Try to keep up. I feel like writing, not editing, so read at your own risk...
Sitting in the cafeteria in Fred Meyer today, thumbing through an American Classified to stay occupied since all of the Boise Weekly's were gone and the only newspaper in sight was coated in what appeared to be that divine mixture of ketchup and mustard so suited to corn dogs. I remember a classified called The Thrifty Nickel, and now I'm wondering if that classified still exists and if so has it changed its name to keep up with inflation?
Page three of the American Classified. Section: People Meeting People. Advertisement/Entry: "All you can eat buffet. Come experience the best buffet in the Northwest, menu changing every Thursday". A way to meet people? Odd. Brilliant. But perhaps true, certainly a buffet would provide more chance to interact than my habitual tub of cottage cheese and small bag of assorted nuts. But this is why I come to Fred Meyer for lunch every day, to spend my allotted 30-minute break keeping to myself and bracing for the second half of the work day. I prefer not to interact much, plowing through periodicals or people watching through the large windows facing east toward the foothills. Said windows also face a row of five or six handicap parking spaces, which (and I know I know I may burn in hell for this) really provide entertainment on certain days, as myriad individuals that perhaps should not be driving try to maneuver over-sized and antiquated Skylarks and Eldorados between the baby-blue lines, like watching the Titanic coming in too hot to an iced-over bay and trying to split NFL-regulation goal posts canted 60-degrees out of whack. Spectacular (though relatively non-damaging) events guaranteed daily. In short, the 30-minutes goes fast; before I realize it my tub is empty, the trail-mix contents reduced to red, papery husks and crystallized fructose raisin "crystals", a smile back on my face (or at least the morning scowl subsided) and I am ready to return to work.
Speaking of food, and this is by far, hands down, THE most random segue you will ever hear, my beautiful wife is roughly five weeks pregnant. Holy shit! We found out roughly two weeks ago. Here's how it went down:
Tuesday October 13, 11:15AM: Calvin receives phone call at work. He and Lauren chit-chat for maybe three minutes about the weather (literally) and agree to meet around 12:30PM for lunch. The phone call ends and Calvin returns to the computer CAD nerdery that is his life.
Tuesday October 13, 11: 21AM: Calvin feels a tap on his shoulder, swivels around in his office chair, and finds Lauren standing in the cubicle with an oddly blank (yet I dare say coy) look on her face. Before Calvin can inquire about Lauren's presence (wha? why? b but, when?) Lauren slaps some sort of object down onto the desk, something roughly the size of a pen enclosed in a sandwich bag. Then (and I am not sure of this exact sequence as time and space managed to melt into a mild-altering color wheel of condensed plasticized LSD dreams) Calvin realized he was looking at a pregnancy test, two blue lines, and Lauren simultaneously saying "I'm pregnant".
Tuesday October 13, 11:22AM: Like an idiot, Calvin is speechless for much too long, finally managing to blurt out something like "let's go outside!", then spends the next fifteen minutes smooching all over his cherished wife (mother-to-be) and trying to explain that the delay in response was out of blissful shock and not disappointed shock. Mission accomplished, the two ride off into the sunset*.
*This part is a lie. Calvin turned 180-degrees and entered back into the salt mines, not to emerge again for another six hours. Lauren returned home with song birds on her shoulders, squirrels holding up her trailing gown, and several fawns and rabbits prancing merrily behind the Saab (which got a little iffy on the freeway connector but overall had the effect desired).
And now back to that atrociously disjointed segue. Food. Lauren is NOT having those weird food cravings, but IS having those weird food repulsions. Poor thing has been extremely nauseous every day for the last ten days and has lost a couple pounds instead of gaining them. My job is to wait patiently for her to finish being sick, then to start rattling off every dish I know how to prepare (from Cheerios to pancakes to fancy-pants soups) until something sounds, how should I say, not appealing but rather tolerable to her sensitive palate.
Somewhere in all of this, last Friday to be exact, I drew the short straw at work and was "nominated" to go to China THIS Friday. I begrudgingly agreed, but by Sunday night it was blatantly clear that I needed to put my foot down and ask for a "get out of a China-trip free" card. Lauren and I were sitting on the floor in the bathroom, she sick, both of us damn-near crying; it's never been more clear what I needed to do, and I sent off an email that very night alerting my boss to the need for a meeting to reconsider my roll in the upcoming factory visit.
