Category Archives: about me

In the wierd shit moment category

In 1995, while I was still a student at Brown University, my parents were visiting the US. They had arrived in Maryland so my dad could accompany a Greek dignitary during the dignitary’s stay at John Hopkins Medical center. My parents wanted me to come to Baltimore to visit them. So I hoped on a plane and flew down for a couple of days.

Oddly enough, another friend of mine was on the plane. She had called up her dad and said she wanted to come home that specific weekend. Her dad asked why, and she said that she just wanted to. To which her dad replied: If my daughter wants to come visit me for a weekend who am I to say no?

Neither of us knew we were flying together but when we bumped into each other at the airport in Providence we decided to sit together and chat.

When we got off of the plane, we were chatting like old friends. I was about to leave the boarding gate so I gave her a hug. At that point, however, I noticed her mother, father and brother staring at the two of us. The young brother’s mouth was open, the father was pale and the mother was freaking out. At the time I weighed 265 pounds, had hair that went below my shoulders and generally looked unkempt. My friend took me to her parents and introduced me. Her dad then promptly grabbed me by the shoulder and started to grill me. My friend, her mother and brother walked significantly slower behind the dad and I. It was only then that I realized what was going on: he thought I was the reason his daughter wanted to come home. And he was worried that I was a recent addition to his family (and worried that he had a grandchild on the way as well….). His daughter was wearing very baggy clothes so…

When I realized what was going on, I promptly said: I’m here to visit my parents, and I am dating someone who is not your daughter.

The father then stopped walking, re-acquired colour in his face, and seemed significantly less interested in knowing who I was, what my career plans were and what my parents did for a living.

Re-doing the lawn: an update

So it turns out that if you are going to spend 8 hours digging up the lawn during a hot sunny day, you may want to consider devoting the next day to actually planting the seeds.

Once we finished digging every thing up. And then bagging the excess dirt so it could be thrown out. And cleaning up the tools … we had no energy left to actually plant the seeds.

So we did a marginal job of planting seeds.

Okay a poor job.

Turns out that to plant seeds you need to level the ground.

Then put the seeds.

Then add some kind of top soil (not dirt but top-soil).

That would have added 2 more hours to our day… And we were too wiped to contemplate that.

sigh

So I am going to try to salvage the lawn by doing some leveling, some digging, some seed planting and some top-soil depositing.

If that fails… I may have to call in professional help.

Re-doing the lawn.

Ever since I bought my new house, the grass on the front right side as you face the house offended me. The lawn was a weed infested eco-system of bizarre and fascinating plants and very little grass.

The lawn had to be replaced.

My original thought was to replace the lawn with a sequioa tree. However, it turns out that sequioa’s look great, are a symbol of Northern California, and can fall very easily in a quake, will tear up everything in their roots path and in general are a nuissance.

Replacing a lawn is not a simple proposition. First you have to kill the original lawn. Roundup and a bright sunny morning took care of the eco-system. I had to do it twice because I missed a bunch of spots. Two weeks later I had a dead patch of yellow grass.

On the appointed day May 14th, my friend Greg Barr showed up with a roto-tiller, a variety of other gardening tools and a large amount of patience. We started at 10 AM and were confident that in a few short hours we would be done.

Boy were we mistaken.

First we couldn’t use the roto-tiller effectively because we had no idea where the pipes that connected the automatic watering system were. Then when we figured out where the pipes were, I hadn’t figured out how to use the tiller and as a result I kept going over the same patch of dirt over and over again. The sun was a killer as well. It beat down on us relentlessly reducing our effectiveness by about 80%.

We ended up using a roto-tiller, a shovel, a mechanical shovel (sort of like a jackhammer), a pick-axe, a rake and a grass spreader.

6 hours of exhausting work we were done. We had ripped out the old, and planted the new.

After six hours of excruciating hard labour in a hot sun, Greg and I reached for the beer and ate the delightful meal my wife had prepared.

post-script This morning I woke up in excruciating pain. Once I have pictures of the grass on the lawn I’ll share them with folks.

Roasting whole lamb in the land of tofu eaters.

A great Greek Easter tradition is to roast whole lamb on Easter Sunday. Ever since I left Brown University I have been craving that dish. The problem was that for years I had no place to cook it. Living in apartments meant that I would have to find some largish open space that would let me cook a whole lamb over an open fire for approximately 5 hours.

