Category: grindstone

All about breadwinning.

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commiserating


This weekend, I read an article about the baby from the cover of Nirvana’s classic grunge-flashpoint, Nevermind – he’s sixteen now. Nothing can make a dude feel old like the infant on an album he loved when he was fifteen turning sixteen. Man, that’s a bummer.

Also in the bummer department, the birds in my garden have me really exasperated lately. I’ve done a good job keeping them out of the strawberries, for the most part. Well, actually, the protective cage I built over my berries caught another winged devil today – but that’s not what I’m here to write about. It seems that, having been denied my berries, the birds have developed a taste for my tomatoes.

Over the past months, I’ve been attentively watching my larger tomatoes grow fat and plump, and have been particularly happy over the past few days (before leaving for Oregon) as they started to get some color. I knew, upon returning home, I’d likely have several large ripe ones for the picking.

However, the birds once again robbed me this glory. I don’t know how they know, but it seems like they’re tuned into my brain. It’s like the day I tell myself, “Tomorrow, I’ll pick that one, it needs just one more day on the vine,” they attack. I’ve yet to be able to pick a full-size tomato before it being ravaged by beaks. Seems I can only get the cherries off before they get to them. They’ve gone through five tomatoes so far, completely gutting them on the plant. I can’t describe how frustrating it is to tend a tomato for weeks in anticipation of literally tasting the fruits of your labors – only to have the dang thing ruined right under your watchful eyes. It may seem trivial, but I want to taste one of my own tomatoes so bad.

Writing that last sentence, I couldn’t help but feel a little empathy. For whom?, you ask. Well, I’ll tell. Imagine you work hard on something, like, growing tomatoes from seeds, for instance. You sweat and work and toil over the infantile fruits as they take shape from the dirt. You watch and tend them, pulling weeds and giving them water, making sure they have enough sunshine to thrive, etc. Then, right as you’re about to pick the ends of all your work, something comes along and steals it away.

Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Those “farmers” whose “tomatoes” are albums. Albums grown from chord progressions and words thought up randomly, worked and reworked and polished, finally perfected and fit for public consumption. And know who I am? That bird that I loathe so much. That bird that swoops in just as the tomato/album is ripe and ready to enjoy, and glibly consumes it – with nary a thanks nor a dime. All their work and effort, pecked into bits by a punk thief with no regard for the work that went into the things he consumes.

Sorry, musicians. Maybe one day I’ll learn. Or, maybe you’ll end up shooting me with a BB gun the way I plan to take care of the birds who are “torrenting” my fruit. Seriously though, check out some pictures for the heck of it.

“Knee-high by 4th of July?” I got that and then some. From seeds too!

Just look at that thing, inside my strawberry cage.

Three of the fallen, two more were too brutalized for photos.

I read online about this thin tight-woven netting stuff that you can supposedly “drape” over your plants to protect them. To me, though, draping something over tomatoes just means all the bird has to do is peck through the netting. I think, in true over-engineered fashion, I’m going to use some sort of netting to build a huge cage around my entire planter box. OK, maybe that’s extreme… but I’m open to suggestions. And, I’ll stop talking about birds and tomatoes now.

Let’s do the wrap-up paragraph now.

Got some vacation coming up next week, and I couldn’t be more ready for it. It’ll be nearly two weeks, although not taken consecutively. Vacations are always iffy for writing, sometimes they’re good for it, sometimes they’re bad for it. No promises (other than to have a rockin’ good time not-working, that is). And yes, folks, I know, lots of you have been bugging me for new pictures of Keaton. I wanted to wait until we were back from our Oregon visit before posting them, so I expect to have them up this week. Trust me though, she’s only getting cuter.

Before I go, in music news. Check out this exclusive feature on the Arcade Fire’s upcoming follow-up to Neon Bible. Also, the new Interpol has been floating around in sketchy quality, and from my first listens it sounds better than some of the other recent leaks. Oh, and, the six leaked tracks from the new Animal Collective have really grown on me. Still under evaluation: the new Thrills, the new Super Furry Animals, the new Editors, and the new Vanderslice. Oh, and, Ben got it right on his blog, the Los Campesinos EP is downright fun.

Team Campesinos trick or treating on your driveway in the middle of August; one of us dressed like a zombie, one of us dressed like a pirate, one of us dressed like a ninja and four of us dressed like schoolgirls.

Goodnight.

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hey! what’s up wednesday?!


Hey! What’s up Wednesday?! Haven’t seen you around here in, like… a week or something. Where ya been?

I ran out of deodorant yesterday, and forgot to pick some up when I was at the local box store. So, this morning I borrowed some of Sharaun’s. It comes in a white stick, with little powder blue and pink flora delicately intertwined around it’s intricately scripted branding. I uncapped it, brought it close to take a sniff, and, subconsciously nodding in approval, gave my pits a couple swipes and was off. Throughout the day, however, every time I lifted my arms above my head I’d smell an emasculating mixture French lavender and vanilla chai. So, I decided to walk around with my arms held tight to my flabby sides, lest others be drawn to my lilting feminine scent. I do, however, kinda want to make out with my own armpits.

