Random links

I try to keep links posts to a minimum these days, but I saw these three things and just couldn't pass them up.

Yet another harbinger of the end of the world, courtesy of Tom Cruise and his fake love interest

If the champagne sucked to bad, why did she obviously enjoy so much of it? (thanks to Jeff Kay for this and the next one...)

Non-selective donkey meets unsuspecting outdoor-pottier

Sorry I'm slacking on the travel-blog (or anything else of interest). Home improvement and all. Maybe Day 5 will go up tonight.

Catch ya later.

Meme's the word

I've been tagged by Rozanne to do a meme.

Is it bad that I was tagged 12 days ago and just noticed on Saturday?

Even worse, when I read Rozanne's post and was disappointed that I hadn't been tagged?
What a slacker.

Anyway, per Rozanne, here are the rules:

" I am to pick five of the following occupations and complete the sentiment, adding an occupation of my choice to the end."

My twist:

I'll put something on the end of everything. Guess if you can figure out what's serious and what's silly...

THE OCCUPATIONS:
If I could be a scientist... I'd invent chocolate chip cookies that are good for you and don't taste like it.
If I could be a farmer... I'd do everything like grandpa did. Raise cows, chew tobaccy, get fat, and cuss alot.
If I could be a musician... I'd find some way to hang out with U2 and jam with The Edge.
If I could be a doctor... I am one. Just not a medical one, and that's fine.
If I could be a painter... I'd do caricatures at a fair. And I'd try to make all the fat chicks feel thin.
If I could be a gardener... I'd have a secret stash of the veggies my wife hates (onions and tomatoes), and would just pick and eat them off the vine all day.
If I could be a missionary... I'd be a missionary to Spain, Italy, or some other cool place. Maybe a missionary to Cabo San Lucas. The rich need Jesus, too.
If I could be a chef... I'd save a lot of money on paying other chef's for their cooking.
If I could be an archaeologist... I'd be thoroughly bored most days.
If I could be an architect... I'd be named Art Vandelay.
If I could be a linguist... I'd go from country to country, practicing and perfecting my skills. Then I'd focus on dialects of smaller groups in remote areas, because there aren't enough dialectical interpreters, and those people probably have interesting things to say. I might also interpret the Bible for someone who doesn't have a written form of it yet.
If I could be a psychologist... I'd go crazy. That's why I went to law school after getting my psych degree.
If I could be a librarian... I'd read every chance I got.
If I could be an athlete... I'd play Major League Baseball. Much lower chance of major injury, leisurely pace when you're playing, good money, and when I chewed my giant wads of gum, I'd fit in with everyone else.
If I could be a lawyer... Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
If I could be an innkeeper... I'd install cameras in every room and have a direct feed to the police station, so that they could stop the meth fiends from cooking or making fake checks in the rooms. But I'm dwelling on the negative, I suppose...
If I could be a writer... I really want to be one. I'd write something compelling. The lack of something compelling to write is what's stopped me so far.
If I could be a professor... I'd be the guy who always teaches outside during the nice weather, mostly because I wouldn't want my students to realize that I didn't really know what I was talking about.
If I could be a llama-rider... I would ride llamas, I guess.
If I could be a bonnie pirate... I'd steal bonnies from all over the seven seas. Bonnie bonnies.
If I could be a service-member... I would be living each day as if it were my last.
If I could be a business owner... I'd fail miserably, because I have no vision
If I could be an actor... That would be cool. I'd be in a movie with Kate Beckinsale, just so I could kiss her and not get in trouble for it.
If I could be an agent... I would be super. And secret.
If I could be video game designer... I'd get paid to do what I pay to do right now, which is waste time in front of a screen with a controller in my hand, while the beautiful weather passes me by outside.
If I could be photographer... I'd spend every day looking for that shot noone's ever taken before.
If I could be a circus performer... I'd do the trapeze.
If I could be a spy... See "Agent".
If I could be a fashion designer... I'd be the only male one ogling my female models.
If I could be a high school student again... I'd do everything the same, except I'd do another school play or two.
If I could be a clothing designer for very small dogs... I would slit my own wrists upon seeing my own futility.
If I could be an optometrist... I'd design contact lenses that only had to come out once a month, that put themselves in, that doubled as sunglasses, and that never popped out of your eye when you didn't want them to. Is that too much to ask?

Now, since the rules also state that you have to tag 5 people, I tag Mak, OC Girl, JLowe, Sloop, and The Mogul. Not that I think any of them will actually do it...

Catch ya later.

Day 4 of the Travel-Blog is up!

Have a good holiday weekend. Day 5 on Saturday or Sunday.

Catch ya later.

Day 3 is up

On the new Star Wars

I don't really think I can do justice to the new Star Wars flick in this post, but I feel compelled to join the cacophony of those who have something, anything to say about it.

After my recent discussion of Star Wars and what is about (which, by the way, JLowe, the ultimate Star Wars geek, is still fashioning a response to), I have been able to see the newest film, ruminate on it a bit, and theorize on what it all means in the grand scheme of things.

I saw the film on Friday, despite my self-pledge that I wouldn't see it in the first week, because JLowe and his wife planned a viewing and somehow managed to talk my wife into it. That was unexpected.

I have to say, the thrill that ran up my spine when I saw the "Star Wars" creeping up the screen was less than I've felt in a long time, probably from a combination of disappointment over the last two installments, combined with fear that this film wouldn't deliver on the implied promise that it would be the best of them all (in some ways, it wasn't, but part of that is perhaps my idealized rememberances of my youth).

What I saw was a film that efficiently covered all of the major points that needed to be covered, but sometimes wasn't convincing in its delivery. Anakin has become a Jedi Knight, despite the fact that the Council doesn't trust him and he still shows tremendous immaturity in his behavior. Padme is blatantly pregnant, yet noone seems to notice. Palpatine has been kidnapped by the beta version of Vader, General Grievous, who looks like he should be tremendously sinister and powerful, yet never quite delivers when the time comes. Jar Jar, strangely, has not yet been killed by someone so annoyed that they've yanked out his tongued and strangled him with it, but he does manage to keep (mostly) silent in recognition of some implied death threat from the fans. Obi Wan clearly is greatly respected by everyone, yet when you watch him in battle, you never understand how he's distinguished himself. And the Republic, a mere shell of what it once was, is teetering on the brink.

The plot points that I was never compelled to buy into?

