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a heart made of dead, cold, steel

And then you forget.Good evening web friends.

Hope your week is going well.  Mine, so far, which has consisted of Monday only, has been slammed busy.  But let’s go.

It’s Tuesday as you read this and tomorrow morning I leave for Oregon.  Two days at the local sawmill there and then Friday my brother and I hit the trail.  A three day trip in the wilds of the Columbia River Gorge, trekking alongside creeks and waterfalls and camping alongside lakeshores.  The backpacking trip is honor of my brother’s 30th birthday, which is this coming Sunday.  I spent some time tonight gathering and checking all my gear: filling a couple flasks with port, stuffing my clothes into a compression sack, checking off items on the list of things I need to bring.  I think we’re all set – and I am probably more excited about this short hike than I’ve been about any in a while.  Really looking forward to spending the time with my brother and getting away from it all.

Keaton and I went to the gym together tonight (Mom had to go shopping with some girlfriends in preparation for a party they’re throwing this weekend).  On the way home, I had the radio off (can’t listen to the iPod in Sharaun’s car and there was nothing on the radio worth listening to) and Keaton began to sing.  It was so cute hearing her voice that I risked life, limb, and a citation by holding the iPhone in the air behind my head to record her.  I slapped together two of the best choruses from her singing and folded them down into a  single MP3 for your listening pleasure.   Check it:

[audio:youbelongtome.mp3]
Why can’t you see-ee-ee?  You be long to me-ee-ee!

Can someone find me an A&R man already, please?  If that doesn’t melt your heart then you either 1) have no heart or 2) have a heart made of dead, cold, steel.

Got word that both our new flooring (the raw materials, at least) arrive Friday.  Same day we’re supposed to get the new dining room table we ordered.  All the “upgrade 2009” projects seem to be hitting at the same time.  It’s going to be a busy few weeks around here as the projects kick into gear, but we’re both excited about the coming results.  I’ll post some pictures of the progress as it’s made.  And, the whole internet is invited over to check out the work when it’s finished.  OK?

Goodnight friends, I’m all done for the evening.  Until tomorrow.

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a floor is meant to be walked on

Use me.Good evening internet.

Sunday morning Sharaun and I got in a disagreement about our new wood floors.  For those not up-to-speed, we’re in the process of doing hardwood floors (well, we haven’t started yet, but should soon… depending on when the material gets here).  In her opinion, we should wait until after our large, often raucous Halloween party to put down the new flooring.  In my opinion, it doesn’t matter and I’d rather do it sooner versus later.

Now, I realize that, looking at it plainly, my point of view may seem daft and that there seems to be a fair amount of logic to her argument.  I mean, why put down beautiful brand new flooring right before you invite a hundred people into your house to stomp drunkenly around on it?  Why risk this kind of ruin so early after getting it?  Makes sense right?  Wrong!  To illustrate how my mind works and why I disagree, I’ll tell a story.

The very day we bought our new car we were headed out of town to stay the weekend with friends in Tahoe.  As we were in a huge rush, we needed to do a quick lunch.  As the driver, I suggested we swing through a fast food drive-up window and do a road lunch on the way up into the mountains.  Sharaun looked at me askew, “You really want to eat in the new car on the first day we own it, and let Keaton eat in it too?”  “Well, I figure we have a decision to make,” I replied, “Are we ever going to eat in this car, or let Keaton eat in this car?  And, if we are, then why wait?  I bought a new car to use, not preserve.”  OK, so I paraphrased my actual statement, partially because I don’t remember it word-for-word and partially to make it sound better, but you get the gist.

To my wife’s flooring argument, I see it as at best simply delaying a certain eventuality.   To me, it all boils down to a simple question: Are we ever going to have people over at our house in a situation where there could be a risk that our floor will be damaged, or do these new floors mean a moratorium on entertaining?  If, at some conceivable point in  the future, a week from now or a year from now, we’ll be willing to put our floor at risk – why ever strive avoid it?

Is it just to have something “nice” and “pristine” even if for a little while?  To enjoy the fleeting unmarred newness while it lasts?  If so, that makes about as much sense to me as putting a brand new pair of shoes on the shelf for a month before wearing them.  Ahh… but I can hear the females flocking to support my wife’s position now, offering up tricky counter-arguments like, “It’s not like that at all!  It’s more like buying new shoes and not ruining them by running a marathon in them on day-one.”   (Please imagine that read in a nagging, high pitch, holier-than-thou voice.)  Women are crafty, and they stick together, so I could totally see myself facing that retort from my wife’s estrogen-sharing sympathizers.

But c’mon ladies… it’s not really like that at all!  It’s simple utilitarianism:  A floor is meant to be walked on, is it not?  And, if we’re not willing to let people walk on it, even en masse, then why are we getting it?  Furthermore, if by getting this floor I’m now going to be expected to act as if it were constructed of eggshells, I’d rather not get new flooring at all.  See friends, cold, hard, logic.

