Posts

Posted on

on the ground in china


On the way to Shanghai, some seven hours left to go – and I can’t sleep. For the first time in over a year, I’m stuck in coach – rubbing dirty elbows with the steerage because I didn’t fly enough last year to keep my 100k status. It’s OK, because I didn’t fly for a very good reason (my #1 thing: Keaton), but I’m almost wishing I used my miles to upgrade. Luckily, a stewardess took pity on me and rescued me from my original middle seat, placing me instead in a row where myself and my rowmate got an empty middle seat to spill over into. That was nice of her, and even nicer were the two bottles of vodka she provided for my Bloody Mary. I mean, so far it ain’t been that bad.

Last night I had two of the strangest dreams I’ve had in a long while, and they were the vivid memorable kind so I decided I’d write them down. First, the cow dream. I’m sure there was more in the way of exposition, but I only remember from a certain point on.

I was on a farm, in a pen with cows. A friend of mine who’s from ranch-family stock was there with me, along with her husband. They were showing me how to feed cows. They had a machine which looked like a shop-vac: a little R2D2-esque container with a long hose attached. We hooked the hose into the stomach of the fattest cow (this meant “plugging” it into the cow’s underbelly, a process which I did not find odd at all as I dreamed it).

We then turned on the machine, and sucked food from the fat cows belly through the hose, which we moved in turn to each of the other cows to eat from. Everything was going fine, the hose was belching a thick mixture of half-digested alfalfa and grass, and the cows being fed were happily slopping it up. Suddenly, there was a clog in the process. We inspected the hose, reaching down to unclog the mess. As we did, we pulled out handfuls of white stringy mess, a goo-covered fibrous stuff, like long mucous noodles. We pulled and yanked, confused as to what this material was. After some more pulling, we finally reached the end of the mass of cords and yanked out the clog-causer: a larger organ attached at the end to the fibers. My friend turned off the machine as we stooped to examine the thing, a massive tumor of tissue.

Our resident cow expert cut into the mass, which turned out to be thin-walled and hollow – and on the inside (and this is the big finish, by the way) were several (four or five) little “creatures.” The looked like Chinese dumplings with rows of sharp teeth, and they were attached to the inner walls of the nasty mass that’d been clogging the hose. The little parasites were obviously malicious in nature, I knew this in the dream. They were attached to and eating whatever it was we’d pulled out. About this time I looked to the fat cow, the one we’d hooked the hose to – and noticed it was nothing but a deflated mass of skin. Then I realized, we’d sucked out all the cow’s entrails, right down to it’s diseased heart which we had then dissected. We’d gone to far, killed then thing by sucking it’s guts out.

Seriously, what is that all about?

Well, I’m on the ground in Shanghai and, against better judgment, am all cleaned up and dressed to go meet an old buddy for some beers and food. You’d think that any sane person would step off a thirteen hour flight and fall straight-away into bed. Yeah. You would think that. Tomorrow is a full day at work, and a packed evening afterwards as well – so I’ll try and sneak some bloggin’ in where I can. I left our camera at home with Sharaun so she can take pictures of Keaton, and I plan to either borrow a friend’s camera here or just use my cellphone if it comes down to it. Either way, I hope to get some pictures up later in the week.

Until tomorrow, I’m off to drink Chinese beer and eat Chinese food in China. Goodnight.

Posted on

friday at least


Thursday night and I’m still buzzing from a corporate-sponsored happy hour. Nice actually, considering the past couple weeks – which have honestly been a couple of the toughest weeks I’ve been through as a “manager” at a “job.” I think though, that I’ve learned more in the last few months about being a “leader” than I ever have. Makes sense actually, when you figure that I’ve not really been a recognized “leader” until recently. Yet still, going through things, experiencing them, that’s what quenches your steel – what makes you hard, what solidifies your “dick” theory. But, all that melts just a little when you’re sharing beer and greasy appetizers with coworkers – making coarse jokes about women and universally criticizing the very thing that, at work, you’re partially responsible for. Ahhh yes… the role of the buddy-manager, that tightrope, that thin line. Let’s shut up about this crap, eh?

