for September, 2016

Password Hell

Network security is very important to my client. Each user has a six digit password that is used to log into their VPN. A separate four digit password is entered into a random number generator that produces an eight digit number which is added to the user’s six digit password. The resulting fourteen digit password is authenticated before VPN access is granted.

Yesterday, I started to log into my client’s VPN. I couldn’t remember the first six digits of the password sequence. I panicked. I use this number at the start of every day. How could I forget it? Visions of being shipped off to a memory care facility to finish out my days flashed in my mind.

I made the dreaded call to the IT helpdesk for a password reset. Faced with a thirty-five minute wait for an agent, I hung up and decided to make a cup of tea. With my freshly brewed tea, I sat down at my desk to call IT. I looked at my laptop and I suddenly remembered the password. What’s with that?

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The Woman Is Odd

I hardly ever see my house guest. She works long days for the campaign. My office is a few feet from her bedroom but each day she simply leaves and never greets me. She usgets home after I go to bed.

She always keeps her door closed which is a good thing because her room is a disaster. She must have a hundred bras. There are bras on the bed, on the floor, hanging on the door knob, in the chair and on the dresser. If we are both home during the day she stays in her room with the door closed. I offered to do her laundry since she works up to eighteen hours a day. She told me her mother told her she would lose all self respect if I did her laundry. I launder the bed linens and towels but that must not affect her self respect.

The guest bathroom is a complete mess. She has products everywhere. She wears Old Spice deodorant and has three toothbrushes. Every day she leaves a huge puddle of water on the bathroom vanity. I can’t figure out what she’s doing to get water all over the granite vanity top. No other house guest has ever made such a mess in the bathroom. She said she would clean the bathroom but has yet to do so.

She will not use the toilet paper I provided. I think toilet paper is a luxury so I buy to best I can find. She is using single ply that feels like it came from an airport bathroom in third world country. It’s one step away from sandpaper. She has never put anything in the bathroom waste bin. She keeps a plastic bag in her room for trash that she disposes at some other location.

She showers in the morning and in the evening when she gets home. Her showers average fifteen minutes. That seems a bit long to me even if she’s shaving her legs (do women shave their legs everyday?). Coming from Southern California which often has water restrictions, one would think she would be mindful of her water usage. Water is expensive in Denver. I’m not looking forward to my water bill.

This week I found out she’s been hanging wet towels and clothes on the foot board of the steel bedframe in her room. I’m guessing she did poorly in science classes because most people know that steel will rust. I had to send her a text asking her not to hang wet towels and garments on the bed frame.

She will not park in garage because she’s afraid of hitting my car when she pulls in. She parks her car on the street even though there’s plenty of room in the driveway.

She has not dirtied a dish since she’s been here. She eats all of her meals away from the house. I offered to pick things up at the grocery store for her but she refused my offer. The young man staying at Sheila’s house, who is also a campaign worker, said my house guest is always hungry. I don’t understand why she doesn’t eat when she’s in my house.

The woman is odd. I’m looking forward to the end of the election cycle. I want my house back to myself.

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Disappointment Drive 15

It’s been a while since I took a dating journey. It ended up being another trip down disappointment drive.

A guy messages me online. We text back and forth. His profile says he’s thirty-nine but it turns out he’s thirty-three. I’m not keen on the twenty-six year age. He’s an interesting guy so I continue to chat with him online. He grew up in Austria and moved to the U.S. thirteen years ago. He has a good job, a Volvo SUV and lives in a townhouse in one of the northern suburbs. He wants to get married and have children. I decided the guy could be a friend but not a romantic partner. At this point in my life, I don’t want to raise children, or prevent another man’s dream from coming true.

The guy wanted to meet for lunch. We make plans to meet on Sunday. On Sunday morning, I get a text from the guy cancelling our meeting. He forgot it was 9/11. I asked for an explanation but he didn’t reply. It’s been radio silence ever since.

How odd is that? While every one I know is respectful of 9/11, none of my friends altered their day. Life proceeded as life would on a Sunday. The chance to make a new friend turned out to be another journey down disappointment drive.

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Fashion, Furniture and Fun

Wednesday night, I went to the opening of Shock Wave: Japanese Fashion Design, 1980s–90s at the DAM. The exhibit features clothing designed by Issey Miyake, Kenzo Takada, Kansai Yamamoto, Yohji Yamamoto, Comme des Garçons, and Junya Watanabe. The exhibit shows how Japanese designers challenged the status quo and revolutionized fashion through their reinvention of textiles and silhouettes while influencing younger European designers such as Martin Margiela, Helmut Lang, John Galliano, and Dries Van Noten in the 1990s. The exhibit was packed so I’ll need to go back for a second look.

