1-31-01

Met Sue for a lunchtime walk today at the Mountaineer's clubhouse, which incidentally, is where we met 24 years ago. As we hiked up the hills, arm in arm past the familiar old Victorian mansions, I reflected back on the passage of time.

"It seems unreal that we've been hiking these two hills for this long", I said to Sue.

"Well, we have," she replied matter of factly.

"It seems like a long time to us, but our parents can look back three times as far...I suppose that's just part of getting old." I said.

    My still life painting is getting difficult. It got off to a great start in black and white. But now that I am putting the color in I am having problems. My eye for color is rusty. Local colors don't work. One has to pick colors that are correct in value but wrong in hue. The hue is determined more by what looks good than by what is really there and my eye for what looks good is out of practice. Sunday Sue and I rollerbladed around the lake, or, rather I rollerbladed and she ran beside me. When we got back we got on our bicycles and explored a back road route for Clint to get to his dirt jumping area while avoiding the highway. It had been 10 years since we'd been that way but found it dog free and 10 minutes quicker. Once we got to the jumps, we rode in and took a gander at the track. He and his friends have built 10 jumps in a figure eight pattern. We watched Clint ride them from a distance. Using only pedal power he flew up into the air over the first jump, then on the the next jump and the next. I don't know what to compare it to. Perhaps watching porpoises leap in and out of the water in front of a sailing yacht. You see them pop up out of the water with effortless grace, over and over, up and down seeming to defy gravity. He is really quite amazing.

1-27-01

Everyone is gone. Clint is out building a new bmx dirt jumping track several miles away on the property of a friend who has 5 acres. Sue has seen it and tells me they have more than 9 jumps now with more in progress. My laptop is crashing repeatedly for no apparent reason. For the last two days I have been eating only at dinner. I enjoy the feeling of a semi fast. My mind gets a clarity that is pleasant. I've been doing some thinking about how to loose weight. We have a reasonably complete home gym out in the garage. Clint has a huge set of free weights, both his own and hundreds of pounds of large weights the neighbor loaned him. Sue and I have a Marcy Bodybar gym bolted to the wall. It has a series of cables running up to a pull down bar and down to a leg apparatus. There is also a bench press built in so one can disable the cable and press up directly on the 2 foot high stack of weights. We also have a Schwinn Aerodyn exercise bicycle. This is the heavy duty professional model one sees at the YMCA with arm levers. Last but not least is the Sears electric treadmill. We began acquiring all this stuff in the late 70's when we decided that the YMCA's monthly dues were too high. I knew that I might have to work out in the evenings once I settled in to my new sit down job. Now the reality has hit me in the face. I either have the willpower to be fit or I can resign myself to blimping out. It has occurred to me that if I spent the amount of time I spend working on this web site working out in our gym, I could shake the weight in a month. Perhaps I could do both. I enjoy developing this site but there is a danger of writing about life instead of living it.
      I looked at my w2 this morning. Since I got laid off from my good printing job up in Seattle 4 years ago, my income has dropped from 43k to 24k a year. Sue's has slowly risen to around 19k. She could make a lot more but enjoys the freedom of summers off from her school district job. This summer she has agreed to work part time to help pay for the new roof we need. My income was very low this year due to only working part-time while I was in college. Things should get steadily better now that I am employed in my new "high tech" career. I met my friend G. from college at the espresso gallery where my paintings are hanging yesterday. She has gone to work for the college as a lab assistant. She is the second classmate who has done that. I personally wouldn't feel very confident doing that. I would like my instructors to teach from experience rather than simply repeating what they had been taught in school. There is a danger of something akin to inbreeding when the teachers are simply graduated students. The Mountaineers club works that way. The first year I was learning the ropes. The next years I was teaching. Looking back, I shudder as I remember teaching my students how to tie a back up knot in their rappelling safety line. We were setting up a rappel off a mountain in the Cascades. I had the student tie in his backup safety line using a double bowline. When he got down, he looked at his knot and found it had come untied. I was not qualified to teach yet. On the other hand, I can remember my instructor in college telling me that they couldn't find teachers. All the qualified candidates were gainfully employed elsewhere and unwilling to take the cut in pay required to teach in a technical college. I've already worked out with weights this morning...think I'll go wash and wax the van before trying out my new rollerblade wheels, the grime is 3 months deep.

