Category: grindstone

All about breadwinning.

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I ain’t about hard

Hi!  What up?  Shut up.  I don’t care.  Nah, I’m just kidding… what’s going down?  Nothing?  Yeah… me neither.

It’s Monday though, and it was an uncharacteristically Fallish day for California.  Just when it should be one-hundred degrees plus it cools down and even gets chilly at night.  I loved it, although when I woke up and felt the lingering chill of night it made me feel like I’m behind on designing this year’s Halloween props.  Well, more accurately fixing all the props that broke two years ago… which was a couple of the major ones.  I guess the cooler weather makes my brain think Fall, and Fall means it’s time to get working on Halloween.

Each year I build one new prop, and I usually allow myself one “large” purchase along with it.  One year it was a massive fog machine, the kind clubs use.  One year I bought a nice drill to aide in construction, another year a jigsaw.  One year a twenty gallon air compressor.   This year, I’m not sure.  I know I need to rebuild the flying crank ghost, because she literally wound herself to death last year, and I need to make some adjustments to the ceiling dropper too (which, despite never getting a full teaser video, actually came out pretty well in the end).  So, I think I’m gonna start working on those soon.  The crank ghost rebuild could take time, depending on whether or not I choose to do an “industrial strength” one or go with the cheapie I built last time (which looked great, but ultimately only lasted four seasons).  I’m thinking this time I do it right with angle-iron and a heavier-duty motor.

Thinking about it, I don’t think the changes to this year’s props will actually demand that much time… maybe a couple weeks to get things right.  The most difficult part will be fixing the ceiling dropper’s triggering mechanism and audio synchronization issues.  If I figure I can do that with relative ease, then I may actually have enough time to engineer a totally new item.  And, I’ve had an idea in my head now for over a year that I’d love to make happen: A glowing half-corpse/ghost that travels in a large loop in the air around our yard, as if floating along.  I imagine a torso and head, with a ragged end at the midsection and outstretched arms, flying around the yard overhead.  I know, a lofty concept.  But, I’ve sketched it out several times and think it can be done with just one drive motor and two or three clever pulley stanchions.  We’ll see…

Anyway, enough about Halloween, eh?  I just get excited… it’s been my favorite holiday ever since I was a little kid and all.  Let’s move on.

Today at work was busy.  In fact, work’s been getting busier all the time lately – a change from the few months of relative “down” time I had.  My program is sputtering along at half-choke, throttling up towards 100% which should happen sometime in January.  Then it’s balls-out for a good two years again before the cycle begins anew.  Things at the sawmill go like that, where a project lasts about three years or so, and then resets.  I’ve been through five now, some in parallel, obviously, and I feel like I’m getting better every time around.  I guess I’ve made up my mind that I’m gonna stick around this job.  I like it enough, I’m good enough at it, and it pays well… so, why leave?  It all fits nicely into my “why change?” style.  Change is hard y’all, and I ain’t about hard (well, most of the time, anyway).

Before I go, I wanted to tip my bloggers hat to a longtime friend of mine who’s recently started writing online.  I read, with tears poised in puddles just inside my eyelids, glistening in little shivering lumps of surface tension, waiting for one small motion to send them streaming, the first two parts (one here, two here) of her multi-part entry, “I Killed My Parents.”  All the years I’ve known you, Sheila, and I’ve never asked you about your folks.  I’m not that guy, the one who asks, even if you set me up for the question… I’ll likely balk until you’re ready to tell me outright.  I’m glad I finally know the story, thanks for telling me (and everyone else).  Can’t wait to read the rest.  And, oh yeah, we love you.

So, that a sappy enough ending for ya?  Hope so, ’cause I’m outta stuff to write.  I think it’s a respectable entry, no?  Yeah, let’s call it a wrap.

Oh hey wait, look, Megan used Keaton as the subject of a Photoshop tutorial.  That’s an interesting kind of exposure, eh?  And, maybe it’ll get you “we want new pictures!” hounds off my back for a few hours.  (I swear they’re coming, for reals… soon even.)

Goodnight friends.  Until tomorrow.

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somebody set me up the bomb

Man is it ever a blue-sky gorgeous day up here in Oregon.

I mean, the weather is about as perfect as anyone could ask for.  One thing about Oregon, when the weather is on, it’s on.  One other thing about Oregon, the weather is hardly ever on, and when it’s off it’s off. But today, it’s definitely on.  Blue skies with just enough wispy white clouds for accent, and temperatures in the mid 70s.  Anyway, it’s not that beautiful from within the walls of this stupid cubicle… but I still have the memories from the minute I was outside the car and restaurant at lunch.  Savoring them now…

I got ambushed at work today friends; straight-up entrapped, set-up.

