Category: grindstone

All about breadwinning.

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last day at the sawmill


Today is my last day at the sawmill until November 5th.

Let’s just ruminate on that last statement for a minute: Last day at work until November 5th. Uh-huh, roll that around in the old noodle for a bit: Until November 5th. No more work until November 5th.

Maybe I should put this another way: There is this place I’ve gone five days a week nearly every single week since I left college. After today, I won’t have to go there for nine weeks. I know, it may seem like I’m blowing it out of proportion. But, to me, it’s that big. Nine weeks to spend with Keaton, nine weeks to spend with Sharaun, nine weeks to spend with me.

I’ve decided that, in the future, when I hear a song that reminds me of those last days leading up to tomorrow, I want it to be “Sandy” from the recent Caribou album, Andorra. Seriously, you must hear this song. It gets my vote right now for best bassline of the year, that bouncy thing could be a song unto itself. And how about the choppy breakbeat fills behind the choruses? Insane, right? Sounding like something lifted from the Odyssey and Oracle sessions and modernized for today, I am ready to rock this as the happy-goodtimes track that closes the summer. You want to hear it now, right? Seriously, you should. Go listen to it here. If you like it, let me know… love in the comments.

Goodnight.

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my sixty-three day weekend


Tonight’s blog wouldn’t have happened without the wonders of the BlackBerry. I simply would’ve had no time. But, through the wonders of this excruciatingly small thumb-keyboard, I’m able to write as we wing our way southward – home. Yes, i’s hard on the thumbs and eyes, and it’s fairly slow going (although I must say, not nearly as slow as one may think, I’ve become quite speedy on this thing), but it let’s me feel less guilty about my horrid record of late. So, let’s get to the words – I wouldn’t be thumbing this if I didn’t have stuff to say now, would I?

Today was my last day seeing coworkers in Oregon before sabbatical, and with everyone offering goodbyes and handshakes and well-wishes, I walked out of that building at 5pm feeling like it was all over. Alas, it’s not; I have three more days at my home-base sawmill before I can really call it all off.

Today was a good one, though. Especially in terms of the stress I’ve been feeling lately. I worked in earnest this morning, knocking several high-priority items off the “to-do before I go” list. It felt amazing. With every clicking keystroke in the notes and missives that closed those outstanding items, I felt a weight lift. I started dispositioning new things that would go beyond the end of the week as things my unlucky coverage would be responsible for instead of me, and I archived all my in-flight work to gather dust while I’m out enjoying life.

It was a wonderful feeling, watching that normally ever-expanding list of things to do shrink but not grow; just whittle away one item at a time towards zero. I think I rally needed the confidence that seeing that list dwindle gave me; it was like a shot in the arm. And for the first time in a the past couple hectic weeks I left work feeling uplifted and excited. My thoughts for the first time turning more towards the work I won’t be doing over the next sixty-three weeks than the work I have to get done before I can go.

I was thinking about Saturday morning, that first morning, and I decided that the first thing I’ll do is wake up and put the Beatles’ “I’ve Got A Feeling” on the stereo. Why?, you ask, well, I’ll tell you. Back in middle school’ ’round about, oh, seventh or eighth grade, my best buddy Kyle and I used to convene at one of our places before clas on the first day of school. We’d come together for one reason, to listen to the Beatles’ “I’ve Got A Feeling.”

I don’t remember how we picked the song, as it really has nothing to do with “firsts,” or starting something new, and there certainly are more germane numbers we could’ve chosen, but, after a few years it had become quite the tradition. Even during our “falling out” years in highschool, I’d queue up the song solo before that first class on that first day.

I took the tradition with me to college, and even into the early morning hours before my first day on the job at my the very sawmill I trudge to each day now. I even spun “I’ve Got A Feeling” on my way home from the hospital to change clothes just after Keaton was born. It’s become a part of my “new start” ritual, some sort of ward against bad mojo, a habit that I’ve come to enjoy.

