When all else fails, make a list (or maybe a basket?)

I know that some people look to my blog for updates about / from me since I can be a bit underachieving in the phone-dialing department...maybe other communications departments as well. Don't worry, it's not just you, I'm behind on everything except taking the dog outside for her nighttime potty break. So there's something. And I was just telling somebody that no matter what else I have to do, I always take time to stare aimlessly into space. I should start putting that on my to-do list. I no longer have the advantage of being able to write a list and then lose it, since I started using Google Tasks. If you're unfamiliar with G-Tasks, it's a feature you can set up with your gmail account that allows you to make endless lists that you can never misplace, and when you finish something it puts a satisfying little check in the box next to the item and draws a line through it. Not only that but it lets you look up what you checked off going back for at least a month or so, after you've already cleared the 'done' items from your slate.

In terms of providing update, I haven't figured out whether that is one of the express purposes of this blog or just incidental to it. If it's the former, I'm not doing a very good job. But either way, since I would like to offer those who care some glimpse into current events beyond riddling Facebook status updates (and acknowledging that some who care are trying to give Facebook and the like a wide berth), and in homage to an ancestor whose diaries I was peeking at a few days ago, here's a recap of the week so far:

Sunday 15 March Bewared the ides. Woke 5:30 without the alarm and walked Ripley in the dark. Planned to ride around 7 or 8 or whenever it seemed less dark and cold. Tried to install new bike computer for next 3 - 4 hours, no success. All dressed up to ride, rode to bike shop for a cheap computer I could have the shop install. After 2 more hrs. they had me ready to roll out the door but their new computer didn't work either. Tried 2 more times, each time it seemed they would hope I would just not notice it still didn't work and go away. Finally decided to let them keep their computer and traded it for a new helmet. Very grumpy by then, whole morning felt wasted. Went home and sulked and then did laundry and took Ripley for a long run in the park. Felt better. Monday 16 March Went to work. Called to apologize to somebody for taking so long to finish their project, person was very kind and appreciative of help however glacial its pace (that expression might not work any more, what with the glaciers melting so fast). Didn't go to the gym after work as I planned. Played "Farm Town" on Facebook (don't ask me what the point of that is, no doubt there are less benign ways to completely waste time) in between reading paragraphs of a chapter on California housing element law and inclusionary zoning ordinances in anticipation of my speech to City Council the following night. Tuesday 17 March. Winced, but not visibly, when girl at front desk of the gym said "Top o' the mornin' to ya!" She said this to each and every person that came into the gym. I wonder if it was her idea or her boss's. Sat in the spa to warm up and then swam (outdoor pool) almost 20 minutes. Got to work, had a meeting, a staff birthday lunch, and the city council meeting. City council meeting was 3.5 hours long. But it was going well, so a coworker and I stuck it out. Got home and couldn't sleep for awhile. Wednesday 18 March Ran most of 3 miles with Ripley, walked some. Drove with her out to Elk Creek to visit the Native American cultural day at the elementary school. Some of the parents from the Tribe invited me.

That's as far as we get tonight. Falling asleep.

Christopher Smart (1722 - 1771)

For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry (excerpt, Jubilate Agno)

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider'd God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day's work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord's watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he's a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord's poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually--Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master's bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God's light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

Christopher Smart

[Thanks M.A. for sharing this!]

To Market

It's been awhile since I went to the Saturday farmer's market here in Chico. I'd forgotten what a cool place it is, especially heading into Spring. I was overwhelmed by all the flowers and winter / spring greens, and the plant starts for gardens, and people, talking, buying, selling, playing music -- a young woman (these days when I say that, it means somebody who I'm probably actually thinking of as a 'girl,' i.e. under 30, whether I'm supposed to or not) played her guitar and had a notebook paper sign on her open guitar case that said "ORIGINAL SONGS." I was full of admiration and a bit of envy, whether I liked her songs or not she'd written them, and that's something...how many times have I talked about doing exactly what she was doing but never done it, and to have all her own original songs, too. Girls these days.