• Why'd noone pick up on the pregnancy, and start inquiring into the paternity, sooner?
• Why does the Jedi Council so readily acquiesce to Anakin's placement on the Council?
• Why is Anakin so hung up on status, if he's truly such a great Jedi?
• If Yoda's able to sense anger, fear, hatred, suffering, and even the moment that Anakin makes his turn to evil, how come he couldn't discern Anakin's paternity of the twins, or Anakin's growing trouble with the prospect of losing Padme?
• What turned Anakin in that moment that he went from going to arrest Palpatine, knowing of his evil, to bowing before Palpatine?
• Why was Mace Windu so easy to kill? He's a freakin' master...
• How'd the Republic buy into Palpatine's representation that the Jedi had attempted a coup so easily, considering the same senate had, only hours before, relied on said Jedi to lead their armies into battle to save the Republic?
• How plausible is it that the senate would simply acquiesce in the creation of an Empire? Although there's precedent for us in our history, it seems silly in a society as technologically advanced as the Star Wars Republic.
• How could the Emperor not sense the existence of the Skywalker babies?
• What kind of mother would simply give up living knowing that her babies needed protection? I'd think this odd for Padme...
• Why wipe C-3PO's memory and not R2-D2's?

Anyway, all these things said, it was gratifying to see how the prequels and the sequels were tied together. At the end, we see Luke's uncle gazing at the Tattooine sky, a la Star Wars; we see Leia's adoption by the eventual royal family of Alderaan; we see Yoda and Obi Wan's exile, and we see Darth Vader and a David Niven look-alike joining the Emperor in viewing the initial stages of the Death Star construction.

Couple of other queries:

• How long does it take to make a Death Star? The second one was operational fairly quickly, probably 5 years in the Star Wars timeline, so assuming that it's construction was aided by knowedge gained the first time around, is it realistic to think that it took 15-18 years to complete when the pieces were already starting to be put into place as Luke and Leia were born?
• Assuimg that it did take 15-18 years, how did Yoda become such a lame-ass so quickly? In Episode 3, he's jumping like a pingpong ball, and is as nimble as can be. How, in such a short time (relatively, given how old Yoda actually was) does he turn into a doddling near-invalid by Episode 4? Couldn't Lucas have explained that away better?

Whatever. That's all just being picky.

Anyway, go see Revenge of the Sith. Take your kids (but don't necessarily let them go alone). It's a quality film which does much in restoring the legacy of the SW franchise, and which is more than serviceable in tying everything together. I give it a 7.5 on the ol' 1-10 scale.

May the Force be with you, and catch ya later.

Travel-Blog days 1 & 2

Finally, the Great California Road Trip of 2005 gets its due. My apologies for the delay...

DAY 1

DAY 2

This is temporary

For those who can't wait for the travelogue which will explain the pictures, here is a pictures-only link.

Now settle down, everyone...

Catch ya later.

Always a disappointment

I can't help but think that people come to my blog every day and silently curse me as they see I've made no progress on the travelogue front. Although I may not always be good at fulfilling expectations, at least I'm always good for disappointing you.

Which is not to say no progress has been made. My internet connection at home has been down the last two days, due to a minor glitch, and so I haven't been able to upload the photos from my computer to the net. That will happen today (thanks, as always, to the miracle of flex time) and, God willing, Day 1 of the travelogue will be up tomorrow, with pictures and all.

As I quietly push back the delivery time on my old thoughts, have I had any new ones? Not really. The topics du jour at Chez Pieman include when I'm gonna be able to wedge the final Star Wars film into my schedule (tons of after-work meetings this week aren't helping), the joy of finally getting my dog fixed, another spate of must-see season finales on TV (or, with my schedule, TiVo), and (of course) impending parenthood. All of these will provide blog fodder in the near future, but I haven't developed any thoughts yet.

Over at the Metroblog (link to the right), however, I have posted a couple of musings that crossed my mind today. Knock yerself out.

Catch ya later.

I swear, it's coming!

Just not tonight.

I've been totally swamped since I've been back, and (of course) that means I've been neglecting my five interested readers. But I swear, the travelogue will begin in earnest sometime before Sunday. Uploading pictures tonight, and that should put a bee in my bonnet, or whatever.

Now off to engage in neighborhood association meetings until 9pm...

Catch ya later.

Back and alive

And much to write.

Just not at this moment.

I've decided I'm going to do a travelogue. I'll be going back in time and entering entries for each day of my trip (and pictures), as I kept notes of things that might be worth mentioning.

First one (might) be up later today. I'll probably have to back-track and link up to pictures tomorrow, once I've had a chance to upload them.

Most important, it's nice to be home.

Catch ya later.

Travel-Blog, Day 7

Waking up in a nice, comfy king-size bed in a not-so nice, dingy part of town, I found myself wishing that we could sleep the day away and forego traveling for a bit. I was not to find any such solice.

We adventured out into the Phoenix sunshine, wondering at how we might fill our empty stomachs. JLowe mentioned that he and his lady had seen a Waffle House yesterday, so we made our way there.

True to their name, there were no pancakes there. I don’t recall seeing French toast, even, on the menu. Just waffles, omellettes, other fried goodies, and (of course) grits on the side.

I opted for my usual breakfast-shop fare, an omellette. The ladies had waffles with fruit on them. JLowe had an omellette as well, but his lacked the enjoyable goodies mine contained and had only eggs, cheese, and the requisite fine film of grease over all of it.

Having learned our lesson in Santa Barbara, where we first were exposed to the Southern American Grit Epidemic, JLowe and I made quickly for the hot sauce on the table, turning our grits from a pasty yellow-white pus-like goo into a fiery reddish flavor explosion. I slurped them down, still wondering in my mind what a grit was, let alone who got the bright idea of cooking them up the first time.

I’ve had that question a lot. Take artichokes. Who the hell ever thought “hey, that might be yummy if I steamed it and stripped the leaves. And, I bet under the thistle-like innards, there’s a really tasty stalk just waiting to be dipped in mayo!” When you consider some of the stuff we eat, you have to wonder at who the culinary pioneers were that bravely steered us down some of the paths we take for granted. I would suspect that, like in so many fields, necessity was the mother of invention.

Anyhoo, after breakfast JLowe assumed control of the Element all the way from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon. Much fun was had at his expense, especially when we decided to go shopping for more camp food and we all took turns trying to tell JLowe where to go, none of us, of course, having any clue where we were. The wrath in JLowe’s eyes was priceless.

