I had a very good day today, and I'd like to scribble down a few notes so I can look back on days that aren't so good and remember why it's all worth it.
I got up about 7AM, had 2 very good cups of java and watched the morning news. The news was lame-o, but the rate of my awakening was perfect and by about 8:30 I was ready to begin the day in earnest. I drove around downtown for a while before deciding to head to Trader Joe's for a brunch of sorts. I bought a foot-long turkey/bacon/avocado wrap, devoured it immediately along with an uber-tasty Fuji apple, and hit the 101 South towards Novato.
I drove to the house of a coworker/friend who lives in Novato, hopped in his car, and continued on to the city. (Note: For all you non-Bay-Area folk, the city always means San Francisco. Always.). Don and I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge and hung a left soon thereafter, skirting along Lombard until hitting Van Ness. We jogged a few times and ended up parking on O'Farrell street, then hoofing it directly toward Chinatown.
Chinatown = China. Seriously. Don, despite being Asian, has never visited China. But I have been there 1/2 a dozen times now and let me tell you that the San Francisco Chinatown is about 98% the real thing. Gimmicky stores? Check. Crazy storefronts vending textiles and odd building materials? Check. Lots of Asians squatting and smoking? Yessir. The 2% un-authenticity is a good thing, as the real China doesn't feel so tourist-safe. This safety, in San Fran, is nice.
We found a hole-in-the-wall Dim Sum restaurant and gorged ourselves silly, imbibing a 12-oz Tsingtsao each because hey why not it's Sunday and sure it's only 11Am but let's live it live it! The Dim Sum was unreal. If you've never had it: do. Basically the Asian version of tapas. But with MSG instead of capers.
After that we walked back to the parking garage and headed towards "The Pier", which I learned later meant particularly Pier 39 in Fisherman's Wharf, which is basically the North Coast of San Francisco, overlooking the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Le Isle de Alcatraz. Although that area is beautiful it's a bit too theme-parky for my taste. We hung out there for maybe another hour, long enough to have a glass of wine down by the water and get a dose of people-watching. We jumped back in Don's car, drove along the beach there then crossed the GGB on the way back to Novato.
By the time I drove back to my current abode it was almost 3:45, and although feeling tired and dim-sum-heavy the weather was too nice to ignore so I went out for a bike ride. AMAZING. One of the best rides yet. I headed out River Road through the town of Guerneville and on to Monte Rio. From there I hung a left on the Bohemian Highway, heading south all the way through quaint little Occidental and into Freestone. That stretch of road, specifically from Monte Rio to Occidental, is a blast to pedal. Dense redwood forests and eclectic cabins stuffed deep into the forest.
I hooked east through Sebastopol, exploring a wrangling bike path that dumped me out on the outskirts of town facing Santa Rosa. Said and done I rode maybe three hours but averaged over 21 mph which, given the undulating topography I was quite pleased with.
Now it's late and I am happy. I had an extra-large bottle of Ace Pear Cider waiting chilled in the fridge upon my return and will finish that off before hopping in the shower then off to bed. I discovered that Ace is brewed in Sebastopol, a realization which (not surprisingly) augments the taste in this moment.
later then.
4.25.2010
4.03.2010
Break
Finally a little break in the weather! Since Lauren left (to return to Boise) on Sunday evening, the weather has been foul and dark and gloomy, obviously an outward projection of my feelings at her departure. For that reason it has been an exceptionally difficult week. The job is good and does a great job of keeping me busy from 7:30-5:00 each day, but that leaves me with far too many hours to kill before shutting my eyes for bed.
The trick is mental and physical exertion; exertion to exhaustion. The more I flog myself with work and exercise the quicker time passes, the less time I have to dwell on the remaining duration until this limbo situation is resolved. That quest for exertion, that need to remain busy 100% of the time, is serving me well at my new job. I am ramping up quickly and beginning to contribute in earnest. Now, if the weather would just remain decent, I'd feel as confident about my physical condition. I have no races or competitions of any sort coming up, but I hate letting myself soften. I know I'm neurotic, but there are much worse neuroses out there.
But oh boy, when the weather is nice here, it's the Garden of Eden. I hopped on my road bike this morning a smidge after 9AM and didn't get back home until 2:30PM, having logged just 80 miles in 5.5 hours. If you do the math, you realize that's a terrible average speed, but in those 5.5 hours the only flat land traversed was my driveway. Everything here is emerald green and lush, the grapevines are all in bloom and all manner of critters are out enjoying the weather. I can't count the number of turkeys I saw on my ride... There are innumerable single-lane roads that wind and undulate through the vineyards, allowing you to travel 50+ miles in any direction without pedaling on a major road.
I am beginning to get my arms around this city, Santa Rosa. The hardest thing to find was a coffee shop that isn't part of a chain/franchise. It took about three weeks, but here I am, blogging comfortably at a quaint (one-off) little cafe/roastery in the Old Railroad District near downtown. Now don't get me wrong, I do enjoy Starbucks coffee, or Peet's Coffee, I just hate the cookie-cutter decor and corporate rules enforced. Peet's at least offers free wifi, but just an hour's worth... turds.
Lauren and I swung into this very shop last weekend when she was in town. There was a live band playing, a trio of older gents rocking some decent blues-y tunes. Any time the bass player went off on a solo riff, little Emma (as we've chosen to call her) started kicking/rolling/punching inside L's belly. Lauren listens to music a lot, but I suspect that's the first time our little daughter-to-be has felt such bass reverberating through her cozy little world. I'd like to think Emma was rocking out, but for all we know she was beating on the "walls" in a plea for mercy. She just might hate jazz and love, say, Beyonce. Lord save us.
When you are alone in a new city, the largest inhibitor to integrating into the community is your pride and inhibitions. The best thing to do is throw yourself in head-first, wander around down town, sit alone at a bar and people-watch, go to shows and lectures, join new clubs. But lord no, we can't do that, that's too awkward. I'll look silly sitting alone at a bar. I'll look silly just showing up at a new group ride and sticking my hand out, introducing myself over and over again to total strangers that might or might not give a shit. But... that's how it's done, and that's the direction I need to head. Last night was a good start, as I finally dropped the cowardice and seated myself alone at the bar in a restaurant downtown, called Flavor. The people watching was great, and an older couple ended up sitting next to me and we completely hit it off. In fact, I'll likely be joining them for another meal sometime in the next week. You see? That's how it's done (he says, to himself, the quiet loner sitting in the corner... heh heh).
