Pieman's Le Blogue

Memes and other crap

2005-07-23T23:19:00.000-07:00

MEME

Well, I've been tagged again. And I notice that Sloop keeps checking, so I'd better hold up my end of the deal...

Top 5 Childhood Memories

Laying in my room every night, watching the light cast on my ceiling from Mr. Butcher's driveway below. Mister Butcher, for some reason, would go out to his garage every night at about the same time (9-ish). On his way out, he'd turn on the area light, then go on back. He was old, so he walked slow and worked methodically, at least as far as I could see. I'd see him head out there, and then head back to his house about 10 minutes later, and the light would go out. Strangely, something about that routine made everything seem alright.
Laying in my other room (other side of the house), watching the searchlight on Rocky Butte swing around every night until it hypnotized me into slumber.
Spy Club with my friend, Aaron. Huge GI Joe geeks, we would pretend that we were powerful and skilled covert operatives. Attempting to fashion weapons out of common household items, agreeing on who was to be deemed good and evil, and relentlessy torchering Aaron's little brother, we (at least felt like we) owned the neighborhood.
Getting caught shoplifting. Actually, getting caught after shoplifting. As a kid, I was a little bit of a klepto. Once, I somehow managed to secret away a pack of dominoes from Fred Meyer's. Later, my mom saw me playing with it and asked where I'd acquired it. I tried to offer a good lie, but she wasn't biting, and I couldn't hold up in my youth to her scrutiny. She drug me back to the store, where I had to hand the dominoes to the horrified cashier, as I blubbered away and bawled to the point that I couldn't blurt out my pre-scripted admission and apology. My mom promised if she ever caught me with stolen items again, she'd send me straight to JDH. And I believed her...
The death of my dog. As a kid, I had a dobie named Abraham, who looked alot like my current dog, except with boy parts and a bobbed tail and redder fur. He was bought, I'm pretty sure, to be my step-dad's dog, but there was no mistaking that he was mine. We were fast friends, and we were inseparable. But he got some sort of cancer, and eventually one night my mom had to take him for one last trip to the vet. The kind he wouldn't be returning from. I remember standing out on my front lawn, crying and staring at the stars, asking God why my friend was being taken away. It was sad, but it's one of those things I won't be forgetting. It's the one thing that almost kept me from taking on the new pup...

Now I'm s'posed to tag 5 people. Mak, OC, Betsy, Denise, and JLowe, you're up...

OTHER CRAP

Haven't done much writing lately. What gives? A combination of not much to write about, and no real desire to write besides. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the fatigue of my new gym routine. Whatever it is, I just haven't felt like boring anyone with bad writing.

I'm guessing it will be reasonable to expect a bit of a slow-down for the next few weeks. Need to spend time with my pregnant Missus and my duties getting stuff ready. Not to say there'll be whole weeks with no writing. In fact, my hope is that when I do write, it'll be better than some of the drivel I put out when I'm pressing to just post anything (more my M.O. at the Metroblog, to be completely honest). So, by all means, keep checking back. Just don't be too shocked if I've taken the day off.

Speaking of, today was a beautiful Saturday. Went to the gym. Had some coffee. Spent time at another famous Halo competition with work buddies. Did some housework. And went to a lovely housewarming party.

By far, the best part of the day (sorry boys) was the party, where I got to hang out with a few of my favorite work friends.

There was CW and BT (not necessarily in that order...)

There was Hozay...

And, most importantly, there was The Missus (note the preggers-ness of her tummy!)...

A great day to be out and about.

Tomorrow, the river!

Catch ya later.

I love my puppy

2005-07-18T17:42:00.000-07:00

I mean, really, how could you not love this face?

Must be summer...

2005-07-18T17:28:00.000-07:00

Although some of us were, perhaps, fooled by the un-winterly warmth of February into thinking it couldn't get any hotter, or maybe there were some of us who believed the eventual March showers brought upon us a blotting out of the sun making February a brief "All Summer In a Day"-ish spell in a long, wet year, we now see the truth. The typical, hot, long Portland Summer has returned.

Last summer found me in the basement of my rental home, just beginning to step into the blogosphere, and lamenting the heat outside. Already, I expect general similarities between last summer and this one. Inside, check. On my computer, check. Basement, check (moved the office down to make room for the nursery). Blogging, check. Lamenting heat, here we go.

Man, it's hot outside. I know, as a typical Portlander, I'm a wuss about heat. My friend CW just got back from Vegas, where she reports temperatures as high as 116 degrees. What we have here is hot, but 116 degrees is hideous.

Despite our relative good fortune, I complain, because that's how God has wired me in this regard. This summer is superior to last in the sense that now we have central air, where last summer consisted of sleepless, ineffective-fan-using nights. And I've been able to reclaim my grill, which allows me to pump more heat into the atmosphere if I'm not quite miserable enough with the sweat rolling from my man-busoms.

The good thing about hot summers is that they force me back to the gym. Not only because I come to the realization that I'd be cooler without the seven inches of fat blanketing my entire person, but also because I remember that my gym is air conditioned, and thus avoiding it is foolish.

It's with that in mind that I started this year's annual fitness regimen yesterday. Got up, got dressed, and hauled my lazy butt to the gym for a short re-introductory workout. Nothing intense. Nothing hard. Just a reminder to my joints of what it feels like when I move them. I made it in this morning at 5 am, after dropping my wife off at work. So, with two days under my belt, I proclaim success in re-establishing the trend.

Before we got our dog, before we bought our house, there seemed to be more room in the schedule for working out. Now I've noticed that there's never enough time after work, and I've found it increasingly difficult to get away for a lunch hour. Which means I have to carve time from the unused early-morning bank that has, to this point, worked rather well for sleeping.

Ugh.

Along with all of this exercise, I've decided to re-instute culinary discipline in my life. Having tried two diets in the past year or so, and having had various degrees of success and satisfaction with each, I've opted to go back to the "Blood Type Diet" that helped me lose 40 pounds in my last effort. So, last night I had one last go at chocolate chip cookies and candy, and today I've eaten all sorts of healthy stuff that my body wishes to reject. Of course, this must mean I'm winning.

So, the heat outside, from which I'm cowering in fear, serves both positive and negative purposes. Besides helping my peaches on my peach tree to ripen, and helping my tomatoes to grow, the sun inspires me to lose weight so I can stop pitting out every shirt I wear within 20 minutes. But it also puts me in a sour mood, as I think about how I should be outside, and would be but-for the intense discomfort of the sweat drops in my eyes.

I hate this conflict.

Catch ya later.

Don't forget...

2005-07-18T12:25:00.000-07:00

If you don't see anything new here, you can also see if I've got something new up over at the Portland Metroblog (link to the right ------> )

Ding, dong, the witch is dead!

2005-07-13T19:26:00.000-07:00

Not a literal witch. Just the life-sucking, schedule-hogging witch of a case that I was handling that's kept me so silent of late. For those who don't know me well enough to engage me in friendly chit-chat, I've been tied up for the last couple of weeks doing major prep work on a big trial.

Big in the sense that it was a pretty serious case, and big in the sense that it was about two steps above anything I'd handled before. Or maybe three.

This case had been eating my free time. As you may have noticed, I posted the other day during a break in my work on a Saturday. Anyone who follows my Metblogs (link to the right) would see that, as I've been posting various pictures of Portland, several are near the downtown courthouse or (in the case of the 92nd/Holgate mural picture) on the way out to my office in Gresham. Out and about, lately, has meant, out, on my way in.

Anyway, as is typical in trial work, tons of time, sweat, preparation, late night pre-sleep plotting, early morning musing over how best to approach certain things, after work tapping away at my laptop preparing various arguments and questions, calling in witnesses to discuss what they can say, and all that sort of stuff was rewarded by defendants who decided to plea the case out at the last minute.

Which isn't to say I'm upset. I'm not. We got a good result in a not-so-straightforward case.

But, as I was telling my friends last night as they tried to get me out to the office softball game, God knows who has prepared and who hasn't, and He knows when you're just pretending to prepare, and if you goof off, He punishes you.

So, I stayed home to work on my trial.

The office softball team split their double-header, so all was not lost.

And my preparation was rewarded by a nice victory (though not the form I'd prepared for), as opposed to a grueling disembowling from the vindictive trial gods trying to teach me the importance of having my act together.

So, now, my evenings are freer. I can pop in more. I finally washed my dog today, and took her for a long-awaited walk. I'm going to do dishes and laundry tomorrow. Apparently, I've been scheduled to drive up to Ikea on Saturday.

Fun, fun, fun!

Anyway, I'm glad to be back. As I never take requests for blog discussion items, how 'bout this:

What, if anything, do you want to hear The Pieman's perspective on?

If I refuse to answer, I'll give you a rational basis for my decision.

Oh, and for Denise:

UPDATE ON PIE-BABY
I can't recall the last time I advised of the current state of pregnant affairs. So, here goes.

The Missus is now about 6 months in. She's got a delightful little tummy that, if I can ever sneak a picture of, will make it's way here for your enjoyment. Inside, our soon-to-be Pie-girl (her name will be "Stella") has started moving and kicking, but nothing that I can feel yet. I've started the habit of talking to the baby when I get up in the morning and/or when I go to bed at night. I'm getting very excited, as is my wife. Doctors expect her to pop out right around November 1st, so it's possible she could be a Halloween baby and share her birthday with our puppy. Everything's going swimmingly, and we're all quite happy.

Now that that business is done, I'm off to a softball game with the other team I play with. I'm happy to be able to go out there without having to consider whether I'm interfering with trial-prep time tomorrow for. Sweet relief.

Anyway, catch ya later.

Hi ho, hi ho

2005-07-09T11:59:00.000-07:00

It's off to work I go.

Actually, already there. In case you're wondering at my remarkable lack of blathering of late, I've been wicked busy working on a case I'm taking to trial next week. So free time has been at a premium, and spent more with my wife and dog than with you.

Sad, but true.

Right now, I'm in my office, taking a short break from my business to pop in and give you some of my recently-promised opinionations.

LONDON BOMBINGS
This is sad. Very sad.

It makes me look back to the fairly recent past, to the history of terrorist actions that really mattered to us, and in viewing those I see where this may lead.

In September, 2001, we were attacked on four fronts by terrorists in our homeland. Two planes were steered into the twin towers of the World Trade Center, one pierced the Pentagon, and a fourth was, fortunately, brought down by brave passengers in a field in Pennsylvania, where it did little damage except the catastrophic devouring of the lives of the men and women on board.

That attack galvanized us to war. To wars, in fact. That attack led us to spring into Afghanistan, in the name of taking down a terrorist-harboring regime and searching out the people who'd done this to us. It led us into springing into action at home, taking a long, suspicious look at many aspects of our own citizenry as we eroded some of our freedoms in the name of protecting the greater good. And, right or wrong, it led us into Iraq, where the anti-terrorist fervor and fear of the next big thing was leveraged to bring our collective will to bear on extending ourselves in a siege upon old enemies.

It's clear that the 9/11-inspired war on terror has resulted in a mixed bag. On the good side, we've apparently created some form of pseudo-democracy in Afghanistan and Iraq, although both governments are not yet truly able to carry their own weight. We've clamped down hard on known terrorists, and knocked the wind out of the sails of many others, by creating an atmosphere that, although not entirely capable of stopping them, inhibits them to a large degree. We've escaped another attack on our soil. And Saddam Hussein and his evil regime are being held to task for their misdeeds.

On the bad side, America is divided on many fronts, as we continue to battle with eachother not just in terms of what wars we should be fighting as we battle terror, but also how they should be fought. People tear at eachother's idealogical throats, both sides finding different ways to smear the other with the label of "unpatriotic," which has replaced the age-old "C" word (not communist, thinking much more crass) as the ultimate disparagement. Men and women are dying on foreign soil at the hands of some of the very people they are trying to help, and at the hands of others who would attack their own countrymen simply to kill two or three of us.

And governments that have helped us have paid a price as well.

I was in Italy when the Madrid train bombings occurred. I recall the intense reaction in Europe, and I recall watching the elections in Spain swing far from the expected as people reactedto what had occurred in exactly the way it is assumed the terrorists wanted. They threw out the current government, elected a new, pacifist regime, and shortly after Spain announced its impending withdrawal.

Of course, the US and Britain used the Madrid bombings as a rallying opportunity. A further justification for action. And the capital provided by that event has helped in the pursuit of the War on Terror, as America's collective recollection of our seething anger has faded in the 4 years since the WTC was brought down.

Now, England has joined the club. Britain is used to terrorist acts, but these seem to have a different feel to them. Whereas classic British terrorism revolves around a home-grown idealogical rivalry based, at least nominally, on the oppression in various places of certain "Christian" groups (I'm probably over-simplifying, here), this new terrorism is meant to strike at all British people, simply to shock them into inaction or withdrawal.

I'm willing to bet that a very frank national discussion will be held there, and a flurry of diplomacy between the US and Britain will ensue as we try to keep them in the war, even as their people start to question whether the outcome in Iraq and elsewhere is worth the price paid at home.

Whatever the outcome, this much is clear to me: the war on terror must be fought. It will either be fought on our soil or someone else's. It is being fought on both right now. What is key is to ensure that we don't create new terrorists while destroying the old ones. American (and British) goodwill must be dolled out in equal or greater doses than American vengeance. People must understand that we are only doing what is necessary for our good and the good of all others, but at the same time we truly care about those we're fighting among, and will do everything we can to improve their lives while we are with them.

I am Pollyanna.

By the way, am I the only one to notice each attack consisted of four targets? What, if anything, does that mean?

BLAZERS COACH
I was shocked to hear that the Blazers were able to lure Nate McMillan away from Seattle. Of course, deep pockets will do that for you.

At first, I didn't know what to think. Wasn't this the same old problem over again? We'd just rid ourselves of a "players' coach", a former player who'd taken the next step, and struggled along the way, in Mo Cheeks. Nate McMillan is another former guard who is known to identify with players and to work well with them.

This same concern was why I was convinced that, as likeable as he is, Terry Porter wasn't going to be our next coach. Nor should he be. Terry, in my opinion, still needs to develop. I'd personally like to see him as an assistant on our bench.

I have to admit I was hoping the McMillan deal would fall through so that we'd get Marc Iavaroni. Although he doesn't have NBA head-coaching experience, his reputation as a teacher, and the fact he's always approached the game from a coaching standpoint and not a player standpoint, were both important plusses to me. And coming from the Spurs speaks highly of him.