This time, we were smart enough to get fire wood. We almost forgot. Almost, but for the brilliance of your intrepid reporter, who realized at one of the last stops into the park that we’d better get some wood soon, because we might have no options once there. It was a wise consideration, and we were rewarded by reasonably-priced logs at the mini-mart.

We hit our second 1,000 mile mark driving into the Grand Canyon. This was truly and epic moment.

After arriving, we made our way to our spot in the Mather Campground near Grand Canyon Village. Here, there was no sign of the giant chasm in the Earth that we suspected would be visible from practically everywhere nearby. Having only ever seen the Grand Canyon in photos and, once, while flying over on a trip to Phoenix, I had no clue that, until at the lip, there wasn’t much to tell you that you were on the brink of an amazing find.

We set up camp, stretched for a few minutes, and then started out in search of our prize. We drove into the central area of the village, translated a few signs, and started walking. About a half-mile away, we discovered what all the fuss is about.

The Grand Canyon is amazing (note, a different picture for each word there…)

We walked east along the southern rim, making our way to the “Observation Station,” a store disguised as a lookout point, where The Missus and I each bought our family some nice coffee table books. On the way there, I confronted my wife on her stubborn refusal to take (non-digital) pictures every two or three feet.

I won’t comment on the merits of our argument. The key points were my contention that film was cheap and should be spent on such a sight, and her’s was that I always take multiple pictures of very similar things, which end up littering our home because I don’t put them in albums. My only comment is that we were both right. She ceded the camera to me for a bit, which made me happy because of its superiority to the digital camera we were borrowing, and I took some pictures. Then, realizing I’d jeopardized our marital harmony for nothing more than the advancement of my supposed art, I quickly made nice with The Missus and, happily, the night was saved.

After making good on our intention to view the Grand Canyon, we went back to the car and headed to camp for a bit. It was getting cool out, and we wanted to be prepared for the cold that we knew was about to strike. I also needed Kleenex, as I had steadily developed my cold/allergy/general-malaise-infested sneezing and snotting and was now a human faucet. JLowe’s wife had lent me some Claritin, which offered a degree of relief, but which couldn’t solve my problems.

After dressing for the weather, we climbed back into the Element and drove east, again along the south rim, looking for good viewpoints. Especially good viewpoints for sun-down photography. We drove and drove, got bored, turned around, and drove back. We eventually came to a much-used outcropping, where we took some more nice shots and then, at sunset, got a perfect shot of the occasion.

Then, back to camp.

The Missus, who’d avoided morning sickness for the last couple of weeks, was now uncontrollably queasy for no apparent reason. She headed to our tent, where I occasionally popped in to make sure she was alright. JLowe’s wife, realizing that JLowe and I intended to make good on our mutual vow to smoke stogies by a campfire at the Grand Canyon, made her way to bed quickly after dinner. Which left JLowe and I to soak in wood smoke, and cigar smoke, and to stare at the stars overhead.

Of all the experiences on the road trip, the Grand Canyon would be the greatest. The sheer spectacle of it all, the astounding beauty, and the day’s-end campfire to ice the cake, made this one of those times you won’t ever forget.

After choking down most of my stogie, and a couple of tasty Corona beers, I made efforts to not be so disgusting (by double-brushing my teeth and washing my face) before turning in.

If for no other reason, the Grand Canyon made this trip entirely worth whatever hassle was involved. If you can, by all means, go.

Travel-blog, Day 6

My one lasting memory from Joshua Tree will be the wide-open sky. With no trees overhead, no lights for miles, and no fire at our site, I was able to see the entire sky, and it was beautiful. It reminded me of my days back at college, taking a basic astronomy class to get my science credits out of the way. We were in Walla Walla, and unfortunately the lights at the Washington State Penintentiary had the sky somewhat bleary. But, one night, we went out to the college’s “observatory” (a shed with some telescopes in it in the middle of a wheat field north of town) where nothing was hidden, and the whole universe was naked before me.

Above my head at Joshua Tree, I once again could see stars that I’d forgotten had existed. I was able, once more, to see the Milky Way winding through the sky. I was able to see satellites zipping through space.

Nights like these are beautiful. And, unfortunately, they are far too rare.

By morning, the dreamy memory of the night’s luminosity dwindled as I started hurriedly packing camp. After eating some tasty All Bran and yogurt, clinging in vain to the hope that an occasional act of obedience to the diet gods would blind them to the crap I was eating whenever opportunity knocked, it was time to roll sleeping bags, pack tents, and clean up.

As usual when camping is taking place, JLowe was in a lovely mood. JLowe has definite moments where it’s better just to stay out of his way. With people who don’t know him well, the only way to pick up on these is to notice that he’s no longer talking, and to see his jaw flexing as he bites his tongue. His eyes also get set into a stare, and he blinks less as he waits for you to stop annoying him. For people who do know him, the clues are all the same, but amplified in some way by some pheromone or something he sends out that says “stand the hell back and leave me be.”

I smelled the pheromone, and I stayed back. JLowe’s moods are caused, to some degree, by a certain rigidity borne into him by his upbringing. Not to besmirch JLowe. His rigidity comes from well-thought out plans. It’s only off-putting when JLowe doesn’t work very hard to let you in on the plans, to let you understand his rationale. In not ceding to him, you frustrate him. In not taking a moment or two to pre-explain to you, he frustrates you.

Unless I had learned this long ago, I might not take this so well. I’ve learned to step back, let JLowe work, and figure things out later. And it’s a good system.

JLowe’s abruptness this day was caused, in part, by the space limitations of his vehicle, the fact that this was the first time we’d fully unpacked it, and by his desire to follow his pre-determined morning camp-breaking order while his wife worked on some other, less coherent agenda. Between packing the camp and packing the car, he was preparing to lose it.

Fortunately, he settled down as we all sensed the building tempest and left him some space. We all hopped in the car (ladies in back, JLowe and I up front) and began our journey east. JLowe slowly simmered, then cooled, and then it was time to rotate.

Lady Lowe took over, and shortly after we engaged ferocious cross-winds that threatened to blow the streamlined brick-shape of a Honda Element over onto its side. I sat in back, trying to sleep, but the occasional lurches didn’t militate in the favor of slumber. So, I read.

I brought several books with me on vacation. I thought that I’d get through one of two. As it was, I was having a dickens of a time handling even one. I chose Dracula, as I’m a vampire fan, had seen several iterations of Dracula on-screen, and was to the point where I wanted to see where it all began. A good book, but a long read.