The trick is mental and physical exertion; exertion to exhaustion. The more I flog myself with work and exercise the quicker time passes, the less time I have to dwell on the remaining duration until this limbo situation is resolved. That quest for exertion, that need to remain busy 100% of the time, is serving me well at my new job. I am ramping up quickly and beginning to contribute in earnest. Now, if the weather would just remain decent, I'd feel as confident about my physical condition. I have no races or competitions of any sort coming up, but I hate letting myself soften. I know I'm neurotic, but there are much worse neuroses out there.
But oh boy, when the weather is nice here, it's the Garden of Eden. I hopped on my road bike this morning a smidge after 9AM and didn't get back home until 2:30PM, having logged just 80 miles in 5.5 hours. If you do the math, you realize that's a terrible average speed, but in those 5.5 hours the only flat land traversed was my driveway. Everything here is emerald green and lush, the grapevines are all in bloom and all manner of critters are out enjoying the weather. I can't count the number of turkeys I saw on my ride... There are innumerable single-lane roads that wind and undulate through the vineyards, allowing you to travel 50+ miles in any direction without pedaling on a major road.
I am beginning to get my arms around this city, Santa Rosa. The hardest thing to find was a coffee shop that isn't part of a chain/franchise. It took about three weeks, but here I am, blogging comfortably at a quaint (one-off) little cafe/roastery in the Old Railroad District near downtown. Now don't get me wrong, I do enjoy Starbucks coffee, or Peet's Coffee, I just hate the cookie-cutter decor and corporate rules enforced. Peet's at least offers free wifi, but just an hour's worth... turds.
Lauren and I swung into this very shop last weekend when she was in town. There was a live band playing, a trio of older gents rocking some decent blues-y tunes. Any time the bass player went off on a solo riff, little Emma (as we've chosen to call her) started kicking/rolling/punching inside L's belly. Lauren listens to music a lot, but I suspect that's the first time our little daughter-to-be has felt such bass reverberating through her cozy little world. I'd like to think Emma was rocking out, but for all we know she was beating on the "walls" in a plea for mercy. She just might hate jazz and love, say, Beyonce. Lord save us.
When you are alone in a new city, the largest inhibitor to integrating into the community is your pride and inhibitions. The best thing to do is throw yourself in head-first, wander around down town, sit alone at a bar and people-watch, go to shows and lectures, join new clubs. But lord no, we can't do that, that's too awkward. I'll look silly sitting alone at a bar. I'll look silly just showing up at a new group ride and sticking my hand out, introducing myself over and over again to total strangers that might or might not give a shit. But... that's how it's done, and that's the direction I need to head. Last night was a good start, as I finally dropped the cowardice and seated myself alone at the bar in a restaurant downtown, called Flavor. The people watching was great, and an older couple ended up sitting next to me and we completely hit it off. In fact, I'll likely be joining them for another meal sometime in the next week. You see? That's how it's done (he says, to himself, the quiet loner sitting in the corner... heh heh).
2.24.2010
I have an idea: Let's change everything.
Sometime back in October, maybe November, I got a call out of the blue from an internal recruiter with a medical device company in California. One teeny little word on my resume - Nitinol - miraculously distinguished my CV from the ocean of others twinkling digitally on the world wide waste. The company was looking for an expert in Nitinol, which I most certainly was not, but the brief phone interview was enough to kick start my search-in-earnest for a new employment opportunity.
Fast forward about six weeks. It's two weeks before Christmas and I am preparing for a 10-day "vacation" in Songgang, China with my current employer. I get another call from the medical device company, stating that the job description/requirements have changed and I am now looking like a very good match for their needs. This leads to a phone interview with an engineering manager in Santa Rosa, California. One day before departing for China, the manager expresses interest in flying me out for the next phase, a face-to-face interview soon after New Year's Eve. I agree, say goodbye, fly to China and do my best not to freak out at the challenging possibility of relocating to California.
During that trip, and in the month leading up to it, I was very active in pursuing a new job. This isn't the forum to discuss precisely why I wanted to leave... let's just compare it to one of the early chapters in Moby Dick; of course you know it's necessary for the forthcoming story, but it can be downright painful and difficult to see the point and you can't wait to move on. So yes, I had numerous irons in the fire for employment opportunities, and none of them would require a move out of Boise. I mean, why would we dream of relocating? Lauren is pregnant, due in June, and is in the final semester of her graduate degree program. She is teaching an undergraduate English course. We have a lovely home - just replaced all the linoleum with beautiful ten-inch tiles. I recently joined the most gregarious bunch of cycling yahoos I've ever met and can't wait for the upcoming race season.
Those irons in the fire, all the local ones, sort of smoldered out one by one; falling victim to the cold, damp and miserable January winter in Boise. Meanwhile, the iron in California was inciting a full-fledged conflagration of opportunity. I flew down for the interview on January 15th, fending off eight individual interviews in 8.5 hours, all while sitting in a room approximately five feet by seven feet with nothing more than a table, two chairs, and a Cisco phone. They served me a bagged lunch in that same room, and I got to interview while trying to rapidly choke down a mighty tasty though mighty sticky roast beef sandwich with Swiss. I called Lauren at the end of the day during my drive back down to San Francisco. I didn't let on too much, simply telling her the interview went well and I felt like a good match. The reality was much more terrifying; I knew I was a perfect match for the job, the company would present incredible opportunity - both long term and short term - and I fell in immediately and comfortably with every person I met during the interview.
The company flew Lauren and I out two weeks later, paying for flights, a rental car, hotel, and even a few hours with a real estate agent. At that point I had not been officially offered the job, but obviously the offer was imminent and they were providing the opportunity for us to get a feel for Santa Rosa without a 48-hour accept-or-decline clock ticking. That's when the reality really hit for Lauren and I. What would it mean to move? How would the timing work? Is there another option? Despite the lush landscape and gorgeous Santa Rosa wintertime weather, the weekend was filled with tears and heavy emotions. We returned late Sunday evening feeling beyond lost and afraid of the upcoming official offer.
In a nutshell: they did indeed make an offer. Lauren and I discussed, even fought. We turned the offer down. They made a counter-offer. I gave a verbal agreement, then recanted when Lauren decided we just couldn't leave Boise. They worked with us once more, a third time. We accepted and I start work in Santa Rosa next week.