It is true I've been struggling at work, but the reaction of my boss and workmates (including the mate who drew the now second-shortest straw and had to go in my place) went light years toward improving my attitude. It wasn't a perfect situation, as there was obviously a touch of awkwardness, but I think all will be fine. So, now I'll be here. More than anything I just want Lauren to stop yakking, it's excruciating to hear her heaving and realize how miserable that makes you feel.
My roll: dishes/laundry/shopping/cleaning/errand boy. I'm trying to do my best but inadvertently drop the ball every now and again. This evening, for example, I went ahead and re-heated some curried butternut squash soup from earlier in the week. Lauren, asleep upstairs in the loft, came running down and practically projectile vomited into the toilet. Oops. We want for a little walk around Camels Back park yesterday and I brought along a mini-thermos of coffee w/ hazelnut cream. Again, oops. I'm learning, though it's like fumbling blindly through a labyrinth with ever-shifting walls.
We have our second doctor's appointment tomorrow, 11AM. The sonar images from the last visit showed a modest (yet encouraging and healthy) little sack well-secured to the uterus wall, but it was so early that the developing Calvinito (or Calvinette, though that sounds like trailer-trash-kitchenware) was all but invisible. We asked "how big, like a grain of rice?" and were told it was smaller than that. Lauren and I agreed it must be perhaps the size of a cous cous granule, or maybe half that which we called a (single) cous. So tomorrow, we'll see how far our little cous has come, perhaps trading the title to KB (kidney bean) or maybe even BB (butterbean). At this point, for me, it's surreal and hasn't fully sunk in. I mean, I'm going to be a dad!? What the!? Holy freaking rad. Holy freaking rad.
Disjointed entries rule! I hope you enjoyed reading this, I'm glad I wrote it all down.
10.27.2009
10.04.2009
Rain
Fall has arrived, no wait now it's gone and winter has arrived. I would have to look at the calendar, as I can not seem to remember the exact day that Fall officially commenced, but I can look out the window to affirm that Summer has indeed passed and is sorely missed already.
The rain started sometime early yesterday afternoon, first with a few random drops spread over three or four hours then finally a committed gushing around seven o'clock. It has not stopped since. The water is much welcomed; Boise has been quite dry since the beginning of June. I'm hoping to get out for a ride if I can shoot the gap between storm cells this afternoon, but I'm not holding my breath. Oh, gotta run, Lauren's rolling out of bed...
Later (two days later!): The rain kept coming but I managed to get that ride in. I rode out Hill Road to the cemetery, relishing the crisp clean air, marveling at the sight of my own foggy breath and dodging downed branches in flooded storm drains. I'd yet to feel raindrops so I pushed my luck, pedaling straight past my doorstep en route to Warm Springs Avenue on the east side of Boise. I made it to the Botanical Gardens when my luck ran out and the skies opened back up. The rain wasn't torrential, nothing like, say, Thailand in terms of flow-rate, but holy geez the temperature was a bit chilly for my taste. Not to mention I was wearing some heavily insulated but poorly-water-repellent clothing that essentially turned into a swamp cooler once saturated. I was ready for some soup when I finally got home.
Fortunately soup was waiting. Lauren and I hit the Saturday Market and picked up (nearly) all the makings of beef stew: market fresh potatoes of all variety and color, shallots, purple onions, and baby carrots. Combined with our own garden's contribution of rosemary, sage, thyme, yellow tomatoes, and parsley, the only store-bought item was the large chunk of beef purchased from Albertsons. In short the stew was amazing, satisfying to feel so connected to the food you eat. Nice to connect with Lauren so much this weekend. She and I have been on different pages lately; or perhaps the same page in different books, I dunno.
This coming week is looking better for, well, getting my head screwed on straight. The only hiccup I'm bracing for (blindly) is the release of my pops from jail. Won't go into that now, but I expect it to be challenging no matter what; challenging if things revert to hell, challenging if he finally comes 'round, so to say. Asi es la vida. In the big picture, I'm doing well at staying so friggin' busy I don't have time to think about life in too much detail; working a main job, doing a smidge of side work, and building/repairing bikes for amigos. Along those lines, wait until you see Greg's new road bike. Sha-bamm.