Next to me sat JLowe, now getting riled up over something new. About a week before we left for our vacation, JLowe lost his wallet. So, he’d had to cancel all of his cards and order new ones, none of which arrived in time for the trip. As we drove, he repeatedly got calls from his friends at 24 Hour Fitness, reminding him that he had failed to make his automatic payment due to a problem with his card, and to please call to solve the problem. During the trip, he called no less than 3 times. He was called no less than 3 other times. And, at least on one day, he was called twice. And spoke to people both times. And both people claimed they were logging it so that he wouldn’t be bugged.

Whatever. It certainly wasn’t doing anything to make JLowe happy. No, not at all.

Couple this with the fact that Lady Lowe managed to misplace her camera in LA, and it still wasn’t found. At this point, she was certainly upset about losing her camera, and that fact worked its way into conversation enough that JLowe was visibly, if not audibly, frustrated. He could do nothing to solve the problem, he hadn’t caused the problem, and thus he didn’t want it to become an issue which overly impacted the vacation.

His jaw was grinding. His gaze was set. It was time to leave him alone.

Thankfully, sleep came.

Somewhere in this day was a search for ice cream. I don’t recall who started it (I suspect my pregnant wife), but there was a strong desire building in the car for an ice cream snack of some sort. We pulled off at a gas station with a food mart, and while filling up went in to look for a treat. The ladies found the ice cream case, but it was devoid of anything they desired.

Everyone went back outside. We noticed that there were at least two other food marts nearby. Everyone else jumped into the car. I took the opportunity to stretch my legs, and walked across the road to the next market. When we rendezvoused inside, we found more satisfactory treats, and then we were once again on the road.

I realized, as we drove through the desert eating our desserts, that I was now nowhere near South Beach, diet or otherwise.

Eventually we came to Phoenix. Not knowing anything about the town, I’d booked a motel that was on the same road that The Missus’ brother, CTam, lives on. We got off the freeway, passed his apartment, and then drove for miles. Everywhere we looked was desolate. Our motel, a Ramada Lite (or something like that) looked one step above a by-the-hour joint. My choice for lodgings was not lauded by my cohorts.

We waited for CTam to get off of work. We were only in town overnight, so all that was in the cards was dinner. JLowe and his lady went looking for cheap cameras and other discount shopping opportunities. The Missus and I took a nap on our first real bed in days.

That, I must say, was luxurious.

Eventually CTam called, and it was time for dinner. He came to meet me and The Missus in our room, and noted that we’d booked in the worst part of town. The entire road, between our Ramada and his place, was ghetto central in Phoenix, and we were lucky we hadn’t been mugged, beaten, prostituted, and flogged during our drive.

We asked him not to divulge this to Lady Lowe, who can be a bit squeamish in low-security environments.

We went to dinner at a competent, but not fantastic, Mexican place which had good Corona and cheap food. After, I further foiled my pre-vacation diet when we joined CTam at Cold Stone, where I had chocolate ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough, caramel, and more chocolate in it. So bad, but so so so good.

I noticed at the table during dinner that my nose was getting runny and I was feeling not-so-great. I chalked it up to allergies. This, it would turn out, was a misdiagnosis.

After dinner, we chatted with CTam some more, and then it was time to depart. He had morning classes, we had to drive to the Grand Canyon. The visit was too short, for certain. But we couldn’t wait to get out of our motel, so it all worked out in the end.

Travel-Blog Day 5

On Day 5 of the Great California (and some) Road Trip of 2005, we slept in late in our communal bedroom in Newport Beach. We’d considered driving down to San Diego and hitting the zoo or Sea World, but when we looked at ticket prices, the sticker shock took the wind out of our sales. That, and our almost universal heartburn from Big Belly Deli’s pizza.

So, we scrapped all of our plans, and decided to take a leisurely drive east to our next destination, Joshua Tree National Park. The first leisurely stop on our leisurely trip was Target, for another load of provisions. While there, we met Mickey Mouse’s voice.

Not literally, of course. It wasn’t like some disembodied voice walked up to us in the store and said “Hi, kids” or something like that. Instead, a full-grown adult male greeted us at the store, with a high-pitched voice that made you wonder whether to start laughing along with the joke or feel sorry for the poor guy. I looked at him for about a second too long, just trying to figure out which approach to take, and realizing he was acting in earnest, I greeted him and walked to a nearby section so that I could listen to him greet other customers and see what reactions, if any, he got from them.

During the greeting, he was offering opportunities to sign up for Target credit cards. I’m in an on-going bout of credit counseling, so I couldn’t sign up if I wanted to, but it was interesting, nonetheless, to see if people were able to get past his freakish voice to understand exactly what he was uttering.

They weren’t. Each person had the same stunned look at the surreal sound being thrust at them from this otherwise-normal looking guy. And each tried to stifle laughter long enough to get to the nearest aisle, where they could turn down and burst into intense guffaws, gasping for breath as they wiped tears from their red faces. It was sad.

As we were at Target, we started to face an unpleasant realization. We would be camping that night, in the middle of the desert, and we’d opted against bringing a camping stove. Thus, our food options for both dinner and breakfast were limited.

So, what to have for camp meals? We pondered this over lunch at In’N’Out, widely recognized in Fast Food Nation as the best place to go if you can’t fight the urge for instant grease. And, as always, it was delish.

As we prepared to leave town, we passed the palatial grounds of Trinity Broadcasting Network. I wasn’t able to snap a picture of what I saw, but in comparison with what I’d eventually see in Vegas, this place was on par with Caesar’s Palace for tackiness taken to the extreme. JLowe and I, both Christians, joined in mutual reviling of the sight before us, realizing that TBN continues to characterize (much like PTL in the 80’s) everything that we hate about televangelism and the excesses of some of the more questionable characters in the church. How does this sort of gaudy, irresponsible financial splurging on creature comforts make life better for anyone? Other than, of course, the high-paid directors of the “ministry”?

Anyhoo, off the soap box. After taking in the embarrassment of riches, we went to a local grocer and decided on dinner: sandwiches, cookies, and fruit. Then we headed east towards Joshua Tree.

Joshua Tree was exceptional. We got there about 2 hours before sun-down. Upon arrival, we immediately set up camp in the Cottonwood campground at the south end of the park. Then, when we realized we’d built our camp almost directly over an ant colony, we broke camp and re-assembled one site away.

Then we took an opportunity to go on a nature hike, toward an area called Cottonwood Springs. While walking, we saw many different, lovely plants, a stairway into nowhere, and a random oasis next to the spring. These giant palm trees stand in stark contrast to the surrounding desert, and thrive next to the tiny, tiny stream which produces about 300 gallons of water per day.