Last night, Sheila and I went to a cocktail party at the new Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams store in the Cherry Creek Mall. The event was sponsored by the DAM’s Design Council. The store has a very “Manhattan” vibe.

Tonight, there’s a cocktail party at Jean and Bob’s to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. After cocktails, I hope to hit the openings at Michael Warren Contemporary and Walker Fine Art. The weekend will be off to a good start.

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Art Mumbo Jumbo

I saw this at an art opening last weekend:

The exhibit aims to present an anthology of contemporary artists who release the weighty constraints of a historical and magical transformation via artistic practice from one thing to another. The artists in this exhibition are complicit in flimsy ideas of a magical and alchemist-like change through art and aims to lift the veil from isolated artistic genius. The result can be equal to what is put in, with a subtle shift in context through making.

WTF! Can anyone translate this for me? I go to a lot of gallery shows. There’s always an artist statement or curator statement. This one is probably the worst I have ever seen. I think statements like this are one of the reasons why people say they don’t understand art.

I saw no connection between the art and the curator’s statement. I guess I’m not smart enough to understand statement, or it’s just too abstract for my simple mind. When confronted with a mess like this it’s no wonder people shy away from galleries and art shows.

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I’m Glad I Was A Nag

It seems like my weekend started on Thursday afternoon. I met Cindi at the DAM to see the Women of Abstract Expressionism exhibit. I wanted to get her take on it. She loved it! The Helen Frankenthaler works were some of her favorites. Frankenthaler’s art has been a major influence for Cindi. I enjoyed getting an artist’s opinion of the works.

I ran into Kara at the museum. Coincidentally, it was in the part of the museum paid for by her family. Cindi introduced me to Kara many years ago when they had studios in the same building on Santa Fe. Like Cindi, Kara is getting back into painting and creating art.

After the DAM, Cindi and I had dinner at a Mongolian Barbque place in the Golden Triangle. Cindi filled me in on her business liquidation. Things are going well. The city is now paying her $40k to move out of a warehouse they’ve declared eminent domain on.

The last stop of the evening was the Emilio Lobato and Virgil Ortiz opening at Havu. Cindi has known Emilio for years and has always found inspiration in his work. The gallery was packed when we arrived. The show didn’t disappoint. Our evening ended after the gallery.

After work on Friday I worked out with a new trainer. I haven’t worked out with a trainer since my car accident last year. Carlos, my previous trainer, gave me the boot. He’s now the sole child care provided so he works a reduced schedule. The new guy has an interesting approach to training. More to come on this topic. He told me I was in good shape for a man in his forties. He found it hard to believe I was fifty-nine. I had to show him my driver’s license. I’m not sure if he was just flattering me, or if he really thought I was younger.

Paddy was working late on Friday so I hit the galleries by myself. I avoided the first Friday crowd on Santa Fe by hitting the Navajo Street galleries and the opening at RedLine. The most interesting part of the evening was my conversation with Brenda and Tracy at Red Line.

Saturday was spent running errands and doing household chores. I manage to work out even though I was sore from the new trainer’s program. Saturday evening I ended up at the Apple Store as the camera on my iPhone stopped working. Apple replaced the phone at no cost since the warranty had not expired.

Sunday was a lazy day. I slept in, made brownies, ate lunch and took a nap. I didn’t shower until mid-afternoon. I met up with Double A before going to beer bust at The Wrangler’s new location. I ran into many friends I hadn’t seen for most of the summer. It was a lot of fun but most everyone agreed the music was too loud.

Double A and I went to the Walnut Room in RiNo for pizza afterwards. I haven’t spent a lot of time with Double A given our different schedules and the fact that he lives so far north I feel like I’m driving to Montana when I go to his house. It was good to spend time with him. Double A has decided to sell his house and move back into his condo in the city. It will be good to have him back in town.

On Monday, I got a text from Cindi. She thanked me taking her to the abstract show. She also said she can’t believe the looseness of her work after seeing the DAM show and Emilio’s work at Havu. That made me smile and warmed my heart. I had been nagging Cindi for weeks to see the abstract show. Now, I’m glad I was a nag.

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