Now... the fallout. This is such a great move if we look at one year down the road and twenty years down the road, but the next four months are going to be harder than anything Lauren and I have faced together. She can't leave her graduate program; can't. She will stay here and I'll rent a room for March, April, and May in Santa Rosa, flying back every couple weekends to visit. Wrapping up school in mid-May, she'll be a mere three or four weeks out from her due date and it doesn't make sense for her to relocate and try to find an OB/GYN she trusts in such short notice. So, at the beginning of June, I will come back to Boise for a few weeks, hopefully catching all of the action and providing the support we both want me to provide. I'll then head back to Santa Rosa and she'll fly down soon thereafter, at which point we'll be 100% moved away from Boise. At that point we'll be moved in to our own place, likely a rented house.
There are so many pros, so many cons, to this move. Fortunately most of the stressors have fallen off the radar and we are left to nerp-out and focus on our relationship. We wouldn't be willing to change everything so radically if not a wonderful opportunity, but that doesn't make the change any easier. Between the two of us, Lauren is a bit more tied to Boise, obviously, as most of her family is her and she is very ingrained in the community. I am excited about the change in scenery and lifestyle but also very sad to be leaving my friends and this home we've put so much love into. Along those lines, we have found a nice younger couple to rent to and don't plan to sell the house any time soon.
Well, I feel like this update started off coherent and well-composed and is losing focus as I ramble on. I think that covers most everything, for now. I look forward to sharing more details about our new town and my new job as we become immersed. Later, then.
Fast forward about six weeks. It's two weeks before Christmas and I am preparing for a 10-day "vacation" in Songgang, China with my current employer. I get another call from the medical device company, stating that the job description/requirements have changed and I am now looking like a very good match for their needs. This leads to a phone interview with an engineering manager in Santa Rosa, California. One day before departing for China, the manager expresses interest in flying me out for the next phase, a face-to-face interview soon after New Year's Eve. I agree, say goodbye, fly to China and do my best not to freak out at the challenging possibility of relocating to California.
During that trip, and in the month leading up to it, I was very active in pursuing a new job. This isn't the forum to discuss precisely why I wanted to leave... let's just compare it to one of the early chapters in Moby Dick; of course you know it's necessary for the forthcoming story, but it can be downright painful and difficult to see the point and you can't wait to move on. So yes, I had numerous irons in the fire for employment opportunities, and none of them would require a move out of Boise. I mean, why would we dream of relocating? Lauren is pregnant, due in June, and is in the final semester of her graduate degree program. She is teaching an undergraduate English course. We have a lovely home - just replaced all the linoleum with beautiful ten-inch tiles. I recently joined the most gregarious bunch of cycling yahoos I've ever met and can't wait for the upcoming race season.
Those irons in the fire, all the local ones, sort of smoldered out one by one; falling victim to the cold, damp and miserable January winter in Boise. Meanwhile, the iron in California was inciting a full-fledged conflagration of opportunity. I flew down for the interview on January 15th, fending off eight individual interviews in 8.5 hours, all while sitting in a room approximately five feet by seven feet with nothing more than a table, two chairs, and a Cisco phone. They served me a bagged lunch in that same room, and I got to interview while trying to rapidly choke down a mighty tasty though mighty sticky roast beef sandwich with Swiss. I called Lauren at the end of the day during my drive back down to San Francisco. I didn't let on too much, simply telling her the interview went well and I felt like a good match. The reality was much more terrifying; I knew I was a perfect match for the job, the company would present incredible opportunity - both long term and short term - and I fell in immediately and comfortably with every person I met during the interview.
The company flew Lauren and I out two weeks later, paying for flights, a rental car, hotel, and even a few hours with a real estate agent. At that point I had not been officially offered the job, but obviously the offer was imminent and they were providing the opportunity for us to get a feel for Santa Rosa without a 48-hour accept-or-decline clock ticking. That's when the reality really hit for Lauren and I. What would it mean to move? How would the timing work? Is there another option? Despite the lush landscape and gorgeous Santa Rosa wintertime weather, the weekend was filled with tears and heavy emotions. We returned late Sunday evening feeling beyond lost and afraid of the upcoming official offer.
In a nutshell: they did indeed make an offer. Lauren and I discussed, even fought. We turned the offer down. They made a counter-offer. I gave a verbal agreement, then recanted when Lauren decided we just couldn't leave Boise. They worked with us once more, a third time. We accepted and I start work in Santa Rosa next week.
Now... the fallout. This is such a great move if we look at one year down the road and twenty years down the road, but the next four months are going to be harder than anything Lauren and I have faced together. She can't leave her graduate program; can't. She will stay here and I'll rent a room for March, April, and May in Santa Rosa, flying back every couple weekends to visit. Wrapping up school in mid-May, she'll be a mere three or four weeks out from her due date and it doesn't make sense for her to relocate and try to find an OB/GYN she trusts in such short notice. So, at the beginning of June, I will come back to Boise for a few weeks, hopefully catching all of the action and providing the support we both want me to provide. I'll then head back to Santa Rosa and she'll fly down soon thereafter, at which point we'll be 100% moved away from Boise. At that point we'll be moved in to our own place, likely a rented house.
There are so many pros, so many cons, to this move. Fortunately most of the stressors have fallen off the radar and we are left to nerp-out and focus on our relationship. We wouldn't be willing to change everything so radically if not a wonderful opportunity, but that doesn't make the change any easier. Between the two of us, Lauren is a bit more tied to Boise, obviously, as most of her family is her and she is very ingrained in the community. I am excited about the change in scenery and lifestyle but also very sad to be leaving my friends and this home we've put so much love into. Along those lines, we have found a nice younger couple to rent to and don't plan to sell the house any time soon.
Well, I feel like this update started off coherent and well-composed and is losing focus as I ramble on. I think that covers most everything, for now. I look forward to sharing more details about our new town and my new job as we become immersed. Later, then.
2.01.2010
I miss you, but hold on a sec
Blog, of course I remember you and of course I miss you. There is so much I want to tell you but the timing is just not right. You see blog, you can not keep a secret. Now don't get defensive, your gregarious and grandstanding behavior is what draws me to you; but at times I wish you were a little more discreet.
So no tears, Blog, this is not any sort of a goodbye. Quite the contrary, it is a promise for future interaction... just give me a week or two and I will bring you up to speed. You're still my go-to outlet for trumpeting success, failure, frustrations, and fears. No tears, I just need some time.
So no tears, Blog, this is not any sort of a goodbye. Quite the contrary, it is a promise for future interaction... just give me a week or two and I will bring you up to speed. You're still my go-to outlet for trumpeting success, failure, frustrations, and fears. No tears, I just need some time.