The Missus, while walking around, nearly stepped on this tiny rattlesnake, which during our time looking at it stayed almost perfectly still, either out of fear, or being dead, or being cold as the sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon. Either way, she lived, thankfully, and we got a nice picture in the process.

Back at camp, we all realized that the desert night would be cold, and we bundled up and made quick work of dinner before the sun completely set. Then we congregated in JLowe’s tent, where Lady Lowe taught me and The Missus how to play rummy. We sat in that tent, listening to LL’s flatulence and burping, and admiring the show at that, until it was time to run to our tent to seek shelter both from her and from the bitter cold night.

Lesson learned: next campsite, buy firewood. Fire is essential, for heat or at least for a forum for late night, meaningless chats.

Sleep came quickly, and Day 5 was done.

Travel-blogue, Day 4

After struggling to sleep through Mrs. JLowe's snoring, and drinking a full gallon of bottled water due to the thirst I was still attempting to slake, I finally woke up and joined the rest of our crew in preparing for a new day.

It was to be a glorious day. A special day.

A Disney Day.

We all slept in, a bit, but there was plenty of daylight to burn. Not so bright, though, as LA was covered by a batch of foreboding clouds that, were I in Oregon, I would have assumed meant rain.

We started the day by going down to the Newport Beach oceanfront. I was looking around for Summer or Seth from The O.C., or at least for some of their haunts, but was sad to find that most of that show isn't real after all.

JLowe's wife was looking around for her lost camera, which she managed to misplace the prior day, and we accosted Joe at work in the hopes that he may have accidentally driven to his office with the device in his car. No such luck.

After she came to grips with the fact that she'd not be able to take any delightful photos at the Happiest Place on Earth, Lady Lowe came back to her senses and remembered what she'd been thinking about throughout the prior evening (even as she ate pasta at the Cheesecake Factory). DONUTS!

Lady Lowe loves donuts the way I love air. She craves them with every part of her being. She aches for them when they are not near her. And, so, when Joe had driven us past a donut place near the pier the previous day, she had secured her destiny in her mind.

She would have donuts.

So, a donut run was made. The donut shop was kinda unimpressive. They had a variety of donuts and muffins, but when you looked at their coffee pots (for Oregonians, a crucial breakfast pastry accompaniment), you saw disregarded equipment filled with, no-doubt, disregardable content.

JLowe cringed and bought a milk instead. I asked for a peppermint tea.

"Huh," the lady behind the counter asked.

"Do you have peppermint tea?"

She looked at me, like I was speaking some freaking moon language--blankly and with disdain--for a full 5 seconds before blinking and saying "We don't have peppermint." She turned and grabbed a tea box from the shelf. "We have Misty Mint."

Misty Mint? What the hell is Misty Mint? I've never seen a Misty Mint plant, and if I did I'd probably pull it like a weed.

But I wanted some mint tea, so Misty Mint was ordered.

Bad choice.

It was as we were leaving the donut shop, and as I was trying to figure out how much of my tea I had to drink to keep from feeling guilty for spending the money prior to pouring the rest out, that I started to ponder the ludicrousness of the South Beach Diet.

The prior day, we'd gone to a corn dog stand by the pier, not for dogs, but for snacks. I bought a large fresh-squeezed lemonade. JLowe took in the dessert-ish options before him, pondered, and selected a frozen slice of chocolate-covered cheesecake. Upon inquiry, he pointed out that he chose it over the frozen chocolate-covered banana because it had less carbs.

Psycho.

And, on this day, JLowe ordered an apple fritter and washed it down with a pint of whole milk. This, according to our diet, is preferable to having a donut and washing it down with orange juice, because the milk is high in fat and has fewer carbs, and the fritter is high in fat, so between them the fat works to interfere with digestion of the carbs in the fritter, whereas juice would just be more carbs and thus must be avoided at all costs.

Crazy.

As I finished scratching my head about this thought, I found another to ponder. As we entered the freeway towards Disney, the Monday morning traffic was lighter than Sunday afternoons.

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Finally we rolled into lovely Anaheim, and made our way onto Walt's reservation. As we rolled through the grounds of Disney's campus, I saw the strangest thing ever. Do you see what I see? Speed Limit: 14.

What's that about? Speed limit 14? What, the extra MPH to make it 15 would constitute just too much for the roads to handle? I wonder if they've had people thinking "oh, I'll just round it up," only to go flying off the roadway as centrifugal force took its cruel toll on them.

Fourteen? Ludicrous.

We finally parked and made our way to the lines. Tip: At Disneyland, the ticket lines are shorter at the booths opposite the shuttle-drop side booths. Go to where people are walking in, and you'll save 10 minutes. While in line, I saw this person's pants and couldn't resist showing them to the world. Not sure why.

The day of fun began in earnest. We hit California Adventure first, and The Missus and I got this nice picture during one of our few moments together. With The Missus being preggers, and Disney's lawyers fearing any liability whatsoever, my wife had to avoid riding on a great many rides where the signs out front said pregnant women shouldn't ride due to (insert tumultuous reason to keep fetus-bearers out here).

So, it ended up being random variations of me with JLowe or me with Lady Lowe as my wife dutifully held our various equipment pieces so that we wouldn't lose them.

At California Adventure, by the way, California's weather decided to follow the same laws as Oregon's for once, and the looming clouds rendered forth a light drizzle. For about 20 minutes. Then, all was peachy.

Disneyland, or any fun park, are fun to go to with JLowe if for no other reason than to mock his sensitive tummy. JLowe's last trip to Disneyland almost resulted in him puking on me in Star Tours, which (of course) is not really a "ride" so much as a shaking seat in a movie theater.

This time, JLowe almost got sick on two actual rides, and gave me the finger on Star Tours when I looked over to see if he was near-chucking.

The day went by quickly, and at about 5pm we'd had enough. Of rides, that is. The women weren't quite done with Disney yet, and decided to look around at the various over-priced stores in Downtown Disney as I sat outside, checking my work voicemail and wishing I was dead rather than shopping in California.

Shortly after, we left. On the way back, I noticed just how much nicer it is to be in a carpool lane than not to. And I wondered why carpoolers are so few and far between when the benefits are so obvious.

Back at the ranch, Joe and I ordered pizza from Big Belly Deli, and as we waited for the order to come through, we drank beer, watched baseball, and discussed girls, which will be the one thing men never, ever tire of discussing until the day we die.