1-27-01

Big, big numbers stared up at me from the scale this morning. I am getting fat in my new sit down job. I weigh 173 pounds right now on my five foot nine frame. I should weigh around 154. In my climbing prime in my twenties and early thirties I hovered in the low 150's. Until I hit thirty, I could eat like my stomach was a bottomless pit. Since then, I have managed to stay in the low 160's while still allowing myself the pleasure of eating a full meal for dinner. The constant movement of running a printing press during the week, and our climbing and skiing trips on the weekend maintained a trim figure. That was the picture when I started college in the fall of 1999; 166 pounds (a little fat) but still in reasonably good control to where I could shake off enough of it to feel good climbing shirtless in the summer. But then I entered that bizarre 9 month period when I would get dizzy every few days.
     I still wonder what brought the dizzies on...was it the stress of working my way through college or was it just that my number had come up? A doctor diagnosed it as Meniere's disease and prescribed a no salt diet and an anti-water pill. The combination of the vomiting from the dizzy attacks, the new diet and the water pill caused my weight to drop 18 pounds in two weeks down to 148. I could wear jeans from my early twenties. By the time I got over the dizzy attacks 9 months later, Sue and I had figured out how to prepare food without salt. My weight was back up to the low 160's and I was still taking the anti water pill per my doctors orders. A month ago, I decided to stop taking the anti water pill for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was Sue's insistence that it was hard on my heart. A couple days after I stopped taking the pill, I had put on ten pounds. It didn't seem fair. Suddenly, through a combination of poor eating habits, a sit down job and the lack of a pill I had ballooned to 174 pounds. I tried walking it off on the hills of downtown Tacoma but my tired old knees packed in. I try to eat less at meals but don't seem to have the discipline required. When I get out of the shower, I am disgusted with what I see in the mirror. I don't know what to do...I can't afford to join the YMCA. It's got to be a free home cure. For starters I could take my fat butt off this computer and go for a bike ride.

1-24-01

Driving out of the parking garage after work tonight I saw a familiar face getting into an old pickup on the third floor. T sat 3 chairs down from me in college. He was among the first in our class to get a job...and keep it. It was fun shooting the breeze with someone with whom I have so much in common. Although, really, the main thing we have in common is a desire to have a steady job in an up and coming field. We are both still the new guy out of college. T's advantage is that his mind is young and fresh, while there are days when I worry about the truth of an old saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks". It was reassuring to see someone else in the high tech business besides me driving an old beater. I have my Palm Pilot content looking pretty smooth finally. It's ready for review. It will be fun to see what kind of changes they ask me to make.
     During my commute and while painting out in the garage I've been listening to a great talking book by Elizabeth Lowell called...Reckless Love. I know, it sounds like one of those trashy romance novels one sees in the checkout line at Safeway. All I cared about was that it started with an action scene and kept going. I've read so many high brow books my back teeth are floating in culture. There's nothing like a good action book to take your mind off a bad commute. Heading out to the garage for a session at the easel is another great use of a talking book. Do any of you remember English class in high school? I had several excellent teachers who would read classic novels to us day after day until the book was finished. I can remember the whole class groaning as she announced she would once again be reading for the whole period. But, after a page or two an earie calm would come over the room as, one by one, her soothing voice would calm even the delinquents into a dreamy state of...what is the right word... entrancement isn't too far off. One week it would be "For Whom the Bell Tolls", the next, "The Grapes of Wrath". It was a seductive introduction to the wonders of literature. I have found talking books excellent for painting still lifes as well. Without the gentle breezes and sunshine of on location painting to inspire me and take my mind off the work day, I need the distraction of a good story. It silences the critic in my head and lets me enjoy the magic of painting.

