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family came to town


Hey there folks, remember this blog thing here on the internet where I used to write? I didn’t give up on it, or anything, I just took a nice break from writing, coincident with the vacation I took as family came to town. And, after a week-long hiatus from blogging, I must say I feel refreshed and happy for staying away briefly.
My only regret?: It’s now Sunday night and tomorrow I return to work. My only solace?: Only six more weeks until I’m off for two months… just counting down now.

We’re fresh off a two-night camping trip to one of our favorite local spots where, for the first time, we brought some rafts to play on the river we pitch tents alongside. I love the campsite so much, it feels remote, but is actually within an hour of civilization – and every time we go there I feel ultimately relaxed and taken-away. However, in all the times we’ve been there, we’ve never really played in the river much, aside from an occasional short swim in the frigid waters. This time, though, I had a blast rafting up and down the quarter-mile stretch of river that flanks the campgrounds, braving some easy “rapids” and simply floating around with the bottom half of a Newcastle cooling in the snowmelt waters.

Keaton seemed to enjoy herself too, and didn’t appear to mind the sand in her diaper or the thrice-daily smearings-on of SPF 45 sunblock at daddy’s less-than-gentle hands. She slept fairly well in the tent and liked hanging out by the water’s edge. I told Sharaun that my only wish would be that she were a little more on the “adventurous” side. Y’know, wanting to run down hills or venture off into the water with dad and stuff. But, I suppose I love her cautious guarded personality as much as I do every little bit of her, so no real complaints. Besides, her willingness to simply sit on a lap and enjoy some quiet time is kinda nice.

Oh, and, as a pleasant byproduct to telling the story of my time in the cold river – I think I’m ready to finally say that I’m “over” my cold-induced urticaria. I spent all weekend soaking in those freezing waters with nary an itch, hive, nor anaphylactic fit. The Lord be praised, I’ve been healed.

I’m gonna close this down now, but I’ll be back again tomorrow and hopefully onto my regular posting schedule this week. Also, I promise this week will see the “half-best of” list published… as it’s super behind right now. Goodnight folks.

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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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out loud regardless


Tonight I can’t seem to get enough to eat. We got home from dropping off Sharaun’s folks at the airport and I played with Keaton for twenty minutes before putting her to bed, Sharaun split right away for her volleyball game. And, even though we’d had dinner shortly before leaving for the airport, I came home and ate a heaping bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios (in whole milk – I’ve become addicted to its creamy sweetness ever since we’ve started keeping it in the fridge as part of Keaton’s diet). After the Cheerios, I finished off the leavings in a bag of Gardetto’s snack mix we’d taken down to the cabin with us last week. After the Cheerios and the Gardettos, I chewed a couple pulls of jerky, the sweet-hot and peppered kind; also obtained on that trip down south for the Fourth.

And now I sit here, listening to the new Animal Collective album for what must be the seven-billionth time this week (I’m not getting into it now, but let’s just say this album is waay radder than the stuff which spurred me to write this). Anyway – I think I’ve eaten enough now, and it’s time to burn some calories on the keys.

I love my time alone like this. I think it’s made even more important in this particular instance because we’ve had company the past week. Not that I didn’t enjoy our time together with family, it’s just nice to sometimes have the run of the castle. I can put on music at my preferred volume (the volume Sharaun calls, “Turn that crap down! How can you think that guys whiny voice sounds good on top of all that treble?”), I can eat sweet and salty snacks, and I can fart out loud (OK, I fart out loud regardless… don’t hate). It was kinda cloudy this afternoon, and I think I even saw a couple raindrops manifest themselves – which made it cool enough for me to open the windows when I got home: another bonus of my alone-time, the fresh air. Don’t ever let the opportunity to sneak away for some “you time” get away from you, folks. And I’m not even talking about masturbation (although that’s probably up there on the list); I’m just talking about good ‘ol leave-me-alone with my thoughts time. Get it.

In anticipation of my near four hours of travel time tomorrow (the airport time, the in-flight time, and the public transpo time from the airport to the Oregon sawmill), and, as a first for me, I’ve loaded up my iPod with some movies. I’ve got Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth (still haven’t seen it), the BBC’s controversial rebuttal The Great Global Warming Swindle, and Michael Moore’s newest, Sicko. A regular card-carrying Sierra Club Democrat’s playlist, I reckon. I’m looking forward to seeing them all, but I think I’ll begin with Sicko, mainly do to the insane amount of press it’s been getting lately all about the internets. I never figured myself as someone who’d watch movies on his iPod, that tiny screen always seemed a roadblock to my enjoyment. But after a test with some short clips I found it quite passable and somewhat convenient. I’m gonna need a bigger iPod…

Before I go, one last little morsel; indulge me: I’ve written several times about the writings of this writer, but I found this semi-recent blog entry of his simply perfect, as blogging goes, by my standards, at least, or something. Oh to write like that.

Well, as much as I wanted to mow the lawn and get a haircut before leaving for Oregon – it just ain’t gonna happen. Until tomorrow then, when I should have ample time to write – Goodnight.

iPhone. Ron Paul. Bush. Iraq.

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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.

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worth a thousand words


Ahhhhhhhhh…..

That’s one long sigh of relief; in honor of my vacation. As I write, I still have two full blissful days of relaxing to look forward to. Then it’s back to work for a mere three days, followed by another full week of loafing (as more relatives come to visit). Today is Sharaun and my 7th wedding anniversary – I remembered and got a card, she forgot and didn’t. Kinda feels good to not be the negligent one.