We then went to Safeway and bought some Sol (aka Corona for Poor People), and went back to Joe's for a night of eating (and the pizza killed all of us) and watching season one of Freaks and Geeks on DVD.

Highly recommended.

The next day was a planned excursion to San Diego or Universal Studios, which ever struck our fancy more, so after our busy Disney adventure, we went off to bed to regroup for Day 5.

What a day it would be...

Travel-blog, Day 3

Day three found me waking up with a slight headache and a desire to go back to sleep. However, we had places to go and people to see, so I denied my baser instincts and arose.

One thing I quickly learned to appreciate once we left Portland was how much better Portland's water supply is than that of anywhere else in the world (at least, as far as I can tell). Salem's water is certainly not on par, but once in California the quality dipped tremendously.

At the Lucia Lodge we'd had nasty water with some lemon in it to try to mask the grossness (to no avail).

In Santa Barbara, Stevie T had a too-small Brita which couldn't keep up with my tremendous thirst (I'm known by many as the thirstiest man alive), and so I ended up drinking not-entirely-unpleasant-but-too-warm-for-my-enjoyment water in small bits from the filter jug.

I'm always thirstier after drinking, and usually thirstiest after micro-brews, which tend to dry me out to an unnatural degree. So, by the morning of day 3, I was parched, and I ended up spending the rest of the day trying to catch back up.

For breakfast, we all headed into downtown Santa Barbara to eat at a place called the Cajun Kitchen, where I had a fantastic omelet and some grits. Grits seemed to be more popular the farther south and east I went, and I found myself wondering what the hell grits actually are. Whatever they are, they were tasty at the CK.

After breakfast, we said adieu to Stevie T and started heading out of town. As we drove out of SB, the ladies looked at all of the neat spanish-tile roofing on the buildings and declared their appreciation for the look of the place. It was splendid, but to be surrounded by such beauty all the time would dim my appreciation for it, so I'm grateful that I merely get to visit.

After Santa Barbara, we made our way to the Los Angeles metroplex to spend a couple days at Joe's place. On our way, we were shocked to run into a traffic jam. On a Sunday.

Only in LA.

While driving down the random network of freeways and highways that connects the town, I was reminded of my appreciation for LA on-ramps and off-ramps, which require you to come to sudden stops and make sudden racing starts while maneuvering at right angles to the traffic that you wish to merge with. Crazy.

We also noticed that the further south we drove, the worse the situation was for relying on turn signals. I tended to don the "when in Rome" attitude, while JLowe silently cursed under his breath at each particular transgressor who failed to indicate for him. Whatever your approach, it truly is staggering the lack of courtesy in the people of California, at least where signalling a lane change (or a turn) is concerned.

You wonder what these people think that control in their car is for. Sure, on the end of the stick is the headlight control, or the wiper control, or the cruise control. But have these people ever noticed that the stick moves up and down, and when it does a funny clicking emanates from the dash, and little arrows flash as if to advise them of some message being sent? In California, do the cars even come with these contraptions? Judging from the nigh-unanimous refusal to signal any change in vehicular travel plans to fellow drivers, I'd have to assume that, along with emission control standards, the California legislature has also dabbled with standardized car equipment in their state.

Anyhow, we eventually made it to Newport Beach, home of The O.C. and of Joe's palatial estate.

Upon getting to Joe's apartment, we all decided to sit around for a bit and vegetate, for a welcome change from the sitting that we'd done in the Element for the last two days. Joe was watching the Dodgers as they beat up on some hapless foes, and I took advantage of the chance to catch up my travelogue with the day's thoughts.

While pondering the signal question, I decided to ask an authority on what the deal was with the California plot against mid-drive courtesy. Per Joe, the steadfast disinclination evidenced by all Californians is the result of "an unwritten rule," which I assume means a subliminal message put out during In'N'Out commercials with the Governator saying "Dooon't seegnahl! Vote fo Ahnuld!" That would explain at least two mysteries, would it not?

While hanging out, we met Joe's roommate, who is a rather large, somewhat brutish looking chiropractor. Although it was probably more a matter of an overactive imagination than an accurate perception, the fellow (named Kevin) reminded me alot of the next-door neighbor, Lawrence, from Office Space. He was really, truly that big.

After chilling for a bit, we headed to Huntington Beach, if for no other reason than to find JLowe some sunglasses, as he'd forgotten his in P-Town. As we walked around, we saw some street musicians, Joe's weird lower-leg hairlessness, and the Huntington Beach Surfer's Walk of Fame. I also bought a new wallet.

After, the ladies, JLowe, and I found a local Target store and bought supplies for the next couple of days in town. Then, dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, where I officially destroyed any progress I made during the course of my South Beach dieting. At the Cheesecake Factory, they serve you what The Missus referred to as true "American-sized" portions, and our server, a rather odd lady, had truly "American-sized" man-hands that more-than-readily handled our plates.

After dinner, we headed back to Joe's for beer and movie time. Although the girls sacked out right away, and Jeff made it only into the first 5 minutes of "Sideways" before joining them in slumber. So, it was Joe and I, like in the old days, staying up late, watching movies, drinking beer, and remembering the good old days. And then, finally, off to sleep, where it took an extra five minutes to accomplish unconsciousness as I had to listen to Lady Lowe's exquisite snorting.

Day 4 will be fun.

Catch ya later.

California says hi

And so do I. Yes, I'm still alive.

Made it to Santa Barbara ahead of schedule, then proceeded to get loaded on two pints of beer. My diet's turned me into a lightweight. Now I'm hunched over my brother-in-law's computer, nursing a headache, blogging when I told myself I wouldn't until after the trip.

C'est la vie.

I'm keeping thorough notes and will do some extensive writing upon my official return. Just wanted to let anyone who cares know that The Pieman is alive and well on planet earth.

Catch ya later.

Travel-blog, Day 2

JLowe gave up on his driving efforts at 4:30 or so in the morning, having worked a long day on Friday, coupled with trying to accomplish adequate sleep in his car to prepare him for night driving. At 4:30, The Missus assumed control, and maintained it until just short of San Francisco, where I took over.

Driving into San Francisco, we saw skies pregnant with rain (that would never materialize) and I cursed the large roof rack which JLowe had installed, which obviously had managed to accidentally catch some clouds on our trip down. When the rain never came, I realized that one thing I love about home is the fact that when you see clouds pregnant with rain, you get rain and not just a dread of something that actually will never come.