All right then. Oh, as sort of an ode to a summer passed (since it's raining, er, nearly snowing outside now), here's a wicked panorama I took and stitched from our July visit to Alaska. Paradise.
The rain started sometime early yesterday afternoon, first with a few random drops spread over three or four hours then finally a committed gushing around seven o'clock. It has not stopped since. The water is much welcomed; Boise has been quite dry since the beginning of June. I'm hoping to get out for a ride if I can shoot the gap between storm cells this afternoon, but I'm not holding my breath. Oh, gotta run, Lauren's rolling out of bed...
Later (two days later!): The rain kept coming but I managed to get that ride in. I rode out Hill Road to the cemetery, relishing the crisp clean air, marveling at the sight of my own foggy breath and dodging downed branches in flooded storm drains. I'd yet to feel raindrops so I pushed my luck, pedaling straight past my doorstep en route to Warm Springs Avenue on the east side of Boise. I made it to the Botanical Gardens when my luck ran out and the skies opened back up. The rain wasn't torrential, nothing like, say, Thailand in terms of flow-rate, but holy geez the temperature was a bit chilly for my taste. Not to mention I was wearing some heavily insulated but poorly-water-repellent clothing that essentially turned into a swamp cooler once saturated. I was ready for some soup when I finally got home.
Fortunately soup was waiting. Lauren and I hit the Saturday Market and picked up (nearly) all the makings of beef stew: market fresh potatoes of all variety and color, shallots, purple onions, and baby carrots. Combined with our own garden's contribution of rosemary, sage, thyme, yellow tomatoes, and parsley, the only store-bought item was the large chunk of beef purchased from Albertsons. In short the stew was amazing, satisfying to feel so connected to the food you eat. Nice to connect with Lauren so much this weekend. She and I have been on different pages lately; or perhaps the same page in different books, I dunno.
This coming week is looking better for, well, getting my head screwed on straight. The only hiccup I'm bracing for (blindly) is the release of my pops from jail. Won't go into that now, but I expect it to be challenging no matter what; challenging if things revert to hell, challenging if he finally comes 'round, so to say. Asi es la vida. In the big picture, I'm doing well at staying so friggin' busy I don't have time to think about life in too much detail; working a main job, doing a smidge of side work, and building/repairing bikes for amigos. Along those lines, wait until you see Greg's new road bike. Sha-bamm.
All right then. Oh, as sort of an ode to a summer passed (since it's raining, er, nearly snowing outside now), here's a wicked panorama I took and stitched from our July visit to Alaska. Paradise.
9.18.2009
Friday, Mid September. Desert.
Growing up, we used to have this framed painting on the wall depicting a covered wagon hauling ass across a Nevadan (or at least South-Western) landscape, basically racing the impending storm to an unknown destination. A cowboy piloted the wagon, navigating the straining and eager horses along a poorly-maintained dirt path, cacti and succulents lining each side, the yellowed and parched landscape creating stark disparity against a wall of pitch-blackened clouds amassing on the horizon. As a child, the painting spoke to me, mostly due to the similarity between the cowboy's environment and my own at the time. I could smell the impending rain, its affects sensible via the smell of whetted creosote... well in advance of the first drop of rain felt on skin. Such were my favorite moments as a child in the desert near Death Valley, literally feeling the anticipation of the plants, rocks, sand, and travelers as the thunder cell approached from afar. All manners of being, waiting in electrified anticipation for the (welcomed) inevitable.
I saw this picture years later at my mother's house in Elko; and in fact I am sure she still has the picture since her move to Alaska. This picture haunts my memory at all times, and I'd be hard-pressed to tell you why it dominates my thoughts at this hour; a Friday night at nearly 11PM after a horrendous work week and 36 fluid ounces of cheap Friday-night-special margaritas. But there it is, or rather there I am. It is my location of solace. It is that fictional retreat in my mind, always a few seconds away and always ready to provide infinite amounts of what I crave the most sometimes... quiet. Quiet, peace, and nothing but that very moment of anticipation and contentment. I can hear the wind, I can smell the desert rain, I am aware of everything external and nothing internal. I just am.