So, this Saturday, that first day of my sixty-three day weekend, I plan to take my time getting out of bed, showering, dressing, and primping – and instead head straight for the stereo to plug in the iPod and lazily head-nod my way through an extra-loud playing of “I’ve Got A Feeling.”. Yeah, that sounds absolutely brilliant.

Oh, and, before I go. The new Most Serene Republic album leaked earlier this week, much to my embarrassment, as I had no idea it was even due. But, apparently it was due, and now it’s here. I’ve loved everything this band has under their belt this far, and listening to this album these past few days at work has given me high hopes that it’s going to be another winner. So, if you can get it, get it – however you do so.

And, with every single word of this done solely from a BlackBerry on a plane, I’m out.

Goodnight lovers.

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poof! i’m in texas


Poof! I’m in Texas.

I wasn’t planning on coming here, but here I am. Work’s monopolized my time the past few evenings, leaving me with zero time to do the things my nights are normally for: playing with Keaton, talking with Sharaun, and writing. And now, thumb-typing this entry into my BlackBerry as we fly over the desert, I can’t help but feel an acute sense of lost time and anxiety.

I’ve been getting steadily worse over the last couple days. My mind swimming with this thing and that thing which need to get done before my sabbatical officially starts next Friday. Most of it is loose ends at the sawmill which need to be wrangled before I check out, but a good bit is simple stuff like, “How’m I gonna get the lawn mowed in the few random days I’m at home between trip X and trip Y?”

More than anything, though, I feel this strange sadness. This awful sensation that I’ve been forsaking Sharaun and Keaton by being so utterly consumed with work. The early mornings and late nights stealing their portion of me.

Being me, and knowing me, I recognize this weird homesick feeling as one of my natural responses to stress. My gut tells me to run, to hide, to lock myself away with only the things I need and love: it’s my desert island flight response. I still look for that womb when things get a little hectic.

I guess, despite all my planning, everything still somehow managed to get the drop on me, and I’m in a preparation tailspin. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever achieve the sense of “readiness” I’m sprinting after, and I’m just a little bit worried I’m going to have a hard time breaking away. I mean, I know that come Friday, I’ll have no problems washing my hands of it all for nine weeks – I guess I’m just wanting a “cleaner” break… Or something.

This is it. Too hard to write on this thing with my thumbs. Barebones tonight, no flourish, no flare. Goodnight.

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no. shut up.


Works sucks. No. shut up.

I am totally serious. Work is killing me. Right now. Every day. Just a little bit every single day. I don’t write at night because I work instead. Not fun.

I just don’t know, you guys. Don’t know if it’s my pending sabbatical (nine weeks of not-work), or if it’s the fact that work is at one of its “peaks” right now. Maybe both, as that would make most sense… But, whatever the reason, I’m suffering from a severe case of the “oh no I have to go to work tomorrow morning” blues. Much worse than I’ve had it before. Things are just so busy, and I’m having a hard time commanding the focus I’m usually able to. I think it’s just high time I was out of there. Thankfully, I have only nine more days left as you read this.

Last week I was helping Sharaun get some of her party planning done (Sharaun’s rolled her life-odometer to the big three-oh this past weekend). I knew she was stressing, and it seemed like a good time to work on the musical playlist she had planned: the top few songs from every calendar year she’s graced this Earth (plus some standard perennial party faves). I had a lot of them on-hand already in miscellaneous 80’s directories, but we still needed to go down a fairly long list and “acquire” a few more (of course, we did so by exchanging real, gold-backed, American currency for the digital representations of said songs). Anyway, as I downloaded each bit of party fuel, I queued them up in Winamp and we did some real-time “checking” of each to ensure quality. This, inevitably, turned into a living-room danceparty, starring my wife.

