Up Early, Saturday

The title explains the situation. It's the weekend but I can't sleep in, simply stewing too much on everything to allow sleep to wrap me in its weekend arms. If I step back and view things objectively, I really have an ideal mix of ingredients for the perfect life, yet (as is typical for me) I'm mired in stress about my job, my fitness, my family, my... who knows? Sometimes I can not even identify what I'm grappling against; a disconcerting thought to imagine feeling this way for no reason for the rest of my life.

Nah, there is at least a fleck of reason for my uneasiness. The ol' dream job I've bragged about in this very blog has shed roughly 70% of its workforce. Start up company that experienced meteoric growth then scaled back down when the cosmic explosion vacuumed in on itself. From an engineer's humble viewpoint, it looks like there are too many cooks in the kitchen, as they say, too many creatives at the top chiming in on what to pursue next with no ability to narrow down and prioritize. To give some credit where it's due, once our CEO was fired (at the end of June) our CFO jumped in and proclaimed a product to focus upon and we're still chugging forward on it... the problem now is the ridiculously fictitious deadline given our grossly reduced engineering team. Bah.

If the company goes under, obviously I'm out of a job. Not the end of the world but disturbing nonetheless on multiple levels. I really believe in my job; I believe in my work mates and I believe in our ability to push the boundaries of robot-human interaction. Much of my sadness emanates from such potential going unfulfilled due to such crap-ball leadership. Now, there's also the very frightening realization that finding another engineering job in Boise right now would be near-friggin' impossible. Micron is sloughing off engineers daily like unnecessary skin cells, and HP is operating at the fine knife-edge of efficiency after doing the same a couple months ago. I'd have more luck getting a job at Home Depot than in an engineering firm, though even that may be difficult if I don't dumb-down my resume in fear of over-qualification.

Woe is me, right (or... whoa! is me?, woisme). Pshh... I can quit my bitching. I think things are just snowballing and it's always been easier for me to feel suppressed than triumphant. On the positive side of life, um... my beautiful wife and I are really clicking and communicating better than ever (she's still in bed, snoring this very moment as if ascertaining my claims, bless her soul). I've started fabricating steampunk-style contraptions on the side with a group of friends, and I'm about nine classes in to this hot-yoga program down on State Street. Life's really not too bad.

I sure miss my family though. Alaska is a long ways away and the ailing airlines aren't making it cheap to travel lately. My sister made it up here last weekend and we had a blast, but such visits always make the gap apart more difficult. This Thanksgiving we have zero plans; I've joked (more like tested the waters, unsuccessfully) about cooking up a perfect 1/10th scale model dinner for Lauren and I, which I think is hilarious but no one else seems to. What do you think of this: a roasted quail or Cornish game-hen, baked in a shallow bread pan with a variety of teeny side dishes like mini-marshmallows (SwissMiss style) over candied yam(letts), side salad incorporating those little baby corns and breadcrumbs for croutons, a dollop of jelly representing cranberry sauce, and maybe a "spiral-cut" piece of summer-sausage in representation of honey-cooked-ham. Hmm? We could arrange little Lego men around the food and watch their unblinking eyes stare in disbelief of such a feast. No?

The dog is snoring now, in stereo with my beautiful wife, and I'm going to go roll them both over. I feel better, somehow, having whined a bit. Later then.

Halloween 08

For Halloween this year I wanted to be Kip from Napoleon Dynamite. The results you see are, obviously, far from Kip... but hilarious nonetheless. We threw a good pre-party with a close small group of friends. Not too shabby.

Life's been decent. Things at work are somewhat shaky but I'm rolling with the punches. Lauren's kicking serious butt in school and I've transitioned out of riding and into running/lifting/anything. More detailed update on its way because, well, why not.

Bike racing, parts two, three, four....

I realize I never got to the "Part Two" of my bike racing recount. I had a pretty good chunk of it written but ended up scrapping the whole thing for various reasons. Part two was set to summarize the Elkhorn Cycling Classic over in Baker City, Oregon, where we finished 2nd and 3rd in GC and I had a couple really great rides. But now, all of that seems so very far away and somewhat trivial during this NRC race in Bend, Oregon. Come to think of it, this is the first NRC race I've hit since Tour of Utah in 2006; to say that I'm being humbled is an understatement.

I have good fitness. Nearly great fitness, in fact. And yet I've been barely cracking the top 1/2 of riders in the past couple of stages. The Prineville Road Race on Wednesday, 83-miles in distance, was over and done in about 2 hours and 50 minutes. You can check my math here, but that equates to roughly 29.5 mph average speed... like trying to keep pace behind a motorbike with zero room for error. Santiago Botero won the stage and hence took the overall lead (you remember Botero, right?) I finished a couple of minutes down. I had made a commitment to get in a break early on, which worked out and didn't work out. I was involved in two really solid breaks that looked primed to stay away, but for who knows what reason we got brought back each time. Proof pudding can be found here, and here. I had a very poorly timed mechanical that required stopping, getting off of my bike, and manually "adjusting" my front derailleur and chain, maybe 1 km before the only major climb of the day. It was a bummer.

Yesterday, that is Thursday, I felt 10x better and was sure that I'd cracked the top fifty riders at the hilltop finish. I again tried to place myself in a breakaway but (dang it) I missed the one that went. I decided to just sit in the group, focus on efficiency and fueling and give it a go on the finishing climb. It was a rad stage and I felt like a protagonist instead of just a survivalist; I was even up in a move with a Bissell, HealthNet, Toyota United, and Type1 pro while blazing through the town of Sisters. When we hit the climb I set a good pace and dieseled up for a respectable finish....

Well it turns out that my respectable finish was about 70th place. Unbelievable. I think what has me bajito (a tidbit down) at the moment is that leading into this event I 1) underestimated the level of these top-drawer professionals and 2) overestimated my own level. I'm not throwing in the towel, nor am I spiraling down into some pity-party; but I don't feel like I was being realistic. These guys do this for a living, and it shows. So right now I'm juggling a whole lot of feelings; when I step back mentally and think of my fitness versus theirs, I am not intimidated nor feel any sort of confused frustration over the disparity. Instead, I feel that the difference between us is a result of miles logged in racing and training, and that is all.