Once in San Francisco, we decided we should go somewhere for a hearty breakfast. By hearty breakfast, I mean Denny’s. Fortunately, once we got off of the toll road (insufficient warning given, in my opinion), we were unable to find a Denny’s and ended up going to a place called the Palamino (or something like that) just about a block from The Cannery.

We had planned on going to the place next door, but a flamboyant sort of gent greeted us from above the café, wearing a fancy hat and an otherwise incongruous outfit, and told us that we needed to enter for the best breakfast in the world.

So, we took him up on it. Inside, we found a wide selection on the menu, fresh-made jams on the table, and a bathroom which beckoned to us all.

I almost ordered the peanut butter omelet, out of shock at even seeing such an offering, but instead opted for a more traditional Denver-style. The wives, predictably, had waffles, and JLowe had a cheese omelet. In the end, we got a bill for $60. And then I almost fainted.

Not that I didn’t like the food. But you could go to Fat City and get the same stuff for about $35, I think, and it would be every bit as good. So, to my wife’s chagrin, I spent the next hour talking under my breath about how that wasn’t a $60 breakfast, and voicing my hopes that meal prices would be getting more reasonable as we went. I would end up being disappointed when lunch came around.

The Missus and I jumped on the gas bandwagon early, noticing a few good prices as we hit the road (and also hoping that being early-birds would pay off when we hit some more expensive points). We bought the first 3 tanks, as we were awake at the first three stops and also thought that the good kharma would pay off. It ended up that we screwed ourselves, as we ended up having to buy gas in a lot of distant locales.

I drove us out of San Francisco, where I almost came to fisticuffs with my travel buddies as we tried to interpret our map of the town in order to get to Highway 1, which we intended to drive down on our way to our next stop, which was Santa Barbara. After getting directionally-challenged advice from a local (proving that not all men are too stubborn to get help), we headed west, then south, and after achieving the highway began looking in earnest for a Starbuck’s to present itself.

Finding a Starbuck’s can be particularly tricky, especially when you need one. However, eventually, the Evil Empire forced it’s way into our path and we stopped long enough to gain refreshment and to change drivers.

The ladies took the front, while JLowe and I sat in back watching “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” on his portable DVD player. A fine film, I would have made it through the whole thing if it hadn’t been for the curvy road and its effect on my tummy.

Getting precariously close to car-sickness, I managed to force myself to sleep before crossing the threshold from green-faced to green-shirted. I woke up just in time for lunch, at a place called the Lucia Lodge.

The Lucia Lodge is in an area called Lucia, CA. It is directly on the roadside as you travel Highway 1, and lends itself readily to a lunchtime stop as you make your way from point A to point B.

As we walked in, we found that there was a deck below the restaurant with a spectacular ocean view, and with the sun having broken through the clouds, we marched our way down to a bar which had us seated directly looking at the ocean.

I suppose this view is how the prices were justified, because all burgers on the menu were approximately $14. I was quickly becoming disenchanted with California cuisine.

Nonetheless, we choked down our food, and got a nice picture in the process. Then, back on our way, with JLowe at the helm.

As we headed south, we saw a beautiful viewpoint just north of San Mateo. We pulled off and were pleasantly surprised to see that the beach was littered with thousands of elephant seals. We got out and appreciated the awesomeness of it all, and then were accosted by an “information” person who grilled us on where we were from while also mixing in a couple of interesting nuggets (like the fact that all the seals currently on the beach were females or juveniles, and were small in comparison to the males coming in about a month, which would be triple the size of what were were seeing, or about 4,500 lbs each).

The wind was blowing, we were all visibly cold, and she just kept on prattling on. My wife’s teeth chattered to the beat of some inaudible melody, and still the lady just talked. Finally, I came up with a touristy question about how to get to a touristy place (actually, the Hearst Castle), and used this as a way to beg out of the seal talk. And then, just like that, she turned to some new victims, and we ran like hell.

We did try to go to the Hearst Castle, on the recommendation of my friend BT, but were not-so-pleasantly surprised to find that, unlike the Pittock Mansion, you have to park in a distant lot, take a bus up, and go on a formal tour. We weren’t interested in such foolishness, and quickly went on our way. In the distance, however, we saw the castle, and I suppose it looked interesting enough. I guess I’ll never know.

In Santa Barbara, we completed our first thousand miles, as we made our way to the home of Stevie T, my brother in law. He and his roommates live in some rich lady’s guest house, which they rent while they engage in various twenty-something activities (for Stevie T and a couple of others, this means going to photography school). Once at ST’s, we all took turns showering and cleaning up, and then went to dinner at a nice place called The Brewhouse. There, we sampled fine foods and microbrews. Diassapointingly, I got trashed on only two, and made an ass of myself as I worked to rate every comedy movie that I could think of, while explaining to others why there opinions were wrong.

Once back at the homestead, we all quickly embraced unconsciousness, mine bolstered by my beverage selections, and waited for the next day to come.

Travel-Blog, Day 1

Well, today is the day of departure on what will end up being a trip covering over 3,500 hundred miles, 156 gallons of fuel, and many, many hours cooped up in a Honda Element. Good times, good times.

The trip began at about 7:30 pm, when JLowe and Lady Lowe finally made it to Chez Pieman to gather us for departure. Having already conned my mom into watching poor Ollie for a week while I galavanted about the western states, we quickly packed the car (which, whenever referred to throughout this blog, means “we packed our stuff, put it by the car, and walked away slowly as JLowe intensely began piecing together his magic space-saving puzzle”) and got on our way.

I got the first shift of driving, which took us from beautiful Portland, Oregon to just south of the California border. Notable activities during this part of our journey was our stop in Salem at Taco Bell. Why Taco Bell? Strangely, because Lady Lowe was not in the mood for greasy food. I grew up believing that Taco Bell qualified as such. Apparently, my perception is skewed.

Anyway, like Joe Pesci says in Lethal Weapon 3, the f you in the drive through, and this case was no different. I managed to come away one bean burrito short, which was probably for the best.

On the topic of Taco Bell, what’s the deal with the whole “if we don’t offer you a drink, you get one for free” thing? I’ve been to Taco Bell twice in the last 3 weeks and not been offered a drink, and both times felt too badly about the people at the counter to actually take advantage of the offer when they fell short on their duties. Is this deal actually making money for them?

Anyway, at 1:30 we hit a rest area (one of surprisingly few that we’d end up seeing outside of Oregon) and I ceded driving duties to JLowe, who got us most of the way through the wasteland of northern California. And then I slipped into the arms of Morpheus…

The Great California Road Trip of 2005 commences...