See, I was asked to come up here today for what’s known at my sawmill as a “face to face” meeting.  This is where a bunch of people who work together “virtually” on a daily basis physically come to a central location and meet each other, well, face-to-face.  It’s a common meeting here, and also a very valuable one.  It’s my belief that you can talk to someone for years over the phone and through e-mail and never really “get them” at all.  One lunch sitting across from each other though, one beer after a conference, and you can “feel out” personality quirks, working styles, and all other manner of useful (read: exploitable) information about coworkers you’ve only known as voices.  So, anyway, I was looking forward to the face to face.

My role in the meeting, as communicated to me beforehand by the meeting organizer, was simply to meet, greet, and listen.  There was a published agenda, and I wasn’t on it.  So for me this was more of a networking trip than a working one, at least as far as the face-to-face goes.  But, about an hour into the meeting, they turned on me y’all.  I was handed the plug for the projector and the entire room turned to me as the leader said, “Dave, do you want to present your material now?”

My material?  My material?!

My face was hot, I was stammering.  People were looking at me, I was still holding the cable for the projector… hovering it near my laptop like I might hook it up.  But for what?  I have no “material;” I have nothing to share, I’ve prepared zero.  I’m not even on the agenda.  No one told me I was supposed to present, no one asked me to bring data – I’m just here to shake hands and exchange business cards and ask how your kids are doing.  I do the only thing I can think of:

“I didn’t actually prepare any material for this discussion, as it wasn’t on the agenda,” I said, regaining a little piece of my composure as I did, each word coming out in a voice a little more confident than the last.  “I can, however, give a brief verbal update.”  I proceeded to talk, talk, and talk.  I wasn’t really sure where I was going, but at least I was dumping real information – facts.  You can’t call me on facts, even if they are things that won’t become fact for months.  I start to see heads nodding along with me, I hear “mmms” of approval and understanding.  It’s working… I’ve got ’em.

But then, just as I thought I was beginning to roll: A challenge.  Someone asks me when they can have my information, wants to pin me down to days and hours and minutes if he can.  Information that I’ve not created yet, and now they’re telling me they need it yesterday and I’m holding up their schedule.  The tone in the room changes, gets more aggressive towards me.  “Tell you what,” I say, “We need some more information from you too before we have the whole picture here.  Surely my piece isn’t the only piece causing delay. When do you plan to have your data available?”  “Any day now,” the challenger replies.  “That’s my timeline too, then,” I reply, a little smug.  I mean, vague is OK for you – it must be for me too, right?

“Well, let’s put a date on it…” he follows.  “OK,” I say, “When can you have your data ready?”

What’s this?  What have I done here?  Now who’s on the spot, Mr. Challenger?

“I can have mine in two weeks,” he says.  “Then so can I,” I reply.

Done.  Didn’t exactly turn the tables, but at least got 100% of the heat off me.  Still, wasn’t my best showing by a long shot.

Thing is, I know these guys are antsy to have some particular data for me.  I should’ve been able to read the ruse, to see their game, and could’ve come in over-prepared.  I wish to the Heavens that I’d had that foresight and come in with a fully decked-out presentation I could throw up on the projector – man I wish.  But nope, I had to wing it.   Next time, perhaps… I’ll be a little more cautious, a bit more suspicious of motivations.  Da bidness world is hardcore, y’allz… hardcore gangsta bidness.

The day ended a lot better though.  I drew up in front of my folks’ place (where I stay when I have to work from the Oregon sawmill), and we went out for dinner at one of my favorite outdoor pub-eatery places.  It was a long relaxed dinner over beers, a good time.  Fine way to turn around an off day.

And now, I’m off to bed and then back on a plane tomorrow.  Have a good weekend readers, I love you.

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what day is this?!

Was hot today, California gets that way sometime a few hours after noon – unlike Florida where it’s blazing as soon as the sun’s up (or at least that’s how it seems). I’m sitting here in shorts and no shirt listening to the new Coldplay album. Just did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, took a time out to kill some ants that had marched their way into the house in search of food and cooler temperatures – time to spray the perimeter with that Home Depot jug again I suppose. It’s not surprising that ants arrive inside, I’m convinced that the entire slope of our retaining wall is one giant anthill (and I’m barely exaggerating). Now I have to turn off my music so Sharaun can watch another one of those Hell-spawned dancing shows… and that means it’s time to write.