11.29.2009
The Skinny
Here it is, the update all (or none) of you have been waiting for.
It's nearly December and that's just the beginning.
1) Lauren is pregnant still, sick still. The one thing she can palate 100% of the time, no questions asked, is Animal Crackers. That's about it. All other foodstuffs swing wildly from the safe-and-desired to the abhorred-and-wretched ends of the pendulum, depending on the minute/hour of each day. She has good days where the deities de vomitus don't visit, but even on said days she feels rotten and is very tired of the nausea.
1a) Super sickness also means the baby is really glued in there and not coming out till it's damn-well ready. This is an amazing, wonderful thing. Sickness sucks, but our little gal/guy is developing A-OK. As of this post she is 11 full weeks along. Baby is about 2 inches long and has real honest-to-goodness arms, legs, eyes, ear(lets), and even fingers/toes. Still looks like a creepy alien manatee, but by God it's OUR creepy alien manatee.
2) I'm coming unraveled. This is related to item number one, above (since I am still searching for how I can be "useful" or even "tolerable" through all the mayhem), and also related to the ongoing dynamics at work. I could go into detail, but in order to keep my current job I'd need to mark this blog as "Draft" and not let you all see it (which is the opposite of my intentions). So for now I'll just make this official statement: Things absolutely must change or I'm going to go bonkers. And not a funny, Animaniacs or Patch Adams sort of bonkers, but a Jack Torrance sort of bonkers with a definitive point of no return (IMDB that name, if you need).
3) It's nearly Christmas. Despite our grandest intentions, Christmas typically turns (and is already beginning to turn) into a stress-fest instead of the family/loved-ones/celebratory-time we really desire. How and why does this happen, and why are we powerless against the forces at work? Bah-humbug, not in relation to the season, but in relation to the obligatory gift-giving.
4) I'm tired, but since it's from riding my bike it's OK. However, this tiredness often leads to an overall grumpy and over-analytical Calvin. A few rest days are in order and on the horizon. I better get rested up before the snow really flies and my new skate skis start screaming at me to be ridden.
It's nearly December and that's just the beginning.
1) Lauren is pregnant still, sick still. The one thing she can palate 100% of the time, no questions asked, is Animal Crackers. That's about it. All other foodstuffs swing wildly from the safe-and-desired to the abhorred-and-wretched ends of the pendulum, depending on the minute/hour of each day. She has good days where the deities de vomitus don't visit, but even on said days she feels rotten and is very tired of the nausea.
1a) Super sickness also means the baby is really glued in there and not coming out till it's damn-well ready. This is an amazing, wonderful thing. Sickness sucks, but our little gal/guy is developing A-OK. As of this post she is 11 full weeks along. Baby is about 2 inches long and has real honest-to-goodness arms, legs, eyes, ear(lets), and even fingers/toes. Still looks like a creepy alien manatee, but by God it's OUR creepy alien manatee.
2) I'm coming unraveled. This is related to item number one, above (since I am still searching for how I can be "useful" or even "tolerable" through all the mayhem), and also related to the ongoing dynamics at work. I could go into detail, but in order to keep my current job I'd need to mark this blog as "Draft" and not let you all see it (which is the opposite of my intentions). So for now I'll just make this official statement: Things absolutely must change or I'm going to go bonkers. And not a funny, Animaniacs or Patch Adams sort of bonkers, but a Jack Torrance sort of bonkers with a definitive point of no return (IMDB that name, if you need).
3) It's nearly Christmas. Despite our grandest intentions, Christmas typically turns (and is already beginning to turn) into a stress-fest instead of the family/loved-ones/celebratory-time we really desire. How and why does this happen, and why are we powerless against the forces at work? Bah-humbug, not in relation to the season, but in relation to the obligatory gift-giving.
4) I'm tired, but since it's from riding my bike it's OK. However, this tiredness often leads to an overall grumpy and over-analytical Calvin. A few rest days are in order and on the horizon. I better get rested up before the snow really flies and my new skate skis start screaming at me to be ridden.
10.27.2009
Soup
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.
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.
10.04.2009
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.
3.01.2009
Transitioning
I am officially one full week into my new job. YES, you heard it correctly. A few blogs back I mentioned an interview that I thought went decently, and indeed it did as I was offered the position soon thereafter. It was hard not to let the cat out of the bag at that point, but in this strange world where everyone and their mother has a blog and a Facebook account and a photoblog and... well, better to keep your blogging lips sealed until everything is official. That being said, take note if you happen to be job hunting. Staring at the resume of a prospective new hire, it literally takes a matter of seconds to find their personal blog. Even if your posting history and blog content is not directly condemning, it can be more revealing than you'd prefer. Just think about it. Looking back through my blog history, I tend to blog the most when I'm either really excited or really down; such entries would leave a stranger wondering if I ever have any normal days or if I'm up and down all the time. I wonder the same thing at times, but that's not the point. So...
So let me tell you about the transition. My last day at the old job was Wednesday February 25th, which meant I had an effective four-day weekend before jumping in to the new gig on Monday. Lauren and I had one of the best mini-vacations in our history. She had to work Friday AM so we didn't hit the road until around noon, but by 1:30 we (Lauren, I, and McKinley) were unpacking our bags up at her family's cabin in Garden Valley. The weather that day, in that valley, was immaculate. Temperatures pushed 55-degrees F and there was a good layer of snow remaining from the storm a few days prior. the snow was incandescent under blazing sunlight and skies without a single cloud. We decided to run up the Middle Fork road to sit in some hot springs a few miles up. We drove as far as the snowmobile parking lot and packed some criticals into a camelbak and started running. Awesome.
We underestimated two things: the distance we would have to run and the glacial temperatures of the river we had to ford to reach the springs. The run was no problem; it was in fact exhilarating to be running in the sunshine and clean air. The water temp, however, was blindingly painful. Excruciating. But also empowering. Facing such a pure stimulus, in this case the inescapable pain of 33-degree water up to your knees, presents two options: deal with it or don't. Get across the river and receive the prize of six cascading pools brimming with hot water... or panic and head back to shore, cram your frozen toes into your running shoes and run the three miles back down to your car on blunt tree-trunks for legs.