Wish us luck, and see you on the 16th!

Catch ya later.

Kudos to DishNetwork and a cry for help

Kudos
After much haranguing by various people who have been promoting my entry into the TiVoverse, I finally got one last week. My chosen mode was to go through Dish Network, first because I have a buddy who hooked me up, and second because it's cheaper than cable.

So, last week I took flex-time to allow for installation. I was told to be home from noon-5pm. At 3, I was called to tell me they'd be there around 4. At 4, I was called to say they'd be there closer to 5:30. After that, no more calls. One problem: at 5:30, there was no technician, either.

In fact, noone showed up until 7pm, and then the installation took until 9pm. The Missus was unplussed, which of course meant that I had to be unplussed.

At her prompting, I registered a complaint the next day. A manager called me back and I explained the issues. Toward the end, I made clear that I expected some form of appeasement. Knowing that I was essentially asking for a buy-off, the manager asked me what I was seeking. I told him I'd like a free month of service. He said he'd see what he could do.

Five days later, I'd still not heard back, which uplussed me even more. I managed to track down the manager that I'd spoken to and left him an "I'm not feeling very appeased" message. A while later, the manager's manager called me back, and we had a very pleasant conversation. When he asked how things could be smoothed over, I offered up the same demand. He advised he'd see what he could do, and that he'd call me back no later than the next day.

As promised, he called me back. And, though I'm not surprised, I was pleased to see that they met my demand.

So, kudos for Dish Network for having a product that works (wonderfully) and also for working to keep their customers happy when something unplussing happens...

Cry For Help
Mother's Day is fast-approaching. My wife, a mother-to-be in November, is hoping for a nice little sumthin-sumthin. Anyone have any ideas? I need something more creative than the little bits my feeble mind can produce...

Catch ya later.

Star Wars follow-up

Kevin Smith, director of several of my favorite comedy movies, weighs in on the newest Star Wars film (warning: lots of spoilers).

I can do it

I know I can.

Just a few more days until my vacation.

I'm circling the drain, here, folks. I need this time off like I need air.

I remember when time off wasn't necessary. When I first got married, I took a vacation for my honeymoon and learned, after returning, that vacations resulted in work stacking up. And, I found, I was often just as happy not to vacation, meaning not having to dig out of a pile of paper, as I was to go somewhere and spend money on food, lodging, etc, when all I was really paying for was the opportunity to work a few late nights after being done.

I'm noticing that my attitude towards time off is changing. I don't know if it's an age thing, or if I'm finally just coming to grips with reality. But now, I long for vacations. I long to go somewhere and spend inappropriate sums of cash for nothing more than an experience. I long to shut my mind off for a few days.

So, here I sit, looking forward to a few days away.

I also have noticed another change with my age. I now find myself, every day, looking at the obits in the paper. Why? Mostly to see if I know anyone. Usually don't, but there's an occasional surprise.

I'm only 31. God, I'm too young to be making that change.

Went and saw the latest assault by Ashton Kutcher on movie fans, "A Lot Like Love," this weekend. As ready as I was to hate it (I went because my wife was going and I honestly couldn't think of anything I'd rather do than just go hang out with her), but it ended up being a really cute film. Good date-night flick, if you're looking for something light and breezy and fun.

Currently on my list of films to watch:

• Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: After reading the book 40 times, I need to see the movie, even if I'm bound for disappointment
• Be Cool: Can't believe I still haven't made it. But, judging from the lukewarm acceptance of it, it's probably better for Netflix-ing anyway
• The Amityville Horror: I'm embarassed that I just typed that
• Fever Pitch &/or Guess Who: Both date flicks my wife would like to see with me
• Kung Fu Hustle: Except for the musical number at the beginning, what's not to like?
• Revenge of the Sith: How could I not put this on my must-see list?

In fact, Star Wars merits its own space here on my blog(ue). So, here it is...

STAR WARS

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

These words have floated across movie and TV screens for a virtual millenia, causing hearts to flutter with delight at the thought of another slip into the fantastic world of Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, droids, and Darth Vader.

As a kid, I always thought SW was about Luke. Now, I'm learning through the forced perspective of revisionist Lucasism that the whole franchise is actually about Vader.

But, really, look back. The SW trilogy was about Luke. The SW pre-trilogy is about Vader. I am thinking that, as you look at the whole, the story is about hope, frustration, loss, and redemption.

JLowe, my greatest friend of all, is the ultimate SW goober. He's been giddy with excitement at the impending final SW film for months. He bought the book as soon as it went on sale so that he could ruin the surprise in his own mind. He's currently hosting a re-viewing of the previous five films, in order of release, at his home for the various ladies we know to get caught up (and, of course, for our re-enjoyment) as the new film approaches. He wants the whole legend to be fresh in our minds as we are assaulted by the final piece of the Lucas jigsaw puzzle.

As we watch, it is clear that Luke is the lynchpin of the first SW trilogy. Vader is a continuing presence, he is what drives Luke, but he's nothing more than the villain you know will take the fall. His emergence in the final film as Luke's savior-instead-of-victim is a shock. It is the only thing which might lead one to think that he's more important than he appears. But really, in watching those films, the story is one of the battle for Luke's soul, in the context of a galactic war.

Then you watch the pre-trilogy trilogy and learn that Lucas had more in mind. The story isn't about Luke alone. It's about Luke as the promised one. In the regrettable JarJar Binks-infested first episode, we learn that Anakin is perceived to be the promised one, who will bring balance to the force. The force, which consists of the good side, and the Dark Side. Of course, we're about to see Anakin get all dark and Vader-ish. And so, as we watch the evolution of the original trilogy, we see that Vader doesn't really bring balance directly. The balance comes from his inability to detach.

Jedi have the nasty requirement of being monkish in their detachment. They are all master-servant. They don't really have friendship with eachother. You can see Anakin's struggle with this aspect of the good side of the force. He wants relationship, which strangely is forbidden by the goodies.

The desire for relationship drives him to rebellion, and that pushes him to evil (the whole fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering bit). And so we see that he cannot straddle the fence.

But, in falling off the wagon, he creates progeny that do. Luke and Leia. Luke learns that you can act out of relationship without going all bad. And that is the balance. Vader brought about balance only by creating and driving Luke. Luke fulfilled balance by being a Jedi with a heart.

Whatever. This is stupid. I think I'll just watch the movie and root for the bad guys.

Enough babbling. Need to eat lunch. Catch ya later.