Friday evening, Sharaun and I leave for Oregon again (you can actually see it if you look hard enough at 4pm Friday on my calendar). We’re spending the weekend through Tuesday with my folks, and I’ll work from the local chapter of the ol’ sawmill while I’m there. I know my mom is excited to see Keaton, and I’m glad that my particular sawmill has a convenient location there which affords us the opportunity to do these tag-teamed work/play visits.

Today was a busy day… in fact, this week is a busy week. Seriously for real, I mean, check out this blurry, shrunk-up screencap of my Outlook calendar. Each of those little boxes is a meeting.

Now, you may ask, “But Dave, when do you actually have time to do work?”

Yes, you may ask.

On a semi-random note, Sharaun and I have become somewhat obsessed with Maygsters’ new photoblog. In fact, Sharaun has been plotting a way to get Maygsters to take some pictures of Keaton for her. She’s, of course, unsatisfied that the $300 point-‘n’-shoot digital we have doesn’t take “as good of” pictures as she seems to get (as good as?). Yeah, really? I try to tell her that the reason some cameras are $10,000 versus the ones that are $300 is that there’s a difference in the quality of images they can make. Well, kinda like how I feel about boats – I’m of the mind that it’s actually better to have friends with expensive cameras than it is to buy and learn to use them yourself. Maygsters, you work for food?

Goodnight.

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all seasonally-displaced


Funny weather today in Northern California – all cold and cloudy and breezy, made me feel all seasonally-displaced. The ashen sky and blustery gusts made me think of Halloween, and that made me think about how I think, for the first time since being here, I’m considering not dolling up the house for the holidays. Not the end of an era, I think, more just a respite. Maybe I’ll change my mind come August, who knows. Right now, though, I’m not too hot on the idea this year.

I actually left work around noon to come “work from home” (the quotes owed to the fact that, at my sawmill, “working from home” is common parlance, so much so that it’s often acronym’d as “WFH”). I did, however, work – despite the reputation that WFH may have. I will admit though, that it was nice… sitting on my couch typing instead of in my dreary grey cubicle at work – for that, the office-disconnect is worth it.

Anyway… tonight I had some champagne, shared a couple glasses in celebration of “the hell of it.” So, champagne-buzzed and carried by the chorus-driven pop melodies of my most recent one-man-show musical discovery, BC Camplight, I’m gonna write. (But, for real, check out BC Camplight. With the excepted couple of oddball tracks, that album is goood).

Oh, and, if you’re reading this – whomever your pipe to the internet is has updated their DNS records, and you’re now viewing sounds familiar on it’s brand new shiny host. I don’t know where the new server lives, but it sure seems peppier than the old one to me. I’m surprised how quickly and efficiently I was able to migrate my content – and glad it’s up and running. With any luck, you’re now zipping around the blog viewing pages and leaving comments with ease. Let’s now move on from the timeout Hell of the past few weeks, OK? Good then.

Y’all been watching the presidential debates on CNN? Hope so. Even though it still seems early to me, there’s some good discussion happening. Nobody, on either side of the fence, looked standout-amazing to me, but I suppose the machine is still lurching into motion and there’s a lot of spit and rag left to be applied before the top few contenders shine like political polished chrome. For what it’s worth though, I am getting excited at the prospect of change – as I think lots of Americans are.

I suppose I don’t have much more to write… I’m still celebrating a working blog. Goodnight.

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the jostling thousands


Good Wednesday evening to you folks – had a good, but slow, day (work-wise, at least). I think people must still be on vacation or something, as the flow of e-mail was low-low-low (cue car salesman voice). It’s OK though, because the work part of my day is over and Keaton was looking cuuuuute when I got home. And now, I’m reclined on the couch typing. Spent some time putting up some new pictures from our Memorial Day weekend camping trip, mostly of Keaton. You can check them out by visiting her gallery here. Hope you enjoy ’em.

This weekend is the Arcade Fire show in Berkeley. We’ve got a huge entourage of ten peoples going, from the music-nuts to the casual fans to the relatively uninitiated. We had considered renting a minibus/van thing to all caravan down together, but several calls to every rental agency in the area turned up nothing. No worries though… we’ll figure it out. I’m excited, if a little worried about trying to get a decent spot among the jostling thousands (a capacity sellout, around eight-thousand) packed into the 100% general-admission venue. Recent setlists look extremely promising, and the band have been planning some super-cool afterparties at local venues. Not that I think us almost-adults would entertain the idea of heading out to a club after the show (we’re old as balls these days)… but a guy can pretend.

I just don’t have anything more to write… Goodnight.

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the mighty and the mighty bored


Hey hey Monday. Sharaun and I had a date night tonight, with friends picking up the babysitting duties as a favor. It was nice. I’m gonna write about work, so prepare for some gender-neutral non-specific generic-talk.

