Moving Windows Using the Keyboard w/ Remote Desktop

I’m not typically blogging about geek stuff, but when I come across a solution that I haven’t been able to find on the interwebs via Google, I feel a responsibilty to post my results for other folks to use when they run into the same problem.

So, the problem I ran into was a dialog window for our ERP software had popped up with most of the window off-screen while working with a Remote Desktop connection. This was on a Windows 7 client connecting to Remote Desktop on a Windows Server 2008 R2 host. Google search results said to use ALT+Space to access the window and choose ‘M’, but that was only working as a local keyboard shortcut and would just provide me with the ability to move the Remote Desktop session window. So I googled [when turning Google into a verb, you drop the upper-case, right?] keyboard shortcuts for Remote Desktop and wasn’t able to find the equivalent for ALT+Space, so I played around with it and came up with a winner using CTL+ALT+Space.

The solution, then, is as follows:

1. Select the offending window [using ALT+Insert if you don't have access to the window via the Taskbar]
2. CTL+ALT+Space and then ‘M’. The cursor will change to a four-pointed arrow.
3. Use the keyboard to move the window. A dotted outline will show you its boundaries.
4. Press Enter when you have the window in the desired location.


hipsters Band of Horses
lick Window Blues
wax Case to Begin

Massive Life Overhaul

Where to begin? I have issues of fidelity, marriage, children, religion, science, and belief bouncing around in my head, to name a few.

These are tough topics to tackle, made even tougher by the audience that might read what I’m about to write. My apologies to any friends or family that will be shocked or offended by this post. This site started out as a journal for me, evolved into a training log, and then moved into a platform for me with a reading audience. I know quite a lot of that audience has dropped off in the last few years, but I assume that I still have the occasional friend, family member, or reader who will happen by here. It is time for me to get back to writing for me as I wade through this next period of exploration in my life.

So. I was a fraud.

I was not the happy, loving husband. I was not the morally upright Christian. I was not the intelligent geek. And 2012 was the year that it all came to a head. A friend told me recently that you can only wear masks and pull off a lie for so long before it becomes unsustainable. This year, my lies became unsustainable.

I wrote a long time ago that people live a life that is truly based off of what their priorities are. I THOUGHT that intelligence and logic were a priority to me. Heck, I’m a programmer, and those two items are part and parcel of what I undertake every day at the office. I thought I was fairly well-educated. I thought I approached life from a logical perspective. I thought I was rational.

I was raised in a very rigidly religious household. Discussion of things non-Biblical did not occur in our household. Science, when it came to evolution, was looked down upon with scorn. A show from NatGeo referencing carbon dating and the earth being so many billion years old? Hogwash. Carl Sagan on Nova? Turn that rubbish off. No explanation was ever given, none of the inconsistencies were ever discussed, and science, in relation to how it conflicted with religion’s teachings, was shunned. Now, I wasn’t explicitly TOLD not to believe these things, but the unspoken rigidity of belief created a culture that caused me to fear speaking against things and definitely guided me away from asking questions.

But I doubted. I would sneak In Search Of with Leonard Nimoy when my parents weren’t watching. I would watch the forbidden Nova. I would read sci-fi novels by Asimov and Clarke, Orwell and Bradbury. They taught me about a world of belief and science and culture that was completely foreign to mine. One that was “other” or “outside” and so completely different and fascinating compared to the sheltered world that I was raised in.

Oh, there were times where I was more vocal about my disbelief. My dogtags in the Marines were imprinted with “Agnostic.” And it was years after I left home before I sought out a church again. But the church culture, despite my upbringing, felt wrong and strange and often lacking in logic and intelligence. Yet, sought it out again, I did. I would often quote Proverbs 22:6–”Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not turn from it”–as the reason I came back into the fold. But honestly, the real reason I went back to the church was because I felt like I was expected to. It was part of the life plan that I should be living out. It was what was right.

So I gave it my best. I put everything into learning Godspeak. I poured myself into belief and internalizing and teaching and setting examples. And I thought I did a pretty decent job of it. But all the while, I felt like I was perpetrating a fraud. I pictured myself as this little black spot in a room full of bright light. I would pray with pastors and fear that God would give them insight into my disbelief. Which, as I write that out, makes no logical sense. But more on that later. I didn’t consciously set out to deceive people, and I genuinely tried to extol the virtues of the teachings of Christ as well as live them out in my life. But the Bible? Creation? Virgin birth? An interventionist God? I couldn’t wrap my head around believing these things.

So, if I felt like I valued intelligence and logic, why did I not question what I was being taught and what I was regurgitating? Because it wasn’t a priority for me. I put that priority behind the appearance I had to maintain for my family and friends. I had to wear masks for people to see the Jeff that they expected to see. I had a role to fill and there was an expectation that I had to live up to. Also, the culture in church is not one of honesty. Oh, everyone will talk ad nauseum about truth and challenging your faith and asking questions, but in reality, the hard questions are never answered. If the question is too challenging, the answer is faith.