It didn't occur to me to take a photo while I was there. Too bad. I found a robust looking potted rosemary plant, though, for Heather's garden. She's been looking for one for awhile. I hadn't set out looking for one, but after I found it, I looked all over the rest of the market, and it was the only rosemary.

And now for something completely different.

The one on the right looks a lot like my girl Ripley. If only I could take her with me to the gym.

Toxicomments

It's like feeling compelled to keep touching a hot stove. No, it's more like ordering a combo plate of assorted deep-fried appetizers with a side of ranch dressing at some restaurant where the fryer oil has traveled south for the winter, knowing that you'll regret it, and of course you do. Yet awhile later you go back and order it again, hoping maybe the result will be different. Not that I've ever done that, it's just a metaphor. That old saying about doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.

I love news via internet. I read print newspapers if they're lying around, but most of my news is online. Sometime last summer, though, I started reading the comments posted to various articles a lot more often. They are to public discourse as Taco Bell is to Mexican food but that doesn't help me at all (in either case). I know that the ability to post comments to online newspaper articles is not breaking news in itself. It's just taken awhile for me to start noticing them, and how asinine, ignorant, infuriating and reeking with meanspiritedness they are.

I don't mind a little snarkiness if it's clever. But people just aren't, terribly, most of the time. I don't know if the freedom of anonymity gives people license to say all the nasty things they really feel but wouldn't dare say publicly otherwise, or if sounding worse than the Grinch who Stole Christmas (or, more likely in this case, the Grinch who Accused Others of Stealing Christmas,) to see how many of your fellow citizens' buttons you can push is just part of the game. Maybe both. There is none of the weeding and editing that would normally occur in a "letter to the editor" either, as demonstrated by the following non sequitur gem in response to a Sac Bee article last week about Prop 8:

There is as much science in Expelled as thier is in the atheistic fundamenatlist fantacisim that labeles itself as science when it comes to the totally unproven T H E O R Y of eveloution.

If you chose to belive in that worthless pile of trash feel free. There are many scientist who don't believe it because of its lack of creduilaltiy and why do may believe in it? It lets them off the hook, because there is no higher authority if we all came form the ooze. So we can do whateve we want with no consequence.

Glad to see how much you hate churches and want them out of our life entirely. I guess your next step is to revoke the Freedom of Relgiogn and throw every Christian into pristion.

[Drat...however did s/he guess our next step? Foiled again!] I have a soft spot for the author of this; the comment was so recently come from a sort of verbal ooze itself that I was able to laugh and step away from the browser when I read it. Plus, as I discovered just now when I looked up the article link again, all the comments, nasty or nice, are dumped into the ether after a few days never to be seen again. Yes folks, this grotesque primordial comment specimen has been preserved in its glory and posted here on One Cheese Sandwich to amaze and horrify! Unique on the World Wide Web! Stay behind the red rope, no shoving! Only $0.02 to have a good look!

Yet too much of the time I keep reading the damn comments, and they're not even stupidly funny, and my blood pressure rises (good thing it has a pretty low starting point) and too often I waste a good 60 words engaging in completely pointless argument, and I don't feel all that much better after I do it. I wish I could permanently block myself from all comments on all the news websites I regularly visit. Like an ignition lock device in a car, or like the Taco Bell that was two blocks from my office that just up and closed a couple months ago. (No more jalapeno chicken melts...like a volcano in my tummy!) I don't want to know what people are thinking and feeling because it makes me feel like most everybody is dumb and hateful except for me and my little circle of friends and family. That's not a helpful approach to the world, whether it's true or not. I will refrain from expressing what I perceive as a big imbalance in the number of excessively vitriolic comments from one "side" of the sociopolitical spectrum vs. the other because no doubt my own filters and biases are at work. But I do perceive it.

My last comment on the subject of online news article comments is that they prove Yeats was right. The best lack conviction and the worst are full of passion without mercy. Little did he know he was describing the difference, generally, between Democrats and Republicans.

Spoonfuls of sugar

I've had this impending phone call to an angry client (and his angry wife) hanging over my head for awhile. Knowing they were angry with me, and that there was some legitimate if not exactly rational basis, I've been reluctant to call them back so that they could tell me how angry they were.