We pushed on. Foot placement was critical since your bare, tingling soles were interfacing with riverbed rocks of all shapes and sharpness. I was on a mission and it still took almost two minutes to reach the other side. I looked back, expecting to see Lauren right behind, but immediately felt like a failed husband when I saw she'd climbed up onto a rock mid-stream and was on the verge of tears. What followed was a combination of positive goading and "for-your-own-good" shouting, I was trying to keep her from turning around and heading for the car. She was angry and a bit scared, but made it across with some help. Our dog was with us and barking like mad, sensing the charged emotion and also trying to warm herself up after having to cross the river herself. At about that time, my camera died, which is probably for the better since you readers would prefer not to see L and I naked (McKinley was naked too, but of course she's a dog and is always naked so is it worth mentioning?).
We soaked for about forty minutes before crossing the river again and running back down to the car. Had the ambient temperature been cooler such a river crossing, so far from the car, would have been not only painful but downright stupid and risky. But 55-degrees meant it truly was mind-over-matter. During our little soak the dog was going nutty... I'm sure some basic survival instinct in her walnut-sized brain was short-circuiting, wondering why on earth we'd be stripping down nudie to get into the water when there were ice chunks and snow all around. She stood at the edge of our pool barking and whining until Lauren managed to grab her around the neck and drag her in with us. I wish I had a picture of her expression. "OK, I'll be damned, this feels goooood." She bellied right down and sat beside us in our little pool. The trip back across the river was much better all the way around. I held Lauren's hand and we guided each other step by step. On the other bank I unfolded a towel onto the snow, and we stepped onto it in turn to dry our toes and put our running shoes back on. The run back down the road had our feet warm in no time.
We were exhausted that evening from the run and the general stress of such temperature fluctuation. I made some beans and rice and baked potatoes and we cuddled up to watch the classic Singin' in the Rain. If you have not watched the movie, you must. Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds are grand, but Donald O' Conner steals the show. Those old classics are so pure and innocent.
The next day was all about skiing up at Tamarack near McCall, Idaho. Downhill skiing, at that! I've downhill skiied twice in my life, the last time was 1994 on a youth-group Church trip. Suffice to say I was a bit nervous, not about crashing as much as holding Lauren back from her adventures on the more advanced slopes. Lauren scored a family season pass by winning the Idaho State mountain bike championship last summer (she rocked it) which was held at the Tamarack Resort. ---> Side story: In order to claim ourselves as a family at the Tamarack ticket desk, we had to fabricate a daughter. So if you somehow hear that we are parents to a five-year-old girl named McKayla Elizabeth, you now know the truth, heh heh ---> Well it happened to work out perfectly; Lauren was more concerned about spending the day with me doing the sport she loves than getting in her own runs, and I miraculously found myself skiing pretty darn well for my first day (if I'm allowed to tout a little), mostly due to L's patient instruction. I had one major wipe-out really ring my bell, but it wasn't severe enough to chase me away. I loved seeing Lauren ski, and in some twisted way it felt good (for both of us) that she is ludicrously better than I am. Immensely better, she is amazing.
We ate dinner that night at a steak house there in Garden Valley, and like suckers neither one of us ordered a steak so no surprise the food wasn't all that great. Ordering a Cobb salad at a steak house is asking for trouble, akin to ordering root beer at a brewery, but I couldn't resist... the plastic cheese and crudely-sliced lunch meat topped a handful of romaine squares that'd seen better days. Regardless it hit the spot and we both slept well that night. We popped our eyes open the next morning, took a brief walk up the road, cleaned the cabin and headed back in to Boise. I spent the remainder of the day tying up lose ends and preparing for my new job, while Lauren dug in to her mountain of class work and lesson plans.
I feel like I should state something about my new job but I suspect this is pushing the readability limit already since I have rambled on about the weekend. I will save it for the next entry. In the meantime you can check out my new company here. Thanks for tuning in and swing in again soon for a blow-by-blow of my first real engineering job.
So let me tell you about the transition. My last day at the old job was Wednesday February 25th, which meant I had an effective four-day weekend before jumping in to the new gig on Monday. Lauren and I had one of the best mini-vacations in our history. She had to work Friday AM so we didn't hit the road until around noon, but by 1:30 we (Lauren, I, and McKinley) were unpacking our bags up at her family's cabin in Garden Valley. The weather that day, in that valley, was immaculate. Temperatures pushed 55-degrees F and there was a good layer of snow remaining from the storm a few days prior. the snow was incandescent under blazing sunlight and skies without a single cloud. We decided to run up the Middle Fork road to sit in some hot springs a few miles up. We drove as far as the snowmobile parking lot and packed some criticals into a camelbak and started running. Awesome.
We underestimated two things: the distance we would have to run and the glacial temperatures of the river we had to ford to reach the springs. The run was no problem; it was in fact exhilarating to be running in the sunshine and clean air. The water temp, however, was blindingly painful. Excruciating. But also empowering. Facing such a pure stimulus, in this case the inescapable pain of 33-degree water up to your knees, presents two options: deal with it or don't. Get across the river and receive the prize of six cascading pools brimming with hot water... or panic and head back to shore, cram your frozen toes into your running shoes and run the three miles back down to your car on blunt tree-trunks for legs.
We pushed on. Foot placement was critical since your bare, tingling soles were interfacing with riverbed rocks of all shapes and sharpness. I was on a mission and it still took almost two minutes to reach the other side. I looked back, expecting to see Lauren right behind, but immediately felt like a failed husband when I saw she'd climbed up onto a rock mid-stream and was on the verge of tears. What followed was a combination of positive goading and "for-your-own-good" shouting, I was trying to keep her from turning around and heading for the car. She was angry and a bit scared, but made it across with some help. Our dog was with us and barking like mad, sensing the charged emotion and also trying to warm herself up after having to cross the river herself. At about that time, my camera died, which is probably for the better since you readers would prefer not to see L and I naked (McKinley was naked too, but of course she's a dog and is always naked so is it worth mentioning?).
We soaked for about forty minutes before crossing the river again and running back down to the car. Had the ambient temperature been cooler such a river crossing, so far from the car, would have been not only painful but downright stupid and risky. But 55-degrees meant it truly was mind-over-matter. During our little soak the dog was going nutty... I'm sure some basic survival instinct in her walnut-sized brain was short-circuiting, wondering why on earth we'd be stripping down nudie to get into the water when there were ice chunks and snow all around. She stood at the edge of our pool barking and whining until Lauren managed to grab her around the neck and drag her in with us. I wish I had a picture of her expression. "OK, I'll be damned, this feels goooood." She bellied right down and sat beside us in our little pool. The trip back across the river was much better all the way around. I held Lauren's hand and we guided each other step by step. On the other bank I unfolded a towel onto the snow, and we stepped onto it in turn to dry our toes and put our running shoes back on. The run back down the road had our feet warm in no time.
