How to format a hard drive for Mac OS X

This video post was inspired by two conversations I had with (on the subject of Time Machine backups) and (with two video files that wouldn’t copy onto a drive), so be sure to thank them if this helped you!

Here’s the video:

Here are the steps:

  1. Connect the drive to your Mac and power it up.
  2. If there is data on the drive, copy it to another drive. This will erase the data on the drive.
  3. Launch Disk Utility, either by using Spotlight, or by using Finder’s Go menu, selecting Utilities, then double-clicking Disk Utility.
  4. Click on the drive you wish to reformat.
  5. Double-check that the drive is indeed not a Mac OS formatted drive.
  6. Click the Erase tab up at the top
  7. Select either Mac OS Extended (Journaled) or Mac OS Extended (Case-sensitive, Journaled) if you will want to use case-sensitive file names. (Eg: AwesomeVideo.mp4  and awesomevideo.mp4 would be considered the same under Mac OS Extended (Journaled).
  8. Give the drive a new name.
  9. Click Erase, then a warning will appear to remind you of possible dataloss. Click Erase.
  10. The drive will be re-formatted and should be available quite quickly (usually less than twenty seconds)

That’s it! If you have any other things you’d like demoed, let me know!

Sixteen years.

Tom saying words..I know.

Seriously. I know. Twenty-year-old me wouldn’t believe it either.

I spend what appears to be a heck of a lot of time talking about numbers, but it’s one of the lenses through which I view and understand the universe.

Sixteen years ago today (that’s over half a billion seconds ago, yo), on a mild February day, I married my best friend (who may or may not have said yes when I originally asked her to marry me) in at ceremony held amidst (melted) Winterlude ice sculptures with Chilean music playing – due to my being overly considerate to family members who were tardy (insert comment about how no good deed and all that). Tracey wore a custom-made.. everything, and I wore a suit with a custom made shirt with a Nehru collar (as I loathe ties). There are unfounded allegations that I sprinted down “the aisle”, but the photographic evidence doesn’t support that.

I’ve written about this a few times like in 2006 – Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty two days and counting and in 2008 – A testament to love ten years of marriage. All of what I said then pretty much stands today.

Boiled-down advice: Marry your best friend.

Of all the decisions I’ve ever made, marrying my best friend by far the greatest.

Some of the photos (taken by Adler House Photography) can be found over at Flickr.

We’re going to take the day off and see where it takes us. Apparently there will be cinnamon hearts and possibly some black forest cake (the greatest form of cake in the 814 known planetary systems).

See? No sprinting:

A tale of the one ring, six thousand days ago.

bikecampingThe weeks up to proposing to the woman of your dreams are a combination of wild anticipation and sheer terror – even if you believe to know the answer with a high degree of probability.

We were camping up in Algonquin Park when the big day arrived. I’d hidden the custom-made ring in a pair of rolled up socks since we’d left Ottawa, where it had been carefully concealed inside one of my computers (two places I could be sure Tracey wouldn’t accidentally find it).

We were camped over on site 209, Kearny Lake, just across from Pog Lake. On the morning of August 23rd, 1997 Tracey had given me a watch (which I wore every day for about fourteen years until it broke beyond repair) to celebrate our first year together.

I nearly panic-proposed, but managed to keep my suave exterior from showing the fierce inner battle that waged for nearly ten seconds. She probably thought the progress-bar expression was just my usual self getting distracted by (possibly) a real squirrel.

Our history filled with long walks. We especially loved going on long walks while camping, and to this day still do. I don’t exactly recall if it was raining when we left for our walk, but we were dressed for it – I remember sneaking the ring (and box, I think) into the pocket of by bright yellow MEC monsoon coat.

We walked in the rain through the Kearney campground, then wandered across the highway to Pog Lake, and then to Whitefish lake where it was definitely raining, and foggy. Just about everywhere along the walk, I was looking for the ideal location to propose.

I had no idea what the ideal location looked like.

Eventually, I found a spot I thought would do the trick. Sheltered somewhat from the rain by tall pines, there were two trees that had grown together. I stutter/mumbled something about being joined like the two trees and how much I loved her, and dropped to one knee.

Will you marry me?