Anyway, when I first heard about McMillan, I was puzzled. It didn't help that I've been in a conference all week, and was unable to really gather any details. But last night and today, I've reflected on the hire and I like it.

Sure, McMillan has been up and down as a coach. I look, though, at what he did last year with a difficult roster, and it's clear that something clicked. Maybe it was just in him; maybe it was between him and his squad. Whatever. It's clear that this guy can coach.

Further, although he's an ex-player, having someone who's known as a tough disciplinarian is a plus with our current squad. I look forward to seeing how Zach and Darius, my least favorite players, react. Either we'll see a whole-sale turnaround in one or both of them, or the implosion will be spectacular and provide me with great fodder for future posts.

Either way, there's definitely reason to be excited about the coming season.

Now, it remains to be seen what changes are made on the roster. Damon's gone. Shareef's gone. Van Exel will be gone. With this hire, it looks like Patterson will be salvaged, meaning (in my opinion) that Derek Anderson will be dumped under the new CBA's amnesty provision. So, our team basically looks like this:

C: Przybilla; Ratliff; Ha
PF: Randolph
SF: Patterson; Miles; Khryapa
SG: Outlaw; Webster; Monya
PG: Telfair; Jack

Once at a log-jam at PF, we now clearly need to pick one up. I'm in favor of bringing in Brian Grant for the vet's minimum as a back-up, if all pans out and the Lakers waive him. But we'll need another warm body there for the inevitable break-down of Randolph in the early-to-mid season and the late-season break-down in Grant. And we could use some experience at the PG to help our back-court players develop.

Should be an interesting month or two.

WHAT'S IN MY POCKETS?
That was actually a joke. However, since you asked, today I have a wallet, my inhaler, some keys, $2.75, my MP3 player, my cell phone, and a digital camera.

I've spent too too much time on this post. Hope to hear what, if anything, you have to say.

Catch ya later.

Le Blogue is one year old today!

2005-07-08T08:28:00.000-07:00

I'd do a greatest hits post or something, but I've been absolutely swamped this week. Just needed to toot my own horn.

Come back tomorrow for something original, including (perhaps) discussion on the new Blazers coach, the horrific bombing in London, and a look at whatever is in my pockets at that particular moment.

Indeed, this is the stuff that a year of quality blogging is made of...

Thank God for coffee

2005-07-05T23:42:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I'm not supposed to drink it...

without it, I would've been useless all day.

I'm actually that dumb

2005-07-04T12:35:00.000-07:00

So, the long-ass post I thought was scooped up into the ether?

Still here. Just the wrong time-stamp.

In the interest of academic honesty, I usually change the time-stamps on my posts to the time I actually post them, as opposed to the time I start writing.

I started the long-ass post at 11:-something AM. I went to change the post to noon, which is when I was posting, and accidentally didn't switch the AM to PM.

Lame, I know. Anyway, it's below.

Happy Fourth of July!

Crap (aka It's Independence Day! Join in the American Dream!)

2005-07-04T12:19:00.000-07:00

Ugh. I just wrote a HUUUUUGE long post about the State of the Union and my general feelings on the direction of our nation.

Of course, I forgot my own rule and didn't copy the text before publishing.

Needless to say, the whole thing's gone into the ether.

I hate the internet. And I love it. What confusion.

I would just summarize what I said, but that runs the risk of not only making me sound "glib" (to borrow a word from Tom Cruise), but also may make it unclear how conflicted I am so that people might just light into me for what I've stated (or more for what I stated in a post they can't read, thus not allowing them to see the thoughts I've set forth that inform them of my angst).

In celebration of our nation, I ask you, therefore, to answer these questions, in the hopes of causing some sort of ruckus as we exercise our franchise.

Political affiliation (not to be confused with how you feel about our current administration)
Who you voted for last time (not to be confused with current political affiliation)
In respectful and thoughtful terms, how do you feel about our current national government?
In respectful and thoughtful terms, how do you feel about our current military situation?
If you were president, what would be the first 3 things you would do to change things for the better?

I, of course, will wait to see your responses before answering any of these...

Excercising my rights

2005-07-04T12:00:00.000-07:00

To celebrate Independence Day, I'm going to exercise my free speech rights. So you're aware, there's nothing in particular that happened today to prompt this post. I haven't really thought it out, so it may not make sense when it's done. My only goal here is to reflect on our country and to do so publicly in celebration of my freedom to do so.

Laying the cards on the table: I'm a Christian Republican white male who voted for George Bush.

I supported going to war in Afghanistan. After 9/11, going after the terrorists on their turf (and regime change in terrorist-friendly Afghanistan) sounded good to me. I'll never forget the morning we all spent in shock in the Marion County DA's Office, huddling around TV's to see the devastation in New York, DC, and Pennsylvania and wishing we could cancel our court appearances for the day.

I supported going to war in Iraq. Primarily due to the evidence presented to the UN by Colin Powell, universally-respected Secretary of State, coupled with one of the better speeches George Bush has ever given explaining why going to war was necessary.

I'm glad we've ousted Saddam.

I have many friends in the military, and I support them all.

All that said, I'm sickened by our president and tired of our war.

President Bush is, I believe, a good man. A man in touch with his principles who honestly believes that he's doing the right thing. I believe all of that.

That said, I question his decision-making process, I question those advising him, and I wonder if he's got the wherewithal (entirely misspelled, I know) to lead this country at home and abroad.

At home, the economy continues to stagger towards a long-promised recovery. Oil prices increase with no real apparent action from our government to address them, despite the fact that they impact our whole economy. Class warfare continues. Noone is seeking a middle ground from which to guide a consensus of our country (the country of both the reds and blues) somewhere where the majority of us want to go.

Abroad, we are spurned by most of the world. We're distrusted by many, reviled by most. We've developed a cavalier attitude that alienates both our friends and enemies. We're isolationist while thrusting ourselves on others, which are, in my view, incompatible stands.

In Iraq, we're fighting the new Vietnam, unable to tell the difference between our friends and our enemies, who emerge in clusters from amongst our friends to kill us and any of their country-men who get in the way.

We are stuck.

First, before I get flamed as some unpatriotic pinko, let me say this. I agree with the lefties, who I don't consider myself one of, who say that the power of our country comes from our freedom to take place in debate, to raise our opinion in the marketplace of ideas. To be patriotic is to participate, not to sit back and watch. To be American is to raise your voice.

I support our troops. I support my friends in Iraq and other areas of the Middle East. I care about how they are equipped. I want them to be given the tools to succeed. I want them to come home alive, and to be honored for their sacrifice when they do. I'm proud to know each of them.

But this war is a problem.

Having said that I supported going in, and I supported the toppling of Saddam, I understand that wanting out of the war isn't realistic. I want our country out. I don't want any more lives lost. I don't want any more money spent in a situation that often appears hopeless (although things like successful free elections in Iraq are amazing when they come along).

I believe, however, that supporting going in requires me to have the gumption to support doing what it takes to accomplish the objectives set forth in gaining my support. There was the objective of ridding Iraq of WMD. That objective was, depending on your viewpoint, the result of intentional deception or simple misinterpretation of data. Either way, it wasn't the only objective. The other stated objectives were to remove a tyrant who was a terrorist-friendly head of state, and who was a terrorist to his own people, and also to liberate a people from oppression and create an oasis of self-rule in a land of despots. At the time these objectives were stated, there was nigh-universal support from everyone.

Certainly there was from me. And I cheered as American troops went in. And I cheered as Saddam was captured.

I've stopped cheering. It's been a long time since I've been happy about this war. However, having been in the group of Americans who cheered our entry, I owe it to our country, our troops, and Iraqis to push for the best possible resolution, the safety of our troops, and the independence of the Iraqi people.

What is the best possible resolution? Sadly, I don't know. I don't think it's a unilateral pull-out, leaving a vacuum of power and hostile, emboldened insurgents free to impose their will through violence and terror. I don't think its allowing under-equipped, under-manned forces to twist as we try to figure out what to do. Beyond these thoughts, I'm not sure what to think.

I think that we went in too quickly. Hindsight is 20/20, of course. But it's clear that our leaders didn't have an adequate plan for the weeks, months, and years after the battle charge.

Had such a plan been laid out, I have to think that our "Coalition of the Many" would be stronger and more cohesive, and our standing on the world stage would be more solid than it is now.

The political capital we're spending in Iraq, I believe, will not be understood until it is lacking in some future, greater context. We will pay for not laying a complete foundation and bringing others along. We'll wish we'd taken more time, made more complete plans, and worked to include others.

Now we live in a country set apart from the rest of the world. We listen to a president repeat the same jokes, the same catchphrases, and the same stump speeches he was spinning two years ago. We have a president who can't acknowledge fault and who therefore appears disingenuous. We have a country that feels like its leaders aren't listening. We have a bunch of people arguing among themselves because there's no leadership giving us a unified direction. At least, one that makes sense.

I'm glad 2008 offers a new choice on my side of the aisle. I hope that my party will actually consider who they put up there. I want a leader with a moral mandate, a social conscious, an idea of our country in the world context, a true compassion for the poor and a desire to address the issues of poverty here and abroad (I applaud the US/UK-led effort to cancel third-world debt), and an eloquent voice that speaks honestly and frankly with our people. I wish those people existed in government. Unfortunately, our system seems to nurture and cultivate salesmen with no true goals but the placating of their stockholders, and with no clear direction but whatever makes the arrow on the polls go up.

I'm one of many voices that, though perhaps confused, is clear that we don't like where we are, where we're headed, or who's taking us there. I hope and pray that there's some rational force driving us to a peak and not a valley. I know I don't understand much, but I know just enough to have a funny sinking feeling in my tummy, and I don't think it was caused by the Fred Meyer's sushi I had for lunch.

I'm done rambling. Don't know if I made any clear points. Regardless, your input is welcome...

Catch ya later.

The stupid stuff that sets me off

2005-07-04T11:28:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is this just plain dumb?

I don't get it

I see this every time I drove to the Fred Meyer's at 39th and Hawthorne, which has been my closest Fred Meyer's for a couple of years now, and thus demands much attention (I hate the produce at Safeway--always goes bad as soon as you get it home).

In case you couldn't tell, I took this picture of a sign belonging to an establishment widely known as "Jiffy Lube." You may have been there. I often go there myself. Not too often, just often enough.

Anyway, I noticed, as perhaps you did, that "CRAZEE" is spelled wrong. I couldn't help but wonder why.

Now, if the store were called "JiffEE Lube", it might make sense. Even "Jiffy LOOb" might explain it. Some doubling of vowels somewhere. But, no, that's not the case.

So why mis-spell "crazy," instead bastardizing it with the double-E treatment?

Ugh. I'm concerned for our future.

I'm even more concerned that something this dumb incenses me enough to inspire a post...

I know, I know

2005-07-04T01:10:00.000-07:00

No recent posts can make people crabby. My bad.

What've I been up to? Mostly hanging out with my wife and my dog.

Ollie, my doberman, is now about 9 months old. Once upon a time, she looked like this:

Sadly, that's not the case anymore. I've tried getting her to sit snugly in my lap like she once did, but now she's a bit too big. Exhibit 1:

Anywho, this week, with fine weather and all, has provided several opportunities for me and my puppy to hang out.

The other day, we went to the nearby dog park. Ollie doesn't get off the leash much, as of yet, because I'm still getting her to the point where I can trust her to behave. However, no other dogs were around while we were walking around the park, so I cut her loose.

That was fun. She ran around free, and I sat on the ground. Eventually, she pooped herself out with the running, and she came over and flopped on the ground next to me. I was actually pretty proud of her.

Of course, behaving at an empty dog park is one thing. A few days ago, JLowe and his wife invited us over to barbecue some food up with them. Of course, we agreed. However, I decided to see if I could push the limits. JLowe is currently dog-sitting for his sister, so he's in possession of four glorious pugs right now. Ollie's practiced with as many as two dogs at a time; now, it was time to try her out with four.

JLowe, undaunted by courageous thoughts, essentially told me to bring it on. So, Ollie came over.

Unfortunately, with the blur of dogs running around chasing eachother, I don't have any pictures of the five of them to show you. The closest I have is JLowe petting Ollie as he chatted on his cell phone (I swear this isn't what it looks like...)

Last night (er, the 2nd, since it's now still night, but also morning...whatever), The Missus and I had the Schnack clan over. They have a new puppy, Hoss, who's a lab of some sort. Still really young, but boy, is he getting big. Anyway, we had them come over, and they brought Hoss. Thanks to the fun they had, not only did Ollie hang out in the back yard for 4 hours, locked out of the house, without a single complaint, but she was so tuckered out when he left that she flopped over and fell soundly asleep for the whole evening.

Because of this, of course, we're thinking of getting a new dog. Here's the picture of the one we're looking at:

He's a rottweiler/doberman mix, currently four months old. The good thing about getting him is another dog will probably help Ollie mellow out, and at least will keep her company so that, hopefully, she isn't so needy. The bad thing is that, with a kid coming, a new dog may not be the best idea. Opinions, my trusted readers?

Anyway, this last picture is cute. As I got home from church this morning, I saw Ollie sitting in the window, on the back of the couch, a la Garfield. She unperched before I could take the picture, but I still got a shot of her looking longingly out the window. This is, honestly, my favorite part about getting home (on the days when I get home before my wife)...

For all of her lunacy, I absolutely love my dog.

Catch ya later.

Just checkin' in

2005-06-29T23:55:00.000-07:00

Long time, no read.

I've been pretty busy of late. Lots on my plate at work, just as much on my plate away from work.

First, of course, is the impending kid. Much nesting has ensued.

Second is my ongoing attempt to see all of Hollywood's recent renderings. I've hit a snag, as my new car has swallowed my movie-watching capital. However, I can report that Batman is great, Mr. and Mrs. Smith is fabulous (JLowe, you still have to come see it with me and The Missus, so don't tell your wife...) and The Longest Yard was a disappointment, mostly because I knew how good the first one was.

Finally, it's softball season again. Not only has Hit & Run re-emerged (although our first game last night was rained out), but I'm also on another team that actually plays well, for the most part. Of course, we got our asses handed to us tonight, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, enough with the pleasantries. I want to talk about the NBA draft, and more specifically, the Blazers.