1-23-01

My muse is back! I have a good start on a still life painting out in the garage. I've put together some of my favorite actors from previous still lifes along with the new lead duck I picked up in an antique store last week. I am still working out the drawing in black and white. It's an exciting stage of the game. I love the simplicity of doing the under drawing in black and white charcoal. I can concentrate on drawing the shapes accurately and getting the values of dark and light down, without having to worry about color...or hue as we say in Photoshop.
     It's kind of funny, here I am, capturing an image the 400 year old way when I have a perfectly good digital camera. I could walk out there, take a few bracketed shots and have a perfect image on screen or paper in 5 minutes. But this still life painting will probably take me up to 15 hours. Once a painting is started, I can work on it whenever I have a spare half an hour. It's comparable to being part way through a good book. Except this book is one I am writing myself. I suppose one could say the same thing about keeping an on-line journal...It's all part and parcel of being a "Creative Type".
     I've been enjoying designing a web site at work for the Palm Pilot. I finished the basic site today. All the content is there and the links are working. Unfortunately, I did most of it before I knew the correct tags required for proper display. To see how my work looks, I have to run an executable file on my bosses computer. It brings up a dialogue box that asks where I want to build a .pqa file. I navigate to the folder where the web site is kept, click on the index file and it goes to work. If any files have duplicate names,an alert box pops up with the name of the bad dup' file or the specific line number of the anchor tag that is unsatisfactory. Once it likes what it sees, it builds a file called index.pqa which I hot sync to my bosses Palm Pilot. Finally, I pick up the Palm, carry it to my desk and surf the site, observing how my html is behaving in the strange little on board browser. It's not the high tech web design I've been trained for, but it's still pretty cool to navigate on the miniature screen.

1-20-01

Ran a bunch of errands today. While walking back to my car from the bicycle shop, I looked in the window next door at all the women getting their nails done. I've always wondered about the fetish women have for perfect nails. Is it the influence of the "back to nature movement" I experienced in my formative years, or are these women focusing on the superficial? If they go there for the lavish attention and the personal interaction, I could understand. But I think most of these women genuinely believe they need perfect nails. On the other hand, I could benefit from a little of that concern over appearance.
     In order to give my blown out knees a break, I've been prowling the antique stores downtown near our office on my lunch breaks, searching for a pretty knickknack to put in my still life painting. Walking around the furniture floor of Sanford Antiques I kept coming face to face with myself in huge old European gilt mirrors. I wasn't pleased with what I saw. Looking back at me in the mirror was a shabbily dressed middle aged man wearing a hodgepodge of cold weather gear. The grimy insulated hat was 15 years old, the long ear flaps showing old stains in the pile from the many cross country ski trips and long evenings around campfires. The thickly insulated ski parka had been purchased in a close out sale 8 years ago and features the same detergent resistant stains in the light blue nylon lining. All of my clothes have had to serve double duty over the years as both climbing/skiing clothes and city clothes. The antique mirror was full length and priced at $4000.
      As my eyes roamed down my reflection, I saw with dismay that the second hand Dockers I had purchased for six dollars in college didn't fit at all with the high waisted aging ski parka. To complete the package I was wearing my sons 3 year old running shoes. Sue had cleaned them up in the fall after he outgrew them, but white is not a good color for an active person with only one pair of shoes. All of my attitudes about clothing and appearance formed in high school where we showed our disdain for "material possessions" by wearing the oldest most tattered clothing we could find at the goodwill. Those attitudes were all fine and good in the rough and tumble world of climbing and working on machinery as a pressman. But now that I work in an office, I'm beginning to wonder if I should at least get a new warm coat, if not a whole new wardrobe. Clients come in regularly, and while many of them are dressed casually, most are at least dressed in new casual clothes.
      When I got up this morning, Lisa had the inauguration on our little 10 year old 15 inch second hand TV. I watched for a half an hour as the presidency changed hands. I think my old foreman G. was right. Gore lost the election because he was too testy. Bush seems so genuine. He is either an awfully good actor, or the real deal. I didn't vote for him, but watching him stand in the cold January rain this morning giving his acceptance speech as the cameras panned back and forth from his father to his wife and two very normal looking college age daughters, I couldn't help but warm to the guy. He really seemed to believe in the inspiring words he was speaking. This country could use a good leader. Later, at breakfast I was joking with my wife about how in the 8 years George Bush went from being the presidents son to the president, I merely went from swing shift to day shift, losing 5 dollars an hour in the process. Looking back at those years of swing, I'll have to say that I have no regrets. We had a lot more money but my quality of life was the pits.