Now, if I scale that thought back one more level and consider the big-picture balance of life, I am pleased and satisfied in the wonderful mix I've obtained. I love Lauren, I love my job, we have an amazing house and dog and a cute little Jetta wagon to drive. I would not relinquish any of those to go 20-spots faster in an NRC event... but I tell you what (and this is the struggle), I'm very much removed from my bubble of satisfaction right now. I'm here in Bend and it's all about bike racing and I love it but I'm frustrated. How's that for a mired mess of conflicting thoughts?

This morning is a time trial. I like time trialing and I think I can turn the screws on some of those skinny kids that have outclimbed me over the past two stages. Tonight is a crit, and ditto on the screw turning. They can exact their revenge tomorrow when we crest over Mt. Bachelor, twice.

-Calvin

Bike Racin' Part One

All right, I know I try to avoid purely cycling-related posts, but things are just going to well not to share it with my fans (hah! shouting into the vacuum). These past couple weekends have presented some great rides for me and my team, and since this is a personal blog I'll take the opportunity to embrace, and embellish upon, my personal rising fitness.

I was worried about my China trip and its potential effect on training, but if it set me back it is all but undetectable. In fact, I suspect that such a respite from intense training allowed the fitness to ferment somewhat. I touched back down in the states on Saturday afternoon. An easy ride that day and the next prepped me for an intense week of leg-ripping intensity (my own legs, for time being). Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday were interval days and the jet lag made for some rough sensations.

That following Friday evening was the Tour of Eagle criterium. Being a few blocks from where I work, I could not resist the temptation to invite the entire Ugobe workforce down to the event. In the end, a handful of them showed up and suffice to say they now view me in a different light (strange to see someone in a tucked-in button-up shirt and slacks every day, then suddenly tight lycra and tech-wear the next). Back in the day I feared friends and family seeing me race and felt a lot of pressure to perform. Not so anymore; I suppose I realize they don't care so much about my results; I also feel a heck of a lot more confident in general.

So I won the criterium! I'm still waiting for some pictures to appear, when they do I'll make sure to post them. We raced VERY well as a team and had the victory in the bag a few times with at least two guys up the road each time. For various reasons each break got brought back until I went with about 8 laps remaining. My personal hero story stems from a broken derailleur cable I suffered 10-minutes in to the 45-minute race. Having to race in my hardest gear for those 35 minutes made me re-think how I race crits... you simply can not afford to scrub any speed unnecessarily; it is much to difficult to re-accelerate. It made for some difficult strategery, as local pro Remi M. was paying a lot of attention to anyone with good legs. When I went I went super hard and opened up a large gap in a lap. The race was actually neutralized with two laps remaining due to a massive, severe crash in turn one; fortunately no one was injured beyond some road burn and a concussion. At that point I had about 2/3 of a lap's advantage on the main field and was awarded the win. Yahoo!

That night was also the onset of Ron Miller's bachelor party weekend; following the crit I ventured downtown to the Balcony, then to the Neurolux. Five mixed drinks and approximately 4000 dance moves later Lauren and I walked back home to our North End cottage and called it a night. A 3:00 AM bedtime wasn't ideal for recovery but was ideal for the soul. I went up to Sun Valley with Ron and his cronies the next day and logged some beautiful mountain bike rides, marvelling at some great legs juxtaposed with my rusty technical skills! My shins are still bumped and bruised 10 days later.

China Notes: June 2008

I kept meaning to post some of these. So, well, here you go:

----------------------------------------------------------

China: En Route

Somehow I figured I would last a bit longer before fully cracking. Not so. It's about midnight, Boise time, though I can not tell you the exact “World Time” since we're somewhere off the coast of Japan and the International Date Line gets pretty screwy. I do know that we're scheduled to touch down in Hong Kong around 6:30PM Sunday evening; that should be about four hours from now, though who knows.

The trip has gone pretty well so far. We are just beginning. I woke up crazy early this morning to finish packing and to sneak out for a snappy little mountain bike ride. It was a phenomenal way to start the day! I had forgotten just how beautiful the Boise foothills are on early summer mornings. That faint whiff of dew and sage, ~60-degrees F, and the crisp pinched-yellow morning light. I took a quick lap around the Corrals loop, really going for it ascending and descending. Anyway, got back from the ride, gathered up my belongings, and rode with Holly to the airport. Since then has been pretty standard; standardized boredom: board plane, taxi, sit on runway, head back to gate to adjust cargo weight and distribution (wha?), fly, fly fly. The leg from Boise to San Francisco was delayed an hour plus we had to go into a “holding pattern” for another twenty minutes above SFO before landing. Good news is that the layover was shorter than it could have been.

And yes, I'm aboard a wicked-huge aero-plane now, flying non-stop to Hong Kong. Seven thousand five hundred miles in one big 14-hour chunk. I actually thought we were scheduled to arrive Monday morning and subsequently head straight to meetings. Thank goodness I was mistaken and we will have a full night's rest in the hotel to prepare for Monday's chicanery. All I have to do is survive the next four hours. I am praying for a more entertaining movie this next round. So far we've watched The Golden Compass (might have been cool but the sound was screwed up), 27-dresses (yank), The Water Horse (AKA Free Willy Redux), and finally Jumper. I thought I had more movies on this work laptop but I'm down to a couple favorites. I guess I'll have to watch Idiocracy again... not too shabby.

Fun fact about Calvin's first trip to China: I'm wearing compression socks and leggings. Yessir, you know those god-awful flesh-toned knee-high socks that big ol' ladies wear to fend off varicose veins or diabetic distress? Yeah, I got a pair. Pooling blood in the feet and legs equals trouble for athletes. Another fun fact or two: I've eaten three apples in the last two hours, mostly due to boredom! Exit row seating is not all it's cracked up to be (passengers are stretching and loitering two feet from my face this very instant). Liquor drinks are free on this flight (not sure if that's a standard United Airlines international thing or what) though I'm flying sober tonight.

Lots to share over the next week and I plan on writing a ton.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

China #2

Yeah! Brief little breather between meetings, good time to update. I'm currently sitting in “Meeting Room Number2” in one of the hundreds of buildings at FoxConn's Gongguan campus, killing some time until we head out to gorge ourselves over another seven course meal. This campus is the very same that manufactures the iPod, iPhone, and iWhateverElse though there's no way in hell any of us will see that production floor. FoxConn is a gargantuan manufacturer for a reason: they are very serious indeed about product confidentiality; no exceptions.

