• A phone’s life In my hands

    Brick
    – verb
    To strip a smartphone of all its useful features. To make it as useful as –

    I performed my first open case surgery on the iPhone to replace its failing battery last weekend.

    Pop quiz:

    Do you spend $15 to do it yourself or give $80+ to Apple, plus suffer through a week without your phone while it ships back and forth to God knows where?

    What do you do?

    WHAT DO YOU DO?!?

    I’m not trying to sound arrogant. In fact, think I have a pretty solid track record of modesty.

    But in this case I do have skills.

    See that? That’s me being optimistic. Damn, you never have a camera when you need it. Skills or not though, I do have the right tools.

    I had my grounding strap to avoid frying the whole thing with a small static charge, a suction cup to pull off the glass touch screen, a magnifying glass to help see/disconnect really small ribbon cables, and my trusty small tools kit to get at a few small screws to pull the motherboard. I got that stuff out of the way and suddenly the battery was right there, waiting to be plucked from the bottom of the case like a sleeping baby in a basket.

    It only took two hours – and the removal of almost every component in the phone.

    It was touch and go for a while. There was a “Do Not Remove” sticker I had to peel back to get at one of the screws holding down the motherboard. It didn’t want to peel back. Considering the unambiguous language, I figured it was best not to shred it. It took a good ten minutes by itself, but I’m happy to report the sticker survived.

    If you thought my favorite part of this exercise was putting the last piece back in place, you’re way off the mark. The closer I got to finishing, the more nervous I got. You see, that’s when you find out if you screwed something up – if you broke it.

    I was anticipating three possible outcomes when I turned it on.

    One: I’d have an iPhone with a new battery.

    Two: I’d have an iPod touch with a new battery.

    Three: I’d have a light, pleasing to the eye, plastic and glass desk ornament – with a new battery.

    Despite what you might think, with the iPhone 4 just around the corner (and being eligible for upgrade pricing), I was not rooting for two or three. No matter the cost, replacement money won’t be seen in the Kauffman coffers for a while.

    Which really begs the question: why the hell did I go off and pull apart my iPhone by myself, instead of putting up the extra money for a trained technician to do it? With money tight, I must be a crazy person, right?

    I’ve never taken one apart.

    Which really begs the question: do you really know me at all?

    Oh, yeah. The phone works. Was there ever really any doubt?

    Go ahead, answer that. I dare yah.

    Or not. No pressure.

  • D – 27 (One tooth, three teeth)

    Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

    Originally posted: Jan 20, 2002, Beth’s age: 4

    Title: One tooth, three teeth

    Beth is holding three pencil erasers in the shape of teeth. She advises me (in her typically loud fashion, as if from half way across the house) she has three toothes. Recognizing the grammatical error, I explain to her she has three teeth, not three toothes. Beth, being a relatively stubborn child, insists she has three toothes. This goes on for about a minute or so before I convince her there is no such word as “toothes.”

    Finally, she seems to be catching on, so I decide to quiz her.

    “Beth, what do you have when you have three?”
    “Three TEETH daddy!”
    “Good! Very good Beth! Now, what do you have when you have just one Beth?”
    “Two missing teeth daddy!”

  • D – 28

    Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

    Originally posted: Jan 8, 2001, Beth’s age: 3

    Title: A Lesson in Physics

    Beth, doing her best impersonation of Isaac Newton, reaffirmed a couple of principles this evening: mommy and daddy’s rules are for good reason, and gravity plays no favorites.

    Beth was in the family room when she decided Stuart Little was no longer worthy of her undivided attention. “Daddy, could you please give me my balloons?” I promise you I handed them to her innocently, with no idea what she would do with them… despite a couple years of practice as a parent.

    Beth has taken to throwing things since staying in the hospital, in any direction that is convenient. Tonight it had unintended consequences.

    Back to the balloons. Balloons in general, particularly the large foil – helium filled variety, are not very good for throwing. They’re all surface and no mass. Enter the rock ballast. Wrap it in foil, tie a couple of foil balloons to it with ribbon, it’s still a rock; and it still hurts when its dropped on your scull from 2 – 3 feet in the air. This is just what Beth achieved when, from a lying position, she awkwardly heaved the foil covered rock in the direction that tragically was most convenient at the time – straight up. Actually, I’m not sure if the rock technically hit her in the scull – unless the jaw/mouth is considered part of the scull (high school anatomy escapes me at the moment). Since teeth don’t bruise, and none of them were knocked out, the mishap left no visible marks or scars. There was just a bruised ego (if a 3 year old’s ego can be bruised), and hopefully a lesson as to why she should listen to mommy and daddy when they tell her not to do something.

    Anyone got odds on wether I’ve learned anything?