I had a little surge of feeling successful about my work this week and maybe that propped me up to just call them and get it over with.

So I did, and the wife told me I should be ashamed of myself because I'm supposed to be helping people like them, and that I should just "forget it!" (as if the chance to work with them was a cherished dream I'd been harboring for months). I didn't try to defend myself to her, but I'll say for the record that I ALWAYS give people my card when I meet with them and I implore them, if you don't hear back for awhile and you want to know what's going on, PLEASE call me (because I reckon there're 'bout a hunnerd'r so of y'all and only one of me). Did they ever call during the long period before they called my boss to say what a deadbeat I was? No. Did they fall into the paper abyss? Yes.

Zen Buddhism incorporates a sort of 'repentance' principle:

All the ancient twisted karma,
from beginningless greed, hatred, and ignorance,
born of my body, mouth, and thought,
I now confess openly and fully.

I don't claim to get that completely. I think it means that I'm human and some occurrence of error is utterly unavoidable, and it's best to freely acknowledge it when it occurs and fix it if it's reasonably fixable, but nothing / no one happens in a vacuum, and it's just as unhelpful to define myself by my mistakes as it is to define myself by my successes. Either way I'd be setting myself up for more trouble.

Sorry, angry people. I hope the opportunity to chew me out at last relieved them of some of the burden of their anger but I'm afraid it probably revived it.

The last days of Tooth No. 15

Several blog-worthy events have occurred in the past eleven days; for instance, I saw a funnel cloud north of Sacramento over a week ago. I took a cellphone picture and showed it to a friend who is doing graduate work in meteorology and, even though it was a teeny tiny cellphone photo, she said "Oh my gosh, that's a funnel cloud!" so I felt quite validated. Also, my sister Mary came to visit Sacramento (not long after the appearance of the funnel cloud, but if there's any connection at all it is a benevolent, auspicious one) and danced all day Saturday as if she were wearing magic slippers, but now I'm mixing H.C. Andersen with L.F. Baum and that seems dangerous, though I'll have to think about it for awhile.

Monday (yesterday) I took the Graduate Management Assessment Test and it looks like I remember 8th-grade math / algebra even less than one might have hoped. I'm not feeling like MBA school is quite worth the $60K it would cost to undertake it right now, 'specially since I already have at least one professional degree / credential that many people would probably take more seriously than they ought if I were to go into any kind of business for myself, and I'm not exactly attempting to climb a corporate management ladder. But I'd already signed up for the test so I thought, what the heck? how hard can it be? It was hard and didn't exactly play to my cognitive strengths. If only it had been a test of song lyrics and trivia questions. I was quite pleased with myself watching Jeopardy last night when I knew that the correct response to one of the statements was "Rashomon." I bet some engineering / economics type could score a 700 on the GMAT and yet not be familiar with the films of Kurosawa. I am grateful for my knowledge and skill base in all that it is and is not. Mostly.

This Friday I'm having a big ol' molar extracted. It's had a hard life...been done wrong by some fly-by-night HMO-type dentist back in the '80's, resulting in a root canal and crown a few years later, and at some point apparently one of the roots got fractured (no, pretty sure it wasn't a result of playing football, though I can see how you might suspect) and it has suffered...I should say I have suffered...a series of infections and inflammations over the last six months. So my dentist sent me to a periodontist and the periodontist said it is a "hopeless" tooth. Apparently that's the technical term. I say anything wearing a gold crown can't be all that hopeless, but whatever its emotional or existential state, it's leaving the place it has occupied in my head lo these many years. I sort of want to keep it. Maybe see if I can trade it in for a new electric guitar amp at the pawnshop. That $60K I could save on business school next year will have to go somewhere.

Let me tell you how it will be...there's one for you, nineteen for me

I've stayed up much too late this evening on an itemized deduction scavenger hunt...shuffling through piles of paper, scanning through electronic bank statements...realizing, hey, that book I bought on Amazon a few months ago is arguably job-related!

I wish TurboTax would add sound effects to the little refund counters up in the right hand corner that show (in green) the amount of your refund :) or (in red) the amounts you owe. When you enter some kind of deduction you can watch the numbers run up, and I can't help but hear that slot machine coin-dropping sound in my head, after losing money in the big government casino all year now I get to win some of it back! [I was in Vegas recently for a union conference and all that noise is still rattling around my brain.]