First, let me say that I like Martell Webster as a first round draft pick. The Blazers have been looking for a new shooting guard for some time, and have been zeroing in on Martell and Gerald Green for the last month, at least. In recent days, it has become clear that Gerald Green, though an athletic dynamo with tremendous upside, is a headcase who doesn't pass The Pieman's character test, simply because he's too dumb to do so. We have enough physical specimens on the team. Zach is a specimen (more or less). Darius is absolutely a specimen. Neither is ideal.

Though I've never seen Martell play, I have to give credence to those draft "experts" who say that he's a solid character guy, a good shooter, and though not as great in terms of potential, is more ready to contribute immediately than Green.

The only disappointment is that we didn't find a way to make Utah swallow Ruben's contract in the trade. Although Ruben has played his way into my list of reasons to watch the Blazers, he made it pretty clear at the end of last season that he wanted out, and the primary difficulty in dishing him has been the "trade kicker" in his contract, which entitles him to some serious $$$ if, and when, he gets traded. Utah was obviously hungry to move up in the draft, and Portland, it appears, was the only willing party to a trade to get them as high as #3. All that said, we really should've forced them to sweeten the deal a bit. A bit meaning taking Ruben off of our hands, thus making it easy to figure out who to waive (Derek) when the new CBA goes into effect.

Not like we won't waive Derek anyway. That guy's absolutely worthless, and Trader Bob should be shot on sight for ever giving him that much money for no apparent reason. Although it's clear to me that Martell won't be our starter at the 2 when the season starts, it's also clear to me that he's going to get fast-tracked, the same way Sebastian was, into starting by the end of the season. The only question is who we will fill the starting 2 spot with for the first 4 months.

Regarding our taking a PG as our second pick (via trades)... I've heard great things about Jarrett Jacks. Despite that, many people have questioned the wisdom of taking another point guard with such a glaring need at power forward. Imagine, the Blazers, who used to have a logjam at PF, are now in need of a good back-up as we're letting Shareef walk and waiting to see when (er, if) Zach recovers from the microfracture surgery.

Myself, I like the pick. It was clear, as the season wound down last year, that Bassy was developing a bit of an attitude as he got comfortable with being the only option to start at the point guard position. Many media outlets indicated he was starting to let his success go to his head.

I like Bassy. But I also like competition, and its good to see the team throwing some at him so that it's clear that he has to earn, and fight to keep, his job.

Besides, having a big PG to throw in at times will be good, considering that Sebastian is in the midget mold so nicely created by 6 years of Damon.

My questions for you:

Where does Damon go from here?
Where does 'Reef go from here?
What more needs to happen for you to buy some tickets?

Me, I'm almost ready to buy in. I want Darius gone. I want Zach challenged at the 4, so that he has to develop a passing game and some defense. I want Derek waived and a viable option at the 2 brought in. If these conditions are met, I will buy my first Blazer ticket since the year they choked against the Lakers. I might even buy a pair, so The Missus can join in.

That's enough checking in. Sorry I've been such a lay-about. No reason to expect that I won't disappear for another few days. However, keep checking back, as I may surprise you.

Catch ya later.

Typical

2005-06-25T16:18:00.000-07:00

So, I woke up this morning with not-so-grand illusions that I'd get some work done.

Not house work. Office work.

I don't often work on weekends currently. Along with flex-time (having a somewhat-fluid schedule to accomodate for the various lunchtime and night-time meetings that my current assignment calls for), a benefit of being in a position like the one I currently have is that I rarely have to take anything home over the weekend (though, admittedly, I have as projects have come and gone).

Another project has come. And it required some extra time. Which is good, because eventually I'll move into a position which will, no doubt, require some weekend time on my part, and so the occasional weekend work is good to remind me of what is coming.

Anyhoo, I digress. I woke up this morning with plans to go into the office, after the bi-monthly bloodletting at the Red Cross and some coffee with my wife and the JLowe's at City Coffee.

On my way to the Red Cross, the sky was cloudy and attempting to rain. Which was good, as I saw it, because it reinforced my feeling that if I had to be at work, at least I wouldn't be missing any nice weather.

It was even still looking iffy as I drove out to my office. When I got to work, the temperature was warm, but the clouds still bode not-so-well for outdoorsy-ness, so I was fine.

Then, after about four hours in my office, as I prepared to leave, I saw this:

What is it? It's a view at Gresham Police Department that's always captivated me, since shortly after I started working there. This spot is in my assistant's old cubicle (before her office got moved) and is what I used to stare at as I pondered fine legal points to answer her questions. For quite awhile, I've wanted to grab a picture of it. I took my camera with me today solely for that purpose.

Anyway, the more important thing to notice in this picture is the bright blue sky. Normally I'm looking through this window on weekdays, and the sky looks much the same. But I've always known weekends to be rainy, as if God was trying to teach us all a lesson about the silver linings of clouds.

This view was not right.

I grabbed my stuff, and bolted out the back door (minor exaggeration, of course) to find bright sun, blue sky, hot weather. All that I assumed I wouldn't be missing by working this weekend.

Curses!

Anyway, I wasn't done with work yet. I had to drop some items off at the main courthouse before I could call it quits, so I rolled down the windows and hit the road. A pleasant drive on a beautiful day.

At the courthouse, I saw that not-too-many people had so foolishly relied on the weatherman, and the office was fairly quiet. I dropped off my materials and headed for the elevator, when I saw this view.

Now, really, this was my second trip to the courthouse of the day. After the Red Cross, I stopped in to get some materials to assist in my project for the day. I did this despite hearing that we'd had an earthquake in the earlier hours of the day, and despite an accute awareness that if the earth had a relapse, I might get crushed. I went in the second time figuring that, as the building was still standing 5 hours after my first visit, I'd probably be alright popping in for 5 minutes.

Anyway, this is the donut hole of the courthouse. I'm not a courthouse historian, so don't put too much stock in what I'm about to say. But, our courthouse was originally built in two "L"'s. After the first L was built, work commenced in it while work commenced on the second L. When all was finished, we had a courthouse that is essentially a square donut, with a courtyard in the middle.

According to a courthouse guard I was talking to on a different Saturday morning in the courthouse, the courtyard used to be used for hanging people. Again, I'm no historian, and I don't know if this is true. But it is interesting to think about, especially if your alone in the office at night, thinking of the poor souls who met their demise a few floors down.

Now, the courtyard is filled (for the most part) with a building-within-the-building that rises about 3 floors, and which houses much-needed space for various court-related functions. But, from the 8th floor of the courthouse, that doesn't pop into your view of the inside of the donut.

By the way, if you look carefully toward the top of the picture, you can see bars on the windows. That's the courthouse jail, used to house inmates with court hearings on weekdays, and used as a place to put naughty people who the court essentially grounds for the weekend (go to jail at 8 on Saturday and leave at 5, then come back Sunday to rinse and repeat).

Don't know why I snapped the picture, other than I liked the venetian blind aspect with the brickwork behind it.

After leaving the courthouse, I decided to take a few pictures of downtown stuff. You can view those over at the Metblog.

Now I'm home, realizing (as I type) that I should be outside doing something, but being stuck at home because my wife has our car. So I'll be washing the dog and taking for a walk to dry her off, and then we'll see what the rest of the weekend has in store.

Now that I'm free, it'll probably be rain. Curses!

Catch ya later.

Schwing!

2005-06-22T21:53:00.000-07:00

Check out JLowe and I rockin' the driving range.

The good golfers in the crowd will see I look like I've just hit a softball. Oh, well, as long as it flies semi-straight, I'm happy!

Bach-ing it

2005-06-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

As happens from time to time, my wife is out of town on assignment for a few days, which leaves me to live the bachelor life. How do I celebrate?

1) See movies.
Actually, before she left, we went and saw Batman Begins. I loved that movie, more even than the newest Star Wars flick, and highly recommend it.

Last night, I went and saw The Longest Yard with JLowe and Mr. Schnacky. As a die-hard Adam Sandler fan, I went in despite reading reviews that should have left me wondering. I paid my coin, I sat down, and spent the next two hours sorta enjoying myself while silently dinging the film for each moment it didn't hold its weight in comparison to the original. Schnack, who hadn't seen the original (he's a youngster at 24) and JLowe, who hates most sports, enjoyed it more for having no understanding of just how it underperformed.

It was entertaining to see a who's-who of washed up wrestlers and ESPN TV personalities doing their thing.

I went home and put in Elektra, which arrived from Netflix in the mail. Of course, it had been a long day, I was sipping a cold one, my dog was laying on me chewing a dead cow's hoof, and between these things and the boring-ness of the film, I opted to fall asleep instead of trying to watch it all.

Tonight, it's the rest of Elektra and The Terminal with Tom Hanks, some left-overs, and more petting the dog.

2) Taking pictures
With my new Father's Day present, I'm always looking for a shot to take. And, thanks to a suggestion from my friend Mak, I've got a SD card coming that will hold all I want to point and shoot. On the topic of taking pictures, the Metafilter today pointed me to this site. Who wants to join in putting Portland on the map?

3) Swinging the clubs
Back in college, before I realized I'd be going to law school, I decided to take golf classes, first because my friends were and it was easy college credit, and second because I figured I'd want, some day, to know how to hit a golf ball. Now that I'm a lawyer, some people assume that I must golf all the time. In actuality, I haven't golfed in two years, and two years ago I only golfed twice.

I have a wedding coming up that I'm in. It's in Pocatello, Idaho, which is somewhere near Nowhereville. I have to be there for three days (wedding rehearsal is Thursday night and wedding itself is on Saturday), which means that there's a day in the middle during which the groom is demanding his party go golfing. Of course, having not swung the sticks in two years, I'm not even confident in my ability to make contact with the ball, let alone drive it any sort of distance in any sort of straight line. So, tonight I'll be at the driving range. Look for the bald guy cussing and throwing clubs. Look for the shocked and dismayed guy next to him. I'll be the bald guy. The dismayed guy will be JLowe, upset that I just destroyed his driver.

4) Housework
No bachelor time can go by without paying for it with some sweat equity. Before The Missus gets back, I expect to clean the kitchen, mow the lawn, wash the dishes, do some laundry, and bathe the dog. Oh, joy!

Anyway, back to work. Just thought I'd check in. If anyone has any thoughts on Mr. and Mrs. Smith, let me know because The Missus wants to see it when she gets back.

Catch ya later.

Travel-Blog Day 7 is up

2005-06-20T17:10:00.000-07:00

Picture of the day

2005-06-19T23:52:00.000-07:00

The Missus at Blue Lake

Aah, Father's Day Weekend...

2005-06-18T12:17:00.000-07:00

Beer, X-Box, Family Guy on TV. What more could you want? (Hint: I'm not mowing the lawn this weekend...)

To see how I've spent my Saturday, go check out the Metblog.

Random picture of the day

2005-06-17T21:43:00.000-07:00

At last, an old feature comes back.

Thanks to my Father's Day present. The Missus bought me a kick-butt digital camera.

So, you can expect more random photos, which have always been one of my favorite things to post; I just have gotten tired of searching them out. Now I can manufacture my own.

So, here's today's pic...

Ollie's bright eyes.

Catch ya later.

Things you don't want to come home to

2005-06-17T19:05:00.000-07:00

A kitchen and living room (fortunately not carpeted) spackled in canine incontinence and yellow liquid.

A serious lack of paper towels to remedy the situation (until, happily, an old, lost roll is found).

A torrential downpour starting just as you have to take the refuse bag out, and soaking you in the ten seconds you're outside.

Seriously, folks, weekend can only get better from here...

Baby update

2005-06-16T12:36:00.000-07:00

It's (most likely) a GIRL!

Most likely, because she's a little shy, and wouldn't position herself properly for the ultrasound technician to get a really good look.

But, I figure if she truly couldn't tell, she wouldn't have given us a "I'm pretty sure, but I can't say I'm positive"-type statement.

Needless to say, all gifts will need to come with gift receipts, just in case...

By the way...

2005-06-13T17:21:00.000-07:00

Watched in stunned disbelief as Jacko got off on all of his charges (no pun intended). I figured he'd be acquitted on the felonies, but popped for at least one count of giving alcohol to kids.

I didn't follow the case closely enough to have an opinion. I definitely think Mikey's an odd guy, and I don't think I'd ever let him baby-sit. That said, I didn't follow this brou-ha-ha nearly enough to have an informed opinion on whether the case against him was good or not.

So, if you want to share your thoughts or feelings, please do. Perhaps I'll try to pass them off as my own in some subsequent discussion with friends...

P.S. Updated my links to the right. Following my recent inundation regarding my latest Blazers post, and the fact that Blazers-related readers are still finding there way here, and also given that I enjoy following this team I love to hate and wish to love again, I figured having some Blazers links on the right would be good for everyone involved. Despite general opinion from several of my detractors involving my Blazers thoughts, I really do keep up with the current events, if for no other reason than I'm waiting for an excuse to enjoy the team again...

Nesting

2005-06-13T17:16:00.000-07:00

It's official.

My wife is pregnant.

Now, I know that I announced this joyous event months ago. But, last week, the official pregnancy began.

First, my wife is finally starting to show. And not in the way where she says "am I showing?" and you scratch your head and wonder if a "yes" answer will be construed as you thinking she's fat because she doesn't really think she's showing. It's the "I am showing now, aren't I?" where you know acquiescence is safe.

Second, nesting has begun.

We've been talking about projects that we'd like to tackle to get the house ready for baby for the past couple of months. Moving some furniture around, organizing some parts of the house, little things here and there.

When The Missus lobbied for the purchase of a lawnmower and some garden supplies, I mistook it for enthusiasm for the season. It turns out it was a precursor, a look at what was to come.

In the past couple of weeks, we've acquired several articles of furniture, we've started organizing our long-neglected laundry room, we've started re-configuring the rooms in the house, and it has become abundantly clear to me that The Missus is starting to develop full-on maternal urges. The nesting has begun.

It's nice, actually. The other day, for no apparent reason, The Missus made chocolate chip cookies. Last night, in a long break from the usual tradition, she opted to go grocery shopping while I was off dealing with another commitment. Tomorrow, just because, we're having friends over to eat dinner at our place.

It may not sound like much. But the changes are obvious.

Thursday we find out what gender our baby is. That night, we host a family barbecue to let the grand- and great-grandparents to be know what's coming.

And then Father's Day will be here, and I have it on good authority that I have a whopper of a gift coming.

Nesting, and preparing for what's coming, is fun. I think I'm going to enjoy this waiting-for-baby thing. At least, that is until my wife stops enjoying pregnancy, at which point I suspect that I, too, will just want it to be over...

Catch ya later.