I am having a very good time. Overall I feel that my visit to Thailand in September inadvertently prepared me for Asian exposure; that's a good thing and a bad thing. Nothing seems shocking or out of the ordinary here as compared to Thailand. Tons of people all over the streets, constant construction on all roads buildings and storefronts, zany drivers (no traffic rules), and some goofy foods for breakfast lunch and dinner. So yes, it's good that I feel plenty comfortable and settled in, but bad that I'm not experiencing that “oh my gosh everything is so crazy” newness.

I have not gotten to see much since we arrived. We flew in around six thirty on Sunday night, had to go through customs three times (leave airport, leave Hong Kong, enter China), then drive another 40 minutes to our hotel. By the time we got to the Goodview Hotel it was 9:30PM and I hadn't slept for 30 hours! I could seriously rant about the customs program in Hong Kong, but I'll save that for another day. The point is, by that hour on Sunday evening I was not in the mood to wander around the hotel to suck in some culture. I just laid in bed, watched Chinese MTV for a few minutes (priceless), ate a granola bar and some fruit, and konked out.

I think I slept maybe 5 hours that first night. Jetlag is a brutal phenomena. At 2:30 AM I actually got up, brushed my teeth, and popped my contacts back in before waking up enough to realize I was out of my freaking mind and needed to continue sleeping for a few hours. Same thing nearly happened two hours later. At 5 AM I finally just got up and surfed the net until the gym opened. I was worried that I'd have no means by which to exercise, as I've been on business trips before that resulted in all food and no caloric expenditure, but this weight room is just fine. Each morning I've had the StarTrac lifecycle all to myself. Two things would improve it, however, namely 1) if I'd remembered to bring my iPod and 2) just a teeny bit (anything give me a morsel) of airflow. Oh yeah and maybe if I could read Mandarin and run the control for the TV.

The Goodview Breakfast buffet is pretty gourmet, reminding me much of a hotel Lauren and I experienced in Krabi. I really dig having Dim Sum for breakfast along with a bowl of rice krispies and some lychees. OK, I don't necessarily love those things every morning; I'm saying that I love the variety. Pancakes, egg roles, pickled eggs, green salad, fruit compote, fried noodles, twinkies, bacon. All for breakfast? Yes please.

Later: FC took us all out to dinner tonight. Crazy thing I ate was a chicken foot. Not too bad, but not worth the act. Lots of effort to pull the meat off the bone, not really worth the trauma encountered when putting a cadaver-esque wiggling appendage in your mouth. Spitting phalanges out is a little weird. Else dinner was awesome and of course excessive. Here was the flow: sit down, drink beer, eat peanuts and pickled green mango, Jasmine tea, beef dish Sezhuan style, bok-choy soup, marinated muscles, sweet and sour cod, glazed duck, ginger chicken, marinated tofu....

....eggy soup, garlic rice noodles with scallops, curried seafood with potatoes, buttered broccoli... sheesh.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

China #3

Thursday now, still hanging out at FoxConn. Big breakthrough at the gym last night when I finally deciphered the remote control, not only managing to turn it on but also locating the Discovery Channel amongst the 80+ Chinese channels. Yeah! An hour on the elliptical trainer goes WAY faster when you're not just staring at a paneled wall in front of you. Unfortunately the Disco channel was broadcasting this tribal documentary that really bummed me out.

Great progress on our project, too. All of the gears and gear boxes arrived last night; Kim-yung made some poor peon stay here all night assembling the pieces so we could evaluate today. I asked who it was that stayed, wanting to offer my appreciation and pity, but they actually let him take the morning off to recover. They are not as monstrous as I'd heard many Chinese manufacturers can be. It's quite the trip to see the difference between their first-generation prototypes and our own; funny the difference it makes when you have 5x the number of product development employees and 10x the amount of resources. I'd share more details but don't want to let much out of the bag. Not yet at least.

Speaking of secrecy, it is killing me to be SO close to Apple's iPhone production line but not have the opportunity to check it out. In fact, I doubt I'll get to see a single manufacturing assembly operation while I'm here. Wha? Not the purpose of our trip, but I can't believe I am here and won't see anything. We did have the chance to tour FC's testing facilities yesterday which was entertaining/educating, but I'd heard so much about these rooms with 10,000 19-year-old kids standing shoulder to shoulder assembling parts almost too small to see.

I've just learned that our dinner tonight will take place in a bustling city some 20 miles from here. I can't remember the name but I'll let you know later; point is that we'll hopefully be eating light then hitting the streets to do some light shopping. Yeah, finally!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday evening notes

We'll see how many words I get down before the battery dies. Or before my brain dies. I'm a bit fatigued at the moment. The fourth and final race of the Lyle Pearson Spring Series (road racing) wrapped up out in Emmett a few hours ago. Good ride but oh my goodness I'm cross-eyed now.

Looking back, I haven't updated in some time. I've been "journaling" somewhat on my own, electronically, but have not felt the urge to post anything. I read a funny stat in Esquire magazine about "the ratio of blogs to humans rapidly approaching 1:1". That summarizes it; I can not claim to be an original blogger, as I hopped on the trend and followed the example set forth by a prior team mate back in the day. Now, however, everyone and their dog has a blog. It has changed the dynamic of living.

Case in point: by approximately 10 PM tonight I should be able to read a minimum of seven distinct perspectives on today's race posted by participants on their personal blogs. The allure of blogs is the intimate soul-dump that occurs, unclouded by any fear that others will challenge your personal point of view on various topics. That illusion of privacy, of this being a personal journal, really allows you to put your foot in your mouth.

Racing 2008

A few of you have asked (OK, just one person, and they're family but I still feel special) what team I'll be riding for next year:

http://www.teambobs-bicycles.com/

I don't think they'll have anything posted until our big team camp/photo shoot in mid-February. Should be a good setup. Racing starts in about three weeks at a small event in Western Oregon...

http://www.willamettevalleycycling.com/cherry_pie/cherry_pie.html

More details to follow. The race is about 77 miles from the current residence of my aunt and uncle, so I hope to turn the race trip into a good visit. Thoughts?

Olde Poste - 13 Days Back

Welcome to Wisconsin.

Here for work, just for a few days, and darn glad about both of those facts. The work trip is fantastic in terms of personal growth, career development, and so forth, but Wisconsin in the dead of winter (I'm beginning to learn) is not conducive to enjoying one's self in anything extra-curricular. It's four degrees F outside at this moment. I would give anything to go work out, even a nice little jog somewhere, but this Best Western is not equipped with a cardio room and outdoor exercise in this temperature would count as reverse-training.