1-16-01

My job has been getting extremely complex. I've been assembling a web site that is over 90 megabytes in size. It consists of around 4 or 5 smaller web sites all gathered into one huge combined and cross linked site. Daily, my mind overflows with the sheer volume of information I am trying to keep straight. All the while, as I link it together, the customer sends us a stream of emails and phone calls, checking my work remotely by the hour, changing the links that anchors point to, changing the text on the buttons, adding buttons, deleting buttons, deciding at the last minute to incorporate another web site into the behemoth and requesting us to cross link it with the existing content. Meanwhile, as the updates come in, I get further and further behind on the previous updates until I loose track of what changes have been made, or requested. I paw through the paper trail, searching for a thread of logic.
     The huge site is navigated with a 15 page word document, listing each click as the portable site is demonstrated before audiences by the client. Several times during the day I put my head in my hands as my mind overloads and blanks out. Back when I was in printing, we all knew this came with the territory. But this is my new career, my "future in high tech". It's ironic to find that the most important skill required in my new career is good old fashioned common sense and patience. When we get a breather after this one is delivered, my boss has asked me to completely reorganize the file structure, using a large site map to arrange all the files in a more orderly tree structure. Something we would have done at the start if we'd had more time and known beforehand just how large this project would be. I will have to take part of the blame as well. I simply don't have the experience yet to properly design the structure of a mega site. Now that I've built one the hard way, I have a much clearer idea.

1-15-01

I've just come in from the garage. The urge to paint is growing on me. It compares well with falling in love. One gets little tingles of anticipation of the upcoming pleasure. And, as with love, it's not something one can do well in a hurry. Especially when one hasn't painted for over a year. Ever since the pieces of my life started coming together again, I've been aware that my muse might return. In fact, I have been patiently waiting for it. I've learned that it is a reclusive soul. Under stress, it runs and hides from the light of day. Tonight, I set up my easel with a small sheet of paper (never think big when you're rusty) and began arranging the still life objects in my light box. I also framed a small landscape I found banging around out there in the chaos of our garage, gym, studio.
      
On finishing for the evening, I was on my way out when I noticed Clint's 4 year old hamster crawling slowly around his cage on his lame leg. It's so sad to watch them get old and die. Lisa's hamster died last year of an in grown tooth. This one looks to be simply fading away from old age. There are some disturbing parallels with our own lives in the accelerated life cycles of pets. I fell once again to pondering Paul's death. I wish I could have gone to see him before he died of cancer. I am unsure why...is it just a rite of passage to say goodbye to ones friends when they get sick? Or was I wishing to gloat in some primitive way over my healthy body compared to his sick one? He is the first close friend I've lost to the great unknown. Well, Grandma died 5 years ago, but she was 99. Paul was 45. One hell of a difference. Grandma was ready to go...had been ready to go for the last 20 years as she kept up the old family home with her poodle. My dad took her dog when she died but it greived so much it hardly moved from the laundry room where my dad kept it's bed. My aunt and uncle took it over to Leavenworth to try and cheer it up but with little success. We all missed Grandma, but compared to the poodle, our grief was minimal. I think they finally had to put it down. Something about it not eating...I am getting fairly maudlin in this entry. Our xmas poinsettia is still bravely blooming on top of the wood stove. We'll have to light that one of these days, especially with electric rates soaring this season. Alder lake reservoir up at Mt. Rainier is completely bone dry. Nothing but stumps and mud.

1-13-01

It looked like an accident up ahead on the ramp. There was a a car stopped on the shoulder, three quarters of the way down the on ramp with a state patrol car behind it, blue lights flashing in the early morning light. As I neared the scene, I looked to my left and saw a gap in the crawling traffic. It was a little early to merge, but considering the accident immediately ahead on the narrow shoulder, I turned on my blinker and merged in. Immediately, the door on the immaculate white state patrol car opened and a stern officer walked out onto the freeway pointing at me and indicating I should pull over in front of his other victim. As I sat there waiting for him to finish ticketing the other driver, I wondered what I had done wrong. 10 minutes later, he walked up to my window.
 
"What we are doing here is trying to make people aware of the laws regarding merging traffic. We've had a string of accidents here from illegal merging."
 
"What did I do wrong", I asked.
 
"You drove over the solid white line when you merged onto the freeway," he said.
 
"Is that illegal?" I asked innocently.
 
"Yes sir that is."
 
Thinking about my son, studying for his drivers ed class in high school, I said, almost to myself," I probably need to study up on my drivers ed."
 
He bristled at that, and gestured with the aluminum clipboard full of unwritten tickets, never taking his hand off his holstered gun, "I could make that happen sir. Tell me, what do you think that solid white line means?"
 