When my alarm sounded this morning at 6:40am, I grabbed my phone and silenced it. For some reason, my brain was telling me it was the weekend – maybe having just returned from traveling the evening before. Funny thing was, I thought it was odd, and a tad annoying if I’m being honest, that Sharaun kept asking me what time it was every few minutes. My weekend-blinded brain didn’t even consider she was gently trying to tell me I seemed to be sleeping late. Finally, she asked me, “Do you have to go to work today?” I sat bolt up and asked: “What day is this?!” “It’s Thursday,” she answered, as if I were stupid. Laughing at my mental mixup, I jumped from bed into a quick shower and dress before heading out the door. Funny, I could’ve sworn it was the weekend… I can even remember contemplating whether it was Saturday or Sunday, and what I was going to do.

Keaton and Sharaun came up to the sawmill today to eat lunch with me in the cafeteria. We have a pretty decent cafe downstairs, I guess on-par with most modern-day computery conglomerates… all sushi and free drinks and designed for blog exposés that make engineering grads drool. Keaton loves coming up to my work, she gets to wear a little temporary badge just like the one I wear to the office each day. Last time, the security guard who signs in visitors dug out a little lanyard and hung her paper badge off it before giving it to her, the picture of daddy and his lanyard-hung badge. She adored it, and wears it around the house sometimes too. She brought it back up today and they stamped the new date on it so she could continue wearing it.

Sharaun and I get her a plate of cold cuts, cooked vegetables, a little egg salad and a slice of cheese. If she eats well, she can share a cookie (OK, she’ll get to share it if she eats or not). The ladies working the cafe (I don’t say that to be sexist, they actually all are ladies) giver her a balloon as we walk around, clipping it to her sleeve – she’s come to expect it. After we eat, people look down and smile as she meanders her way through the halls back to the front desk – her little steps are still just so inherently cute. And, somehow, even though there are some eight-thousand people where I work, we always manage to run into friends from outside work – who she greets with loud hellos and sometimes hugs. It’s great to have her there, I imagine it’s what classic car people feel when their ride is all buffed and tricked out on the line at the carshow. Pure gloating.

As we were leaving, I walked the girls outside where Keaton gave me a hug and a kiss and began to walk back towards the car with Sharaun. As I turned to walk back into the building, she hollered to me, “Goodbye daddy I love you daddy goodbye!” I returned the I love you and goodbye just in time to see her blow me a quick triple of kisses. I smiled, and a total stranger next to me beamed at me saying, “Man, I wish I had a camera… that was the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

Now, that’ll make a dad feel good.

‘Night folks.  Don’t work too hard today, the weekend’s here… after all.

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I waited every minute I was gone for that kiss

Yes. Back at home. When I got here, Keaton was still asleep. But, when she woke up, she gave me the biggest hug and sloppy kiss. I waited every minute I was gone for that kiss.

If I felt like I did well on my first public outing of the presentation, then I knocked it out of the park today. I mean, I’d say something here about not wanting to brag – but, I really did rock it.

Such is the norm with doing material multiple times; the quality tends to improve with the familiarity, at least until that saturation point when you’re bored of the routine. The second time through the material is always a good one, lots of opportunity to incorporate stuff you got as questions the first time around, and enough initial feedback to hone in on what folks are after (likewise skimming that which isn’t particularly well received). But, at the end of my half-hour turned hour banter, I actually got applause. You don’t get applause at technical conferences, especially when your presentation is pitched as a “class.” Well, maybe you do… but it’s not the norm. Made me feel good.

Another good thing that came out of this trip was a massive amount of networking. I see my customers and their representatives often enough, but it’s great to get to see them all in one condensed period of time. Even moreso in a cramped 26th floor presidential suite bent over tubs of beer and ice. Good things come from creating and maintaining professional networks, I’ll always believe this. And, the networking on this trip is no exception. In the course of a couple days, I was requested to come visit China, Japan, Israel, Taiwan and Germany.

I mean, the way business goes at the sawmill, there are always travel-heavy times and travel-light times, and I’m about to go through six or so months of travel-heavy. Perhaps the crowning jewel in the upcoming travel though: The Germany trip is to Munich at the end of September. And, that means I’ll be a two-year returnee to Oktoberfest. It’s been a while since I’ve lived the road warrior life… pretty much since Keaton’s been around – but despite missing her and Sharaun so much while I’m away, I’m actually looking forward to some travel. (Just don’t tell Sharaun I said that.)