I leave for Shanghai on Sunday morning, but tomorrow night (today’s night, as you read) we’re headed to a nice early summer BBQ with friends. I’m actually quite excited about this, the prospect of the almost-warmth of summer coupled with the fine taste of cold beer and the savory meatiness of bratwurst… oh yeah… I’m almost ready to press fast-forward and skip right to the moment Sharaun and Keaton and I arrive toting a bottle of wine and smiling. I plant to not have a headache, to not be wearing jeans that are tight and uncomfortable in the hips, and be wearing just enough clothes to be cool while the sun is up but not cold when it goes down. Yeah, I’m looking for the perfect evening – Keaton sleeping in the other room as the adults sip drinks and play cards with bellies-full of meat. Summer, you better get here tomorrow night because I need you.

Look, I’m not even emotionally invested in this show right now. I mean, Sharaun is watching it while I blog and I don’t even know what it’s called. I’m not invested, don’t care, don’t know – but I totally want this recluse guy to hook up with this elfy pigtailed girl. I love this elfy pigtailed girl, with her multicolored outfit that goes against the grain, that rails against the “matching” societal norm. She delivers pizzas and looks awesome, and I totally want this shaggy guy to go get her. Get her, shaggy guy, or I’m gonna jump in the TV and get her for you.

Goodnight.

Posted on

i’ve had better


Last night, instead of writing, I read books with Keaton. She was sleepy, so she had her pacifier in and wasn’t speaking much. So, she instead pointed to different things on the pages that caught her eye. I would, in turn, name the thing she touched. “A moon,” I’d say in my daddy voice. “Bat! Fishies! Owl! Sun!” All the while she just sat there, a cute, warm little lump on my lap that I love as much as anything I’ve ever loved. When mom got home from her volleyball game, Keaton showed off her skills in reverse by pointing to things as I named them. Sharaun considers this a spectacular feat, I’m more of the opinion that it’s probably fairly normal. Either way, I’m in a different place when we’re doing things just her and I – it’s awesome.

Tonight, I mowed the lawn. I cursed myself the entire time. I let the grass get too long, and even though I turned off the sprinklers so it wouldn’t be wet – it was long enough to hold the dew and the day wasn’t warm enough to burn it all off. The thick, damp grass clogged up the bag chute right away, making mowing almost impossible. With every pass I had to stop and empty the bag. I did it with a grunt and a curse every time, thinking about the fact that I’d have to do this all over again after not being able to mow for a week in China. I finished tho, mowed it all up, emptied it all out, blew it all into the street. All the while the iPod served up a choice set of random tunes, including that one Spoon song that I absolutely love. You know the one, it’s this one here. Man that song gets me happy.

Goodnight.

Posted on

breakfast for dinner


Monday and my hands ache, both sore and bruised from gripping and using tools to move around dirt and rocks over the weekend. At work, each word I typed out gave a little satisfactory burn in those underused muscles, and made me want to be back tinkering with my project instead of sitting at a desk doing e-mail. Don’t get me wrong though, I don’t get paid to fiddle in the garden – I do get paid to sit on my butt and do e-mail – and I’m gonna go where da money at. Now, if I could solve my money issue by, say, getting a lot of it or simply removing the need for it – I’d be all over a career in gardening and garage organizing and baby playing-with and mowing and and and…

Turns out I was kinda half-right about dodging my upcoming trip to Shanghai and Taiwan. Looks like the trip has turned into a shortened version, seeing me in Shanghai only (which I much prefer), and for only about four days. For some reason, I’m able to stomach this abbreviated version of the trip much better than I was able to in its previous incarnation. Actually, with the added stress of the between-travel taken away, I’m now sort of even looking forward to it. A few days in Shanghai, get some work done, go out in the evenings with friends, some good Sichuan food… yeah, I’m kinda looking forward to it after all. I’m even thinking about spending a little money and getting a custom suit made – my only suit is the one I bought to interview for jobs with out of college, and, while it still more-or-less fits, its service is about over. Plus, tailored suits there are less expensive than “stock” ones here, and the fabric is good quality if you go to the right place. We’ll see.