This past August I bought a house. So my wife insisted that we use our large back yard to cook the lamb.

Little did I know that my adventures were about to begin.

To cook a whole lamb you need three essential components, a lamb, a fire pit and a 5 foot long rotisserie spit rod. The lamb was fairly easy to find. Draegers has a full service butcher that as long as you give them a two week warning will find a small whole lamb. The lamb was about 22 pounds in total and cost about 185$.

The fire pit was assembled from cinder blocks. We went to HomeDepot and bought them for a couple of dollars each.

The rotisserie spit rod was damn near impossible to find. In the land of tofu eaters (also known as the bay area) where eating meat is a crime against the animal kingdom and folks spend 100$ for the priviledge of eating raw uncooked vegetables, tools to cook whole animals are not easy to find. And unfortunately, since I’ve never done this before and I only knew the Greek word for souvla, Google was no help either.

I spent weeks on the web scouring for a solution. I found Big John’s how to roast a whole pig web site that had a 5 foot spit rod for sale for the bargain basement price of 250$. I got so desperate that I started looking at stainless steel rods, rebar, aluminium etc. The problem with all of those options was the toxicity of the metals. Rebar is made from recycled steel containing who knows what. Stainless steel may contain all sorts of very very bad stuff.

So out of sheer desperation we bought a 7 foot dowel that was 1″ thick for 8 dollars.

Turns out that it was the right decision.

However, the dowel had to be prepared. You need to pierce the animal and a 1″ flat top has very little piercing powel. So my wife had to wittle the dowel to a sharp point.

With the dowel in hand

and the lamb

we could actually start cooking.

First you have to prepare the lamb. Thankfully Vefa Alexiadou: Greek Cuisine helped. Vefa provided the key information about how to place the legs so that the lamb stayed in place.

My wife did most of the preparation.

But once we had finished preparing the lamb, it was time to cook it!

Cooking a lamb requires patience and good friends. The problem is that you have to continuously rotate the lamb else the juices fall into the fire pit. The lamb either gets burned or worse dries out.

Having friends is critical to cooking lambs. It takes approximately 5 hours to cook and it can be brain numbing work. Every 15 minutes my friends and I swapped. Critical to the whole cooking of the lamb is a well balanced fire and liberally and regularly basting it with a mix of oil, lemon and oregano.

When the lamb is finally cooked you know it’s cooked if removing the meat from the bone does not require the use of a knife. Ideally you should just tap the bones on the table and the meat should just fall off. We were not that good. But close.

Once the lamb was diced, the feasting could begin. Because we’re Greeks just having lamb was insufficient. My wife and her friends cooked spanakopita (Cheese+Spinach Pie), tiropites (cheese pies), mageiritsa (a soup made from the internals of a lamb), dolmades (vine leaves + meat and rice) and a Greek salad.

When everyone had finished eating there was much contentment.

Why Special K?

If you look up Special K in the wikipedia you get four distinct references:

The article Special K describes the breakfast cereal manufactured by Kellogg Company; several additional things have adopted this name, including:

So how did I end up with that moniker?

Here’s the story

In 1998 I was working at SGI (aka Silicon Graphics) in the Kernel group. At the time a Director of Engineering had gone off with a bunch of our principal engineers to go and architect a brand new operating system to address the fundamental buisiness bind that SGI was in.

I was at the time, junior flunky number #456 working on this project.

Since the Director had little faith in my abilities (and I would to given the group I was hanging with), he assigned me to one of the senior engineers.

The engineer and I were supposed to be working on this core testing platform for the new OS (called TestOS).

So in one of our staff meetings, the following happened:
Director: Your status?

Kostadis: Got TestOS to boot.

Director: Good. What was the other guy’s contribution?

And for reasons that I still don’t understand I said:

Kostadis: He supervised me.

That set off the director who ripped into the senior engineer. The senior engineer then decided that I had shown too much mouth and he had to get back at me. So the next morning, upon arrival at work, I discovered that all of my bugs had been re-assigned to “specialk@sgi.com”.

Since all bugs at SGI went to one newsgroup, that the entire company monitored, it was equivalent to telling the world kostadis’ nickname is specialk@sgi.com.

For years I fought against the nickname. But as we get older some things that were not funny in the past become funny again…