Introducing, Day 6

2005-06-10T12:05:00.000-07:00

The ongoing re-hashing of my recent roadie...

Travel-Blog, Day 5 is up!

2005-06-09T12:15:00.000-07:00

Denise, where are you?

2005-06-08T12:30:00.000-07:00

Recently, Denise over at And So It Goes announced her blogging retirement. Mere days later, she announced her return to the blogosphere, which she followed with a few more posts to demonstrate her earnest dedication to entertaining me, if not others.

Opening myself up here to a slippery slope, or sticky wicket, or whatever, I contacted Denise about her brief disappearing act, and encouraged her to keep up the good work. I discussed a blog I know of that's hardly ever updated and told Denise that as long as she was going to be more interesting than JLowe, she shouldn't throw in the towel.

She agreed, and said that there was a major facelift coming to her blog, and that she was very excited, and so on.

And now, when I check her out on a daily basis to see what all that hub-bub was about, I see the same thing. At the top, her entry from May 20th, with my lonely, unanswered comment.

Denise, where are you? We know that you got hitched and have devoted at least some time to home improvements, but does that mean you don't care about us little people anymore?

I think I speak for several people when I say the world's more entertaining with you than without. Drop us a line, or better, a post, and let us know what gives.

Catch ya later.

P.S. Mak, don't think you've escaped my notice, either. But for your sudden flurry, I'd be giving you a similar keyboard-lashing...

Best. Steak. Ever.

2005-06-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

So, this weekend I had to go to Seattle to celebrate the impending nuptials of my friend Biscuit.

Biscuit's wedding isn't actually until August. However, he's currently residing in D.C., where he works on some congressional committee as a pee-on for The Man, so chances to go out to dinner with college friends living in the northwest are few and far between for him.

It just so happened he got flown to Seattle for a "fact-finding mission" (aka "boondoggle" by a local business concern that needed to display facts for congress to find, or something. As such, he was conveniently close in order to provide an excuse to go out and spend (way) too much money on drinks, cigars, and food.

Biscuit's requests were simple. He wanted to go somewhere with steak. He wanted to smoke a stogie before the night ended. And he wanted to get, and keep, a buzz going all night.

I arrived in Seattle around 2:30 on Saturday afternoon to find Biscuit at his hotel's bar with a chick we knew in college. She was drinking an Emerald Drop (think a lemon drop with Midori instead). He was nursing a 7 & 7. I quickly joined in with a G&T.

We sat there for the next 3 hours, catching up, drinking drinks (a total of 2 G&T's for me, three 7 & 7's for Biscuit, and Ms. T switched from the Emerald to the Rose Drop, thereby having every fruity chick drink you can have with "drop" in the title that had no lemon).

We (Biscuit and I) were really just killing time until the real fun began. And once our friend Chachi showed up, we left the hotel so that the real fun would know it was time to start.

We hopped into a cab and headed north, to Belltown, to try what many of us had heard was the best steakshop in the region. When the cabby dropped us off, we stared at our destination, El Gaucho.

Now, I've heard great things about El Gaucho. I've heard that they put my (previous) favorite steak place, Ruth's Chris, to shame. I've heard they are wicked expensive. I've heard the experience (beyond just the food) is heavenly.

Knowing before-hand that I was going to this place, and that I was on a fixed budget (indeed, looking at my account today, I over-did it despite mostly sticking to my planned budget), I pulled the menu up on-line and started planning my meal.

I was pleasantly surprised to find some not-so-spendy options on the menu, although the most appealing options were going to set me back a bit. So, I planned to have a New York Strip and some spinach and call it good at that. Oh, and a couple of beers, too.

While talking to Ms. T at the bar, she highly recommended the baseball cut, and also said that the Wicked Shrimp was a must-eat. I talked Chachi into going in halfsies on some Wicked Shrimp, thereby allowing myself that, a Caesar, and a baseball cut (and still fitting into the budget), and was pretty pleased with myself. Two $5 beers, and I figured to come out relatively unscathed.

I didn't count on two things. First, we had a struggling law student with us, and having been through that, there was no way that I (or any of the others, at the table, for that matter) could really let him suffer too much when the bill came. Second, my friend Kain ordered some wine, then he and Mr. M ordered some dessert port, and then we got the bill, and somehow we decided to split it evenly. My budget got sh*t-canned right quick. But I didn't flinch. It was all for a good cause.

Afterwards, we went to the cigar bar to smoke stogies and hang loose. I'd brought two cigars, both pre-embargo Cuban leaves, with me from Portland (where I purchased said tobbacco at Rich's), for Biscuit and myself, and Kain ordered himself one as well. Chachi, it turns out, had recently converted to Mormonism after getting hitched, so he abstained from all of our debauchery as we assaulted our innards.

Figuring budgeting was a lost cause, I ordered a Jack and Coke and puffed away.

After about an hour, we all got bored and decided to head out. A pleasant surprise occurred when Mr. M covered my drink, as I'd run out of cash at the dinner table. I'm grateful for generous friends.

We went back to the bar at Biscuit's hotel, where I drank coffee (had to drive to Kain's house in Woodinville when all was said and done, and didn't want to be unsafe) and water and we sat for about an hour, getting gradually more quiet and more tired, until finally it was time to throw in the towel.

And away I went, to spend the night at Kain's, where I was woken up at 9am by his cute 4-year old daughter, who was looking around for her mom and came to bother me as she didn't feel right waking her dad up. Which is fine, my alarm went off 5 minutes later, so between her visit and my waking up, I just sat there silently giggling at the funny conversation we'd just had.

A thorough scrub-down in the shower, and exchange of text message good-mornings with The Missus, and downstairs to partake of Kain's home-made Huckleberry Pancakes, with berries right off of his bush. Very good.

A good end, in fact, to a great culinary weekend.

What can I say for El Gaucho, having now experienced it? Simple. Best steak ever. Even the cheap cut left me both gorged and yet wanting.

I've heard the Portland El Gaucho is less consistent. I don't care. I have to go back, sooner rather than later, to enjoy the fine goodness that is El Gaucho. Ruth's Chris, I hardly knew ye.

Catch ya later.

Holy Crap!

2005-06-03T17:06:00.000-07:00

My last post certainly struck a chord!

Of course, I was helped by the random pick-up of my opinions by both the Blazer Blog (link at right) and TrueHoop, which both have a much more developed readership than I do.

Thanks to these great outlets, 499 people (by 5:05 pm today) had taken the time to read the opinions of this little Blazer-fan-wanna-be-again (previous peak was 91 hits on 5/24/05), and several took the time to comment as well.

My eyes almost popped out of my head when I looked at my stats this morning and saw the mounting mass of numbers. It's refreshing when your opinion resonates. For a moment, I feel like what I say matters. Then I remind myself that I'm one person, and not really the best informed or most qualified at that.

That said, my opinion matters (at least to me), so I don't mind sharing it.

Interesting article in the Trib (link at right) today about "Chaos in the Courts". As a county prosecutor, I thought the article was a bit one-sided and unfair, but it does portray the disarray in the system accurately to a certain extent, and is a worthy read.

I don't really feel like this is the forum for voicing my opinions on the issues raised there, however, because there's too much of a chance for people to read me wrong, and that would be bad for me. If you want my opinion, feel free to e-mail and I may give it to you, assuming that I trust you.

All that said, I'm behind on the Travel-blog, with no certain date for additions in sight. This weekend I'm off to Seattle to celebrate a friend's impending nuptials, so not much will come forth from my keyboard until Sunday-ish. But the Travel-blog will be completed to its end. Have no fear!

Catch ya later.

Blazers Haters, Unite!

2005-06-01T17:34:00.000-07:00

So, the past season is just barely over, and I'm already getting frustrated with the direction of our franchise for next season.

As a recap, last year Portland committed major dollars to Zach Randolph (aka the Black Hole, because no ball passed to him ever leaves his hands) Theo "I've fallen and I can't get up" Ratliff, and Darius "I bump my head until there's no sense left in me" Miles, despite the fact that the Blazers were only bidding against themselves and both players only had one decent season a piece to show for themselves. They brought in Nick Van Exel, a proven pot-stirrer. The continued to stick by Derek Anderson, the most useless player in the NBA. They did everything they could to disenfranchise Ruben Patterson, who, despite some prior off-court problems that cannot be ignored, was the most consistent member of the team. And they completely destroyed any hopes of drawing a good coach by how they treated Maurice Cheeks, who may not have been the X's and O's guy we needed, but who was the face of the positive face of the franchise when Whitsitt and Rasheed were trying to bring it down.

On the short list of positives, they got a surprise performance out of Joel Pryzbilijflkasdjf, Travis Outlaw showed himself to be our next Jermaine O'Neal, and Sebastian Telfair showed that our first round pick wasn't entirely wasted.

Today, Steve Patterson, the Blazer's team president, popped up on NBA.com long enough to answer some questions in a chat session. Among the bombs he dropped were his insights that we need better shooting and that our number 3 pick in this year's draft could produce a good player, or could be traded for something as well. (For additional deep, deep thoughts, see John Nash's well-maintained and frequently-updated blog at NBA.com).

Wow, Steve. Thanks for the news.

In looking at next year, there are a few things that, as a fan who just voted in the Blazer Blog poll as believing Blazer Mania is dead, I think the franchise needs to do to re-energize its fan base while also reinvigorating the team. Not being a master with money (my bank account reflects an extremely un-savvy financial mind at work), I throw these out despite them being perhaps-undoable in the real world.

Get Rick Adelman back. The Blazers dumped him despite his being one of the most successful coaches in team history, and then he took his success to Sacramento (I refuse to acknowledge the Golden State fiasco, much as he does). Whatever Paul Allen thinks of the guy, fans loved him, players played for him, and he brought consistent success year after year.
Get rid of Zach and Darius. Although Zach has shown great potential, he's also had a micro-fracture knee surgery that will probably keep him from being the player that we've paid him to be. Darius just doesn't get it, as was evidenced by his frequent moping and foolish theatrics with coaches. Neither is who we want to build this team around. I say trade them both for whatever you can get for them, re-sign Shareef (the most solid character guy on the team, and a solid player to boot), lean on Patterson as we develop Outlaw, and coach a team-first over me-first (which is Zach and Darius' approach) philosophy to playing. Trading away Nick Van Exel's non-guaranteed contract would also be a smart thing to do, both to get the quitter off our roster, and to get some value in return.
Waive Derek Anderson. Just bite the financial bullet. This guy will never be what we (foolishly) hoped he would be, and we need to cut bait now.
Paul Allen picked the wrong time to become a miser. Open up the wallet. How come Paul was so willing to throw ludicrous money at teams that wouldn't get us there, but now is shying away from investing money in a solid, disciplined, character-filled team? He's still pulling the trigger on bad deals, and yet won't pull it on good ones. In Patterson's chat today, he talked about the budget issues that preclude the team from making a run at a real money player. That didn't stop them from picking up Shawn Kemp. Get rid of our team's dead (or dying) weight and throw some dough at players who'll get it done.
Don't count on fans to wait through a slow re-build. Last season showed what we already knew: fans won't go to games if we're going to be consistent losers. When Allen's only source of income off this team is ticket sales (since he let the Garden go in bankruptcy) and advertising, he needs to put a team on the floor that will win games. Otherwise, noone's going to pay to watch, and noone will advertise to an empty arena. In the past, Blazer Mania survived through tough years because we had likeable players, involved ownership, and we were obviously always trying to make a run every single year. Two years out of the playoffs, with a motley cast of characters (except for the solid Ratliff and Rahim, and the likeable-but-now-gone Damon and Cheeks), a growing feeling in fans of malignant disinterest on the part of the team's management group, and the feeling that noone is willing to do what it takes to field a winner, will tarnish this brand beyond repair if nothing is done.
Get Ray Allen, or similar. We need a lights-out two guard. We need to spend what it takes to get a young stud in that spot and tie him up for a few years. Find the next Reggie Miller, and pay him what it takes to keep him here for 5 years.
Paul, show us you care. For an example of clearly engaged ownership, see your nemesis, Mark Cuban.

That's my prescription for the Blazers. And thanks, Steve, for not answering my question about why this team continues to throw away money on questionable character, despite promises to the otherwise. I didn't figure you'd get to it, and strangely I was right (even though you did answer to fake Andrew Bogut questions).

Your thoughts?

Catch ya later.

Random links

2005-05-31T17:20:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-31T12:20:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-05-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

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

Catch ya later.

Day 3 is up

2005-05-24T12:58:00.000-07:00

On the new Star Wars

2005-05-23T18:12:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-23T17:22:00.000-07:00

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

DAY 1

DAY 2

This is temporary

2005-05-19T16:07:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-05-17T18:21:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-16T07:49:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-11T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-10T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-09T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-08T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-08T09:46:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-07T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-06T23:59:00.000-07:00

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...

2005-05-06T19:35:00.000-07:00

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

Catch ya later.

Kudos to DishNetwork and a cry for help

2005-05-04T12:46:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-02T17:26:00.000-07:00

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

2005-05-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

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.

Sorry -- I've been busy waiting

2005-04-29T17:07:00.000-07:00

Besides which, I don't have a lot to talk about.

The Great California Road Trip of 2005 is quickly approaching. We are starting to realize how big this epic undertaking is, and we can only hope it goes well. Time to do laundry and pack my bags...

In fact, my life is currently all about waiting for stuff to happen. Waiting for my dog to get fixed so I can take her to obedience classes, waiting for the DishNetwork guy to call me back to deal with my complains, waiting for tomorrow's WalkAmerica (thanks to all of you who failed to donate to me; hopefully you had other friends to support), waiting for my road trip, waiting for various summer adventures, and (most of all) waiting to meet my baby.

Sometimes life seems to go by too fast. The trick is, during those times, you really aren't waiting for anything, so you don't notice how much time you're passing. Right now, life is going slow as I await so many great things.

Right now I'm waiting for an e-mail response from one or more of my bosses on whether I need to do a certain something about a certain case. No answer yet, so I wait on. Hopefully I hear from them soon. Once that's accomplished, I'll just wait on something new.

This is an amazing time for me. Just in the sheer number of things I find myself waiting for. I went through several months last year waiting for nothing in particular, and now, WHAM, here the waiting is...

I'll spend this weekend waiting for the week before my vacation. I'll spend my vacation waiting to get from place to place. I'll spend the last day waiting just to get home to my own bed. I'll spend the following week waiting for my next day of freedom, so I can mow my lawn. And so on.