The birds ate every last piece of fruit off my trees. Some ten odd apricots, and two plums. Just ate them down to dangling pits. Last year they ravaged my strawberries and pecked my tomatoes. I hate those birds.

Goodnight to you, internet people. Sorry my writing’s been off, I’ma come scrong next week.

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the crick in my neck

Ermmmm… head so heavy. Wrested from my couchful slumbers by the phone ’round 7pm: The wife’s on the cell. “On your way home from the city?,” I say. I fell asleep on the couch; guess it’s time to heat up some leftover lasagna and figure out what I’ll be writing. Ugh, but not before I work this kink out of my neck. Why I do I sleep on this little loveseat vs. stretching out on the full couch? Every time I get this sore neck, yet I never learn. Next time – big couch.

Next week we go to Florida. It’s a short trip, only about six days, one and a half of which are arguably lost to travel. I’m excited. Some friends of ours are coming along, and I’m pretty pumped about showing one of my modern-times California friends a little of the olden-times place where I grew up and came into my own. Not that I intend for the trip to be a tour or something, but, still… the prospect has me excited about getting to impart some “color” to the local scene for them. Now then, I started that thought not to talk about how I’m excited to go “home,” which I am, but to talk instead about what happens when I get back. See, the day after I get back I have to give the first of two presentations.

I haven’t given a real presentation, like to a decent sized audience that will ask challenging questions, in a good while. And, as almost always, I’m woefully underprepared. Dave, you may say, you still have a week and a half to get ready. Yes, yes I do. But, you see, this kinda of unprepared isn’t because I simply haven’t looked at or studied or practiced the material, it’s just that I’ve not assigned a whole heck of a lot of gravity to the thing in my mind. So, I’ve given it the cursory look, practiced a loose patter, dreamed up some witty bits to add here and there to keep the crowd awake… but it’s far from what I’d call “polished.” In fact, the material is still fluid, and I fully expect it to stay that way right up until the night before I go on stage.

I’ll invest some time readying myself and the material, to be safe… but to be honest the whole thing just isn’t doing a lot to rise to the top of my task list, you know what I’m saying? C’mon presentation, you gotta fight for my attentions, I’ve got a lot going on. If you want to be good, you’d push to the top of the list. But no, you just lay there expecting me to breathe life into you. You’ll get it, but it’ll be weak.

On the way to lunch the other day, as the small group of about-to-be diners walked through the parking lot to our vehicles, ready to burn close to five bones per gallon to fill our physiological need to eat, I happened to look down and found $40 in folded twenties in a vacant spot. In one motion I bent to scoop up the money as I exclaimed, “Oh my God I am rich.” (Delivered in deadpan homage to the “Oh my God I am the winner” line from Sandler’s Billy Madison, like I do with so many other “Oh my God am I am…” starts.) I stood there for a moment, looking around me, half expecting someone walking nearby to be checking their pockets before turning around. I waited, and waited, and finally decided that the Lord had ordained I receive that money. I like finding money. When we got to lunch, I spent the $40 buying the meals of those in my car – flexing a little philanthropy in case karma was watching (I even put the dollar change into the tip jar, at Jeff’s behest). Easy come, easy go.

Goodnight.

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l-l-l-look at my hater-blockers

Today, at 4:47pm, the iPod chose to serve unto me the song “Take A Pebble” by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. A classic from the prog vanguards’ debut LP, it instantly took me back to the first time I’d heard it so many years before. Almost as immediately, and with a great sense of urgency, I imagined how great it would sound driving down the road with the windows down and the sun on my arms.

Pause. Flick off left desk-light. Stand up. Windows Key, up-arrow, enter, down-arrow, down-arrow, down-arrow, enter. Flick off right desk-light. Take off headphones. Remove badge (link goes here). Place laptop in bag, nighty-night laptop. “Good to see you again, have a safe flight.” Handshake. Dang, missed by inches, seemed weak. “See ya tomorrow, boss.” Stairs. Stairs. Stairs.

Sunshine. Freedom. “Take a Pebble.”

Mmm… so, right. Welcome to the blog friends.

Tonight we made a quick run up to Wal Mart (a place I loathe being) to get Sharaun a new cellphone on the cheap (well, on the free, to be exact). See, she dropped her other one in the toilet, ruining it. Don’t act all surprised, you know my wife, right? The same wife who recently lost her keys again, and now has to borrow mine to get all new copies made. The same wife who just yesterday asked me if she ever gave me a $400 check to cash or not, not knowing if it was lost as well. And, yes, the same wife who left the garage door open all night the other day, her trunk open as well – her lone loose key, borrowed from me, still in the lock. I hate going to Wal Mart, but I will go there, because things are just so cheap.