I am especially pleased to announce that in 2008 I hit the 7.5% requirement for medical expenses to be deductible. I made a spreadsheet with all the months and all my different bills, I'm very proud of it and I want to bring it to my mom so she can put it on the fridge to show how good I did.

There are a few people / entities I need to thank for making the 7.5% milestone possible: first, my employer, for doing its part to make 7.5% of my income such an attainable goal; to my insurance plan that requires me to pay full price for prescriptions until I reach the $2500 deductible; to the unknown Santa Rosa Scorchers player who ran up and slammed into me during that game in June 2007...I don't know why people kept trying to do that because it seems to cause injury. That hit was minor compared to what the hospital, physical therapist, surgeon, anesthesiologist, and knee brace manufacturer threw at me later. Like Ishmael said at the end of Moby Dick, "I only am escaped alone to tell thee."

In the squares of the city / By the shadow of the steeple / By the relief office / I saw my people

This was my favorite performance of the whole pre-inaugural celebrity beauty pageant. Pete Seeger leading the crowd in singing the best verses from "This Land is Your Land," with help from his grandson Tao Rodriguez-Seeger and the Boss. Just the smile on Pete's face, whether he did much singing or not, and his little knit hat. He called out the words and told everyone to sing. Like he's done for almost 70 years. How would that be, to work for what you care about, doing what you love to do, for 70 years?

What's wrong with this picture?

As a figure of speech, that is, since there isn't actually a picture with this post. I was down in the Central Coast this past weekend for the annual Benchmark Institute board & 'kitchen cabinet' planning retreat. In some spare moments I went to the beach...in shorts and a sports bra...and ran around in the surf. On Saturday and a bank sign in Watsonville said it was 75 degrees. Not everyone may realize that California in January isn't supposed to be this way, really. We're in trouble in the water department and I'm afraid next summer could be an unbreathable mess like last one was. So I figured I better enjoy summer wherever it turns up.

At least Arizona is going to the Superbowl finally. And there's that inauguration thing happening tomorrow too. Coincidence?

I heart miso broth

Good morning...and welcome to Day 5 of my (almost) 5-day New Year's liquid cleansing fast. Last Monday I ate small healthy meals for breakfast and lunch (oatmeal, tomato basil soup and cabbage / nut salad from the Co-op deli) and then had a glass of unfiltered apple juice with psyllium powder for "dinner"...chased with a lot of water. Since then it's been apple juice and psyllium 3 times a day, with hatcho miso broth in between (and water) with cups of herb tea a couple times a day as well, and some diluted unsweetened cranberry juice.

I've been a little hesitant to publicly announce / discuss what I'm doing because it seems kind of extreme, and I know from personal experience that it can even feel a little threatening when somebody appears to be 'rejecting' something held so dear and craved so intensely as is our food. I was never very good at or interested in fasting beyond the minimum religious requirements. This has been much easier, though, with the liquids, and as someone pointed out, it's only five days out of my whole life. When I came down with that cold a couple weeks ago I stopped drinking coffee. I don't think the hiatus will be permanent but I'm enjoying it for now. My energy level throughout the day is more consistent and I feel more rested when I wake up in the morning. It was a stressful week at work so maybe that kept me awake too.

Part of this has been an exercise in control. I'm very food-oriented and not always as picky as I should be, especially considering that I have kind of a sensitive tummy. It helped that the Taco Bell two blocks away from my office closed down last month...through no lack of my support. I would need my cheap seven layers of goo burrito and quesadilla or jalapeno chicken melt fix and almost invariably have a tummy ache afterwards. So my brain wants a lot of things that really aren't doing my body any good. I would like to develop a little more control over my mind.

I'm really looking forward to some solid food this evening. Day Three (Thursday) was probably the hardest in terms of being hungry. The miso broth is what made this all more or less tolerable. I've had a package of miso in the fridge for a year, not realizing how easy it is to make a cup of delicious, satisfying instant broth. I don't know if all of its reported health effects are for real but it is comforting to the belly and the mind. I like the dark "red" salty Hatcho kind. I plan to make it a regular part of my diet.