Of course, there are so many opportunities I wait for, just to procrastinate once they arrive. Is this so I can have the pleasure of waiting for them longer? To try, somehow, to lengthen my existence through persistent anticipation?

Who knows.

Since I know you're all waiting for me to stop typing, I'll oblige you. Hope you all join me in having a lovely weekend.

Catch ya later.

A case of the Hmmmmmmm's

2005-04-26T12:59:00.000-07:00

Couple things bouncing around my mind today, as I sit here revelling in the miracle of flex-time and awaiting the induction of Tivo into my life.

Existentialism
Last night, I was gripped by the occasionally recurrent feeling I have of general heebie-jeebieness. I tend not to get this feeling about much of anything, but there's one set of issues that always causes it to rise.

First, I think about death. What is it? What happens to us when we die? What will our experience be like?

Then, that always leads me to the thing that truly freaks me out. What is life? What is existence?

Getting the heebie-jeebies even now.

I've tried, unsuccessfully, to explain this whole gut-wrenching thought process to various people in my life. My mom, when I was a kid; my wife now. I'm not able to put it into words. I find myself foundering even now.

At the outset, I'm a Christian. As such, I have a true faith that, after I die, I'll go to heaven.

But faith is not reasonable, is it? It's my mind that I grapple with, even as my soul tries to be calm.

Because, what does it mean to live forever? What is this conciousness that's living now? Will I always be the same conciousness? If not, what will happen to the me that I know? What am I?

Do these questions resonate with anyone? I think if my dad were alive, they'd resonate with him. My dad was always someone who suffered the dichotomy between reason and faith. He spent many years researching Christianity, reading books about it, trying to figure out what it meant in the scheme of what he knew, or what he kne he didn't know. He died having expressed faith in the words in the Bible, but having still not wrestled his doubts into submission. He died, I think, with the same heebie-jeebies that I sometimes feel. Only, now, he knows the answer. I don't.

I remember philosophy classes in college, going through the works of some of the early philosophers. I was taken with Descartes, who found himself, I think, trying to resolve some of the same issues in his mind. What was existence? What did the fact of his being represent? Was it all an illusion? If so, who, or what, was being deceived, if anything?

He settled on the decision that he simply had to accept that he was, because no matter how silent he tried to make the world, he couldn't fight the fact that there was something pondering it all, and that something was him. "I think, therefore I am." I don't know that he ever settled the question of who the "I am" doing the thinking was, or resolved the significance of that thought in the eternal scheme, but at the very least he found something that grounded him when the heebie-jeebies hit.

Last night, not content to ponder what was bothering me any more than I had (thus spurring the knot in my stomach), I placated myself with a half-bottle of Two-Buck Chuck and my X-Box, then fell asleep petting my pooch. Not sophisticated, not a resolution, but it worked nonetheless.

Job Dissatisfaction
My wife, struggling with the various down-sides of pregnancy (fatigue, nausea, the occasional headaches), is starting to wonder how much she erally likes her job.

My wife went to nursing school with the desire to be a community health nurse, or perhaps to teach, or to work with kids. After nursing school, she launched herself into a fine opening career salvo by taking a job in the Pediatric ICU at Doernbecher Children's Hospital, up on Pill Hill. A year of that, and she was fried. The daily grind of going to where children were dying or near-death, working to comfort them and hoping to heal them, and coming home questioning herself on whether she'd forgotten the slightest detail which might cause a patient to die overnight, all combined to break her down. She spent nights crying herself to sleep. She had bad dreams about her job once she got to sleep. She woke back up again, in a panic, and often had to cry herself back to sleep, if she could achieve sleep at all.

She hated her job.

Her friend, JLowe's wife, had worked in Pediatric Oncology at Doerbecher at the same time, and burned out on that within a year as well. She jumped ship to the Red Cross, and my wife soon followed, both relieved to find a relatively low-stress vocation compared to what they'd had, but both knowing that they didn't want to settle in forever.

JLowe's wife jumped ship a month ago. My wife is now questioning how long she wants to stay, maybe spurred by the departure of JLowe's wife, but certainly with other reasons for looking. One thing is the schedule. Red Cross nurses are scheduled to work 40 hours a week. On average, they work 50-60. This is fine when you get the big paychecks, but when you're pregnant and having difficulty sleeping, the irregular hours and the long days don't go so well. Further, the job is not very taxing mentally. The wife has always felt a little guilty, thinking that she's wasting her education. I've always told her education is for opportunity, and as long as she's in a place she's happy, she needn't feel guilty. However, she's no longer happy, and that spells trouble.

What to do? Well, realizing that financially we're in no position for a shake-up, she's currently just trying to find a way to work an actual 40 hour week so that she can at least feel good physically. But she's also wondering about other stuff to do. She's thinking about ditching nursing all-together.

Not exactly what I want. One of the things I appreciate about nursing is that it's one of the few professions that primarily grew as a women's field, and as such there are generally many family-friendly nursing jobs out there. It's just a matter of finding one that fits. And, since she's the one that wants to, somehow, pare back her schedule, I'm hoping that she can find something that allows that while still bringing in the type of dollars that we need to keep us afloat (law school loans + nursing school loans + mortgage + car loan + dog + baby = ugh!).

I'm actively soliciting ideas, both nursing-related and not, for something that she can either replace her current job with, or use to supplement income while cutting back to part time. Feel free to comment.

Anyway, Tivo's still not here, dog is anxious to hang out, and I'm tired of typing. Off to enjoy my flex-time, keeping in mind the quiet knowledge that I'm paying for today's fun with a long, hectic tomorrow.

Catch ya later.

Last shot

2005-04-25T16:02:00.000-07:00

My office has a team walking in March of Dimes' WalkAmerica on Saturday. I'm still trying to meet my personal fundraising goal of $1500 (I'm only 1/3 of the way there). If you'd like to contribute, shoot me an e-mail (piemans.leblogue at gmaildotcom) and I'll send you the link.

Let's make this quick...

2005-04-21T18:33:00.000-07:00

The long day just keeps going.

Woke up. Went to Salem. Testified on a bill I didn't write (my own passed through the committee with flying colors). Visited some old friends. Went to my office. Taught a class. Went back to my office. Went to a meeting. Now back in my office, preparing for two more meetings.

Then, at about 9, I get to go home and play with my dog. Hopefully my wife remembered to set up the VCR to catch The OC (still waiting on the Tivo upgrade...).

Ugh.

On the good side, there was free pizza at my first meeting (although I really shouldn't have had any, I was too weak to resist). Also, yesterday my wife sprung for a new suit so I could look hot for the legislature (believe it or not, it was my first new suit in four years, and the first step in a much-needed clothing upgrade). Much cred to the MW folks: true to the commercial, I went in at 5:30 and they were able to alter my pants by 8pm. Good deal.

Wish I had something semi-decent to share, but unfortunately I don't. If you want to sound off on my latest best-of/worst-of effort at Portland Metroblogs (today's topic: sushi), please hop on over.

Catch ya later.

Bit nervous...

2005-04-19T21:55:00.000-07:00

No, not about the baby.

About how I might end up spending my Thursday.

For all those who've forgotten, I'm locally employed as a criminal prosecutor in the county DA's office. As such, besides writing bloggy stuff in my free time, I also end up doing real, official, and even important work.

Several months ago, one of the sergeants at the Gresham Police Department asked me why Oregon didn't have a law to deal with people who drive with really high blood alcohol contents. For instance, many states have not only a DUII (driving under the influence of intoxicants) statute, which (almost universally) criminalizes driving while having a BAC of .08 or more, or while being visibly impaired by alcohol or drugs, but also have Aggravated DUII statutes which increase penalties for driving with particularly high BAC's (usually in the neighborhood of .16 to .20).

I told the sergeant that was an excellent point, and that he should call his legislator. But then, a few months passed, and one of the supervisors in my office sent out an e-mail soliciting ideas for new legislation to be proposed to the legislature. Remembering the sergeant's idea, I proposed an Aggravated DUII law. The supervisor liked my idea, and suggested I draft one up.

After much hard work, and the passage of some time, my work product is in front of the legislature as HB 2360 (for the purposes of academic honestly, I note that some modifications--though nothing major--have been made by other people in shepherding this to the legislaure).

I really wasn't expecting to have anything more to do with this statute, except to have some feeling of personal satisfaction if/when the law was placed into effect (and, just to make sure it's clear, I've kept the sergeant up on all of this to, because he's the person who inspired it). But I received a call earlier this week from another supervisor in our office, noting that the first supervisor wasn't available to take part in a scheduled legislative work session, and neither was Josh Marquis, one of the biggest guns of the Oregon District Attorney's Association, and a man who has guided several DUII law revisions into our statute books. Would I be available to go?

Anyway, upshot is I will (most likely) be in Salem on Thursday, addressing the legislative sub-committee that's working on this bill, on behalf of the state's DA's. A bit daunting for a small-town boy just trying to make it good.

Wish me luck.

And thanks to the many people who've commented (well, only Betsy so far...) or sent me personal congrats on the bun in the oven. I'm very excited, and I'm happy to know that others are rooting for us as well.

Catch ya later.

Official announcement

2005-04-19T12:25:00.000-07:00

The PieBaby is on the way.

November 2, 2005. Save the date.

Catch ya later.

The Great California Road Trip of 2005

2005-04-19T07:56:00.000-07:00

Coming soon to a Pieman near you, it's the grandest adventure of a lifetime.

Me and The Missus are going with JLowe and his betrothed. Should be quite the adventure.
For the actual itinerary, you can read JLowe's post here.

Catch ya later.

Couple of late thoughts

2005-04-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

Currently I'm supposed to be in NW Portland helping a friend move his TV to his car. The reason? Today is another HALO-fest.

Problem is, either my wife forgot I was driving her to work this morning, or else I was dead to the world and entirely unresponsive when she tried to roust me at 6:30 this morning. Either way, the upshot is that my car is missing.

Which conveniently gets me out of lifting a TV, but creates the issue of me having to develop a way to teleport to SW Portland, where the festivities are being held.

While I'm trying to figure that one out, a couple of late, but quick, thoughts...

DIET
As I announced last week, I've embarked on another bit of targeted dietary lunacy by engaging in a trial of the South Beach Diet. For two weeks, during this awful phase one, the diet is essentially Atkins, with low carbs, lots of protein, and bad ketonic breath.

The results? So far, lost about 8 lbs. While at the Red Coach yesterday, I sat down and enjoyed a tasty double cheeseburger (sans bun) and a Diet Coke. And I stared longingly at the lovely french fries being gobbled by the other consumers at the joint. And I drooled.

Monday, phase 2 begins. Limited re-entry into the carb world in a quest to see how much I can have while still losing weight. I'm very happy. I've missed sushi...

THE FREE BLAZERS GAME
Let me say this. I'm glad Thursday's game was free, because I feel very bad for anyone who had to pay to watch that garbage.

Which is not to say the whole game sucked. At the beginning of the second half, things got exciting for a bit and the Blazers went on a run, knocking a consistent 14 point Dallas Mavericks lead down to 7. But they couldn't sustain it, and eventually it was another night of "can they at least not get blown out?" basketball.

I was having a great time, though. I got to sit up in a suite with JLowe, some lucky radio listeners, and the crew from 1080 The Fan's Primetime Sports. I bent the diet a little to celebrate my good fortune with a free beer and some free fried chicken (peeled the skin off), both of which I should have done without (although the beer made the game more tolerable). If it hadn't been for JLowe's insistence on milking our seats for all the luxury viewing they were worth, though, I would have done the unthinkable and left early to avoid the rush at the MAX. I was honestly considering making a break for it at halftime, but thought I might look ungrateful if I did so.

After the game, I listened intently to the radio to hear if any of the quips I was throwing out in the box while the radio guys were around would be used. Nada. But I did get to hear about the excitement involving both Darius Miles and Ruben Patterson, who both boiled over in various frustrations after the game (here's the latest). My thoughts:

Darius is a jerk. Ever since he got his paycheck, he's been a little baby. We should've waited until the end of the season before paying him.
Ruben is right. The team is pulling a tank job now to get a good lottery position. And there's no excuse, if the team's honestly trying to win, to pull both Ruben and Shareef out of the game when the team is still in striking distance and the afore-mentioned fellas are the highest scorers in the group. As a fan, I expect a team to try to win. But, as a fan, I also expect a team to do its best to improve. And, at this juncture, the best shot at improvement may in fact be a tank job. So I say soothe Ruben's ego, tell him he's right, allow him to take the last 3 games off so you can pull off your tank job, and make some strides this summer to show him, and the fans, that you mean business when you say you're going to improve this team on and off the court.
And then trade Zach and Darius and Derek. Re-up Shareef. Throw some cash at Joel to keep him here, because Theo is not our future (although I don't see him as our past yet, either). Get some shooting (sorry, Frahm, you're not the guy). Get a couple of solid veterans in here to work with Sebastian. If possible, convince Damon to come back as our back-up PG. And start Ruben all next season, giving all the back-up SF time to Travis so that when Ruben leaves he's ready.

That's my plan. When you fire John Nash, give me a call. I'm dirt cheap.

So, that's it. Turns out JLowe's able to swing by and get me, so I have to make sure the dog is properly emptied of her foul contents and watered before leaving her for a few hours of bliss.

Catch ya later.

A note to Uncle Sam

2005-04-15T23:54:00.000-07:00

Damn you, old man. You've beaten me again.

How do you always do it? Every year, I try to be clever enough to figure out how to stay ahead of you, and yet you are so much smarter it makes me sick.

First I deducted the student loan interest. But you started giving me less bang for those bucks.

Then, I bought a house. You scoffed at my attempts to benefit from that investment.

Finally, I appealed with all the various local taxes I'm paying. County income tax, property tax. Surely, with all of these tools, I should have vanquished you.

But you had that evil ace, the alternative minimum tax, up your sleeve.

So, Sam, piss off. I've given you your pound of flesh. Now leave me alone 'til next year.

Oregon, same to you, but less of it.

And, Diane, since your system failed to acknowledge my dim-witted schemes at manipulating withholding to try to break even (a miserable failure, for sure), you'd better pay up. I have a family to feed...

And the free ride continues

2005-04-13T18:54:00.000-07:00

Yet another free Blazers game in my future.

Tomorrow's game to be exact.

And free food and drinks as well.

How did I get so lucky? A confluence of events, including a too-full gym parking lot which sent me on my way home, my horrific dependence on local sports talk radio, and my far-too-developed Blazers knowledge that betrays my claims to not be paying any attention this year.