When I buy a lightbulb, I immediately begin contributing to its eventual death by plugging it in; when I new clothes, I wear and wash them right away.  Thing are made to be used, so says me.

Unfortunately, my wife sees no logic in my logic.

Goodnight friends.

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pop-up monsters

Monsters.Oh man I’m glad it’s Friday.

Thursdays at work are slammed.  8am to 5pm, every minute of every hour, including lunch, filled with meetings.  Some of them via phone, some face to face.  Got home at 6:30pm, ate some leftovers, went on a long walk with Keaton while Sharaun was at the gym, and by the time I sat down it was already fast on 9pm.

One morning about a week ago Keaton woke up and rambled on and on about “pop-up monsters” in her room.  From what I can figure, piecing together what bits and pieces I can understand, she had a dream about pop-up monsters that hide in her room.  Apparently, the pop-up variety of monsters are good at hiding, and they only pop-up when they hear you singing.  So, of course, singing alone in your room is out of the question, see?  I mean, if you sing the pop-up monsters will come out and scare you.  Each night now before she goes to bed, she asks me to look behind her bed, under her bed, in her closet, behind her dresser, and behind her rocking chair – just to make sure there are no pop-up monsters hiding.  Gotta watch out for those pop-up monsters.

Tonight I was reading a book to Keaton before she went to bed.  One one page there was a painted picture of a mother and her daughter sitting inside a house.  The was a fire on the hearth and through a large picture window you could see outside.  That painted sky was gray, the painted wind was blowing the painted trees, and it was dusk.  It was such a perfect illustration of Fall I wanted to crawl inside the page with Keaton and stay warm by the fire.  I guess it’s just my Fall-fetish… I can almost feel the season coming on and I just love it so much.  Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas… sweaters, hats, open windows and doors.  Man I love Fall.

Rambling now.  Goodnight.

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Luna Alice In Wonderland Princess

Instant love.It’s Tuesday, right?  OK no, you’ll read this on Wednesday… but it’s still Tuesday for us right now.  Sharaun’s at volleyball and Keaton and I are here giving the freshly-leaked Islands record a spin.  We’re withholding our judgment right now; we agreed we need to get through the whole thing at least once before we form any opinions.

Recently, a young girl at church heard about Keaton’s weekend pony ride with Grammy & Grandpa and decided that she’d make a gift to Keaton of a rather large toy pony she had from when she was an even younger girl.  Now, when I say “rather large” I’m meaning the word “rather” plus the word “large.”  Yes, this is a pretty big plastic pony; the thing has heft, a respectable weight to it.  It’s so big, in fact, you could mistake it for an actual ride-able pony (a toy ride-able pony, but a ride-able pony due to its stature alone).

The thing had appeared at the house when I got home from work today, and Keaton couldn’t wait to show it to me.  “Look dad,” she barely contained, “Look at my big pony!”  “Wow,” I said, not having to feign, “She’s beautiful.  What’s her name?”  “Luna Alice In Wonderland Princess,” she replied, matter of factly.  Yes, that’s her name; that’s what Keaton named her.  To clarify, she’ll add “‘Luna’ is her first name, ‘Alice In Wonderland’ is her middle name, and ‘Princess’ is her last name.  Did you hear me dad?  Are you looking?  Look with you eyes please.  Dad.  Dad.  Dad did you hear me?  Are you looking?”  Oh man I wish I could freeze her for a little longer than a year to get a little more than a year with her every year; she’s that fun sometimes.

A confession: We’ve lived here in our modest first-home now for about seven years.  Not once during this time have I ever cleaned our windows; inside, or out.  Never.  To look at the windows, you would surely know this.  The tracks and grooves which they sit in are dusty, dirty, and strung with cobwebs in the corners.  Now, I don’t mean to say our house is the picture of disarray… quite the opposite, I think , if one were to drop-in and perform a quick visual check for cleanliness, we’d pass muster OK; clutter aside.  But upon close inspection, the white-glove kind of inspection, oh the neatness-police would find plenty to fine us for.  I was thinking about washing the windows, inside and out, this weekend.  But… then I thought… “It’s gonna rain soon in this year.”  So I changed my mind.

Ohhh… Sharaun has the Biggest Loser on.  It’s the first episode of some new season, the one where I like to try and guess which of the fatties might be hot once they lose 250lbs.  Gotta run.

Goodnight lurkers, unashamed readers, and unabashed commenters.  Love you.

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we’re all beaters

It's gross when anyone does it.Great weekend with my folks in town; it felt like a nice long drawn-out time together.

We crammed a lot in, too: went up into the hills and wandered around some farms, making a stopover at a brewery; watched football with friends; went out for sushi; and did a picnic lunch (complete with geese-feeding) at the lake. I think Keaton had a good time with her grandparents and, for me, it almost felt like a three-day weekend even though it was only a standard old two-day one.

Switching gears.