I tend to get bogged down, at times. I've been very bogged down this week in my job... in my life. I constantly struggle, wanting to stand up for my beliefs and desires, and yet wondering why I can't just get in line and ingest my prescribed diet like everyone else. My mother has a theory that I am being groomed, prepared for something bigger in life. Sometimes it's hard for me to see beyond the next seven days.
There is no point to this blog, besides maybe delaying the onset of sleep while the faint cheap-tequila margarita buzz begins its waning gibbous toward the new moon of morning sobriety. Struggling, I guess.
I saw this picture years later at my mother's house in Elko; and in fact I am sure she still has the picture since her move to Alaska. This picture haunts my memory at all times, and I'd be hard-pressed to tell you why it dominates my thoughts at this hour; a Friday night at nearly 11PM after a horrendous work week and 36 fluid ounces of cheap Friday-night-special margaritas. But there it is, or rather there I am. It is my location of solace. It is that fictional retreat in my mind, always a few seconds away and always ready to provide infinite amounts of what I crave the most sometimes... quiet. Quiet, peace, and nothing but that very moment of anticipation and contentment. I can hear the wind, I can smell the desert rain, I am aware of everything external and nothing internal. I just am.
I tend to get bogged down, at times. I've been very bogged down this week in my job... in my life. I constantly struggle, wanting to stand up for my beliefs and desires, and yet wondering why I can't just get in line and ingest my prescribed diet like everyone else. My mother has a theory that I am being groomed, prepared for something bigger in life. Sometimes it's hard for me to see beyond the next seven days.
There is no point to this blog, besides maybe delaying the onset of sleep while the faint cheap-tequila margarita buzz begins its waning gibbous toward the new moon of morning sobriety. Struggling, I guess.
8.22.2009
Another from China
Ran outside yesterday. I asked Mike if he had any interest in joining me at the Health Centre, and he instead suggested we head outside for a run… sweet. I’ve never dreamed of running outside in China. Not only am I afraid of getting lost (how in the heck do you landmark in a Chinese city?) but also getting glared at and potentially mugged. Mike has run a few times in China and said it wasn’t a big deal.
We had to cut through a few city blocks and traffic circles before finding our way to the river. The traffic circles were an interesting challenge. Think of that good ol’ video game Frogger, complete with semi-trucks, bicyclists, tuk-tuks, awesome tractors, and other frightened pedestrians (side note, speaking of vehicles, I’m really keeping my eyes peeled for these.
Anyway, we managed to work our way through the city, definitely drawing a few stares in the process but simply nodding in return, shouting “ZAO!” which means g’morning, and trotting past. Everything changed once we hit the river. We saw other people out there in the name of exercise. There were several groups of people practicing Tai Chi, mostly older folks… when a group of fifteen 70-year-olds is moving in fluidic, uniform grace (exercising, not sleeping in unison at a movie theater) it warrants a moment of observance.
We worked our way down a few miles, crossed a rickety wooden bridge, and found ourselves on an embankment straddling slums and rice paddies. For obvious reasons we flipped around to head back, but it’s worth noting that the Chinese we saw in this area, the ones curled up on salvaged cardboard living in houses made of scrap tin, wire, and foliage, were the most friendly encountered that day. All toothless grins and emphatic “GOO MORNY!”
On the way back Mike led us through a morning market three blocks from the hotel. This was not like the night markets in Hong Kong, all Coach purses and North Farse backpacks and iClone electronics; this market was the real deal. We stuck out like fur coats at a PETA rally: white, tall, decked-out in techie running clothes saturated with sweat, though comparatively much cleaner than the market denizens. It didn’t matter, and I really have to thank Mike for teaching me this lesson. We were there to experience the culture and be damned if we drew some funny glances.
The market seemed divided into three major areas: seafood, plants, animals; each section offering living or dead & butchered versions their product. What an eye opener, this was more raw (no pun intended) than anything I’ve seen in Asia, including our trip to Thailand. We didn’t have much time to browse, unfortunately, so we picked a straight tangent through and returned to the hotel. No time to go back, either, since we packed our bags and checked out that morning and have since relocated back to Shunde.
The schedule sucks. We’ve been working about twelve hours a day still, and most of those twelve hours are pretty boring. The positive is I am getting to blog again, something I friggin’ love but rarely prioritize these days. Anyway, good time to cut this off. Out.