We were exhausted that evening from the run and the general stress of such temperature fluctuation. I made some beans and rice and baked potatoes and we cuddled up to watch the classic Singin' in the Rain. If you have not watched the movie, you must. Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds are grand, but Donald O' Conner steals the show. Those old classics are so pure and innocent.
The next day was all about skiing up at Tamarack near McCall, Idaho. Downhill skiing, at that! I've downhill skiied twice in my life, the last time was 1994 on a youth-group Church trip. Suffice to say I was a bit nervous, not about crashing as much as holding Lauren back from her adventures on the more advanced slopes. Lauren scored a family season pass by winning the Idaho State mountain bike championship last summer (she rocked it) which was held at the Tamarack Resort. ---> Side story: In order to claim ourselves as a family at the Tamarack ticket desk, we had to fabricate a daughter. So if you somehow hear that we are parents to a five-year-old girl named McKayla Elizabeth, you now know the truth, heh heh ---> Well it happened to work out perfectly; Lauren was more concerned about spending the day with me doing the sport she loves than getting in her own runs, and I miraculously found myself skiing pretty darn well for my first day (if I'm allowed to tout a little), mostly due to L's patient instruction. I had one major wipe-out really ring my bell, but it wasn't severe enough to chase me away. I loved seeing Lauren ski, and in some twisted way it felt good (for both of us) that she is ludicrously better than I am. Immensely better, she is amazing.
We ate dinner that night at a steak house there in Garden Valley, and like suckers neither one of us ordered a steak so no surprise the food wasn't all that great. Ordering a Cobb salad at a steak house is asking for trouble, akin to ordering root beer at a brewery, but I couldn't resist... the plastic cheese and crudely-sliced lunch meat topped a handful of romaine squares that'd seen better days. Regardless it hit the spot and we both slept well that night. We popped our eyes open the next morning, took a brief walk up the road, cleaned the cabin and headed back in to Boise. I spent the remainder of the day tying up lose ends and preparing for my new job, while Lauren dug in to her mountain of class work and lesson plans.
I feel like I should state something about my new job but I suspect this is pushing the readability limit already since I have rambled on about the weekend. I will save it for the next entry. In the meantime you can check out my new company here. Thanks for tuning in and swing in again soon for a blow-by-blow of my first real engineering job.
2.02.2009
The Entourage Question
Having coffee with friends last night, we somehow got on the topic of being rich; filthy filthy rich, the kind that warrants forming an entourage to follow you around. Who would be in your entourage? We all took this question quite seriously, since we're all expecting to be ludicrously wealthy within the next few years (heh heh).This just might be one of those psychological/personality profiling questions, indicating not only your present perspective of the world but your underlying values as well. The rules were as follows:
1) Five creatures (men, women, or animals)
2) Creatures must be non-fiction (no cartoons or comic book heroes allowed, unfortunately)
3) Creatures may be living in present-day or deceased, though it is assumed you want the "living" version of the person in the entourage (what fun is a corpse to drag around)
4) Family members are not allowed
Some of our responses:
Lauren: Fred Armisen, Amy Poehler, Ashton Kutcher, John Mayer, Justin Timberlake
Gerry: Samuel L. Jackson, Christopher Walken, Mr. T, The Flight of the Conchords (Brett and Germain count as one, we decided), and Conan O'Brien
Calvin: Motor-mouth Jones (Police Academy Movies), Christopher Walken, John Malkovich, McKinley (pet labrador), and the Dalai Lama
Analyze that list, if you dare. Obviously Lauren would be content for the rest of her life as long as she has five comedians around her coloring the world with humor. Gerry... well, Gerry obviously values being both funny and lethal at the same time. As far as my own list, I can only guess why Motor-mouth Jones made the list (in fact, he was the first person that came to mind... I haven't seen those movies in at least a decade. Hmmm). The remaining characters were chosen not for their disposition, but because I'd love to see them in an entourage role. By definition members of the entourage are privy to the indulgences of the head individual, but they are also cast into a strange subservient role. So think about it: McKinley and I wearing matching bling, Motor-mouth Jones teaching the Lama how to sound like a telephone, and the Walken/Malkovich duo just staring at eachother with those unblinking creepy stares that made them famous.
Strange thoughts on this Monday evening. Or as HS Thompson would say, "strange vibrations". That's probably enough for now.
1) Five creatures (men, women, or animals)
2) Creatures must be non-fiction (no cartoons or comic book heroes allowed, unfortunately)
3) Creatures may be living in present-day or deceased, though it is assumed you want the "living" version of the person in the entourage (what fun is a corpse to drag around)
4) Family members are not allowed
Some of our responses:
Lauren: Fred Armisen, Amy Poehler, Ashton Kutcher, John Mayer, Justin Timberlake
Gerry: Samuel L. Jackson, Christopher Walken, Mr. T, The Flight of the Conchords (Brett and Germain count as one, we decided), and Conan O'Brien
Calvin: Motor-mouth Jones (Police Academy Movies), Christopher Walken, John Malkovich, McKinley (pet labrador), and the Dalai Lama
Analyze that list, if you dare. Obviously Lauren would be content for the rest of her life as long as she has five comedians around her coloring the world with humor. Gerry... well, Gerry obviously values being both funny and lethal at the same time. As far as my own list, I can only guess why Motor-mouth Jones made the list (in fact, he was the first person that came to mind... I haven't seen those movies in at least a decade. Hmmm). The remaining characters were chosen not for their disposition, but because I'd love to see them in an entourage role. By definition members of the entourage are privy to the indulgences of the head individual, but they are also cast into a strange subservient role. So think about it: McKinley and I wearing matching bling, Motor-mouth Jones teaching the Lama how to sound like a telephone, and the Walken/Malkovich duo just staring at eachother with those unblinking creepy stares that made them famous.
Strange thoughts on this Monday evening. Or as HS Thompson would say, "strange vibrations". That's probably enough for now.
2.01.2009
February, 2000 NINE?
Argh! (Think angry pirate, and forgive the amateur onomatopoeic reference). I am getting old. OLD, I tell you. I realize that 28 years of age is not too bad, really, and that just being born in the 80's by default labels me a spring chicken, but the rapid progression of time, the relentless march of the calendar, is disconcerting. I mean come on, February already? In the year 2009? Wasn't Y2K just a year or two back?