Keaton has a new turn of phrase I wanted to write about, for posterity, and all. Whenever she’s doing something with Sharaun or I which can be measured in time (walking somewhere, eating something, etc.) she races us. And, she always begins her race by saying, “I’m gonna be the beater!” To her, this means she’s going to beat us at whatever task we’ve now been cast into competition around. Funnier still, Keaton can never not be the beater. Oh, if she wins, she’s definitely the beater, and she’ll let you know it by chanting as much. If she loses, however, then she’ll say, “We’re all beaters now!” So: she wins, she’s the beater; she loses, she’s still the beater… but we all get to share the crown.

I told my brother about her “beater” method of scoring contests, and he loved it. He in turn told the folks he works with and now they all apparently go around shouting that they’re gonna “be the beater” as they get their graveyard-things done. Oh, yeah, my brother is a gravedigger. No; for real.

Switching gears.

The other day, I was on Sharaun’s Facebook account looking at some pictures she wanted to show me and I saw a post by a friend of a friend where you’re supposed to list fifty concerts you’ve been to. Easy enough, but he put a twist on it and added the name of a friend he’d been to each show with alongside the artist seen live. I thought this sounded fun, but wanted to see if I could make it even more challenging.

My rules: Try to list fifty shows along with fifty friends who I’d been with at each. But, the catch is that you can’t list the same artist twice – even in the legitimate instance when you may have seen them more than once with different people; and you can’t list a single person more than once, which is tough when you do most of your concerttin’ with a small hardcore clique. Anyway, that’s what I set out to do. I told Sharaun, and she (correctly) predicted that the number of friends, not the number of concerts, would be the limiting factor if I did it my way… but I had to try anyway. So, for no real reason at all here’s my list…

  1. Bob Dylan (Kyle)
  2. Ween (Andy)
  3. Van Morrison (Jeremy)
  4. Smashing Pumpkins (Natalie)
  5. Paul McCartney (Sharaun)
  6. Arcade Fire (Cynthia)
  7. Band of Horses (John)
  8. BTO (Tiffiny)
  9. Alien Sex Fiend (Siobhan)
  10. The Strokes (Anthony)
  11. Killers (Suzy)
  12. Subrosa (Scott)
  13. The Bravery (Rob)
  14. Crosby, Stills, & Nash (Mom & Dad)
  15. Radiohead (Ben)
  16. Wallflowers (Robin)
  17. Coldplay (Jeff)
  18. Of Montreal (Colleen)
  19. Hot Hot Heat (Erik)
  20. Modest Mouse (Brontë)
  21. The Advantage (Mika)
  22. The Decemberists (Melissa)
  23. The Shins (Pat)
  24. AK1200 (Chuck)
  25. Donna the Buffalo (Joey)
  26. Gwen Stefani (Michelle)
  27. Doug Martsch (Joe)

Today I went up to the watch store at the outlet mall where I bought my watch so many years ago, as the battery died for only the second time since owning it. Turns out it wasn’t the battery, but the watch itself died somehow… old age gets us all, I guess. They said they could send it in for repair, would cost $30. “How much are the new watches?,” I asked. “About $40” was the reply… so I bought a new watch.

Goodnight friends.

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aside from deemsters and amps

Crickets.Happy Thursday friends.  I’m writing as the clock closes in on midnight; a time when I, arguably, should be in bed.  But no, I has some words come… so I’m gonna make it happen.  Here goes.

Sometimes, when I find out that a friend I didn’t know has a blog keeps a blog I get really excited.  I’ve been known to go and read everything they’ve ever posted in one sitting.  Occasionally, this is impossible because they’ve been posting for a long time or with insane frequency.  More often, they posted a lot for a little while and then dried up.  Still, it’s interested to read what people write… old, new, sparse, thick… interesting either way.

Blogging, in this form at least, feels somewhat antiquated these days.  With the Tweeter and the Facebooks and whatever else the kids are using these days (I mean aside from deemsters and amps), the old page-form long-post kinda blog is becoming a fossil of the Gen-X internet crowd.  The new thing is real-time, always-writing updates.  Bursts, call-and-response volleys, that’s the way to go.  I can see the charm, and excitement, that back-and-forth mini-conversations can offer, particularly if they are enhanced with real-time media like pictures or videos.  And despite being a cooler-than-thou Facebook holdout, I am attracted to the notion of perhaps one day “signing up.”

Even if I do, one day some day, sign up for the Facebooks… I intend to continue posting here.  I love this medium… the long-entry medium, the “blog” medium.  I like writing in paragraph form; like being able to develop thoughts over the course of rambling.  Recently, I installed a fancy statistics plugin looking for some insight into my posting habits.  It tells me that I’ve made 1,191 posts in all.   That’s over the course of about six years.  Apparently, I tend to post most often on Tuesdays, and more in the months of January and October than the others.   And, despite the fact that it seems to me like I go through some significant dry-spells and downtime (as I’ve felt lately), the overall averages say that I’ve pretty much posted with the same frequency all a long (calculated as total posts over total time sounds familiar has been around).

So, the blog remains.  I continue to work at it and continue to want to.  Goodnight.