We had to cut through a few city blocks and traffic circles before finding our way to the river. The traffic circles were an interesting challenge. Think of that good ol’ video game Frogger, complete with semi-trucks, bicyclists, tuk-tuks, awesome tractors, and other frightened pedestrians (side note, speaking of vehicles, I’m really keeping my eyes peeled for these.
Anyway, we managed to work our way through the city, definitely drawing a few stares in the process but simply nodding in return, shouting “ZAO!” which means g’morning, and trotting past. Everything changed once we hit the river. We saw other people out there in the name of exercise. There were several groups of people practicing Tai Chi, mostly older folks… when a group of fifteen 70-year-olds is moving in fluidic, uniform grace (exercising, not sleeping in unison at a movie theater) it warrants a moment of observance.
We worked our way down a few miles, crossed a rickety wooden bridge, and found ourselves on an embankment straddling slums and rice paddies. For obvious reasons we flipped around to head back, but it’s worth noting that the Chinese we saw in this area, the ones curled up on salvaged cardboard living in houses made of scrap tin, wire, and foliage, were the most friendly encountered that day. All toothless grins and emphatic “GOO MORNY!”
On the way back Mike led us through a morning market three blocks from the hotel. This was not like the night markets in Hong Kong, all Coach purses and North Farse backpacks and iClone electronics; this market was the real deal. We stuck out like fur coats at a PETA rally: white, tall, decked-out in techie running clothes saturated with sweat, though comparatively much cleaner than the market denizens. It didn’t matter, and I really have to thank Mike for teaching me this lesson. We were there to experience the culture and be damned if we drew some funny glances.
The market seemed divided into three major areas: seafood, plants, animals; each section offering living or dead & butchered versions their product. What an eye opener, this was more raw (no pun intended) than anything I’ve seen in Asia, including our trip to Thailand. We didn’t have much time to browse, unfortunately, so we picked a straight tangent through and returned to the hotel. No time to go back, either, since we packed our bags and checked out that morning and have since relocated back to Shunde.
The schedule sucks. We’ve been working about twelve hours a day still, and most of those twelve hours are pretty boring. The positive is I am getting to blog again, something I friggin’ love but rarely prioritize these days. Anyway, good time to cut this off. Out.
8.21.2009
China2
China has chosen to block roughly 90% of the sites I really give a crap about, namely Blogger, Facebook, and YouTube. Any sort of proxy-dodging trickery only gets me as far as the login page. If I were an IT genius I could work around this, but for now I’ve hit a wall and am forced to save these words into WORD before sharing them with all my avid fans (heh heh).
Although this is my third trip to China, and it’s arguably similar in 99 out of every 100 details, I realize I left a few items off my “To-Bring” list. As a note to my future self, be sure to pack these next time you spend a half-month in Asia:
1) 300-grams Raw Psyllium Husk: Fibrous foods in China are harder to find than Christians at a James Dio concert. Having copious amounts of dried-down roughage would be beneficial.
2) Gum/Breath Mints: Killer spicy garlic eggplant causes killer spicy garlic eggplant breath.
3) Time-Keeping Device: Also known as a “watch”, these are critical when you normally use your cell phone for time keeping. These also prevent escalating tension between you and your travel mates.
4) Cell phone charger: If item3 is brought, this can be left at home.
5) Toilet paper: Tissues just don’t cut it, literally.
6) Napkins: See item 2. I don’t understand how to eat barbecued ribs of lamb with only tissues for cleanup.
7) Toenail clippers: Without properly groomed toenails, the massage girls are forced to bring in “man muscle”. You don’t want “man-muscle”.
8) Vocabulary: I need a working knowledge of the following words in Mandarin, Cantonese, and Taiwanese:
No thanks, I’m full.
What kind of animal is this?
This is my natural hair color.
No, just a foot massage, thank you.
Real gym towel, please. Tissues don’t work.
Traffic-jam (related to item1, above)
This reminds me of Mad Max… Can I drive?
What percent/proof is this?
Free Tibet! (or…Tell me about Tiananmen!)