Today we had an important meeting at work. Various strata of management assembled in a room to update the troops on this and that and the other thing. The atmosphere was one of placation, as the managers came forward and tried to stomp the ashes of a wildfire of their own creation. I was there, people I work with were there, and my managers up the “chain” were there – we were all there. I entered the room to standing room only and took a space leaning against the wall near the rear. Soon, we were deep in conversation and exchange, higher-ups sounding polished and confident as they spoke to the room. Some people listened, some asked questions, some (me) shifted from left foot to right foot thinking mostly about their numbing ankles. One person, however, did something that I found totally interesting.

This person, a manager up the food chain a few evolutionary steps from me, sat in the back of the room and played with a laser pointer. The laser pointer was used to trace the hand that wasn’t holding it. It was used to make pretty patterns on the wall as it bounced and reflected off a ring on that same hand; was wiggled in tiny circles in the center of the palm. All the while this manager’s attention was fixed, not on the goings-on of the meeting, but on that laser pointer and its beam. With nary a care for the business going on external to that laser-pointer-and-hand world, the manager sat engrossed in whatever thoughts accompanied the mindless activity.

Now, I’ve seen this manager do all sorts of high-and-mighty things: wheel and deal in million-dollar negotiations with customers; give orders to fire and to hire; make quick strategic decisions; and play workplace politics with the best of them. One thing I’d not seen this manager do though, before today, is act bored – act somewhat human. I mean, who hasn’t drifted off during a meeting? Who hasn’t let their mind wander off into daydream land? It’s actually refreshing to see that the mighty also get bored. They invent little games to keep them entertained just like the rest of us when our thoughts drift, they have their own balls of yarn they can resort too when things drag on. Glad to know we all need a little mental break sometimes.

Goodnight.

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homecoming


Friday at last. Still some formatting issues I need to clear up with the blog’s new look, but haven’t had time. Mostly I want to change the recent comments styles, and some other sidebar issues in general. But, as I said, I’m happy enough to roll with it for now. Sharaun flexed her hospitality tonight and served a nice outdoor for friends. It was nice, and I really enjoyed it. In fact…

I’ve noticed something wonderful happening to me lately. Every day, as I get in my car to head home from the old sawmill, my attitude begins to turn. I mean, despite my day – its busyness, its stress and its tension, its race-the-clock mind-tangling multitasking – the thought of being imminently home turns my head right around.

Today, for instance, was mind-numbingly busy, and the work wasn’t easy… it required a lot of thinking, and by 5pm my brain was stretched and weary. I was frustrated, I was tired, and I was a little zombified. But, as I got into the car and thought about tossing Keaton around on the couch watching her smile and hearing her squeal… my cares started to fade. Who cares about work? Who cares about schedules and to-dos and responsibilities? You can take all that and poop it right out of your butthole, that’s what you can do.

My mind is almost always wandering. For me, my devoted attention is a rare thing. Usually, I only give this when I’m 1) in love with you (overtly or covertly), 2) drunk enough to be carefree, or 3) genuinely and intently interested in you and your story. I know this is a dickish trait, but it’s me. So, I’m almost always daydreaming, thinking, meandering, making up little imaginary scenarios, etc. So, sometimes, when I’m sitting there talking to you, I’ll hang my left arm over the side of the couch, or the back of the chair, or whatever. I’ll hang it just so, so that the bloodflow is cutoff high up near my armpit. I’ll watch my hand mottle and feel my fingers tingle as my circulation slows. I’ll look for the color to change under my fingernails, and my hand to feel thick and dumb. Then, I’ll imagine my left arm is numb because I’m having a heart attack. I’ll pretend to watch my life flash by my eyes, pretend to wonder why I didn’t go for more jogs, take more long walks, get a gym membership.

Man, you realize I linked to my 98th blog in this entry? This is my 1,310th. Don’t be so impressed, it’s not entirely sequential, and there are less posts (788, to be precise). Still, that was over 900 entries ago… and I like that.

Goodnight.

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oversubscribed


Well, let’s get it out of the way. As you can see, I’ve given the blog a pretty massive visual overhaul. I’ve completely, entirely, 100% abandoned my old homemade theme in favor of a new-fangled widget-ready highly-customizable one. So far, I like it. I’m sure that I’ll uncover some formatting issues with certain older posts that just don’t conform to the new layout and style – but as of now I think most everything is working. Sure, I still have some small style tweaks I want to make (fonts and colors, mostly), but I was happy enough to go live as-is. If you see something busted, please let me know. Oh, and what do you think?

Let’s get this going.

Sometimes I feel like my life is slowly getting too scheduled. Not only is my eight-hour workday allocated to the minute, making me fight for thirty minutes here and there for unexpected tasks, but it seems like my evenings and weekends are beginning to look like my Outlook calendar as well. It’s not that I’m a stickler for plans or agendas or itineraries, it’s just that I end up having so many things I want to do, which all compete with everything I have to do. In some ways, I suppose this is a natural consequence of “growing up:” having friends, having kids, having a home to take care of and a career. But sometimes I wish I didn’t have to budget for downtime. I know, in reality, my life isn’t like this – it’s just been a bad couple months… with no sign of end… so… maybe my life is like this.

Too much time tweaking stylesheets… I’m out.