Tonight Sharaun made breakfast for dinner. Normally, I don’t like that, some sort of breaking-tradition thing or something – plus I really don’t like meals that feature “sweet,” I’m a “savory” kinda guy. But tonight it was welcomed. I used it as some sort of mental “reset” ritual, trying to pretend it was the real beginning to my day in hopes it might help me erase the banality that was my real day. It worked, to an extent, I had good post-breakfast “day” playing with Keaton and listening to music. It was raining outside, so I didn’t get to play in the garden (I still need to route the drip). Some days, breakfast for dinner is totally cool.

I updated Keaton’s pictures today, you can check them out here.

Bye.

Posted on

green thumb


Alone on a Saturday night, nursing a headache again – but this time I think it’s from spending most of the afternoon in the sun. I worked outside today, and it was an excellent break for me. Got me digging and sweating and realizing how out of shape I am. I was putting together a little planter box to grow veggies in, something I’ve wanted to try for a long time. I have a notoriously not-green thumb, most things I plant seem to wither or just never take root – so I did quite a bit of research before starting out. A few of our friends have had some success with raised-bed type vegetable gardens, so I decided to go down that route.

After a few hours surfing gardening sites, message boards, and newgroups – I decided I would ally my garden wholly with Mel Bartholomew’s “Square Foot Gardening” method. I followed the instructions to a tee, down to the exact soil mix and suggested crop layouts. It’s gonna be tight in my little 3’x10′ spot, and packing it in like SFG recommends goes against my instincts just a little, but what have I got to lose? Anyway, taking care of veggies should give me something neato to do outside on summer evenings after work, so I’m looking forward to it.

For the curious, here’s a picture of what my planter turned out like (click for larger version):

And, for the even more curious, here’s a snapshot of my tentative close-quarters crop layout, which I pretty much bit off another SFGer on the forums.

I’m supposed to leave for Shanghai this Friday, but haven’t yet bought my ticket. Monday looks booked, not sure I’ll be able to make the time. Can you tell I’m stalling in hopes of having to push-out my trip? I just don’t want to go, and to be perfectly honest, while there’s certainly plenty of work I can do there, there’s no real need for me to go that particular week. I’m not sure I’ll be able to put it off, I’ve already applied for a rush visa and sent off my passport, and my boss kinda expects me to go. I’m usually pretty good about getting these “feelings” though, and this time I just feel like, come this Friday, I may not be going anywhere.

Man I love the image that I chose for this post, I’d hang that thing on my wall… it’s that awesome.

Goodnight.

Posted on

a short break


Where have I been? Hung up; dragging; consumed and wrung-out. Work has been… taxing… this week. Not-work has been… taxing… this week. Plus, I’ve been wracked with terrible sinus headaches the likes of which I’ve never had before. They creep into my head just above my left eye and wait for my lingering cough to make them sharp and pointed. Each time my throat tickles and I cough, my head explodes in a little bloom of hurt right above that eye. I think this has something to do with stress, and maybe even the super antibiotic I’ve been taking to rid myself of my sinus and ear infections – but it’s been every day so far this week around 2pm. Today, coupled with an extraordinarily awful day at work, I came home and wanted to do nothing but collapse on the couch.

I hate this week, I really, really hate this week. More than anything I just want to take some time off, a long weekend, a vacation to clear my head and get away from everything that I hate so much right now. Even as I write my head is exploding inside and telling me just to go to bed. When I wake up in the morning I want nothing more than to roll over again and sleep, or lazily spend my day on the floor throwing balls to Keaton. I’m frustrated. I’m tired. I’m ornery and I’m fed-up. I’m also just a little emotionally oversubscribed and spent, it’s been a bad couple weeks for for tragedy and drama and I’ve been performing sick. I could use a weekend in the hills, sipping a dust-covered beer in my ridiculous “camping hat.” Could use a night in a sleeping bag under the stars, a blowjob in a tent, a breakfast burrito cooked on a Coleman stove. My attitude is bad, my outlook for the remaining two days of this week is bleak, and my head hurts.