I loved it, because I could see she was having so much fun. With each new (old, actually) track that came across the speakers, she’d get more and more excited. “Oh. My. God.,” she’d say, “This song is the best!” Sometime later, as the string of hits continued to deliver, she paused and remarked, “See… people won’t get nearly as much from this as I do. People just don’t like music the way I do.” It was like she was reminding me of one of the reasons she’s the best. “Yeah,” I replied, “Most people don’t really care. But, don’t let it get you down.” Anyway, who cares right? It’s just beats and words in the background, anyway.

Anyway, the mix worked out great, and the party was a good time for all. I’ll post some pictures as soon as I get around to it.

The other night I decided to trawl through the music collection on the ol’ harddrive and find something that I haven’t listened to in a long time. Turns out I stopped on a live album recorded when The Quicksilver Messenger Service played Winterland in 1968. As one familiar with the “San Francisco” sound at that time, you may suspect that this performance is nothing more than a humongous set of noodling on old blues numbers, each wandering off into the tens of minutes, some if it interesting, some of it boring. Anyway, it sounded good to me, and it was the sound at the time. Put ’em on a bill at the Fillmore with Country Joe, the Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Moby Grape, and Beefheart – and you’d pretty much sum up the late 60’s west-coast sound. And, before I move on, check out the Concert Vault website, which apparently bought up the rights to all Bill Graham live material from 1965-1980 (Winterland, the Fillmores, etc.), as well as the entire King Biscuit Flower Hour catalog. Interesting indeed…

Goodnight.

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travel blitz


Vacation! No, seriously, I’m off all week this week. Prepare for another spate of spotty writing.

Spent Sunday afternoon planning and booking travel for my upcoming sabbatical. In the booked-and-looking-forward-to department: Hawaii for a family getaway on Maui, Florida for time with family, Keaton’s 1st trip to Disney World, and a semi-planned weekend in the Keys (baby with grandparents). In the to-be-booked department: a quick trip to Munich to meet some friends for Oktoberfest, and an on-the-cheap Vegas getaway. Finally, and sadly, in the not-happening-anymore department: the 14 day hike of the Muir trail Anthony and I were planning (his own sabbatical, which was to overlap mine, has fallen through). Yet, in spite of that disappointment, I’m extremely happy about the progress we made today.

It all gets really real when you start juggling skymiles, spending money, and scheduling time – which makes it all even more awesome to think about. Actually, I’m pretty pleased with our financial output in relation to the things we’re planning on doing. Used miles for the tickets to Florida and Hawaii (completely paid for Florida, got Hawaii for $115 round-trip each after mileage credits), paid a buddy for a week in his timeshare on Maui and saved a bundle on the “advertised” rates (which, I’m sure, are totally inflated to begin with), and am hoping to co-bunk and split hotel costs with some fellow Oktoberfest travelers. As a bonus, I was able to tack a weekend in Oregon with my folks onto the end of the Hawaii flights, and, if we do Vegas, Jeff’s got the hookup on accommodations and we can carpool down. So, all in all, it’s a pretty reasonably-priced travel blitz.

Sabbatical cannot come soon enough.

Well folks, I’m off. Goodnight.

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better in the cubicle than on the road


Wednesday and I’m back to work through Friday. Let me tell you, trying to get motivated in three working days sandwiched between week-chunks of vacation time is a tough thing to do. I sit here thinking about how, come Monday, I’ll be off for another week and won’t have to worry about all the moving and shaking at the sawmill.

I really am starting to get concerned with my level of “don’t give a shitism” lately – it’s becoming a bit more prevalent than even I expected it might with my sabbatical looming. It’s kind of like a long drive home late a night: The highway deserted and all those little white lines steadily disappearing under the car at that fixed rate; the road’s unintended pendulum lulling you to sleep. I’m driving that road here at work, doing my best to keep my chin from dropping as the monotonous day-to-day and the prospect of a warm bed (read: two months vacation) hypnotize me into autopilot. So I’ll do the same thing I do when I’m driving those late-night highways: Keep my right eye open so my wife can see it and know I’m alert, while letting the left eye slip. It never works, by the way – you always end up snapping your head up and popping your eyes open in shock: “How long was I out?! Oh God, that was close.” Let’s hope I’m better at it in the cubicle than I am on the motorways, shall we?