I dunno, seeing the seeing the bewifebeatered and pregnant paw their way through the three-feet deep cheap DVD bin at 10pm is just kind of depressing.

Man, it’s like 11pm right now. Sorry I didn’t write much, but I gots to get me a bowl of Honey Bunches and work on getting Sharaun’s contacts transferred over to this new mobile (which, sadly, she’ll lose next week). For now though, check out this video she took with it:

Sorry if that looks messed up on IE, Firefox renders it OK. It’s past midnight and I just wanted to be done with it. I’ll come back and optimize tomorrow, perhaps.

Goodnight.

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i heard a scary noise

Tuesday night and I just put Keaton down. I immediately threw on the new Wolf Parade record, which leaked earlier today. Even though it’s a poor-quality rip, the first song is super promising. I’m excited about the rest of the album – and I’ll let ya know.

As I bring this glass of wine to my lips, my hands still smell faintly of manure. I used the time after work today to put some new plants in around the house (yes, more new plants) and had my hands in a bag of planting soil for an hour or so. Warm and damp and stinking of organic decay, just like good soil should. Planted some flowers out back and some in front. I know I’ve talked about the yardwork jag I’ve been on, but the Spring weather really does make me want to spend my free hours out under the sun doing something productive. Call it human nature or something, but I enjoy it.

I think I’m getting balder. No, I mean, I know I’ve been getting bald now for years – that much is obvious. What I mean to say is, I feel like, after a somewhat long period of stasis, my hair has once again commenced the slow retreat it began so many years ago. For a time there, I don’t think much was happening – the thinness of my crown seemed to be holding, or at least was advancing at a near immeasurably slow pace. Now, though, I can definitely see a difference – it’s getting sparser and sparser up there… and ever more I can see through the little sprigs up top as the light shines through from behind. I’ve written before about how I’m not one to obsess over balding, and that still holds true – but the thought of actually having zero hair up top is sort of unsettling…

I mean, when that little bit of hair is gone at the top, there’s just nothing… right? And then, I’m the bald guy. I’m the thirty-something management-type at the office job. The guy who drinks coffee in the morning and takes his kids on vacation and reads. Oh man, that’s me. The old guy. The old bald guy.

Still though, despite this train bearing down on me, it’s singular headlight slicing through the night with a bead on me – I don’t care enough to do anything about it. In fact, I’m ready. Bring it on baldness train, come take my hair by the freightcar, take it and leave me and don’t come back. See, I’m one of those guys who believes that, if God needs my hair back, He must have a good reason. In fact, who here can question His wisdom? Not I, surely not I. So, Lord, You gaveth and You’re takingeth away – and I, for one, am totally cool with that. Seriously. You do what You gotta do, I’ma keep on keepin’ on, hair or no hair.

Segue.

For a few weeks now, when we go to put Keaton down for bedtime she’ll ask all cautious and filled with trepidation, “I might hear a funny noise, Daddy?” “No,” I reply, “You won’t hear a funny noise.” To explain this ritualistic exchange, I want to take you back in time to about three weeks ago – when I entered Keaton’s room late one night because she had woken up and was crying. Upon hearing her cries, which my parental ears identified as “fear” and not frustration or pain or tiredness, I entered her darkened room:

Me: What’s wrong baby, why are you crying?

Keaton: It’s scary Daddy, hold me.

Me (scooping her up, still sobbing): What’s scary baby, did something scare you?

Keaton: Yeah. I heard a scary noise.

Me: You heard a scary noise? (I do this all the time, repeat what she just told me.)

Keaton: Yeah. I heard a scary noise. It was coming from my back.

Me: The scary noise was coming from your back? (See?)

Keaton: Yeah.

Me: What did the scary noise sound like?

Keaton: A fart.

And Keaton bounced and jiggled on my shoulder as I tried to laugh both violently and silently. In the end, I told her the noise wasn’t “scary,” that it was just “funny” and she shouldn’t be upset by it. She eventually calmed down and, apparently, took my noise-classification to heart. So, every night now, she asks if she might hear a “funny” noise, and I tell her no.

Scared of farts; this can’t be my child.

Mmmm… by the way, the Wolf Parade album just played through once and I have to say I’m impressed. I’m hoping that, with repeat listens, it’ll establish itself as one of 2008’s best. Time will tell.

A’fore I go, check out the picture Megan posted of Keaton from camping (seems everyone’s beating me to getting pictures online this time around). Goodnight.