As I was driving home from said gym, cursing my luck at having shown up at the same time as the rest of Portland, a trivia question was posited by the folks at 1080 the Fan, Portland's sports talk station. See if you can get the right answer (correct answer posted in comments section).

Question: After Damon Stoudamire, who's played in excess of 700 minutes more than the next-highest player on the team (amounting to about 17 games more than anyone else on the team over the course of the season), which Trailblazer has played the most minutes this year?

I was the 10th caller (never happens) and had the right answer (happens even less), so tomorrow I get to sit in one of the luxury suites, free food in hand (assuming it fits in the scheme of my diet) and free game in my eyes. Pretty sweet.

My wife, of course, has right of first refusal to the tickets. Assuming she'd be exercising that right, I contacted my boys C-Mac (who's a huge Mavericks fan, despite being a Lake Oswego Mormon who's never, to my knowledge, even seen Texas) and JLowe (who is widely known as my hetero life mate). C-Mac already has tickets (I kind of expected that), but JLowe is game. My wife's currently mulling her options.

Anyway, more proof that good things happen to good people. If you're there tomorrow, look for the guy smiling big while trying to act disinterested.

Catch ya later.

Why do I care (a.k.a. Damn Yankees)

2005-04-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

While working today, I found myself tuning my browser into ESPN.com's GameCast of the Yankees/Red Sox game, which I wouldn’t miss for the world.

And then I thought, why do I care?

It’s interesting how sports allegiances are formed. As an example, I’ll list my sports allegiances, and explain why I have them, if I can figure it out.

College Sports
U of O, all the way. Why? I once had a girlfriend who attended U of O. Actually, she attended UW and PSU as well, but I was with her during her U of O phase. That was the year U of O’s football team, lead by Bill Musgrave and Cristin McLemore, went to the Rose Bowl and were pounced upon by Penn State. I remember going to my girlfriend’s house to watch the game with her and her family. It was a great day. Ever since, I’ve been a loyal Ducks fan, and I credit it all to the good times I had with my dearest Spot.

Basketball
Despite my current angst towards them, I’ve always been a Blazers fan to some extent. Right now I’m a fan of what they once were and what they (hopefully) will become. And, try as I might, I can’t help but be interested in knowing how they did in the last game they played, even as I swear that I won’t ever care again. And, as far as I can tell, I’m only a Blazers fan because they’re my hometeam.

NFL Football
49ers and Cowboys, because they provided so many great games during high school and college, when I was really following the sport (and back when players weren’t changing teams every year); Lions because Harrington the Duck is there; Vikings because I’m a Minnesota product. Generally I’m more a fan of NFC teams than AFC ones, despite the fact that the AFC has dominated the last few years.

Which brings us to Major League Baseball, and the source of today’s post:
Seattle Mariners, because they’re virtually a home team; and the Yankees and the Red Sox.

The Yankees and the Red Sox? That’s right. I like them both.

I originally hated the Yankees, especially back in the Jay Buhner/Ken Griffey days of the Mariners (who I followed in college) when the Mariners were trying to get to the series and the Yankees were succeeding in preventing that from happening. But in law school, I had a roommate from New York for whom Yankees games were required viewing, and as his enthusiasm grew, it infected me and I became a Yankees fan, following them through their first of several World Series in the modern era.

The BoSox is another story, and much lamer. A couple years ago (well, almost), I started working in our Gresham office, and during lunch myself and the other lawyer out here (who lives very close) would head to his house to play Playstation baseball for an hour. I originally tried to play with the Yankees, but found that they didn’t have the necessary pitching to do any damage to C-Mac’s team of choice, the Arizona Diamondbacks. So I thought about pitchers, realized I needed someone overpowering like Pedro Martinez, and started playing with the Red Sox. And as I grew in my domination, I also grew in my affection for the quirks of the players. Particularly Pedro, who (just like in real life) was either brilliant and un-hittable, or else wild and uncontrollable, and Johnny Damon, who was fast as hell but had the weakest arm ever seen.

And so, last year, as the ALCS (read “The Real World Series”) was being played, I was torn for who to root for, and although I was kinda leaning towards supporting the Yanks, I was fine with Boston proceeding to the Big Show.

So, looking at all of this, what makes a person a sports fan? Personalities, proximity, and Playstation appear to answer that question.

Who do you follow, and why?

Catch ya later.

Blazers re-cap

2005-04-09T00:08:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Denise for a previous comment reminding me that I'd forgotten to discuss my Blazers experience on Wednesday.

I was again able to preside over a Blazers defeat. I did so in much better style, though, having scored a free seat next to the Little Dutch Boy in the 100 level, right near half court. One of the best two seats I've ever had.

I was pleasantly surprised by what I say. I think thanks mostly to the absence of both Zach Randolph and Darius Miles, two of the more over-paid, counterproductive people in the league.

I realize Zach is an excellent scorer and rebounder. But he doesn't make the team better. He's pretty lazy on defense, doesn't set good picks, and doesn't pass when he's double-teamed. He's the classic me-first player.

And Darius doesn't seem much different.

On Wednesday, it was a very exciting game, though. Sebastian Telfair shows good signs for the future, as long as he doesn't draw ideas of what it is to be an NBA baller from the wrong Wells (well, Zach and Darius are old Bonzi disciples, so this isn't too much of a stretch). Shareef Abdur-Rahim again demonstrated why he should be our starting power forward next year (although he most certainly won't) with his unselfish play, hustle, and hard work. Ruben Patterson was all over the place, pacing the team on offense and working very hard on the defensive end as well. Say what you want about Ruben off the court; on the court, he's a prototypical baller, and he does wonders for the team. Finally, Joel Prysiopasdfjkl;billa continues to impress. He might be the best thing the soon-to-be-sent-packing John Nash ever did for this team.

By the way, rumor is Jim Paxson is being chased out of Cleveland. Any bets as to whether or not he ends up here?

Anyway, we lost by two after Damon Stoudamire, the Blazers' feel-good story of the last year and a half, missed a game-winning 3-pointer at the buzzer. But the team walked off the court with their heads held high, having clearly left everything they had out there.

I liked what I saw.

I'll actually spring for a ticket next year if the team gets rid of Zach and Darius. Darius is unneeded with Ruben and Travis Outlaw, and Zach is a good player who may have a bright future, but he needs to be around some veterans who will be able to force him to play the right way. Just don't have that here. He's not ready to be the top dog.

So, good game, made me excited for the future and still-frustrated by the present. I hope that this summer, with a new general manager, we can pull the trigger on some trades that'll actually do something for our team, instead of holding players out of fear that we might be giving up too much. And either re-sign Shareef, or else find some tried-and-true talent (or a college graduate who's built a reputation for playing right) to fill that void.

And, no, I didn't cave in and have beer and/or other carbs. I'm very serious about not giving Paul Allen any money until he does right by the city. Oh, and that diet thing, too...

Now, off to mow the lawn.

Catch ya later.

5000 hits

2005-04-07T18:41:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Denise for inflating my blog stats just enough to finally get acknowledged for a milestone hit.

Next up, 10k. Better start clicking, Mrs. Thornton!

New puppy photos

2005-04-07T12:02:00.000-07:00

Click here to see my puppy photos.

The top 16 are older pictures, taken shortly after we got her in February (some of you may recognize them). The pictures below those were taken today. She's getting bigger (sorry, no pictures of her with me for reference), but she's still cute as a button.

Can you see her mange? Hopefully, the power of Mitaban will solve that sooner or later...

Catch ya later.

Return of an old feature

2005-04-06T23:56:00.000-07:00

Random picture of the day:

Not sure what it is, and I took the picture. It's kinda neat, though...

Why I shave my head

2005-04-06T23:48:00.000-07:00

Almost did this morning, except I wanted to document the cruel truth of my thinning-ness.

When I was a little boy, I had long curls and thick hair. My grandma always used to tell me how much she wished she had my hair instead of the thin, frail hair she passed onto both of her daughters.

I think now she's thankful she didn't get her wish.

I'd rather be bald.

Now you know.

Good morning, good morning, good morning...

2005-04-06T07:31:00.000-07:00

It's time to rise and shine.

Normally, I'd be in the shower right now, and out the door in 15 minutes.

Not too stressed today, though, thanks to the extra hours I've been putting in this week on the never-ending project. Ahh, the wonders of flex-time.

What is this accursed project I'm working on? It's for an upcoming court argument over the legality of Portland's Drug Free Zone Ordinance. Why, as the Gresham Neighborhood Deputy District Attorney, am I working on this? Because Gresham is working on installing one in Rockwood, and as the area DDA, it falls on me to help set it up, so we figured I should get an idea of the various legalities of the ordinance.

But, light at the end of the tunnel. The court battle is fast-approaching, and after that no more work (on this project, anyway). And that makes me happy.

Diet's progressing. Will advise of first week weight loss on Monday.

The Missus is still sick. Lots of headaches and congestion, no fever, no nausea (but not very hungry). If you've got a spare moment, send a prayer her way.

My pupy has gained 20 pounds since we got her at the end of February. She's turning into a mule; barely fits in my lap anymore. Right now she's staring at me because she feels neglected. Boo-hoo. Now she's going to play with the bone that I filled with peanut butter. Her life is rough...

Well, despite my belief in the utilization of flex-time, I need to be off. I'm thinking of utilizing the majority of it Friday, which is always a good practice.

See you at the Blazer game tonight. I'll be the guy in the 100 level seats, smiling because it's free, without any concessions in my hand.

Catch ya later.

Almost forgot...

2005-04-04T21:45:00.000-07:00

This news story was just too interesting. Comments?

Dieting day one and other crap

2005-04-04T19:33:00.000-07:00

So, today I started my diet.

I tried to start last night, actually, just to get the jump on JLowe. For dinner, I had some steak, cooked on my own barbie.

However, as I realized it was my last chance for two weeks to enjoy anything remotely interesting, I ended up drinking a beer, eating some of my wife's mint Brussels, eating some pringles chips, drinking some chocolate milk, then drinking some grape juice. I don't know what came over me. I was just ravenous.

Today, however, was different. Woke up, made myself a little omellette (canadian bacon and string cheese), ate some non-fat plain yogurt with Splenda for a snack, some string cheese and turkey breast for lunch, and some string cheese and some almonds for a snack. Now, I'm defrosting a chicken. And eyeing the artichokes in my fridge.

My wife is sick. Sometime Saturday she got hit with the flu that everyone's got, and it hit her hard. She's been laying in bed now for 3 days, in pain and despondent, watching DVD's on the laptop and just wishing the time would go by faster and that she'd feel better.

I, for one, haven't suffered any major illnesses since my last brush with death at Thanksgiving. I did have a minor cold in February, caused by my friend Joe, but other than that I've been doing great.

But this morning I felt the beginning twinges of a sore throat. As I write this, I'm feeling it more. Is this psychosomatic? Probably.

In fact, everyone in the family is sick. Olive went to the vet today, where we were having her checked to see if her mites are gone, and hoping that she'd be well so that she can get fixed. No such luck. A scraping revealed the mites are still hanging out, despite three dips in lovely mite-killer. As I talked to the nurse today about dogs, she revealed that she has a mini-dobie that had mites. In thinking about it, I've realized my childhood dobie, and the dog by which all others must be judged, also had mites at one time. So Ollie's present situation, though somewhat frustrating, is just par for the course. I only pray she holds out on heat another couple of months...

What else is new? Nothing. I spent this weekend tending to my poor, sick wife, doing dishes, doing laundry, washing the dog (more pictures will come, I swear!) and watching movies. So, a couple quick reviews, since that's what I'm good for...

I (heart) Huckabees
This movie is strange. But funny. Not quite the strange funny of Napoleon Dynamite, or even the strage funny of Rushmore, Jason Schwartzman's other foray into offbeat comedy. It's its own strange funny. Follow Jason and his buddy Marky Mark as they search for the meaning of life, delving into the mysterious coincidences and petroleum problems faced by our world with the assistance of an excellent Dustin Hoffman and a so-so Lily Tomlin. This movie is worth renting. Glad I didn't see it in a theater, though.

Closer
The sad tale of a self-inflicted loser-in-love (Jude Law) who learns that the best writers dip their figurative quill into a single figurative ink pot (Natalie Portman) and concentrate on writing that figurative story, instead of following their fancies from one ink pot to another (Julia Roberts) and in the process pissing off her brooding English husband/figurative blotter (Clive Owen). Which brings up a question. You're Jude Law. You have the choice of Natalie or Julia. Assuming neither will physically age, and both will retain their present beauty (okay, maybe we'll let Nat age a little, as for many she's still a little young-looking), which do you take? Clive took Julia. Jude, that imbecile, lost both of them.

Biloxi Blues
I love the Eugene Jerome films. But between Brighton Beach Memoirs, starring a brand-new Johnathan Silverman as the teen-aged Eugene, and Biloxi Blues, with the always-fantastic Matthew Broderick, I opt for the former. The comedy is shot better, but you still get the depth of the experience. Maybe it's the family dynamic that's built in. Maybe it's just direction. Whatever. I like Biloxi Blues, I encourage a rental of both for a rainy day, and now I move on to the only new film I've seen this week:

Sin City
Delightful. Naughty. Funny. Dark. Go see it.

Enough. I need to go make my chicken, check on The Missus, pet the dog, and watch a movie.

Catch ya later.

PS - Due to a serious lack of interest in discussing anything important, I abstain from discussing the passing of the Pope and Terry Schiavo, though both are sad. If you really need me to broach a serious topic, go check out today's metblog.

South Beach?

2005-04-01T22:51:00.000-08:00

So, JLowe and his wife are going on the South Beach diet on Monday.

Last year, I went on the blood type diet and lost about 40 pounds. A year later, I've put back on 30 of those. So, I've opted to give South Beach a try with my friends.

Besides, as far as I can tell, it's much like the blood type diet.

Anyway, in celebration of our upcoming abstinence from highly enjoyable eating, JLowe and I had sushi at Todai today. I'm pretty keen on that place, especially since I've developed an uncanny ability for not having to ever pay when I go there (this was JLowe's second time in a row treating me).

An hour later, we both emerged, stuffed to the gills. I guaranteed JLowe that I wouldn't ever eat again. I recanted, then swore that I'd not have any food crossing my lips for at least 6 months.

"I'll hold you to that," he said.