Anyway, I’m in Oregon again, this time just for an overnighter. I was so proud of myself, I managed to pack everything I need for the trip into my laptop bag so I didn’t need to carry any additional luggage. When I bragged about my packing accomplishment to Sharaun, she was less than thrilled. But, to me, it was quite the task. I saved room by deciding to re-wear the same pair of shoes (figured I could pull of black shoes with khakis as long as the accompanying shirt and belt were also black) and the same undershirt (hey, who’s going to know?).

I carefully tucked a pair of slacks, a polo shirt, and a fresh pair of boxers into my bag, and filled the outer pockets with the barest essentials of toiletries: brushes (of the hair and tooth family), deodorant, a tiny bottle of gel for my do, and my daily regimen of vitamins. Everything fit just perfect, even with my recently downsized and slimmer laptop bag. To me it was a testament to efficiency, everything I needed for 36hrs packed into something smaller than a briefcase. I was even further pleased with my minimalism in not getting a rental car (spent ~90min on public transit from the airport to work) nor a hotel (crashing at the folks’ place instead). It’s the small things that make me happy, really… it doesn’t take a lot.

Remember I had these big plans to watch movies on my iPod all the way to Oregon? Well, being that I had to rise bright and early at 4am to make it to the airport on-time for my departure, I opted to instead catch up on some sleep as I flew. I did, however, use the public transit time between the airport and sawmill to get mostway through Michael Moore’s SiCKO. Man, that flick is pretty powerful. Much better, in my opinion, than his previous stuff I’ve seen. And, by better, I mean less childish and defensive-seeming – but still just as indicting. The film didn’t come off nearly as self-righteous as I remember his others seeming, and was more a portrayal of our dismal system than a finger-pointing fest. I would actually recommend people watch this, it’s a rather self-supporting (not to mention scathing) commentary on our nation’s health care system, and is pretty compelling viewing. That’s not saying it’s right, or it’s perfect, or I’m on the Moore bandwagon (which, is kind of a loony-tunes bandwagon, if you ask me), but I’d still recommend it as interesting and enlightening.

Goodnight.

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stick with me


Tuesday, and my last day of vacation. Well, last day for another three days, at least. Then I’m off another entire week. I return to work on the 23rd, and that leaves me with just five weeks of work left before my two-month “sabbatical.” I am truly excited about this, nearly to the point of advanced mental checkout. Knowing that you only have a month or so left at the sawmill can make a person’s mind really start to wander. I know it’s gonna come up fast, I can already tell. Anyway, last night we went to dinner with the family and some friends, then stole and enjoyed a cam copy of the Cusack new horror flick, 1408. Was a low-key evening and a nice way to spend our last real night together with Sharaun’s folks. Let’s try to write a lil’ bit now, shall we?

Can’t hardly believe it’s July in 2007 already. That’s more than the halfway mark (don’t think I don’t know this means I missed my yearly “half-best” list). The fact that we’re already on the waning side of the ’07 also means that my mind starts turning towards Halloween. Last year, almost every single one of my complicated props broke in some major way. Punks tried to steal my coffin-popper, the flying crank ghost got tangled up in her own puppetstrings and ended up a twisted heap, the ceiling dropper shook himself loose to some degree, and the witch’s rags are looking a bit too… raggedy. (Not to mention I got penis’d.) After last year’s soirée, I had all but decided that it would be the last of it – that I was done. Now, however, coming up on August (usually the first month I start thinking about props)… I’m not so sure. Guess I’ll just see how it goes.

I’m off to Oregon in the early ‘morn tomorrow, driving there in the dark as the flight leaves with the sun. I’ll spend a couple quick days at work there, and an even quicker night at my folks’ place between the two. So, once again, posting may be light for the next week or so – which is kinda nice for me, but perhaps not so good for maintaining readership. Guess that’s the way blogging goes.

Until sometime later, stick with me.