Plus, I'm actually on a conference call this very moment, listening in to a group of our employees sprinkled around the USA and China. Eighty percent of the conversation does not apply to me but I'm keyed in to respond to anything that crosses into my realm of importance. An international conference call is worth experiencing: lots of people speaking over one another, each individual's voice either amplified or insulated by respective personal surroundings, glitches in language translations, and random connection/disconnection noise sprinkled on like allergen frosting, all adding to the frenzy. One of our marketing guys sounds like he's in a WalMart bathroom (think massive echoing resonance and an assemblage of background voices of all pitch and age); a boss is apparently driving in a car as evidenced by sporadic honks and shouts; one gent is speaking so quietly I am unsure he even wants to be heard; yet another speaking so loudly he may have ingested the microphone itself. There is an incessant pinging that symbolizes persons joining or leaving the call.

Work here is awesome, however. We flew out for a brief two-day visit with an industry expert in gear design, touching down yesterday evening in St Paul, Minnesota and driving 100 miles NE into this Mac 'n Cheese state of Wisconsin. It is a visit that had me preparing with nervous anxiety for the last two weeks; the guy is a guru and I wanted to be educated and braced to answer any question presented. This stage of our design requires a great deal of technical input, but we are also struggling with substantial project and process management issues so I am getting some experience in that as well. I realize I am not being very specific, but those are the details I am privy to share and will have to suffice. Regardless, the point is I am being pushed in technical abilities, project management skills, and interpersonal skills all at once and not doing too badly (as far as I know). Don't ask anyone else, just take this as gospel.

I was actually hoping that I could ramble out a few hundreds words before latching on to a thought worth pursuing literally, but it has not happened so I will now bow out of this one-sided conversation. Enjoy whatever your eyes find next in this wide world of waste. I'll let you know if anything crazy happens here in Siren, Wisconsin.

OK, Ok. Back in the airport, currently physically pointing North East but soon to fly South West back to the heartland (joke ha ha). The trip is drawing to a close and only 2.5 hours of plane-ride-time remain. Today's schedule went well and our meetings cut short, so we managed to bump the return flight up by four hours... yeah! With any luck I'll be able to return home, visit with the ol' lady for some time, and maybe get in some form of exercise before it is time to get some shut-eye. Overall I am so so pleased with the trip and feel like I've gained some credibility with my boss and clients.

Credibility? An explanation: You know that feeling you have for the first few days/weeks of a new job, knowing your true worth but also knowing you are being watched and scrutinized by those who hired you? Normally that feeling is fleeting and consumed by one's latent self-confidence in capabilities, proportional decrease in paranoia, and resultant sense of job security. Whereas this feeling, for most, attenuates and disappears after a fortnight I tend to carry the burden of “measuring up” for a couple months at least. This time around the feeling is more persistent than ever due to the elite/genius workforce and my comparatively limited real-world experience. In a nutshell free of such prolix explanation: I am an overachiever with low self esteem. Sha la la la, at least it is on the mend and changing for the better.

So yes, I did well. There may be an eminent trip to China looming, where I will meet directly with motor/gear/transmission manufacturers as a company representative. Holy cow! This is great and I never expected such opportunity so early on. I'll still need some hand-holding of course and can't be trusted alone with the Chinese, huh-huh, but it is another step up the long ladder of my career development and I am excited. This airport terminal is intumescing with fellow travelers so I'll likely cut this short (mostly because I look like a dork when blogging [see prior blog entry when I couldn't get past my own reflection on the laptop screen]). Not sure why you made it to this point in reading, but I hope you enjoyed.

Stimuli (current):

1. Smells: Overwhelming odor of cheap lotion (St. Ives, perhaps), stale air from above head-vent, Whopper from approx. 12-foot distance, personal slight body odor (sharp yet subtle) from overheated conference rooms and 100-mile heat-coffin-car ride. Onion breath from super lunch salad.

2. Noise: Blips and pings from cells, PDAs, and security scan-ins, though not ever-present; numerous children gobbling mumbling hoo-diddly squawking all blended together into a base noise suchlike a farmhouse chicken coop; hiss of aforementioned ceiling vent; lower frequency ubiquitous grumble from outdoor taxiing 74x's; (2) distinct individuals with wicked chest colds causing intermittent coughs, sniffs, and lung-scraping expellings (eh?).

3. Sights: all cast in yellow-curd shade from low-quality neon tube-lights and intruding (overcast sky) grayness from outside; once blue now gray short-nap carpeting underfoot and midway up surrounding walls blanketed with some sort of stick and bird pattern in darker gray; 40+ passengers, most well-bundled in thick yet comfy puff jackets, sweat pants, scarves and beanies awaiting their boarding opportunity; patience yet lethargy;

4. Sense: no more feeling in my backside due to absence of chair cushion, excessive ambient temperatures for this techy jacket I've donned, and slight pain due to oniony super-solid lunch from item number one, above.

Happy NYE

Happy New Years.

Christmas 2007

Hey! It's almost Christmas and I am past due for an update. I won't try to detail all that has transpired since my last entry, but here's a high level summary in chronological order: quit old job, got married, went on honeymoon, started new job, joined new cycling team, headed to Elko for Christmas, Lauren starts grad school in three weeks. A disjointed list if I ever saw one, but a list nonetheless.

The married life is treating us well. Quite well. Even after the glitter faded from our honeymoon in Thailand, we still enjoy spending time together for the most part (gwahahahh) and form a solid team. Marriage changes everything and yet nothing. The primary change is the intangible gravity of the commitment and respect for one another. That changes everything, in a good way. I don't want to try and explain it so humor me and pretend to understand the concept. Too early in the day to expect the words to come out correctly.

I did indeed score that job I was striving for this past summer. Seems my 65-hour week commitment throughout those months was noticed after all and they offered me a full time position beginning October 8. In case you have not heard, I'm the sole mechanical design engineer for blossoming company Ugobe. Here:

http://ugobe.com/

Or better yet, here is their first product that is finally shipping (!) :

http://www.pleoworld.com/

I had a small but significant role in the design of Pleo, but my real focus is on new product development for the company. Determined not to be a "one trick pony", Ugobe is busting their butts to roll out the next wave of life forms. The products we make are border-line AI (artificial intelligence); Ugobe is allergic to the label "toy company" since we design companion pets that you can't "drive" but are instead autonomous and act according to sensory stimulation. It's not I-robot but the creepy surrealism is there. It is a dream job. I could not find a more engaging, challenging, or rewarding job anywhere on this continent. Not to rub it in, but I am rubbing it in.