"Ah...I think it means caution, you're supposed to cross it with caution," I ventured, trying to remember my drivers exam thiry year ago.
 
He took a step back, sizing me up, a combative gleam coming into his young ex marine countenance. "Sir, you are starting to worry me. Tell me; what do you think a double yellow line means, in the middle of the road?"
 
"Oh, that means do not cross."
 
"How about a solid yellow line on your side and broken on the other side?"
 
"That means don't pass, like on a curve," I replied quickly, thinking about the hot dogs who break that law on my daily commute to work. Observing his flushed face and beady blue eyes staring intently into mine under his white stetson cowboy hat, I had time to wonder if he'd had one to many lattes before he popped his next question:
 
"What about when the yellow line is broken on your side and solid on the other?".
 
"That means you can pass, but use caution", I replied. Thinking fast, and sensing that I was about to get my first ticket in 24 years, I leaned out the window and looked back at the scene of the crime.
 
"You know, I think I knew in the back of my mind it was illegal to cross the white line, but I saw you parked up here, with your lights flashing. I figured it was an accident and that I should give you room, in case you or someone else was injured and stepped out into the road. I merged into traffic early to avoid what looked like a possible accident."
 
He seemed to calm down after that and asked for several more pieces of paper work: the insurance card, the license tabs receipt, apparently hoping to find I was breaking more of his precious laws. Sadly for him, everything was in order and he held his ticket clipboard up to the window.
 
"You see this sir?"I looked and saw a form with $75 dollars written on it under a name and address.
 
"I am giving you a warning. But the guy before you wasn't so lucky."
 
As soon as I got to work, I got called into the office. It was nothing too serious, but coming on top of the combative redneck from from the state patrol, it added up to a stressful morning. It should have been my rest day, but I walked the hills again at lunch to work off some tension. On Friday I met Sue at the North End hill for another walk at lunch. It was my 5th aerobics work out of the week. My knees are pretty well packed in.
 
I've been designing for a Palm Pilot at work. One of our customers wants an existing web site converted to PDA format. It's quite a challenge to convert a site designed for 1024x768 down to 150 pixels wide. Images can't be more than 2 bit: black, white and two shades of gray. No Javascript, frames or nested tables. Only one default font with only a few sizes allowed. I've been researching it on the net a little and have seen it compared to designing for the Macintosh, 1986 vintage with a 150 pixel wide screen. There is software available that enables one to emulate a Palm Pilot on ones desktop for testing code. Unfortunately one has to jump through numerous hoops (including downloading a PDF, signing it and sending it off snail mail for review) on Palms web site before one is allowed to use the software. I have no idea why they have to make it so hard to write web pages for their product. These pictures are new to this web site. I found the paintings under the bed while looking for something else.

1-10-01

Rollerblading was cold today in the North wind whistling down from Canada. Not surprisingly, I was the only rollerblader on Ruston Way at lunch hour. I had trouble getting my rhythm going bucking the wind. Skating on my lunch hour is a tight enough squeeze without fighting a head wind. Stepping out of the building earlier I was surprised to see bright blue sky with a taste of frost in the air. I immediately thought of my skates in the car. I had walked the day before so I knew my knees couldn't handle the hills again. But the skates...I could do some cruising. Getting from downtown to the skate path on Ruston way and putting on my armor and skates takes 15 minutes. I usually skate 15 minutes North along the path, figuring I then have a half hour left to return to the car, take my gear off and get back to work by the end of my hour. It's a blast to warm up enough to shed my warm coat while all the walkers are bundled up for winter. When I turned around I found the wind was behind me and was able to get back to the car in record time. Some of the side walks were still damp from last nights rain. The mountain was crystal clear 50 miles away. I tried to get a better look by skating out on one of the public docks but the wet wooden planks were impassable on my skates.
    Sunday I stopped in to see my old boss G. from my printing job. He lives nearby and had my old bb gun. We always have a lot to talk about as we've both spent most of our adult lives in the printing business and share a common interest in parrots. He has 3 noisy conures. On first entering the house they get nervous and scream constantly. After an hour of looking at his guns and talking printing they quieted down and began playing under the covers on the couch. Apparently crapping on the couch cover isn't good enough. They like to get underneath to the virgin material. One bird is bad enough, I have no idea how he can stand having 3, especially when they scream at earsplitting volume whenever strangers come over.
    My friend M. L. called me to say that the press release she submitted to the Peninsula Gateway newspaper about my 14 paintings at the Kimball Gallery had been published. I plan to buy a couple copies on my way to work. She said they published 2 pictures and included part of my biography. That will be fun to see. I've been very busy at work writing a 13 page word document mapping out the buttons to click on as one travels through a huge web site I put together from pieces of 5 different existing web sites. Figuring out the logic trail has been a real learning experience. I went from completely confused and frustrated to calmly troubleshooting in 3 days. It reminded me of a really long and hard printing job. Frustrating at the start but satisfying at the end. I heard a rumor I may get to do some designing for Palm Pilots when we wrap up the current project. I have heard that is the wave of the future.