Although this is my third trip to China, and it’s arguably similar in 99 out of every 100 details, I realize I left a few items off my “To-Bring” list. As a note to my future self, be sure to pack these next time you spend a half-month in Asia:
1) 300-grams Raw Psyllium Husk: Fibrous foods in China are harder to find than Christians at a James Dio concert. Having copious amounts of dried-down roughage would be beneficial.
2) Gum/Breath Mints: Killer spicy garlic eggplant causes killer spicy garlic eggplant breath.
3) Time-Keeping Device: Also known as a “watch”, these are critical when you normally use your cell phone for time keeping. These also prevent escalating tension between you and your travel mates.
4) Cell phone charger: If item3 is brought, this can be left at home.
5) Toilet paper: Tissues just don’t cut it, literally.
6) Napkins: See item 2. I don’t understand how to eat barbecued ribs of lamb with only tissues for cleanup.
7) Toenail clippers: Without properly groomed toenails, the massage girls are forced to bring in “man muscle”. You don’t want “man-muscle”.
8) Vocabulary: I need a working knowledge of the following words in Mandarin, Cantonese, and Taiwanese:
No thanks, I’m full.
What kind of animal is this?
This is my natural hair color.
No, just a foot massage, thank you.
Real gym towel, please. Tissues don’t work.
Traffic-jam (related to item1, above)
This reminds me of Mad Max… Can I drive?
What percent/proof is this?
Free Tibet! (or…Tell me about Tiananmen!)
8.18.2009
Pond Skipper
I was in a Marvel mood, of sorts. Presented with some 30+ movies on the 13-hour flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong, I opted for back-to-back showings of high-action low-brow super hero-style entertainment. The Watchmen got me from California to British Columbia; Wolverine from BC to Sitka; Keanu and his Matrix Evolution from the Aleutians to Korea, then IronMan from Taiwan to HK. Sprinkled between these testosterone-saturated films I chuckled to bits and pieces of The Flight of the Conchords (precioso) and a Paul Rudd film (letdown).
I am feeling more caught up now, in regards to recent blockbusters. I am also beginning to feel more caught up with sleep despite the jet lag that always works me over for a few days when crossing the pond. I was in desperate need of rest, and ironically a trip to China is just what I need. Confused? Well, the last couple of days/weeks/months have been torching the candle at both ends, as they say; to the extent that I have had a lingering sinus infection and a seemingly stress-induced case of gingivitis. If you knew me, which perhaps you DO know me if you’re reading this, you know my begrudging motto is “thank you sir may I have another!?” when I get buried with to-dos… well this time has almost cracked me.
So in a very strange way I was stoked to learn I was headed to China with my boss for a two-week factory visit. I left the 12th of August and am now three days in. The miracle of freeze-dried coffee has carried me through these early days, each hour becoming more bearable as my brain and soul adapt to the time zone (fourteen hours later than Boise). Our purpose here is to oversee production of the 2010 line of products, solving some fabric design challenges in the process and introducing me to the international team. I knew going in this was a learning experience for me, yet I do wish I could contribute more to the issues we are battling. For the most part I’m a quiet observer, snapping pictures and updating the daily log to help the hours tick by.
China is China, just as I remembered it from last September (surprise!). Ironically our factory is perhaps a 45-minute drive from Ugobe’s old manufacturer. The weather is hot, sitting around 40-degrees C and who knows what percentage humidity, but we are caved-up in a relatively cool conference room meeting with team after team of fabric wizards. Yes, fabric wizards, imagine that if you dare.
I doubt we will have the opportunity to play tourist. For the most part trip is pure business: we arrive at the factory before nine AM and don’t leave before eight PM. We even eat dinner here! I managed to wake up a smidge early this morning to check out the “Gymnasium Health Centre” (note British spelling?) in the hotel. I lasted a mere 25-minutes on the treadmill as I’d forgotten to bring a towel and water was leaving my body in mass exodus and coating the belt and risking severe injury should I continue. There was no airflow. A hotel worker passed through, saw me, scurried out quickly and returned with a cup of water. I asked him “towel?” He pointed me to a box of Kleenex. I picked up a Kleenex, stuck it to my forehead, paused for a few seconds to let the situation really hit him, and asked him “bigger towel?” Response: “No bigger towel”. OK then, I’ll remember my room towel next time. Nevertheless it felt good to get the heart rate up in the name of caloric conflagration.