Nothing drills home your age like pop culture, specifically when you read about some awesome rock star you used to idolize having quad-bipass surgery or becoming a grandfather (or both). Eddie Vedder, lead singer of Pearl Jam, is forty four years old now. 44! For some reason he shouldn't ever age beyond 29... Also related, my nephew is going to be 13 this year, and recently emailed me to request assistance with some tricky formulas in an excel spreadsheet. I'm over the hill, man.
Keeping on this theme of old(ness), I spent the majority of this weekend winterizing the house. The last gas bill was un-friggin-acceptable and I (like a crotchety, frugal ol' bastard) went to Home Depot and invested in a programmable thermostat, 12 sheets of Visqueen sheeting for the windows, a new tube of caulk-sealant, and roughly thirty feet of weather stripping. I now consider us fortified and properly sealed against the wintry conditions; but yes I feel like an old man. (side note: I managed to install said materials without suffering more than a light shock from the thermostat and a minor skin irritation from the caulk, nice!).
Life is good. No, really. My work situation is resolved and I'll have some good news to share in a few days once it's official.... stress, relief. The week was 100% awesome all the way around, check this out:
Monday: 45 minute run. Felt wicked-phenomenal
Tuesday: Coffee in AM w/ friend, successful progress on work project, 1.25 hr run .
Wednesday: Lift at YMCA, 2-4-1 margaritas at Cafe Ole' (like a moth to flame, I can not stop this weekly indulgence)
Thursday: 1 hour ride indoors, dinner at Gerg's house, Coffee at G&T's house
Friday: 1 hour ride indoors, homemade carnitas burritos at my house with Matt & Charlene
Saturday: 30-minute run, 1 hour bike ride, Thai food with Ron & Amy
Sunday: 40-minute run, 1 hour bike ride, blogging now
Ah... La vida completa. Social, epicurean, physical success. The only thing lacking is a good nap and my week is complete. I think I'll do that now....
Nothing drills home your age like pop culture, specifically when you read about some awesome rock star you used to idolize having quad-bipass surgery or becoming a grandfather (or both). Eddie Vedder, lead singer of Pearl Jam, is forty four years old now. 44! For some reason he shouldn't ever age beyond 29... Also related, my nephew is going to be 13 this year, and recently emailed me to request assistance with some tricky formulas in an excel spreadsheet. I'm over the hill, man.
Keeping on this theme of old(ness), I spent the majority of this weekend winterizing the house. The last gas bill was un-friggin-acceptable and I (like a crotchety, frugal ol' bastard) went to Home Depot and invested in a programmable thermostat, 12 sheets of Visqueen sheeting for the windows, a new tube of caulk-sealant, and roughly thirty feet of weather stripping. I now consider us fortified and properly sealed against the wintry conditions; but yes I feel like an old man. (side note: I managed to install said materials without suffering more than a light shock from the thermostat and a minor skin irritation from the caulk, nice!).
Life is good. No, really. My work situation is resolved and I'll have some good news to share in a few days once it's official.... stress, relief. The week was 100% awesome all the way around, check this out:
Monday: 45 minute run. Felt wicked-phenomenal
Tuesday: Coffee in AM w/ friend, successful progress on work project, 1.25 hr run .
Wednesday: Lift at YMCA, 2-4-1 margaritas at Cafe Ole' (like a moth to flame, I can not stop this weekly indulgence)
Thursday: 1 hour ride indoors, dinner at Gerg's house, Coffee at G&T's house
Friday: 1 hour ride indoors, homemade carnitas burritos at my house with Matt & Charlene
Saturday: 30-minute run, 1 hour bike ride, Thai food with Ron & Amy
Sunday: 40-minute run, 1 hour bike ride, blogging now
Ah... La vida completa. Social, epicurean, physical success. The only thing lacking is a good nap and my week is complete. I think I'll do that now....
1.27.2009
friggiggin cold
Twelve degrees outside right now. Twelve! My mom up in Alaska wouldn't think it cold, but twelve is the lowest we've seen for some time, maybe even this entire winter. It is nice not to be training for bike races as in years past, though I admit I've been darn-near as obsessive about other forms of working out lately. The more uncertain things become in life the more I cling to rigid, mapped-out agendas and physical activity. So yeah, lately I've been averaging about seven hours of bikes, two or three lifting sessions at the Y, and a sparse handful of jogs every week. I am staying sane. As far as the "uncertainties" mentioned above, things are going OK. I have had some great conversations with close friends and had the chance to redirect my energy over the last few days. I am feeling much better about the overall situation with work, life...
I'm all about the changing of the seasons, the yin-and-yang necessity of hot/cold wet/dry climate shifts, but this arctic chill makes me yearn for those immaculate 68-degree sunny days in springtime Boise. The winter is far from over and I can deal with that, but I can't wait to hit some camping trips with Lauren once her summer break begins. I just need to find a decent tent between now and then.
Off to work. Things are quite interesting in the lab this week, as most of our upper management are out and about scrounging up investor interest and cash to keep us afloat. Meanwhile all the engineers are keeping busy with random side projects as we've no official direction for the time being. Crazy.
I'm all about the changing of the seasons, the yin-and-yang necessity of hot/cold wet/dry climate shifts, but this arctic chill makes me yearn for those immaculate 68-degree sunny days in springtime Boise. The winter is far from over and I can deal with that, but I can't wait to hit some camping trips with Lauren once her summer break begins. I just need to find a decent tent between now and then.
Off to work. Things are quite interesting in the lab this week, as most of our upper management are out and about scrounging up investor interest and cash to keep us afloat. Meanwhile all the engineers are keeping busy with random side projects as we've no official direction for the time being. Crazy.
1.21.2009
Drunk! Pensive!
Here I am, a victim once again of Cafe Ole's two for one margaritas. I have had such a day, such a day, and I suppose my willingness to down four of those suckers plus one 22 oz. Guiness draught results from my interview today. I am feeling quite the mix of emotions. My interview went pretty good, fantastic in fact, but I can't help feeling like a douche for jumping ship when the ship is sinking at my job.
I do not think I should write too much, as I don't want to disclose more than I would on a normal (sober) occasion. Times are a' changing. Let's try to trust that all esta cambiando por lo bueno.
-Calvin
I do not think I should write too much, as I don't want to disclose more than I would on a normal (sober) occasion. Times are a' changing. Let's try to trust that all esta cambiando por lo bueno.