The vacation thus far has been outstanding. We spent two nights at the cabin down south, and then had a barbecue at the house with some friends and the in-laws (got to use the BBQ again). Today, which is Monday, as a whole herd of saps are reporting to the old sawmill for another day’s slave-labor, I’m sitting on the couch with no real motivation to get going. This is a good thing, however, believe me. We’re planning to go out to the lake today, let Keaton goof around on the shore and sit in the sand. After that, our plans are… nothing. So good to be off, I’m really just realizing how much I needed the time.

I started to write last night, but gave up for lack of material. I was all ready to call it another lost day, and send the blog down what would’ve ended up being one of the longest dry-spells in its history. Then, I was checking my e-mail on the BlackBerry while I was taking my morning coffee dump (yes, I do this) when a certain configuration of bits and bytes flew through the ether, recombined into a JPEG on my phone, and inspired me. What got me going, it turns out, was a photo that my dad sent. His simple explanation was that it was an “old photo” of me that he thought I “might like.” Check it out (click for a slightly larger version in a new window):

Now, to me, this picture was a treasure-trove of memories. Let’s set the stage first though, shall we? I can roughly date the picture by examining the wall decorations: We’re somewhere in the pre-Beatles phase, and still have quite a bit of post-5th-grade holdover material (the Garbage Pail Kids posters, the Alf poster). I have my TV and NES in the entertainment system, but not my VCR. The lack of Beatles material and VCR mean this picture was likely taken right around my late-7th-grade Beatles enlightenment (I would’ve been thirteen years old). I couldn’t help staring at this thing all “what’s wrong with this picture” style. Some things that I liked:

  • Looking closely at my left wrist, I can see the clay-bead-on-leather-strap bracelet I wore religiously for a few years in middle school. I noticed that an 8th grader had dropped it in the locker room one morning while we were dressing out, and stole it up as my own. I was even brave enough to wear it to school, back into that very locker room with that very 8th grader. I could’ve sworn I saw him looking at it, knowing, but I don’t think he ever challenged me on my ownership of it. The beads were all swirly and spotty and psychedelic, again placing this photo into that 7th-grade time of burgeoning wanna-be-hippie.
  • You can just see the edge of my dad’s old turntable in the left of the shot (by then I had adopted it as my own), and both of my two speakers: one on the right of the TV table with that yellow lamp on it (we used this one as a makeshift stepstool to get a leg-up while sneaking out of the house through that window above it), and the other to the right of the TV stand with some stuffed animals perched atop. Not too much later, I’d purchase another set of speakers from our neighbors garage sale and setup a true quadraphonic system in my room. The first record I listened to in quad was Traffic’s eponymous 1968 sophomore effort – I sat cross-legged in the middle of the room and just grooved.
  • I liked Alf?!
  • In the right-front foreground you can see the corner of my beloved bunk beds. I had these through somewhere late in the 9th grade, when they were replaced with a waterbed. Just barely in the shot near the top right you can see the blurred shape of the ceiling fan which hung directly above the ladder providing access to the top bunk. You had to climb up all hunched over to avoid hitting your head on the thing as it was whirring. I remember being extra super-aware of this on one particularly harrowing evening.
  • I used to keep all my NES cartridges in the little cabinet you can kinda see at the bottom of the TV stand. That’s where my lightgun and ROB the robot lived, too.
  • The stuffed animals on the speaker are, from left to right, “Star” and “Teddy.” Teddy was my brother’s, he was a bear; Star was mine, he was a dog. They used to have all kinds of adventures together, and were the best of buds – as stuffed animals go.

OK I’m tired. Have a good day at work, punks.

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pretending to remember


Happy Monday night to you this Tuesday morning, my friends. Tomorrow is my this week’s Friday, as after that I’m away from the sawmill for a full seven days. Seven days, folks. Then it’s up to Oregon for some displaced work (y’know, work away from your day-to-day desk always feels different). After that, I have one single, solitary, lone-wolf day back in the office before I’m off for yet another week. It’s going to be a fast and spotty July. And, when I get back on the 23rd, it’ll be a mere month or so away from the beginning of my sabbatical. Two. Months. Vacation. ‘Nuff said. Let’s get this over with.

Remember way back when I was all obsessed with the bermudagrass infestation in my lawn? I went out and bought some serious poison, which I applied twice with some success and then didn’t follow up with the prescribed regimen and thus wrecked any small progress I made, ‘member? Anyway, I shoulda stuck with the regimen, y’all… I really shoulda. My lawn is at least 60% bermuda these days… I swear. Those little tendrils snake their way out of the boundaries of the lawn and onto the bare concrete of the driveway and sidewalks, where they stand out like blinking neon: “Dave got weeds.”

The other morning on the way to work, I came up with a novel new game to play while alone in the car. Speaking imaginary eulogies for those I know; practicing, out loud, the from-the-heart tributes I’d give in their honor at their funerals. May seem macabre, but I got a lot of enjoyment out trying to condense the essence of those I know down into small little speeches. I would revise my speech as I went, looking for honest, impactful, “real” things to say. It works best for those I know best, of course – easier to talk honestly about someone you understand (or think you do). This isn’t to say I want anyone I pretended-to-remember to actually slip this mortal coil, I guess I just enjoy hearing myself talk.

Goodnight.