I will now relate some wisdom in the form of a parable. A few weeks back we ran out of dog food for McKinley and I ended up serving her three meals of rice and eggs before we went to the store and bought another bag of her normal diet. She loved the variety, loved it. Those three little meals spelled disaster for her digestive system for a solid week, and walking her around the neighborhood took on a whole new level of disgusting. Without going in to detail I’ll just say that I can relate to McKinley. Did McKinley love the new food and tasty spices I put in to the rice? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Not so much.
And so concludes my China update for now. It feels good to write, I’m sure I’ll do so again over these next few days.
I am feeling more caught up now, in regards to recent blockbusters. I am also beginning to feel more caught up with sleep despite the jet lag that always works me over for a few days when crossing the pond. I was in desperate need of rest, and ironically a trip to China is just what I need. Confused? Well, the last couple of days/weeks/months have been torching the candle at both ends, as they say; to the extent that I have had a lingering sinus infection and a seemingly stress-induced case of gingivitis. If you knew me, which perhaps you DO know me if you’re reading this, you know my begrudging motto is “thank you sir may I have another!?” when I get buried with to-dos… well this time has almost cracked me.
So in a very strange way I was stoked to learn I was headed to China with my boss for a two-week factory visit. I left the 12th of August and am now three days in. The miracle of freeze-dried coffee has carried me through these early days, each hour becoming more bearable as my brain and soul adapt to the time zone (fourteen hours later than Boise). Our purpose here is to oversee production of the 2010 line of products, solving some fabric design challenges in the process and introducing me to the international team. I knew going in this was a learning experience for me, yet I do wish I could contribute more to the issues we are battling. For the most part I’m a quiet observer, snapping pictures and updating the daily log to help the hours tick by.
China is China, just as I remembered it from last September (surprise!). Ironically our factory is perhaps a 45-minute drive from Ugobe’s old manufacturer. The weather is hot, sitting around 40-degrees C and who knows what percentage humidity, but we are caved-up in a relatively cool conference room meeting with team after team of fabric wizards. Yes, fabric wizards, imagine that if you dare.
I doubt we will have the opportunity to play tourist. For the most part trip is pure business: we arrive at the factory before nine AM and don’t leave before eight PM. We even eat dinner here! I managed to wake up a smidge early this morning to check out the “Gymnasium Health Centre” (note British spelling?) in the hotel. I lasted a mere 25-minutes on the treadmill as I’d forgotten to bring a towel and water was leaving my body in mass exodus and coating the belt and risking severe injury should I continue. There was no airflow. A hotel worker passed through, saw me, scurried out quickly and returned with a cup of water. I asked him “towel?” He pointed me to a box of Kleenex. I picked up a Kleenex, stuck it to my forehead, paused for a few seconds to let the situation really hit him, and asked him “bigger towel?” Response: “No bigger towel”. OK then, I’ll remember my room towel next time. Nevertheless it felt good to get the heart rate up in the name of caloric conflagration.
I will now relate some wisdom in the form of a parable. A few weeks back we ran out of dog food for McKinley and I ended up serving her three meals of rice and eggs before we went to the store and bought another bag of her normal diet. She loved the variety, loved it. Those three little meals spelled disaster for her digestive system for a solid week, and walking her around the neighborhood took on a whole new level of disgusting. Without going in to detail I’ll just say that I can relate to McKinley. Did McKinley love the new food and tasty spices I put in to the rice? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Not so much.
And so concludes my China update for now. It feels good to write, I’m sure I’ll do so again over these next few days.
6.13.2009
Rain
It is, let's see, the thirteenth day of June. I miss writing on this thing. Today is great day for blogging because the weather outside is a soggy mess. Spring/Summer in Boise this year has been goofier than normal, it seems, though I realize it's human nature to believe "this year is the craziest ever". But seriously, the weird weather patterns are messing with my internal clock; we had a heat wave roll through in early March that stuck around just long enough to trick me into summertime habits. Then it went away. The heat. All of it. Temperatures dove back down and we had a snowstorm or two, then the temps came back up but the moisture stuck around.