As I enter the later part of my mid-30's I've been feeling that some of the old patterns / habits may not be sustainable for a whole lot longer, and I'd rather try to head them off now of my own free will than wait for all the consequences to bite me. Age will inevitably bite but maybe it won't have to bite quite so hard or all at once. Sports nutrition advice is full of statements about how our bodies are machines that need good fuel for optimum performance. How many times to I have to suffer from Taco Bell tummy before I get the message that what I'm doing doesn't work? Why is it so hard to heed those little red flags our bodies wave at us? Dumb old greedy brain.

I was walking Ripley yesterday and she was charging along at the very end of her leash, making me wish I had roller skates, and a woman with an apparently very well- trained border collie walked by and smiled and said "I see who's in charge." My brain and Ripley both need some follow up classes since we graduated from puppy school.

why catch flies with honey when you can squash 'em with rolled up newspaper

Oops. It was just brought to my attention that the title of this post got posted without any post attached. I was going to tell a story about a case I'm working on, wherein I got so irritated with opposing counsel that I called him an ass, certainly not to his face but talking to my client, which still wasn't very professional of me but was deeply gratifying to my client. I had a raging sinus headache at the time too. Or maybe it was the cold medicine I took for the sinus headache. But I felt like I was divulging too many details in the post (even without including anybody's names) so I deleted it. If I had told the whole story you would probably have thought that I was being too kind and generous in my name calling.

There and Back Again

Ripley made her first visit to the snow over Christmas. Except for an agitated phase toward the end of our drive back that lasted through most of the evening after we arrived, to the chagrin of Mia and Dozo, who think Ripley not a very polite or properly deferential guest in their house, Ripley did great in the car. Here she is admiring the world as it goes by the window that is covered in her noseprints.

She was confused by the stuff at first, and understandably reluctant to squat in it, but very soon she made herself right to home in the snow.








Now we'll have a transitional photo that is mostly of my dog, but begins to incorporate human elements. Ripley got these lovely antlers in her stocking. Someone is no doubt really glad she painted her toenails for Christmas, because you just never know when they might be caught on camera.




LG walked around all morning saying "Santa." "Santa?" in a calm, observant voice. His calm was periodically shattered by Ripley's effort to communicate by barking. After recovering from the trauma of such a loud noise coming from a not very big dog, LG would remark, now and then, "Dog. Wuh wuh." Here he and Grandma (aka "Bama,") playing with his very cool new blocks. Later I wanted to play too and I learned the rules are that whatsoever ye build, LG will come knock it all down...thoroughly obliterate it, in fact, so that not one block is sitting atop another.


Not pictured are the three days of pie. I wonder what percentage of the cells of which I am currently constituted were made out of pie. It was a lovely visit...and I don't blame anyone but myself for my having eating myself sick on Friday. Though somebody gave me a cold, I don't know who, and I'd like to return it but don't know where it came from. If you have any leads send 'em along.

Folk jam

I wish I had a photo of this, and perhaps an audioclip. The Butte Folk Music Society has a website of sorts but it's more of a cry for help than a website. Nothing that captures how much fun it is to go to one of their jams. There were two or three banjos, a fiddle, a mandolin, a slide guitar, a couple harmonicas, and several guitars (including mine) in the circle yesterday, along with a few people who were just singing. They went around the circle and everybody took turns picking a song, which the whole group then would play and sing. Those who were able to play some lead / solo took turns soloing. (I'm not there yet with my playing.)

I happened upon the group several months ago at Augie's Coffeehouse (named for the Anglican "Church of St. Augustine" to which it is attached) and have been wanting to go back with my guitar ev'ry since. When my turns came around, I picked "Can the Circle Be Unbroken," "Goodnight Irene," and "Wildwood Flower." I learned some "new" old songs I want to add to my repertoire too, like "Hard Times" and...shoot. Should have been writing things down. I was reminded that a crucial piece of equipment I haven't yet acquired is the bible of group folk-singing books, Rise Up Singing. I don't usually think of it until I get into a group where people want to sing old-timey songs but nobody can ever remember all the words (not to mention the chords).