Well, he was right. After The Missus got home, she informed me that the Little Dutch Boy had called, asking if we'd care to join her for tasty Indian food at Swagat, which is not yet in my Portland's best list, but should eventually work its way over there.

I had my usual, Chicken Saag (chicken in a mildly spicy spinachy sauce) a la carte. Also had a Mac's Ale (no beer on South Beach), and plenty of tasty bread. All was well, except that our waiter was a bit of a slacker (totally forgot my second beer, forgot a special order I requested for my wife, and totally disappeared for about 30 minutes without checking on us as we waited for dinner), and our tasty bread showed up looking like it was a tad moldy.

The Little Dutch Boy is an expert at getting free stuff through the system of complaining. So, with the whole moldy-looking bread thing, we thought we might get a nice discount.

Turns out the bread had ash on it from the stove that Swagat uses to cook the bread in, and so we had no such luck.

Now I'm home, as is The Missus, who's nursing a new cold. I sent her off to bed with some peppermint tea and Hall's cough drops, and I'm catching up on some much over-due blogging while my dog plays with her newest toy, a little plush animal that is keeping her quite busy (thankfully).

Man, she's beating the crap out of it. I hope it survives the night...

Catch ya later.

Separated at birth? and other randomness

2005-03-30T23:43:00.000-08:00

Are they the same guy?

Behold the picture Isaac Laquedem has at his website (presumably of himself; why else have the picture?

Now behold Victor Garber, who plays Jack Bristow on Alias.

What inspires this?

Well, having downed a whole bottle of Boone's Strawberry Hill in an attempt to not notice my lunatic dog helped. That and watching Alias.

Really, what ever happened to NBC? Back when I was a kid, ABC had Moonlighting and Who's the Boss, and that's the last time I was compelled to watch. Well, they had Growing Pains, too, and who could get enough of Boner?

Then, NBC swept in with eleventy-nine years of solid must-see TV, from Cosby to Family Ties to Night Court to Seinfeld to Mad About You to Friends to Frasier. And now? NBC's pretty much unwatchable, except for Scrubs.

Meanwhile, ABC is quickly assuming the mantle of Must-See status, having struck gold with Desperate Housewives, and adding to an already strong Sunday line-up with the new Grey's Anatomy and bolstering Wednesday (Alias night) with Eyes, which has alot of promise.

Whatever. I'm having trouble typing. I should go to bed.

About that last post: I am up for a blogger hockey night still (Denise), and if anyone was offended by my remarking that I'm afraid people won't live up to what I've built them into in my mind, I apologize.

Catch ya later.

Gotta run, no time for fun

2005-03-29T18:34:00.000-08:00

I was planning on having a ton of time to write something insightful on some deep topic tonight, but (thankfully) my wife ended up getting home from work early and wants to have a tasty dinner. As such, I don't have the time to write anything really long now, as I sit in my office preparing to head home, and I know for certain my dog, still too exciteable to grant me much free time, will not allow me the time for deep blogging.

And so, something fast and empty, much like so many of my most recent blogging.

It is certainly true that sometimes the well is deeper than others. The last month has found me committed to checking in, but not with much to say. I tend to have more interesting stuff to say in my comments on other blogs than I do here, which saddens me.

Indeed, despite the heavy rains, I'm still suffering a drought, wanting for anything really worthwhile to write about.

And I can tell I'm not interesting. The hits are dropping, and I think for Denise's sake, I need to be uninteresting while she's off on her wedding holiday, so she can get her much-sought 5000th hit on my blog. (So, while we're on the topic, swing by and congratulate her -- soon, she'll be DNT, as opposed to her current initials of DD).

Which is not to say that I live entirely for the numbers my blog generates. I still suffer the same existential quandries I've always had about why I blog, what my blog means in the world, and whether it would be better just to stop blogging and shut the hell up. However, as I've currently decided to continue prattling on into the wind, it is gratifying to see that people are checking (and re-checking) me out, as if what I have to say about anything might mean something to them. It's even better to see comments.

My wife is astounded, by the way, by the whole notion of comments. She read my blog recently, and wondered at the fact that complete strangers comment on other people's stuff. And, when you think about it, that is an interesting aspect in the blogosphere. We're all strangers, yet we're all drawn to each other's writing and feel a need to put our two cents in.

As I read blogs I like, I wonder if they're written by people I'd actually ever hang out with in real life. While I know some of the bloggers I point to, some of them I only know by their writing, and writing isn't the best way to learn about someone, because writers have the luxury of taking time to craft what they're saying so that it is widely digestible and comes off as intelligent (although, the fact that so many people just spew a bunch of crap and hit send, without really having any insights into anything, tells me enough about them to not care if they'd be fun to talk to at a bar).

That said, I'm not really all that eager to meet any of my blog-buddies. I mean, I wouldn't avoid them if I knew them. If I saw a person who looked like Denise, I wouldn't shun them. I saw a person who reminded me of Betsy at the bank last week (granted, I've only seen this picture of her) with a young man learning how to deposit money in a checking account (thought for sure he was The Mogul), and I was ripped with a desire to ask if it was her, although at the same time I realized how outlandish that sort of question might be (I ultimately abandoned the thought as I imagine her to be more of a NE Portland person, while I was in SE). But I'm not the guy who is dying to set up a local bloggers meet-up. The fact is, I'm not sure I want to know people as more than the sum of what they write. As far as you all know from my writing, I might seem funny and deep. Some people who know me might suggest I'm just a crass a-hole. I'd hate to pop the bubble I have imagining how cool all these other people are. I'd rather just admire them from a distance, and let the illusion live.

Whatever. This is taking too long. The Missus just called and ok'd a run to the gym, so I need to get there before dinner gets too late. Besides, not too sure anything I wrote above was even coherent.

Catch ya later.

This just in

2005-03-26T11:12:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the Drudge Report for a link to this article discussing the growing number of Germans who want the Berlin Wall back. Well, actually, that's a mis-statement. In fact, nowhere in this article do we learn if the number of people who feel this way is growing, increasing, or remaining the same. We don't know the age of respondents, so we don't know if it's just a bunch of old fogies decrying the loss of their cultural touchstone, or what's going on.

Amusing, though, are the sentiments that the Germans held towards their east/west counterparts. According to the article, "the poll found that 47 percent of the easterners agree with the statement that the West 'acquired the east like a colony,' while 58 percent of the westerners back the statement that 'easterners tend to wallow in self-pity.'"

I liken it to feelings that Portlanders from various parts of the city share about eachother. My friend BT, who lives on the west side, hates venturing east because he's sure he'll get capped by some thug as soon as he crosses the Marquam Bridge. I, meanwhile, being an east-sider, hate everything on the west side (except Multnomah Village), and my hatred grows the closer you get to Beaverton, because as you get farther west, it grows increasingly difficult not to get lost in some neighborhood, until you hit Beaverton, town of cul-de-sacs, where I'm convinced you don't get to leave a particular neighborhood until you in fact drop a tax bracket.

And I remember working at Clackamas Town Center in college and marvelling at the difference between your typical east-Portlander, who had the whole urban grunge thing going, and your typical Clackamite, with belt buckle and boots to match.

And the Clackamas area is mostly urban. I've never understood the urban cowboy thing, and I'm sure I never will.

Anyway, it's Saturday, and I'm at work for a bit, and I wish I wasn't. But it's better to get some work done now, when I have time, then to try to find time later.

To all who may see this, happy Easter-eve.

Catch ya later.

Babblin' Brook(e)

2005-03-25T12:05:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to an attorney I once knew who had a knack for not knowing when to shut up. His name was Brooke. He babbled. Hence his nickname.

In today’s post, I intend to ramble. Movies, weather, pets…nothing is sacred. Today, I will be the babbler. Today, I will not be able to shut up.

MOVIES
It’s been an intense week of movie viewing for me. Mostly rentals or newly purchased films, but also one that’s new in theaters. Lucky you, you get a quick review of each.

The Bourne Supremacy
For anyone that’s read this blog(ue) for any length of time may know, I saw The Bourne Supremacy last summer, shortly before the Tour de France was finished. I remember that for a couple of reasons. 1) It was freakin’ hot out, and we went to theater to get out of heat, only to find that the A/C was out, and 2) while waiting in line, I became jealous of everyone’s pretty yellow “Livestrong” bracelets.

Anyway, due to the whole weather bit, I only mentioned that I thought The Bourne Supremacy was a pretty good flick, but provided no further insight.

The Bourne Supremacy picks up two years after The Bourne Identity ends, with Bourne and his annoying girlfriend shacked up in India, inexplicably drinking water from the tap and living a life of luxury as they hope that Jason’s past won’t catch up to them. Within 10 minutes, the girlfriend is (thankfully) dead (the first movie was seriously affected by attempts to force chemistry between Matt Damon and the chick who played Marie), and within 15 minutes Bourne has started to kick some ass. This movie is both less than and more than the first film. Less drama surrounding the question of “will Bourne find out who he is?” and more action. In many ways I found this movie superior, but if pressed I’d have to admit that it was only, in sum, about as good as the original.

The Ring Two
Yes, I caved and went to see this film. I was a big fan of the first Ring, which I thought was a good little fright-fest. Hoping to see something at least vaguely similar, I went to see The Grudge and was in many ways disappointed (although that kid with the cat scream still freaks me out). So, when I saw the opportunity to see R2, I jumped on it.

R2 appears to follow very closely in time to the storyline in R1, with Naomi Watts and her spooky little kid having uprooted themselves from Seattle and moved to lovely Astoria, Oregon to try to start over (and to escape the effects of the videotape they made to save her son’s life).

Only, the tape beat her to Astoria, and soon enough she’s again battling to save her son’s life from Samara, the little girl who never says die. Since this movie is new, I don’t want to spoil anything for you. I will say it was lesser than the first film, but better than the critics would have you believe. Definitely makes a good matinee, because you never feel guilty if you didn’t pay full price.

Shaun of the Dead
Got this one from Netflix, and convinced JLowe to watch it with me over steaming hot helpings of Cannon’s Brisket. This movie is sort of a zombie-film farce following a loveable loser around as he slowly realizes the world around him is getting zombified, then he fights to save his mother and the woman he loves (and a few tag-alongs) from becoming undead themselves. Entertaining film. Silly fun.

Addicted to Love
My wife rented this classic, starring Matthew Broderick and Meg Ryan (before I decided she was evil and before she decided to screw her face up with plastic surgery and botox) starring as two forlorn dumpees trying to exact revenge on their ex-mates, Broderick in hopes of forcing Kelly Preston back into his arms (and, really, that is a worthy goal in my book), and Ryan with the goal of tearing away every shred of dignity her Frenchy former fiancée ever had. In the process, they end up deciding “screw those other people, let’s just shack up and live happily ever after.” But not before some devious hijinx. Great film to watch with your spouse if nothing else is on and you have it sitting around. Seriously, Matthew Broderick can almost do no wrong (no, I will not admit that Inspector Gadget or Godzilla ever happened).

Collateral
I refused to see this movie in theaters, but did decide I should rent it just to check it out. I was surprised at how good it was. No description; go rent it yourself.

WEATHER
Really, nothing here to add I haven’t already written over on the Portland Metroblog. Go check it out (link to the right).

PETS
My dog is the bane of my existence this week. Which is not to say I don’t love her. I do. She’s just a pain in the keister.

This all started Tuesday when my dog had a vet appointment. I’d been hoping to adjust my lunch hour so that I could take her in, but I ended up getting stuck in my office, so my wife had to do it herself. Which is all well and good, except that Ollie doesn’t exactly listen so much when The Missus is trying to talk to her.

So, about 11:15 on Monday, I got a tearful call from The Missus decrying the foul behavior of our dog and demanding action, or the dog would have to find a new home.

So, now, I’m working on the prospect of dog classes. Pets, it appears, aren’t cheap. Feh.

Plus, how many baths does a dog need? I swear, she’s the smelliest dog in the world. In her defense, she’s currently getting de-mited, so she’s having some short-term skin problems. But, geez, at this point she’s requiring weekly baths, and that’s just not so fun. We’re hoping that we can avoid heat, because they won’t spay her until the mites are gone. Here’s keeping our fingers crossed…

THE ONGOING BBQ BRAWL
So, as I mentioned, I had Cannon’s (link to right) brisket last night. This was my second go-round with Cannon’s, where you can only get brisket if you show up early.

My first batch of brisket was good, but not that good. I had higher hopes for this batch, as it was earlier in the evening (6pm) and it was cold and raining, which seems to slow down foot traffic.

Verdict? Big Daddy’s, my favorite BBQ joint in town, still wins on brisket (hands down), and Campbell’s is superior as well. I will tell you that for ribs, Cannon’s is the best I’ve had yet. I just prefer brisket.

FUNNY CRAP
A few funny bits:

Easter Greetings

Too much of a good thing?

The truth about men:
Because I'm a man, when I lock my keys in the car I will fiddle with a wire long after hypothermia has set in. AAA is not an option. I will win.

Because I'm a man, when the car isn't running very well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I'm looking at. If another man shows up, one of us will say to the other, "I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn't know where to start." We will then drink beer and break wind as a form of holy communion.

Because I'm a man, when I catch a cold, I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You're a woman. You never get as sick as I do, so for you this isn't a problem.

Because I'm a man, I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like milk or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like "cumin" or "tofu." For all I know, these are the same thing. And never, under any circumstances, expect me to pick up anything for which "feminine hygiene product" is a euphemism. (F.Y.I. guys, cumin is a spice and not a bodily function.)

Because I'm a man, when one of our appliances stops working, I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much, once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.

Because I'm a man, I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I may miss a whole show looking for it (though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator)...applies to engineers mainly.

Because I'm a man, there is no need to ask me what I'm thinking about. The answer is always either sex, cars, or hockey. I have to make up something else when you ask, so don't ask.

Because I'm a man, I do not want to visit your mother, or have your mother come visit us, or talk to her when she calls, or think about her any more than I have to. Whatever you got her for Mother's Day is okay; I don't need to see it. And don't forget to pick up something for my mother, too.

Because I'm a man, you don't have to ask me if I liked the movie. Chances are, if you're crying at the end of it, I didn't....and if you are feeling amorous afterwards...then I will certainly at least remember the name and recommend it to others.

Because I'm a man, I think what you're wearing is fine. I thought what you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine. With the belt or without it, looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine. Can we just go now?

Because I'm a man, and this is, after all, the year 2005, I will share equally in the housework. You just do the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the vacuuming, and the dishes, and I'll do the rest... like wandering around in the garden with a beer wondering what to do.