So here we are, mid June and soggy. Aside from some yard-work aspirations, the rain drops aren't standing in my way of any real objectives. It is Saturday after all, the best day of the week for going with the flow and filling unscheduled time with naps nibbles and cocktails.... Okay. I admit that I have a hard time really 'floating' through the weekend without creating some sort of task list, but Lauren is a pro and offers free lessons.
Lauren is outside right now, in the rain, with fur-monster McKinley. Or as we've been calling her of late: McDiculous, or McSkinley, McStinky... Lauren and the dog went on a little run downtown to see some of the multi-sport professionals transition from the bike to run leg in today's IronMan 70.3 event. I can't imagine having to race a 1/2 IronMan in today's weather. As Lauren so keenly noted, just think about the rashes you'd develop spending four to six hours in a saturated pair of lycra shorts. Yikes. Although I'm not (nor have ever been) a tri-guy, today is one day of many that I celebrate my retirement from road racing.
Headed to Alaska in a few weeks to see my mom and Bob. Lauren and I are departing on the sixth of July and meeting my sister, Jacob, and Corey en route. I can not wait. I haven't seen my parents since last Fall, and have never been to Alaska. The distance has been hard on all of us, certainly harder on me than I expected. In retrospect there was a subconscious feeling of security (and contentment) knowing that a mere 3.5 hour drive stood between us when they lived in Elko. I can't fight it, I have always been and will always be a total mamma's boy. So there.
Life is good overall. I still tend to get really bogged down in the minutiae of day-to-day challenges, be them work, marriage, athletics, whatever. At the bottom of it all I just want to kick ass: I want to be the best engineer my employer has ever hired, the best husband in any marriage ever consecrated, the most fit recreational mountain biker in the West. This constant pursuit of perfection is self destructive, it inhibits 1) appreciating the current state of affairs and 2) plotting out a meaningful course for the future. I mean seriously, why am I unable to relax and (as mentioned above) just go with the flow in life? Ah, crap, this blog entry is turning philosophical as is typical.
Lauren is back now. We're headed to Gerry and Toughan's house for a BBQ this evening so I better boogie. There are showers to be taken and cookies to be make(n?) before we depart. Later then.
So here we are, mid June and soggy. Aside from some yard-work aspirations, the rain drops aren't standing in my way of any real objectives. It is Saturday after all, the best day of the week for going with the flow and filling unscheduled time with naps nibbles and cocktails.... Okay. I admit that I have a hard time really 'floating' through the weekend without creating some sort of task list, but Lauren is a pro and offers free lessons.
Lauren is outside right now, in the rain, with fur-monster McKinley. Or as we've been calling her of late: McDiculous, or McSkinley, McStinky... Lauren and the dog went on a little run downtown to see some of the multi-sport professionals transition from the bike to run leg in today's IronMan 70.3 event. I can't imagine having to race a 1/2 IronMan in today's weather. As Lauren so keenly noted, just think about the rashes you'd develop spending four to six hours in a saturated pair of lycra shorts. Yikes. Although I'm not (nor have ever been) a tri-guy, today is one day of many that I celebrate my retirement from road racing.
Headed to Alaska in a few weeks to see my mom and Bob. Lauren and I are departing on the sixth of July and meeting my sister, Jacob, and Corey en route. I can not wait. I haven't seen my parents since last Fall, and have never been to Alaska. The distance has been hard on all of us, certainly harder on me than I expected. In retrospect there was a subconscious feeling of security (and contentment) knowing that a mere 3.5 hour drive stood between us when they lived in Elko. I can't fight it, I have always been and will always be a total mamma's boy. So there.
Life is good overall. I still tend to get really bogged down in the minutiae of day-to-day challenges, be them work, marriage, athletics, whatever. At the bottom of it all I just want to kick ass: I want to be the best engineer my employer has ever hired, the best husband in any marriage ever consecrated, the most fit recreational mountain biker in the West. This constant pursuit of perfection is self destructive, it inhibits 1) appreciating the current state of affairs and 2) plotting out a meaningful course for the future. I mean seriously, why am I unable to relax and (as mentioned above) just go with the flow in life? Ah, crap, this blog entry is turning philosophical as is typical.
Lauren is back now. We're headed to Gerry and Toughan's house for a BBQ this evening so I better boogie. There are showers to be taken and cookies to be make(n?) before we depart. Later then.
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