Faith. Faith, belief that is not based on proof. The concept of faith has really got me to thinking lately. We, as humans, live in a logic-based world. We react to our environment with logic. We expect it to behave a certain way based on how we have observed it behaving. Our brains make logical pathways and logical assumptions based on how we learn. We communicate with each other using a logic-based method of reasoning and language. Everything about us is steeped in logic. So, why faith? Why, if God created this world around us and us to interact with it based on logic, and if the world it created is supposed to lead us to believe that God exists, why faith?

So, that seed. That little one right there, doubting faith and believing in logic, was the tipping point for my priorities. The more I thought about that idea, the more the mental shackles of thought were thrown off and the more I began challenging the inaccuracies, inconsistencies, and omissions that I had been exposed to for my nearly four decades. And those changed priorities have led me to a complete overhaul of my life. They have led me to re-evaluate what I want from life, re-evaluate what it means to be happy, re-evaluate how I want to raise my son, re-evaluate what it means to be intelligent, re-evaluate what is truly important.

And now I sit here, a single dad, in a loving relationship with a wonderful, intelligent woman, reading about atheism, creation science, gender equality and how to make home made sunscreen lotion.

Let the exploration begin.

soundtrack for this post
hipsters ministry
lick jesus built my hotrod
wax psalm69

a good coach will make a great leader

i was browsing fb this morning and was surprised to see that my former coach, denise harlow, had been re-elected to her second term as maine’s house of representatives for district 116. it got me thinking back over our coach/runner relationship and i felt i needed to reach out and send her some thanks and affirmation. the following is that letter. huge congrats to you, denise.


I have to apologize for two things. First, for not keeping in contact for all these years and second, for not realizing the amazing political success you’ve had recently. If I had known you’d been elected to Maine’s House of Representatives, I would have contacted you sooner. The reason I wanted to email you is because I don’t think I every properly thanked you for the huge impact you had on my life between the years of 2004 and 2006. In hindsight, and now in light of your position in the House, I think this email is even more timely and apropos.

I don’t know if you remember how our coaching relationship started, but you reached out to me with some unsolicited advice based on a post on my blog regarding my attempt to achieve a sub-4 marathon. Apparently, you had been following my progress and had seen some mistakes and also untapped potential. Your initial contact was gentle and supportive, inquisitive and informative but most of all, spoke of the confidence that you had in your understanding of our sport.

We entered into the coach/runner relationship with you being the authority, task-master and visionary and me being the clay. I remember many work-outs you scheduled for me that had me scratching my head or really doubting my abilities. The way you encouraged, guided and built trust was what gave me the comfort and belief that I *COULD* do these things. There were many weeks where I looked at the volume of miles and effort that would be required and felt completely dwarfed and insignificant, yet at each step, you were there to remind me that you saw my capabilities and potential and that you knew I’d be more than capable. And, at the end of each week, I would look back on what I had just accomplished in awe and disbelief and in great appreciation of your guidance.

Fast forward to the end of our coaching relationship and I had dropped nearly an hour and fifteen minutes off of my marathon time, qualified for and completed Boston in a fantastic time, learned volumes about my own capabilities, learned volumes about leadership and coaching and had developed a level of confidence that I did not know I could attain.

That is the mark of a good coach. A good leader.

Seeing now that you have transitioned into a role of public service gives me great excitement and hope because I know the amazing qualities that you possess as a coach, as a leader. Your constituents are fortunate that they have someone of your caliber representing them, encouraging them, giving them hope, building their trust, having great vision and seeing their potential.

Thank you, Denise, and congratulations on your success. May you have many years to serve, represent and encourage.

high five!

it seems like just yesterday that we were sitting in the receiving room of the corona hospital, waiting for our little thunderclap newman to make his way to the stage. yet, it seems like ages since i sat there next to him on the warming table, singing “hey jude” and “everything comes down to poop” while he wrapped his newborn hand around my pinky. time seems to fly, yet at the same time if you think back on all of the memories, it seems like a lifetime. linear time is funny like that.

i’m a big fan of celebrating birthdays over a period of several days and tc’s fifth birthday has been no exception. we had a big bounce-gym party on wednesday, an airshow at march afb on sunday, a celebrity meet-up [more about that later] on saturday and a family get-together tonight. tc got the share can and a birthday crown at pre-school on thursday as well. it’s been a big deal all week and i think i’m having as much fun celebrating it as he is [as you'll see later].

my mind has a hard time wrapping itself around tc’s age, though. he seems so much older than he really is. i’m constantly having to remind myself that he’s actually only turning five today. i’m sure most parents have experienced this phenomenon. there’s so much that kids understand and we can let our guard down on how emotionally developed they are based on the intelligence that they display. but he’s growing up. and up. and up. my little man isn’t so little anymore. he almost fits into my smaller cycling jerseys.