Let’s jump backwards.. oh, about two months.

The hunt for the ideal engagement ring (a relatively modern social convention invented by the diamond industry’s marketing department) at various retailers didn’t yield any promising prospects. I looked in the Rideau Centre, in the Byward Market, and down Bank street. Nada.

A traditional prong design wouldn’t do, as Tracey works with rather expensive fabrics all day, and I wanted to give her something she could actually wear.

One day, I sat down and designed a ring – white gold (Tracey doesn’t care for yellow gold), with three channel set stones, a Canadian diamond flanked by our birthstones. I spoke to numerous jewellers and settled on Tang Jewellers who assured me that they could make the ring in time for pickup well before we left for Algonquin Park.

The call came in at work that the ring was ready. In my excitement when I picked it up, I didn’t notice a small flaw – either due to the terrible lighting, possibly that anticipation and/or terror I mentioned earlier, or the fact that I was rushed – or most likely all of the above.

tentsFast-forward back to Algonquin.

Will you marry me?

Exactly what she said next is a bit fuzzy, but was something close to “Is there a reason it’s yellow gold?

Entirely not the answer I was expecting. Or, I suppose the one I was dreading.

I didn’t have a back-up plan for this response. Confusion – yellow gold? Wait. What? I ordered white gold, I knew it! I thought it might be the light where we were. Nope, that was yellow gold, no question about it.

Somewhere in the confusion, I’m reasonably certain that she did indeed say yes, but I don’t *specifically* recall it.

Tracey told me that if she had an inkling that I’d propose she would have arranged a ceremony right then. I’m not sure how she didn’t know – somehow I’d managed to get her ring size, probably through some wildly complicated and intricate scheme.

When we got home from the trip, I checked the receipt for the ring, and yes, it did indeed specify white gold, so we took it back to the jeweller, who, after apologizing up and down, had the ring completely remade in less than a week. We were so pleased with the results, we had them make our wedding bands.

ringsEvery year since then, we try to find the spot where I proposed, and we have been unable to, leading me to suspect we’d travelled though some foggy fairy proposal vortex.

I don’t mind if fairies had their fun – we’ve lived happily every after.

Drinking to stupor by the numbers

Like many Canadians, I’ve been watching the unfolding events in Toronto with disbelief and disappointment.

I wish I could find who it was on Twitter that asked how much Rob Ford would have to drink to get into a “drunken stupor”, but it got me wondering.

First, I needed his weight – which was listed as 147.6 KG (313 lbs) on June 6, 2012 at the end of his weight loss challenge. It’s likely to have changed, but that’s the last data point I could find, and I doubt he’d answer that question if I asked.

Next I needed a tool to do the calculations, which it turns out, have already been written, saving me some time.

To start, we’ll define 1 drink as either one 355 ml/12 oz beer, 150 ml/5 oz of (10-12%) wine, 90 ml/3 oz of fortified wine (16-18%), or 44ml/1.5 oz of liquor (40%).

The target blood alcohol levels we’ll be looking at are 0.10 to 0.19 and .20 to 0.29.

These numbers are approximate.

0.10: Nine drinks (3.2 litres of beer / 0.396 litres of vodka)
0.19: Fifteen drinks (5.3 litres of beer / 0.66 litres of vodka)
0.24: Nineteen drinks (6.7 litres of beer / 0.836 litres of vodka)
0.29: Twenty-three drinks (8.1 litres of beer / 1.01 litres of vodka)

With a blood alcohol level of .29, he would be unfit to drive for at least sixteen hours, and over twenty hours to being sober.

Stupor shows up in the list of effects over .20, so for Rob Ford, that’s 16+ drinks (give or take).

Numerous people in the media have suggested the possibility that he’s showing signs of alcoholism (the preferred term is apparently alcohol abuse or alcohol dependence).

According to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, men may be at risk for alcohol-related problems if their alcohol consumption exceeds 14 standard drinks per week or 4 drinks per day, and women may be at risk if they have more than 7 standard drinks per week or 3 drinks per day.

No matter how we look at it, Mr Ford and his family are going through a difficult time, and probably have been for a number of years now. Alcohol abuse and drug use are both indicators of being in need of help, and I sincerely hope he gets it.