And the 65-hour work weeks are a thing of the past. Things will assuredly flare up and demand a few overtime hours here and there, but overall I've averaged 38-45 hours per week since my start in October. I was really worried about over-working but seem to have a good handle on the work/life balance (kudos to Lauren on that one). Deciding to race again next year has also kept me from working too much. A lot going on, but without a few dozen 'balls in the air' to juggle I go stir crazy. Hooray for that little personality disorder...

Lauren is sleeping. We planned to hit the road around 10 AM and head down to Elko but there is no reason to roust her considering the road conditions outside. In Boise it never snows a lot, at least not here in town, but when the conditions are right the temperature drops and the little snow that does fall turns everything into a glacial sheet of traffic death. Don't ask me why I got up at 6 AM. I obviously don't have much to do if I'm finally taking the time to update this blog. Every now and again I wonder what I'll be like at 80 years old... Still getting up early, setting my alarm to boot, when there isn't anything that really must be done at such an early hour. If I am Yin then Lauren is Yang and as an 80-year-old I suspect she'll sleep until 3 PM each day. We'll have to wait and see on that one.

That's it for now. Excuse the incoherence.

July 5, 2007

Barely made it down here, but in retrospect I'm quite pleased with myself for postponing going to work for a few minutes to catch up on "me time". It's the fifth of July, as the time stamp and title most assuredly reiterate, and I've one bummer case of the Mondays.

I managed to sneak away from work on (the real) Monday afternoon to head up to Camp Alice Pittenger (CAP) in McCall; Lauren's home away from home for the past two weeks and the next six yet to come. She had a three-day respite between groups of cretins and I fully monopolized two of them (the days, not the cretins) with my presence. Funny what creatures of habit we all are, and after a mere 14 days at camp Lauren has reprogrammed her standard daily routine to be more conducive to leading a summer girl scout camp. During my time there we followed what I imagine is the typical daily schedule at CAP: up around seven, breakfast immediately following, craft time, nature time, lunch time, craft time, activity time, swim time, dinner. Lights out immediately at 10 p.m.; or else. Although I suspect my crafts and outdoor activities differ slightly from an eleven-year-old girl's, it did not stop me from embracing the time away from work, away from clients; away from this nerd-box laptop.

Regarding all the stimuli, CAP is freaking phenomenal. It possesses all of the elements you stereotypically expect to see at a girl scout camp: a Tinker Hut craft building, canoes and fun-yaks and sail boats and speed boats, a swim cove, mountain bikes, star-gazing telescopes, and a lodge/mess hall decorated with sickeningly adorable memoirs from years and troops now grown and gone (see: decorated tiles, quilts, Popsicle-stick mansions, and all the lanyard plastic bead jewelry your eyes can handle). There are so many animals roving around you'd think that Jim Henson lay hidden just out of sight, masterfully choreographing scores and varieties of animatronics to walk by and stand by whenever you venture outdoors. Oh hello deer, fox, bear, squirrel, fish, osprey...

But alas, I am back in Boise. McCall registered a high yesterday of 88-degrees F. Relatively speaking, 88-degrees in McCall felt blistering enough to warrant more than a few dips in the icy-cool lake. Driving down to this coffee shop, the radio DJ forcasted a Boise high of 106-degrees F. I do not believe that the F stands for Fahrenheit in both cases... I mean, 106-degrees is ridiculous. Fortunately I work in one of those well-insulated (from heat, light... and pretty much all sensory stimuli) labs within the university. Fortunately...?

Work is a bit bothersome. The aforementioned toy design company has recognized my abilities and made a few insinuations regarding potential employment; which is nice. The current job however is still draining too much time and not offering enough reward for my taste. I worry that my taste is impossible to satiate, however, so I am perpetually trying to suck it up and accept my job for what it most certainly is: reality. No one likes their job all the time, and I fear that I am spoiled by having things "this good" directly out of grad school. Sarcasm? Not sure, I'm tired.

And poof, my window of time has vanished, much like all molecules of water on a 106-degree summer day in Boise. Off to work for what will likely be a nine or ten-hour day. As mentioned, this feels like a Monday and it'll be hard to snap out of my funk. Thanks for tuning in.


-Calvino

On a lighter note

All the better, I now see, for me to forget my 'dongle' and thus be rendered helpless and unable to crank out any work this morning. For now I am sitting at Big City Coffee out on State Street, 10 minutes' drive from home and 20 minutes' drive from work, turning to this online purge-hole to fill my time. Nearly three months ago I posted the blog about el padre mio, which felt good, but I certainly did not mean to let such an interval pass without a less-intense update. Some of you have expressed concern. Stop, all is well.

Can't go home, no sir, since I'm scheduled to meet a couple gents here in about 45 minutes to discuss a work project. Same old story in Calvin's world: getting to work at 7:00 a.m. does not allow me to leave at 3:00 p.m., due to my own inability to set some limits and walk out that door. A mired mix of perfectionism and egotism, the 50+ hour work week has become all too common. What? This is the real world you say? Yikes.

Lauren and I are due to wed in a mere three months (and change). Don't feel offended if you've not yet received an invite, we're on the ball but not THAT on the ball so you'll likely get one soon don't fret. Sometimes it catches up with both of us and we're bowled over by the immensity of all that's happening; I'm not talking about the logistics of the wedding, I mean the situation of us having found such a connection in one another and imagining/planning our future together. Sitting on the couch last night, I was spacing off recalling the times I spent alone and independent or rather independently lonely. Paid my dues, as well all tend to do.

Continuing this mental spaticity, an update on this job that I love/hate/can't seem to fully control: after having paid my dues with dozens of quirky independent inventor-types, on dozens of quirky 'inventions', I have sort of struck gold with the most recent project (the gents I'm meeting in ten minutes). You remember some of my old projects:

Refrigerator latches
External Catheter devices
Fly-line cleaner tools
Packaging/automation conveyor systems
Touch screen electronics enclosures
Bicycle transmissions
Animal telemetry devices
Prosthetic air expulsion valves

Not all bad, but honestly most of them will never make it to full production for various reasons. Well, of late I have been doing some CAD-jockey work for local business entity UGOBE. Perhaps you've heard of the Pleo dinosaur? It's the next uber-cool toy from the "polymath toy inventor" that created the Furby a few years back. Even though I'm just a CAD monkey right now, I'm hoping that they see my abilities in product design and innovative conceptual design. In this industry, the term CAD-jockey is quite derogatory and a label analogous to "expert video-gamer". Drawing a few shapes in SolidWorks, per some one's specs, isn't that difficult. Hashing out the details, brainstorming better solutions and alternatives and showing souplesse is what carves out a niche for oneself. They haven't seen it in me yet, but I think they will.