Work sucks. Next time you see two bearded guys hawking sloppy-looking tortillas on the roadside, pull over and give those guys some cash – I’m sure they sacrificed good jobs for those corn-stained hands and hobo-lookin’ chin curtains – but don’t they look as happy as pigs in shit? Yeah, in my head they sure do.

Goodnight.

Posted on

weekend writing


Sunday night. On Friday, I went to the doctor at 11am and came home for the rest of the day, loosely monitoring e-mail while I rested on the couch. The doc’s word: an ear-infection for each ear, and a sinus infection to boot. The last time I was in in late January, they’d given me a standard course of amoxicillin to knock it out. This time, she said, she’d give me something that packed a little more wallop. Seems to be working, although I did expressly disobey the “make sure and stay well hydrated” orders in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, and it really did set me back. Hopefully though, my health will continue its drug-assisted upward trend. Well, before we go on then, here’s a link to an updated Keaton’s gallery – with some long-overdue moving pictures as well as the standard static stuff. Enjoy.

Keaton, being only a little more than a year old, has probably heard a wider variety of music than most average twenty year-olds. I love this. Today, I played with her on the carpet for hours while the iPod shuffled up tunes fro its well-stocked hard drive. “This is Emitt Rhodes,” I’d say to her, “He sounds a lot like McCartney, before McCartney went soft.” “Gah…” she’d affirm. “Now, this is Taj Mahal, and this song should always make you feel good inside, even tho they call it ‘the blues,’ OK?” “Bah,” she replies. Between her mom’s hip-hop and R&B leanings and my own rock-founded eclectic tastes – by the time she’s in high school she should be a walking encyclopedia of music history. She’ll be able to pick apart the latest flavor-of-the-week in seconds: “These guys are just ripping off Zeppelin riffs with Clash-style bass and saccharine harmonies like wanna-be Zombies.” Oh man, if she ever really says anything like that… I might faint of pride. Anyway, I do revel in the fact that she’s already heard so much, and truly do wonder if anything is getting soaked-up: the beats, the sound, the rhythms, anything… guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

Having been sole-parent to Keaton now for the better part of each past Saturday, I have a better understanding of the difficulty Sharaun must face every day. When Keaton’s awake (anytime that’s not about 1pm to about 4pm), you are wholly absorbed caring for and playing with her, and in your mind you think about all the “real” things you’ll be able to get done once she’s down for her nap. The things you want to do, like pick up the living room or put away the laundry or finish the dishes – the things you can’t get done when she’s awake. But, come that blessed time, the afternoon nap, you just want to stop more than anything. Stop everything and do nothing. Motivation to do more work is hard to come by when the moment of solace you’ve been watching minutes for finally arrives. I suppose it’s a whole new mindset, as work-schedule adjustment is all – but I can see, in my brief coverage as mom, that it’d sure take me a while to find the cadence. Maybe that’s why I come home to the house messier than when I left it each day…

You know, despite, about 90% of the time, loving this beard-thing I’m cultivating on my face – I’m still extremely self-conscious about it. I like it; I like most everything about it – but I’m just not sure it looks right. Sometimes, rare times, but sometimes, I’ll catch myself in the mirror and the thing looks horribly out of place. Other times, I’ll catch a glimpse and think about how much I like it. And, as much as I want to continue to grow it out, I have this little voice in my that’s coming up with nonchalant comebacks to the Amish jokes, to the rabbi jokes. I dunno, I read online that guys who experimenting with beards should wear them for at least six months to really get an idea if they like themselves in them. I think that would put me sometime in August, maybe I’ll use Sharaun’s birthday as a decision point. I’ve also thought about going to a “real” barber (not Fantastic Sams or Great Clips, but that place near downtown with a real barber’s pole and the guy who sits outside smoking his pipe when he’s not cutting hair) and asking them to give me a pro-style trim and “line adjustment.” I would think a “real” barber might be able to give me some tips on shape and whatnot. See the things I labor over?

Goodnight.