There were some really great bluegrass players in the group. I need to go to one of their "Bluegrass Jams" so I can learn some of that pickin'. I stayed for over two hours yesterday and finally had to stop because my left hand was getting a cramp and I was getting hoarse and my fingers were already sore from playing at the office holiday party the night before.

I'll try to remember to take a picture next time. Meanwhile here's the Carter Family to tide us all over. There is some great close-up footage of Mother Maybelle's guitar picking.

Holiday highlights, pt. II

Way back when I started this blog, under its previous title "Hamartia and Cheese Sandwiches," it was meant to be a record of my triathlon training efforts. Huh. Sort of like how my parents' business started in the 1970's repairing sailboats and now they manufacture and install corrosion resistant linings and coatings for industrial containers. I'm just glad they saved that part for when I was a little bit older because it's harder to say than "Sailboats."

But now and then, sooner or later, we all revisit our roots, and I want to fan the ember of cycling enthusiasm that I feel is trying to burst into flame, so I wanted to say that my roadbike trip meter says 24-something miles from last Sunday's lovely ride down River Road in West Sacramento. I heard the road was rough but compared to a notoriously bad stretch of road I can think of here in Chico, it might as well have been an indoor track. H took pictures, which I hope might appear sometime later on her blog, and I'll probably let her tell about how the ride would have been a little longer if not for the happenstance of a Clarksburg winery. The vintner was very gracious and friendly even though it is surely obvious that when people are wine tasting impromptu in their bike shorts, they're not likely planning to buy anything liquid in heavy glass bottles. Though...hmmm...that gives me an idea. Tell you later.

One of my favorite parts of the ride was when there was a long stretch of smooth / straighter road and I had a Burst of Power! Shifted into my big front chainring and sped up to 23 - 24? miles an hour. For about 30 seconds, and then I was really tired. I call this a "Corgi sprint" -- very dangerous over the short distances, as they say

There is something about having been for a ride, even a short, flat ride like that one with the pause for refreshment in the middle, that makes you feel so good when you get home, and you're hungry from riding. It makes any food taste better and your legs feel tired from too many corgi sprints, and it's a good feeling. It's a good feeling, to know you're alive.

Photos would have been nice with this post but I didn't have my camera (or even a cellphone camera) with me. You can look at the photos from the last post again if you need to look at something.

Holiday highlights pt. I

Ripley w/flamethrower in the original, iconic, unequalled "Alien." Yeah, special effects show their age, but I'll gladly suspend disbelief when necessary. We are introduced to the TRUE monster of the Alien series: THE COMPANY. The ultimate in corporate evil. Ripley gets in a lot of trouble with THE COMPANY for blowing up her ship and cargo just to get rid of the alien after it ate her whole crew. THE COMPANY keeps trying to get its claws on one of these creatures for bioweapons research, and doesn't care who is expended in the process.


"Aliens" was for a long time my favorite...the action and peril are made interesting by the excellent development of the characters. The classic showdown of the Muthas. The serious weaponry. The oft-quotable lines tossed off by the Colonial Marines. It is still a favorite but now in my mature years I am realizing that the first Alien is unsurpassed. The films are different genres under the
sci-fi umbrella so maybe it's not fair to compare them. Good thing I have both, I can compare them all I want.

Alien3. I'm sure there was all kinds of symbolism going on in this movie; some have compared it to the original, but the comparison breaks down when you aren't able to get to know or like most of the characters. I didn't like it at all when I first saw it in the theater, since then it has grown on me a little (or perhaps it's more correct to say 'grown in me, in this context).



Ripley at the other end of the series, "Alien Resurrection," which was an odd duck; normally in a movie there is at least one person you can really like. Sigourney's human/alien hybrid clone was the most likeable but she did creepy things. None of the humans were likeable. Winona's emotionally strident robot whined too much. But the movie has moments that make it worth sitting through, i.e. any scene with Sigourney. When you are part alien, you have superhuman strength and agility, and you have pointy black fingernails, and you have to wear a lot of leather. Just so you know, should you encounter an alien-human hybrid.