Maybe once the Pleo hits shelves this fall I can post some pictures to show off what I've assisted in developing. For now, however, it's all honor-system and you have to just believe that I am somehow involved with a pretty cool company that beats the pants off of anyone else I've designed for. Pretty cool, to understate an amazing opportunity.

OK, time to wrap it up. Hopefully I'll forget my dongle more often, this has been delightful.

Short story, short sighted

Similar to the author, Michael H. went to Spring Creek High School and played in the marching band as part of the Spartan music program. A percussionist by trade, the rattle-tat-tat of the snare and quad drum set was a precursor to his current occupation with the Elko County police force. Michael graduated somewhere between my sister and I; must have been 1997, as I believe he was only one year my elder during those sweet years of Spartan pride.

I have learned that, upon completing high school, Michael relocated to San ***** , California (Diego? Francisco? One of those), to pursue the eminent career in law enforcement. Soon thereafter he shot his first human in what had to be a moment of exorbitant emotion. Gang member? Doper? Nope: personal partner on the police force. Michael's partner of the time went berserk and started popping off fellow coppers; two policemen died before Michael put a bullet in the gunman.

Fast forward in time and Michael is back in Elko. Perhaps Michael returned to his hometown to flee the twisted go-fast world of South/Central California. He must have known of the severe, accelerating, indefatigable methamphetamine problem in Nevada? Perhaps love brought him back; I know for a fact that he has a wife and children he loves, supports, needs. At any rate Elko, Nevada is far from Green Gables, and the atmosphere grows more fetid and rank with each gram snorted, each slot-arm pulled, and each hooker rented. It's spiraling.

On the evening of February 10 of this very year, Michael responded to a call of public disturbance in South-Central Elko, a few blocks away from the elementary school I attended in 1987 - "Southside Elementary". Some whacked-out meth-head was screaming and trying to break down a door to a home, threatening (incoherently) the residents indoors. I do not know the specific details of the event, but I do know a few things: Michael found himself a few feet from the criminal. Criminal's eyes wild in tweaked-out dementia with saliva flowing from his rotting screaming mouth and limbs jerking in spastic, erratic motions. The man reached behind his back, desperately grasping at something tucked within his rear waistline.

In retrospect, Michael should have shot him. He had a family at home, after all. But he did not, he hesitated. Fortunately, the man was reaching for a hunting knife, and despite his spun-out oblivion the assailant eventually dropped his guard and was arrested by the surrounding officers. A quick search revealed just under 28 grams of methamphetamine; ready to distribute, ready to rock.

It is a small world. Michael was called to testify on February 28 in the Elko County Court House against the criminal - James Douglas Allan. My sister was at the trial, and my good friend from years past was the presiding judge. Aside Michael, four other people testified against JDA, all reiterating the details of his actions and possessions that night.

James Douglas Allan is currently awaiting trial in the Elko County Jail. Carrying 28 grams of meth with intent to sell could warrant anywhere from ten years to a life sentence in prison. At 53 years old, you'd think he's ready to slow down. Not so. The estate from his recently deceased father will pay him about $50k over the next few years, and James plans to sink that money into a legal battle to prove his innocence.

In Michael's words, he should have shot the man. Michael is, after all, a husband and a father.

U huh yeah

More and more often, I’m realizing, these entries only occur during strange times. It so happens that the last few ‘strange times’ have been defining pivotal moments of personal crisis. That is not the case this morning. No crisis here, no sir. It is simply quite early and I have opted to scream at the keys instead of making noise in this darkened house.

My sister and her husband and of course Jacob (or the Jacobian Matrix, as I am fond of calling him in my super-nerd world of mathematical humor) arrived last night about ten p.m. Funny timing with everything, since Lauren had to leave on a jet plane this morning at six to spend six days at a conference in Austin, Tejas. She will be missed dearly. Really, we’re doing phenomenally.

I get to watch Jacob wrestle (“rassell”) today at a tournament over in Eagle. Aside from my stellar home cooking and pleasant demeanor, the wrestling match is the reason for their visit. Sort of a last minute decision on their part, and I am so glad to see them all. Living a mere 240 miles away from family might as well be the distance across the Atlantic, sometimes.

And now I will digress for a few lines, speaking of the Atlantic. My hankering to return to Spain is stronger than ever, and I’ve been plotting a way to combine the potential honeymoon with a satiating stint in said phenomenal country. Well, the fiscal challenges of new life together are becoming blatantly obvious, and while the wedding is still a go, the financial feasibility of a large reception and/or a honeymoon are in question. The “cheap wedding” is such a naïve, sequin-crusted delusion these days; the reality is that we’re going to be on a pretty tight budget. Depending on the age of you, reader, you may or may not realize the current dollar magnitude of a “cheap wedding”. A bare-bones wedding and reception will run you about $8k. Hmmm… Not impossible, but how do couples really unwind and relax on a honeymoon that drives them into debt? End of digression ----

So I am beginning to screw my head on straight, emotionally, but I do not want to let the topic dominate this entry. Apparently my last entry reeked of desperation, because I got some amazing spiritual feedback from many of my family and friends. Thank you. The weather, the job, the house, the wife to be, her beloved eternal unremitting fountain of fur (McKinley)… are all separate yet correlated elements of the good life; a life I live everyday. Pair said ingredients with good music, art, and literature, and there is no room for emotional doldrums. Speaking of, here is my current/recently completed list of art forms:

Novelas: We the Living (Ayn Rand), 1984

Cinema: Volver (Penelope Cruz)

Musack: LCD Sound System, Cloud Cult, Junior Boys, My Brightest Diamond

Canvas: Adolph Gottlieb, duh

Oral Palette: $1.00 (two-pound) Peach Pie Scone from Big City Coffee. Tasty.

In other endeavors, I’ll be riding at the Central Valley Classic in mid march, down in Fresno, with a bonified professional cycling team. You read it here first… stay tuned for more details. Yeah!

Waffling

And it is here, sitting in my oh-so-favorite shop of coffee, that I am finally pulling my head out. Beginning to, at least. I am realizing that, if I do not turn things around, at the bare minimum I will have to change my description of values listed atop this blogging page. Life, love, spirituality, health, friendship. Those elusive yet invaluable qualities that make life worth pursuing.