1-6-01

Went for a bicycle ride this morning. I was disappointed to see all the guard dogs staying within their yards. I had my new bb gun in my pocket and was hoping for some action out on the road. It looks like they have finally learned that aerobic exercisers can bite back. When I got back I worked an exercise in the Photoshop Wow book before heading in to check out the show my friend ML hung for me at the Kimball Gallery and coffee shop in Gig Harbor. I have about 14 paintings covering a 40 foot wall in the coffee lounge. I had never been in before except to buy the occasional latte. They have an entire room filled with tables and luxurious couches where caffeine hounds can sit and enjoy their lattes. A group of my artist acquaintances has hung their paintings on the opposite wall.
    I ordered an Americano for a change. I assumed it would be something chocolate and rich. Instead I got a boiling cup of plain coffee. My tongue is still hurting from the scalding. I am out of practice with fancy coffee. In the past I used to buy one every day...until I realized I was spending $70 a month on coffee.
    These pictures are some shots I took of the armored minidisc carrier I just finished building to protect my son's Christmas present. We were worried he would blow a landing at a skate park and jam a handle bar into it. I've always enjoyed the challenge of inventing something that doesn't exist. This project made me wish I had some sheet metal tools. One sixteenth inch aluminum sheet metal is tricky to bend by hand. I was so proud of it I took these pictures with my Olympus D-460 digital camera. To get control of the lighting I used a large cardboard box lined with black velvet. I cut a 10 inch hole in one side, taped a sheet of tracing paper over the hole and shined my spotlight toward the set up through the tracing paper. I had to manually set the cameras automatic white balance for incandescent. The tracing paper took the hard edges off the highlights and gave me a soft, diffused lighting on my subjects. To fill in the shadows I leaned a piece of white cardboard off to the right, just out of the frame. Here is a high resolution version of the last (and best) picture.

1-5-01

I've not written for almost a week. I'm not sure what caused the big lapse. A couple nights this week I was so frustrated with computers I only turned on long enough to check my mail. I've also been getting 14 paintings ready for a show that hung on Wednesday. Over the last two days I've been absorbed in a huge project at work for our biggest client. We seem to get at least one of these a week. They come in as 10 page word documents with screen shots of existing web pages that need to be taken from various places on our server and combined into a new web site. These new web sites are quite large. This one I worked on over the last few days is at least 50 pages with over 800 individual files including the images. Where it gets confusing is in the file structure management. We take large chunks of existing web sites and copy all the files over to new directories we create on the server. My boss pointed me in the general direction and left me to it. I promptly forgot most of what he told and blundered away, getting more and more confused by the hour. He had given me some general instructions on file management that I applied rather loosely to put it mildly. My mind seemed overwhelmed by the immensity of the task. I got frustrated with my overwhelmed mind and sat there steaming, at a complete halt. The screen might as well have been a brick wall. Should I just walk out and fall back into printing? I pondered it for a few painful minutes. I asked for help a couple times but my mind seemed to be too far gone to absorb anything. Finally I gave up and went home, it was quitting time anyway.

The first thing I did in the AM was make a site map. That way I could at least find the files I had already worked on. It also eased some of the confusion by giving me a paper trail to follow as I navigated the directories and sub directories looking for the various peices of the puzzle I had to fit together into a working web site. My boss gave me some excellent file management advice, even creating 6 of the directories for me so I could more clearly see his concept. His idea worked great and gave me a system to run with. By the end of the day today I had it working perfectly.

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