In the spirit of thankfulness for leisure time with friends, my friend L and I watched all four Alien movies--the entire quadrilogy--back to back, in
one day (Friday). We did take breaks to walk the dogs and check in on current events.

I tried to watch the dog Ripley to see if she reacted at all to her name being shouted on TV over and over again, couldn't really tell.

What part of Marbury v. Madison don't you understand?

That's supposed to be funny. Lawyer humor. But this quote engraved on the wall in the United States Supreme Court building is serious.
Marbury v. Madison was the case in which it was determined that the buck stops with the Supreme Court in terms of reviewing the actions of other governmental bodies to decide if an action is illegal, or reviewing laws and statutes for constitutionality. Nice that the first Chief Justice, John Marshall, figured all that out in 1803 so we wouldn't have to worry about it again.

I ate lunch in the US Supreme Court Cafeteria today. I was going to try to make some kind of joke about that too but I was actually quite excited to be there, and the food was reasonably priced and pretty good. My coworker and I thought about trying to pick a fight with each other outside the building so we could say we argued before the Supreme Court, but we couldn't think of anything to fight about.

got captions?

"A tisket, a tasket, a kitty in a basket."

"I Has a Baskit."

"Where are we going and what am I doing in this handbasket?"

"Take my picture already."

"I can't come back! I don't know how it works!"

from Discovery News: Lemming Numbers Dwindling Under Warming

Lemmings may be disappearing in Norway, but they're thriving in many parts of California and elsewhere.

May the best frame win

In preparation for a presentation I have to do in a couple weeks, I'm doing research on cognitive frames and their use in race equity advocacy. It's explaining a lot to me about how people can persist in believing things that are completely unsupported--even contradicted--by the facts. I don't claim to be exempt from this phenomenon. I don't think anybody can be completely. The power of frames is too strong. Something pretty dramatic has to happen for somebody to start seeing outside of their familiar, prevailing frames.

Just a little background: A frame is a core idea or 'story' that helps us create meaning and interpret the world around us. Frames come in clusters--one may be tied to another, and there are frames within frames. Frames not only describe our reality, but they construct it as well. Successful social and political (and religious) movements know how to trigger and play into these frames. For example, anti-affirmative action efforts have played into the individual merit frame and co-opted civil rights language so that white people will see affirmative action as unfair and will fail to see that women and people of color still encounter structural barriers to opportunity. This frame of "merit" is so powerful that even liberal whites often view affirmative action as unfair and unnecessary despite all the research to the contrary. People are likely to reject any amount of research, no matter how thorough and objective, that conflicts with their frame. When facts collide with a cognitive frame, the frame will win. People are not persuaded to change by facts.

While this phenomenon is frightening and unbelievably frustrating when one is in a position of trying to champion the real true facts (or marshal the facts! as Prof. Imwinkelreid would often say), it's some comfort to know that people are somewhat at the mercy of their brains. It's not because they're inherently mean spirited or ignorant. To the contrary, smart, kind, thoughtful people who are operating under a powerful frame may just not be capable of believing anything that doesn't fit in it. The only hope for change is to shift the frames. The good news is that it can be done. If this were not the case, there wouldn't have been a Prop 8 to begin with, because it wouldn't have occurred to anybody that sexual orientation should be a protected status such as race and gender and religious creed and so on. No one would have feared that 'traditional marriage' was under attack because no one would have recognized the diversity of family structures and decided that one type of structure should be promoted at the expense or exclusion of others. And certainly, no one would have had the opportunity to vote for a President who looks like Barack Obama. For that matter, women would not be voting, period.

I am hoping and praying for the frames of fairness and equality and opportunity for all to prevail by the end of the day today, because these are powerful frames in America too. Whatever the result, things have shifted a long way even for us to be able to fight our current fights or make the kinds of choices that are before us.

I'm off to stand 100 feet from a polling place with my Vote No on 8 t-shirt and sign and my guitar. I'm going to sing America the Beautiful, and maybe a few songs promoting the "love your neighbor as yourself" frame. Don't know if it'll have any effect on how anybody votes one way or the other but singing always makes me feel better, so there's that.