I seem to have deviated from said list of values. In a deep conversation with Lauren (several deep conversations over the past few months, one profound discussion last night) I verbalized my perceived lack of control. The problem is not a lack of direction, nor a lack of purpose in life. I sit smug, confident in my life’s purpose (though what that purpose is I may not know for some time); however the micro-plans and immediate priorities throw my thoughts into bedlam. I feel like the train is on the tracks, in motion, though I’ve no way of predicting how many stops or detours wait on the route.

I am spiritually lost. A friend of mine (a dear friend actually [which I did not fully realize until last night]), in sympathetic dialogue, described his soul as his haven. His sanctuary. His private, secluded area of retreat to which he smuggled his problems; dragging them from the world’s chaos into his sheltered, secure refuge for dissection. I do not have such a place. The concept of my soul is mired in typical and atypical questions from the mind of a 26-year-old male. I have never felt so lost spiritually, or at least have never expressed it openly and admitted it to myself.

Family is concerned. Lauren is concerned. God is in question. Oddly, there remains an obstinate flicker of faith. “It will be OK, I’ll figure it out.” A phrase I hear myself (disconnected) reciting to my mother, fiancé, and friends. Actually, this is not a pacifier, nor a detached attempt to console those listening to (reading?) my ramblings. “It will be OK” wells from an unwavering assurance that this is all necessary; hard, damn near impossible to figure out, but imperative for my happiness. That same flicker, of faith, keeps me from freaking out all-at-once (though I fear it’s happening ever-so-gradually).

There it is: happiness. The word is seldom spoken, written, or otherwise vomited from my (limited) vocabulary without the conjoined twin “satisfaction”. Satisfaction: the act of fulfilling a need or desire or appetite. I set these ridiculous goals, kills myself to accomplish the goals (while concurrently setting other goals), then move on without acknowledging accomplishment. Hence the lack of control feeling, the train analogy. No one is at the helm; I don’t feel like I even got to buy the ticket.

Ironically, and this adds to the confusion, I’ve nothing to complain about. I look at my life’s elements: Money, Love, Health…. ? All is well on each front, though collectively I feel hollow. I really enjoy my job. I really love my fiancé. I really love my family, our house, the dog, my friends, my sport endeavors. Something, is missing.

No one wants to tackle such issues, and I’m experiencing a temporary alienation from my friends (I have not really vented this to anyone, though I suppose I emanate a scattered/phony demeanor that is compassion’s anti-serum). People get all squirmy, dodgy when asked about personal satisfaction, spirituality, love. God. What?

God is love. What? This comment is piercing, more so than any of the verses I’ve chronicled away in the annals of my Baptista upbringing. I hold tight to the concept as a tangible descriptor of an intangible entity. I feel? Check. I feel love? Check. I feel God? Maybe. My scientific, overly-educated cranium is leading me to spiritual tribulation, but the best-formulated chemical (scientific) explanations for emotion do not quantify my feelings.

Where, oh where, is Tom Crawford when I need him? Pursuing a PHD in comparative religion, surely he has tackled personal issues of spirituality. He used to read this blog, though I fear my sporadic updates chased him off long ago. Just in case, here’s a nice under-handed soft-ball opportunity for you to help, Tom:

-Hey Calvin, that’s EZ. God is __________. If you’re lost, try ___________. I was there too, it just required ____________. Else, try _______________. C-Ya.

Hmmm.

breather

Blah. Quadruple blah (i.e. blahblahblahblah). Crazy that, with so much positive change happening in life, I am caught up in the temporary negativity of my job. Temporary being a misnomer; I've been way too busy for about a month now, working at least ten hours every weekend in addition to the 45 or 50 hours during the week itself. I dig my job, but still haven't figured out how to draw that line and stick up for myself, for my endeavors.

But let me fill you in. Likely, if you're reading this you at least have some inkling of what has been happening en la vida Calvino, but I'll update anyway. Let's see... somewhere in the middle of October, I got my little paws on a most immaculate diamond ring. Since white gold and diamonds don't match my eyes, I decided to pass it on to the love of my life. After much haggling with her father for permission, I got the green light and asked Lauren to marry me at 1:00am on Saturday, October 27 (notice: I'm so-so with dates, but by chronicling the engagement in this blog I am [hopefully] avoiding the inevitable occasion when I forget said anniversary). We were up at her family's cabin in Garden Valley. It was beautiful.

That very Saturday, Lauren and I drove back into Boise and began house hunting. Seriously! We had decided we would not live together again until engaged, and although the house-hunting was at first an innocent afternoon time killer we soon became sucked in to the lovely whirlwind of home buying. We checked out maybe eight houses that afternoon and only toured four of them. The final house we toured, a 1905 bungalow located just a few blocks off State Street in the 'north end' of Boise, was disturbingly alluring. You know me well enough, I suspect, to ascertain that I take months to decide on substantial purchases. It would straight-up piss my sister off how calculated I was with my allowance and savings; so it surprised me more than anyone to make a $200k offer on something I'd seen only three days prior.

Three agonizing weeks later I got the house keys, and a clicker to my very own garage. Very own! The entire house is amazing, but the thought of having my own little work space drilled in the reality. Ah, so male sometimes, aren't I? The rest of the house is wonderfully eccentric, though quite functional: lofted ten-foot ceilings, hardwood floors, a potbelly wood stove in the main room, a loft with skylights, energy-savvy washer and dryer, stainless steel pert-near brand new fridge.... geeze. My sister even approved, claiming during her recent visit that my house was gorgeous, of which I can't take too much credit. Lauren has been going nuts. It's awesome to see her fulfilling her girly dreams in our house. We've had our challenges of compromise, sure, but anytime I surrender to her decorating desires I am blown away by the results.

Now... back to my job. It's an extra kick in the crotch not to have time to rake my yard! We have done a great job of avoiding the typical pile-up of boxes that happens when moving, but I have a list of tasks I am looking forward to simply because I have never owned a house or property before. I think the job is tapering. Heck, I have been saying that for months and the best that happens is a temporary undulation that instills false hope. It is my own fault for not being able to draw the line, and not being willing to take a hit by slacking a little. I have been in similar situations in life though with different ingredients, but here I am again trying to juggle three or four aspects while not wanting to be less-than-stellar in any of them. Fiance, Engineer, Cyclist, Brother and Son. Back in the crux of feeling so-so at all four because I won't let a single entity drop even a smidge. Something might crack soon, though this seasonal break could save me yet.