and that was why i gave him my cannondale robot cycling jersey. it was a little on the smaller side, so i thought it might be something fun for him to grow into. he’ll put it on every once in a while and ask if it was a real jersey that i used to train in. i’m thinking that he thinks it’s a pro jersey, but even so, sure, i’ve trained in it. we’ve watched cycling over the years in our house and i think it is the only sport that we’ve consistently watched. he can name more pro cyclists than any other sports figures. there’s an off chance that he might know tim tebow’s name, but a much greater chance that if you mention thor hushovd you’d get a “GOD OF THUNDER” response or breathe contador and he’ll start booing you. so, when the tour of california came to town this past week, i thought it was high time that we get out there and see what it’s like to rub elbows with the greats. now, i’ve been going to the toc for years, but never to a start. i’m always one of the dingbats that rides up a climb, waits, waits, waits and then runs along side the struggling riders cheering like a madman.

we loaded up with our friends a10 and shelbasaurus and headed out to ontario for stage 7, the ride from ontario to mt. baldy. we arrived plenty early and by the time we walked through the team staging area, the buses were just beginning to show up. we caught a quick glimpse of big george talking with a friend at the bmc bus, and a bunch of the domestic pro guys, like the spidertech team, team bissel, united healthcare, etc. we had really wanted to see jens voigt, though, so we were on the lookout for the radioshack bus. we’ve cheered for jens for years in our house. he has a superhero name, too. we call him “hardman”. and when jens crashes, he hurts the ground. jens, as most cycling enthusiasts know, is the good-guy of the peloton. always excited to see the fans, always willing to give his opinion on things, always positive and has the hardest work ethic in cycling. he’s a good role model, to say the least.

so when he tweeted his “bee” story on thursday, i had to read it to tc. that got tc excited about the possibility of meeting jens.

“daddy, did he REALLY eat a bee?”

“daddy, did his lip get better?”

waiting for jensafter a break from the pre-race action, we walked back into the staging area and happened to be standing on an open space of curb when the radioshack bus pulled up and parked right in front of us. kismet. we parked ourselves on the curb and waited. each soigneur, photog, mechanic or manager that came out of the bus would elicit the question, “daddy, is THAT jens voigt?” until, much to our surprise, someone came out of the bus that WAS jens voigt. i was sort of shell-shocked. there he was. in the flesh. and SMILING!

“there he is, buddy! hey, jens, would you sign my son’s jersey?”

now, we had brought the cannondale jersey with us, but in the course of wandering through the festival, i had spotted a kom jersey and ended up getting that for tc instead. funny thing, too, the small mens just looked like an over-baggy t-shirt on him. dang he’s getting big. anyway, tc was sporting the kom polka-dot jersey. i handed the sharpie to jens who knelt down and got to eye level with tc and they started talking.

jens "the bee eater" voigtjens: “i like your jersey!”

tc: “jens, do you like honey?”

jens: “oh, yes. i love honey. i try to eat honey for breakfast every morning. my kids love honey, too!”

the exchange was quick, but he was awesome with tc. i loved that he knelt down to get to eye-level with him. he was happy to sign, upbeat and obviously enjoying his day. but what i love even more is that now tc has a face and an experience to place with the name. when we cheer for him, he KNOWS jens. jens was COOL to him and signed his jersey. now there’s even more incentive to watch the races and go wild for our “hardman”.

as a proud dad, i’m hoping that for this birthday i’ve given him a memory that will stick with him. and i can wish that maybe, just maybe, that memory will be something that will influence his activity levels and choice of sport as an adult. maybe, just maybe he’ll grow to fill that kom jersey more than just physically. and maybe, just maybe i can be there to give him a high five and say, “remember when you were five?”

happy birthday, meine kleine affe.

lets go streaking!

i was doing my normal thing of browsing rss feeds when i saw that good blogfriend, meredith, was going to attempt another running streak. her february streak was derailed by illness, and rather than do the smart thing and wait for a 30 day month, she stepped up to the plate and opted to try again in march. well, it just so happened that i was reading her blog on the first. i’d already run for the day and the thought occurred to me, “hey, i have a streak of one!” i decided to join her.

having had a few months of back-and-forth performance after recovering from the mcl injury, i thought that a full month of running every day would either kick start my mileage ramp-up, or kill me. so far [after day eight] i’m still kicking [although a little stiff today]. now, i have always worked rest into my training schedule and have always treated a ‘rest day’ just like i would an actual day of training. the rest WAS my training…an integral part of it. i think the most days that i’ve strung together in a row has to be a max of six. i can’t believe that i’ve ever run more than that in a row. so, sitting on day eight completed, i’m in a whole new realm. unexplored land. virgin territory. you get the idea.

i’m really curious, though, to see how my body responds to this. i’m not over-doing the mileage, so i don’t expect an overuse injury, but i wonder how i’ll be feeling after two weeks, three weeks or by day 30. will i be dying to stop? will i want to continue? will my family kick me out of the house? i’ll do my best to keep you posted!