-Calvin
1.16.2009
Progresso
We had Casey, Rachel, Gerry and T over for dinner last night. It's the first full-blown Thanksgiving style meal I have ever made and I dare say it was easy... mostly because I cooked up the turkey the previous evening. It is nice having friends that don't mind re-heating turkey in the microwave as part of a dinner. But yeah, cornbread stuffing, Rachel's homemade cranberry sauce, gravy, brussel sprouts, roasted turkey, french bread, and mashed potatoes. Mighty fine.
So the title of this entry is not about the meals, as Progresso soup was not part of the menu, but rather in regard to progress being made on the job front. After posting my resume on a dozen job search/recruiter websites, the emails and phone calls are starting to trickle in for potential employment options. I'm actually behind, already, on returning a few phone calls to recruiters... my motivation isn't in full-force since most of the openings are somewhere in the dirty dirty south.
So the title of this entry is not about the meals, as Progresso soup was not part of the menu, but rather in regard to progress being made on the job front. After posting my resume on a dozen job search/recruiter websites, the emails and phone calls are starting to trickle in for potential employment options. I'm actually behind, already, on returning a few phone calls to recruiters... my motivation isn't in full-force since most of the openings are somewhere in the dirty dirty south.
1.15.2009
Pens
Poised to be a great day, I can feel it. It's about 7AM and I just got to work, so I can't type too long. I have in my hand a pack of brand spankin' new uni-ball vision pens, micro 0.5mm. This is nerdy engineer Calvin's selfish indulgence, comparable to the housewife purchasing a Lancome makeup case or the nephew snagging that Xbox game from Target... thank goodness for cheap thrills.
Pen in hand, I have a phone interview this morning at 10 o'clock. If it goes well, I'll type about it. If it goes poorly, I'll probably still type about it. New pens and potential job opps; good day indeed.
So Mr. Calvin... tell me what you're good at... let's hope it's phone interviews.
Pen in hand, I have a phone interview this morning at 10 o'clock. If it goes well, I'll type about it. If it goes poorly, I'll probably still type about it. New pens and potential job opps; good day indeed.
So Mr. Calvin... tell me what you're good at... let's hope it's phone interviews.
1.11.2009
You've reached the end of the internet...
So bored. So bored even the Internet can't boast anything to hold my attention. Thus I've turned to this blank pad of digital paper, perhaps I can dredge something entertaining out of my memory banks to make the time pass.
It's been a good weekend. Once I finally let myself relax, I got the recharge I've needed for weeks now. I even slept in until almost nine this morning (I know! friggin' crazy!). The highlight of the weekend was the epic run yesterday with McChunky, we were out and about for about 1 hr 50 minutes before calling it (an exhausted) quits. We did not run that entire time, mind you, but easily 90% of that entire time. Yahoo, it is really great to be running such distances. I picked an interesting winter to quit cycling; the weather here in Boise has been fluctuating radically and it's nice to have other options for fitness. Pretty much every day last week was a soggy, icy mess on the roads and I enjoyed hitting the gym instead of braving the conditions on a bike ride as in years past. Today, however, it is beautiful, and living the life of a cyclist in the off season wouldn't be too difficult. It's pushing mid-40 degree temps and the sun is even shining.
Later: Tuesday morning now. Sitting down at Dawson Taylor surfing the aforementioned Internet until a friend arrives. I'm not seeking entertainment on the web this morning, but am instead busy scouring international job boards for engineering opportunities abroad. I've been trying to find some sort of "engineers without borders" organization, something with a humanitarian twist that would pay the bills meanwhile scratching that itch of travel and adventure. So far my searching is fruitless.
There is, in fact, an actual Engineers Without Borders organization; but compared to Doctors Without Borders it looks like an amateur daycare business. I suspect I'm missing the magical search terms to make Google proffer the perfect website result. "engineer humanitarian", "engineer relief", "engineer aid", hmmm.... Any ideas let me know. Lauren and I have decided to start looking internationally for work and would prefer to augment rather than debase the local culture. For example, there are a significant number of opportunities in South America in the mining and oil industries... unless I ended up in R&D in one of those industries I just don't feel like it's worth the relocation.
But maybe. I don't know, things are tricky in this arena. Regardless, if you have any suggestions let me know. In addition to the international, warm-fuzzy careers I'm also of course looking for anything that would pay the bills when my current job tanks or chases me off. The good news in all of this is I am remarkably positive, energetic, and optimistic... which for mopey, pouty, dooms-day Calvin is a significant accomplishment. Wish me luck (and let me know if you need my resume ;)
It's been a good weekend. Once I finally let myself relax, I got the recharge I've needed for weeks now. I even slept in until almost nine this morning (I know! friggin' crazy!). The highlight of the weekend was the epic run yesterday with McChunky, we were out and about for about 1 hr 50 minutes before calling it (an exhausted) quits. We did not run that entire time, mind you, but easily 90% of that entire time. Yahoo, it is really great to be running such distances. I picked an interesting winter to quit cycling; the weather here in Boise has been fluctuating radically and it's nice to have other options for fitness. Pretty much every day last week was a soggy, icy mess on the roads and I enjoyed hitting the gym instead of braving the conditions on a bike ride as in years past. Today, however, it is beautiful, and living the life of a cyclist in the off season wouldn't be too difficult. It's pushing mid-40 degree temps and the sun is even shining.
Later: Tuesday morning now. Sitting down at Dawson Taylor surfing the aforementioned Internet until a friend arrives. I'm not seeking entertainment on the web this morning, but am instead busy scouring international job boards for engineering opportunities abroad. I've been trying to find some sort of "engineers without borders" organization, something with a humanitarian twist that would pay the bills meanwhile scratching that itch of travel and adventure. So far my searching is fruitless.
There is, in fact, an actual Engineers Without Borders organization; but compared to Doctors Without Borders it looks like an amateur daycare business. I suspect I'm missing the magical search terms to make Google proffer the perfect website result. "engineer humanitarian", "engineer relief", "engineer aid", hmmm.... Any ideas let me know. Lauren and I have decided to start looking internationally for work and would prefer to augment rather than debase the local culture. For example, there are a significant number of opportunities in South America in the mining and oil industries... unless I ended up in R&D in one of those industries I just don't feel like it's worth the relocation.
But maybe. I don't know, things are tricky in this arena. Regardless, if you have any suggestions let me know. In addition to the international, warm-fuzzy careers I'm also of course looking for anything that would pay the bills when my current job tanks or chases me off. The good news in all of this is I am remarkably positive, energetic, and optimistic... which for mopey, pouty, dooms-day Calvin is a significant accomplishment. Wish me luck (and let me know if you need my resume ;)
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