I will post pictures next blog. I would do it now but my camera and the transfer cord are in the other room... lazy? Ummm... I rode an hour outside then another three on the rollers this evening, so I am not sure lazy is an accurate adjective. More like anti-social: Lauren is having a party of sorts and invited all of her summer counselors from the girl scout camp. There are no males out there. It's not a matter of feeling intimidated. I am trying to let them be girly-girls and talk about girl things without inhibition. And yes, I'm being anti-social as well.

If you look back a year or so at previous blogs, I am confident you'll find mention of the twisted irony of training during this time of year. To go fast when it's warm, you have to train a whole lot when it's cold (nothing to do with temperature, just timing). The 'base' period of training occurs during the wintry months and involves more hours per week than any other time during the year. The challenge of logging 20 hours per week of ride time in Boise, in December, pushes the limits of time management, personal dedication, and sanity.

Along those lines, and yet completely random, here is a hooray list of my appreciation. Hooray for:

Sci-fi Audio Books: Especially Philip K. Dick's "A Scanner Darkly" read by Paul Giamatti
Peppermint Mocha Coffee Creamer: Brought to you by the seasonal elves at Internal Delight
Bulk Powdered Cheese: Nothing warms the soul like cheesy couscous after a winter bike ride
Rumplemintz and Hot Cocoa: Goes well with cheesy couscous? Goes well with anything.
Devotchka: Most amazing indie show I've seen in years. Highly recommend their 2004 disc "How it Ends".
Self-Parking Lexus: Pretty ballsy, and not a single child has been run over yet.
Ronco: dehydraters, juicers, dicers... billionaire. Genius.

Goo!

Three months, three months! What the? Not too much has happened... just an engagement and the purchase of a home. I'll be updating real soon, not that I expect anyone to still read this silly thing. But hey the point is that I'm anxious to vent, and whether or not an ausdience exists is beside the point. Stay tuned...

La carrera al angel

Some of you asked:

http://www.wellsnevada.com/racetoangel/Results06.pdf

In other news: I am legend. The annual Calvin drinking performance occurred last Friday, though its toxic repercussions lasted well into Sunday evening. I've heard I dance like Usher.

thwarted

Do you know what a dongle is? Wikipedia quotes "a dongle is a small hardware device that connects to a computer to validate some piece of software". In my case, the dongle is a thumb drive that I am required to use on my laptop to run SolidWorks 2006, our chosen 3D CAD software. However, seeing as it's stupid-early and I came all the way down to this damn coffee shop to do some CAD work and left my dongle at home... well, I define dongle as "an unnecessary piece of shit".

Hostility? Yessir. I could be sleeping still. OK, probably not sleeping, but at least sitting on my own futon watching the morning news or pouring caffeine down Lauren's throat in an attempt to roust her this early. Asi es la vida, and instead of heading into the lab I'm going to kill an hour and a half here at the caffeine-dealer's crack-house. Holly and I are planning to meet at this very location at 7:15am; I need the visit and am anxious to hear of her trip to Norway.

There are some really amazing pictures on the walls around me, mostly of stalagmites (n' tites) from Horsethief Cave in Wyoming. The photos and their titles remind me of Cormac McCarthy's novel "Child of God". I won't go into detail, as the book is quite disturbing, but it is a worthwhile read and if you have 3 days to kill you should read it (to kill not being an intended pun, which you'll understand if you read the book). Anyway...

Something really on my mind, chewing at my innards like an invisible tape worm, is my team situation for next year (or lack thereof). I have thrown my resume all over the US, to every division three pro team and to a handful of the top amateur teams. I have not, however, heard anything substantial from a single team. If you know me, which you must if you are reading this silly morning rant, you know I prefer to plan out everything. If I have to fly solo next year and prove my worth at a few early-season events before being grabbed by a substantial team, so be it; I just want to know NOW so I can plan accordingly. Simply going with the flow, as they say, brings a metallic taste to my mouth and a rash to my hands (not really). A character flaw, I suppose? I have always believed in some sort of upper-tier plan for my life, a belief which spawns undulating sensations of confident serenity and apathy. It will be interesting to discover what is "supposed" to happen for next year. Annuit Coeptis, right? Hah!

MOUNTAINS and mole hills

I've tried to stop working today, really. I came home, shut off the lights and holed up in my cool little cave of a bedroom at 4 pm this afternoon. My conscience had me back at the computer, phone in hand, by 4:15; so much going on. so much.

Or is there? Before this past month I'd never logged a forty-hour work week in my life. Now here I go with another fifty hour semana and I'm whining like the world is imploding. I just don't feel like I am excelling at anything I'm involved with in my job: I'm too busy to be a good boss, too inexperienced to be a good project manager, and too distracted to sit down and design the files I need to. Good timing with the season being over, as bittersweet as that is to accept.

The trip down to Elko over the weekend was a success. We rolled in to town Friday around six pm, and Lauren had found one of Lydia's puppies by approx. 6:00.54 pm. She came tearing around the house with a six-week old springer puppy in her arms, which my mother had already sold but not yet delivered. Lydia birthed nine of those critters, but by the time we went to Elko all were gone... save one. Thank goodness it was sold or we would have returned to Boise with a new pet. I don't need a creature depending on me for sustenance... but it was tempting.

The hill climb was Saturday; two hill climbs actually. Justin Mayfield won the Bogus Basin Hill Climb here in Boise in an impressive feat of strength and tactics. A serious pat on the back to Justin for finally bagging that event - he has valued that raced above all others since he started riding five years ago. As you know I opted to race in Wells, Nevada, at my own little world championship event. The event was super-validating for me, as I managed to pop off a great ride and smash my former record by nearly two minutes. Dig it. In 2004 I tried to beat the record but was cramping too badly. Hooray for bulimia! This year was pure velocity and determination and it proved I really am in the shape of my life.

Oh yeah, the aforementioned trip to Midvale, Idaho, was also rad. We got to check out Rodenator's varmint-destroying gun... in case you missed it on cnn.com, this device pumps a couple minutes' worth of oxygen-propane mixture into a ground-squirrel hole and ignites it; effectively liquefying everything within the tunnel system via a fire ball/energy concussion. I don't know if we tested 'dry' holes or inhabited ones, but I didn't see any survivors scampering out after our shots. Gruesome, but cool. In a good ol' boy sense.

back to work.