This has been a public service message for Women to better understand Men.

Ghetto Barbie

Got this bit from a cop I know:
Why Cops Harass people

Recently, California ran an e-mail forum (a question and answer exchange) with the topic being "Community Policing".

One of the civilian e-mail participants posed the following question: "I would like to know how it is possible for police officers to continually harass people and get away with it?"

From the "other side" (the law enforcement side) a cool cop with a sense of humor replied: "It is not easy. In California we average one cop for every 2000 people. About 60% of those cops are on patrol, where we do most of the harassing. One-fifth of that 60% are on duty at any moment and available for harassing people. So, one cop is responsible for harassing about 10,000 residents. When you toss in the commercial, business, and tourist locations that attract people from other areas, sometimes you have a situation where a single cop is responsible for harassing 20,000 or more people a day. A ten-hour shift runs 36,000 seconds. This gives a cop one-second to harass a person, and three-fourths of a second to eat a donut AND then find a new person to harass. This is not an easy task.

"Most cops are not up to it day in and day out. It is just too tiring. What we do is utilize some tools to help us narrow down those, which we harass. They are as follows:

"PHONE: People will call us up and point out things that cause us to focus on a person for special harassment. 'My neighbor is beating his wife' is a code phrase we use. Then we come out and give special harassment. Another popular one on a weeknight is, 'The kids next door are having a party.'

"CARS: We have special cops assigned to harass people who drive. They like to harass the drivers of fast cars, cars blasting music, cars with expired registration stickers and the like. It is lots of fun when you pick them out of traffic for nothing more obvious than running a red light. Sometimes you get to really heap the harassment on when you find they have drugs in the car, are drunk, or have a warrant.

"RUNNERS: Some people take off running just at the sight of a police officer. Nothing is quite as satisfying as running after them like a beagle on the scent of a bunny. When you catch them you can harass them for hours.

"CODES: When you can think of nothing else to do, there are books that give ideas for reasons to harass folks. They are called 'Codes'; Penal, Vehicle, Health and Safety, Business and Professions... They all spell out all sorts of things for which you can really mess with people. After you read the code, you can just drive around for a while until you find someone violating one of these listed offenses and harass them. Just last week I saw a guy smash a car window. Well, the code says that is not allowed. That meant I got permission to harass this guy. It is a pretty cool system that we have set up, and it works pretty well. I seem to have a never-ending supply of folks to harass.

And we get away with it. Why? Because for the good citizens who pay the tab, we keep the streets safe for them. Next time you are in my town, give me a single finger wave. That is a signal that you wish for me to take a little closer look at you, and maybe I'll find areason to harass YOU.

That’s all, kids.

Catch ya later.

Uninspired

2005-03-21T21:19:00.000-08:00

I'm copying the name of the post I wrote at Portland Metroblogs (link at right) today, because I'm too uninspired to provide a new title, and further you have to click at the right because I'm too uninspired to provide you a link.

I'm so uninspired that, below, I posted my results on some alcohol test that Betsy put up last week.

Now, I'm posting a fortuitously provided e-mail with beer quotes sent to me by my friend at OC Girl.

THE FOLLOWING CAN BE USED IF WE NEED REASONS TO CONTINUE DRINKING BEER

Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work, and their dreams would be shattered. I think, "It is better to drink this beer and let their dreams come true, than be selfish and worry about my liver. --- Babe Ruth

An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with the fools in his life. --- Ernest Hemingway

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading. --- Paul Hornung

24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not. --- H.L. Mencken

When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven! --- George Bernard Shaw

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. --- Benjamin Franklin

Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza. --- Dave Barry

BEER: HELPING UGLY PEOPLE HAVE SEX SINCE 3000 B.C. --- W.C. Fields

Beer: helping white guys dance, since 1632.

Remember "I" before "E", except in Budweiser. --- Professor Irwin Corey

To some it's a six-pack, to me it's a support group. Salvation in a can! --- Leo Durocher

One night at Cheers, Cliff Clavin explained the "Buffalo Theory" to his buddy, Norm. "Well ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine!That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers...

Okay, enough slacking. But I only have two minutes to write. I'm still in my office, and I just texted my wife eight minutes ago to tell her I'd be leaving in "10 minutes or so," and then I spent those eight minutes formatting the e-mail so it wouldn't look weird, and now I've spent one minute typing this.

So, what can I type in one minute that might be interesting?

Nothing. That's why I said "10 minutes or so." Because I'm weak and must write something substantial.

Sadly, I have nothign substantial to write. So I can't write nothing, but I have nothing to write. Interesting conundrum...

So, a brief remark on one of my more recently-discovered physical features, then I'm off.

I have a shaved head. Why? In part because I'm balding. In part because Bruce Willis pulls it off, and he's secretly one of my idols (well, actually David Addison was, but that's beside the point).

I take that back. Maybe it's not beside the point. As you can clearly see if you click that link (I guess I'm semi inspired), David had hair. But, if you look closely, he probably shouldn't have. Kinda like me.

Anyway, after shaving my head, I noticed two little mini divets on the front of my scalp. I noticed them because I had trouble shaving there, due to a straight-edged razors unwillingness to bend into a mini divet.

Anyway, I've been curious for the last few months what these little grooves represent. Did I get dropped on my head (I know for a fact I did, and I cling to that truth whenever my faculties start failing me)? Did I run really really hard into some kind of fence or door, so hard I don't even remember? Apparently I had leg braces as a child, which I also don't remember, so anything could be true.

Well, I finally mentioned it to my mom, and the truth came out. When I was born, I was 8 pounds and 4 ounces of head, with 4 ounces of body weakly attached. This was quite uncomfortable for my mom, and perhaps just as uncomfortable for me, as I became wedged in during my voyage to the bright lights. So, forceps were applied, and until losing all of my lovely hair I never realized the painful reminders I've been carrying.

And that's all. Really, not that exciting, totally uninspired, but at least you know I'm still alive and I love each and every one of you. Well, that's not true. But thanks for stopping by...

Catch ya later.

Viral tests

2005-03-21T20:46:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Betsy (link at right) for sending me this way. As this proves, I love beer.

Bourbon
Congratulations! You're 130 proof, with specific scores in beer (140) , wine (50), and liquor (95).
Screw all that namby-pamby chick stuff, you're going straight for the bottle and a shot glass! It'll take more than a few shots of Wild Turkey or 99 Bananas before you start seeing pink elephants. You know how to handle your alcohol, and yourself at parties.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 54% on proof

You scored higher than 99% on beer index

You scored higher than 85% on wine index

You scored higher than 92% on liquor index

Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid

The Google appreciation blog

2005-03-16T17:31:00.000-08:00

Many possibly interesting Google-specific thoughts:

A search of my real name shows that there are more people with my name than I would have thought...
A search of "The Pieman" shows that my Blogger profile is 70th in popularity for the phrase, my blog is 87th, and John Hays' reference to my Mexico vacation is 5th. That last part is most curious to me...
A search of THE PIEMAN (no quotes) yields my blog at #5.
A search of PIEMAN yields me way, way back there (though, again, John's pointer to my site shows up much earlier).
Interesting. I still can't find my wife using Google. Does that mean she doesn't exist?
My phone number continues to be Google-free, which is just fine with me.
I love Google local, especially from my cell phone. Can't count the number of times I've needed to find a restaurant's address or phone number and, using my text messaging, have been able to get it using just the name and zip and sending them off to 46645 (spells googl, get it?)

Really, I'm just killing time here folks. I want to go to the gym, but if I leave now it will still be too busy. So, a few more minutes of surfing before I get on my way.

By the way, go to Mak's blog and harass her into explaining why Google is a person's best friend. She won't tell me, but perhaps she'll respond to peer pressure if we all pile on.

Catch ya later.

Gotta make this quick

2005-03-15T19:12:00.000-08:00

So, I lulled lovely Olive into leaving me alone by feeding her, which will keep her attention for the 5 short minutes it takes for her to gulp down her puppy food.

Which is fine. I doubt I have 5 minutes of typing in me right now, so this should work out great.

Wait, I've only been here 2 minutes and she's already molesting me. What happened to the food? Hmm. She's getting quick, that one. Now she's sitting on the guest bed, licking her lips and giving me that look that says "in 45 seconds, if I don't suddenly fall asleep, you are so gonna get it!"

So, the clock is ticking.

Got off my first Portland Metroblog today, as you may have noticed in my previous post. I don't really have a concept of what my body of work over there will look like. So far, most of the posts I've seen there are short, innocuous, and glib. I'd like to put more substantial reading there for the peeps.

(Now Olive's bolted off the guest bed and is dancing around the living room with some unknown small inanimate object...now she's back in here, looking at me. Gonna be walk time soon...)

Of course, I don't want to compromise my writing here with my writing there. My main goal there, I guess, is to get exposure for this blog, which is my passion. Not that I'm passionate about it. I just like writing this blog, to get the writing out of me.

Whatever, this is boring.

Not as boring as my day was, though. In my ongoing quest to assist my superiors in any way asked (yes, I'm still working on the project I thought I finished two weeks ago), I'm now charged with doing a review of state constitutions to find some with certain similarities to our own, in the hopes that there is some persuasive case law relating to the issues I've been chewing on for the better part of the last 3 weeks.

Have you ever read a constitution? Maybe you've read the Constitution. You know, the Constitution, the one that works for the whole country. Well, when you get a chance, go to your state's constitution and give it a read. Multiply that by 50, and you have my problem.

Ugh.

Of course, there's the potential for all sorts of good stuff out there that will help my superior with his legal work, and I'm bound and determined to find what I can. Not only because it looks good to be the guy that gets the job done, but also because I like doing something that someone is relying on, and impressing them with the work I do. It makes me feel good.

Which is not to say I'm getting any happier about the legal writing bit.

(I know, I'm still typing. Ollie's currently just sitting there, scheming. I know the time's almost here...)

Tomorrow will be more of the same. Probably Thursday, too. Friday, I have another project to get cracking on, and then next week will be research on the constitutional provisions I manage to locate tomorrow and Thursday.

Great fun.

Last night, went to Tara Thai with the Little Dutch Boy and the JLowe family. Very good, but I still prefer Sweet Basil, for what my opinion's worth. Tara Thai won't be getting on my best of Portland list, but if you're in Northwest and jonesing for Thai food, it's certainly worth stopping by.

(She's losing her patience. I can see it...)

So, how 'bout those Blazers? Man, there's a whole mess I could write about for at least 25 minutes straight. Where to begin? Zach Randolph's knee? Van Exel's moping?

(Oh, no, here she comes....."NOOOOOO! AAAAAAAAHHH!")

[END OF TRANSMISSION]

At the Portland Metroblog today (click here to read)

2005-03-15T12:01:00.000-08:00

The post is pretty generic; mostly re-tread material, but I've been too busy to come up with anything new and fresh.

The Missus gets home late tonight, though, and the dog is better behaved, so provided I can think of something good to write about, I'll throw it up here later...

If you got tickets, I hate you unless you gimme one (or two)

2005-03-12T16:56:00.000-08:00

Let me start this by saying I was warned.

That said, hi everybody. Already alot to talk about this weekend, and it isn't even half-way through.

Yesterday, while busily pounding away on my keyboard at work, my long-lost friend Ren (who I haven't seen forever but who reads me religiously) started shooting me e-mails. Luckily, I was close-enough to finished with my latest round of legalese that I was able to divide my attention enough to dialogue with her. The upshot was that, last night, she ended up coming over for a movie night with The Missus and me and, due to her excitement at the impending U2 sales event, she agreed to road-trip with me down to Salem to buy tickets for herself and her beloved, as everyone in my life had already bogued out on the 6:45 departure.

For movie night, Ren brought over two films. The first one we watched was Eulogy, a so-so comedy about a dysfunctional family re-uniting for the funeral of the family patriarch. There were a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, but on my comedy scale, this one is merely Not So Good. Which is not to say I didn't enjoy myself. I don't really have very high standards when the movie is free. The second film we almost watched was P.S., which we watched for 20 minutes and then entirely bored of. Absolutely not recommended.

So, after that my night came to an end, knowing I'd have to be up fairly early for my trek to my musical Mecca. I slept through my alarm, but woke up at 6:43 and, due to Ren's femininity, had time to use the bathroom, take my dog out, put on clothes, and gather most of my stuff before her arrival. We left, and our day of disappointment began.

The trip to Salem was pleasant enough. Having read alot of my material, Ren knows I like restaurants, and picked my brain on a few. She knows restaurants better than I do, from talkng to her, so I got an idea here and there for future consideration. When we got to Salem, I went to where GI Joe's was, only to find that the location whence came all previous U2 tickets had closed. I should have seen the writing on the wall then.

I got on the phone with JLowe, and instructed him that he was our contingency plan. Further, I asked him to find me the closest GI Joe's, and he directed me to the one on Lancaster in Salem (which I'd managed to forget about, having ceased my daily voyages to Salem three years ago).

So, off we went on a frantic quest for GI Joe's. When we got there, there was already a line of about 10 people, despite the fact that the tickets didn't go on sale for another hour and a half. I held this to be a second bad sign, and a third accompanied in the form of another one of those annoying pontificators pontificating about things and sounding loud (and dumb) in the process. Reminded me of jury duty.

Realizing that 1) I couldn't stand these people, 2) Ren's injured foot was bothering her as we stood there, and 3) if there were this many people here now (and more were approaching), it was certain we'd be subjected to a lottery and might lose big, I got on the line with JLowe, who was at the ready on-line, and instructed him our fate was in his hands. And then we left.

We got back to Portland just shy of 10am, and as soon as my clock hit that time I shot JLowe a text message for an instant status report on getting tickets. The Pontificating moron had said these shows sold out in 17 minutes usually, so I decided that a safe bet was 20-30. At 10:01, JLowe informed me that he was in the system, placed "in line" for 5 minutes, and would report back once success was achieved. And, based on that representation, I was sure it would be.

When I hadn't heard from JLowe by 10:35, I knew that, somehow, his ancient computer (or Ticketmaster's evil machines) had screwed him. I logged into Ticketmaster (I hadn't due to my slower connection, which in the past has made it hell to try to order anything because I always get timed-out) and, to my non-surprise, found that I was able to get in, seek the four tickets we'd been shopping four, and be soundly rejected. As an experiment, I tried selfishly to just find two (for JLowe and I) and was equally non-plussed at the response. I called JLowe, who was still on-line and clearly agitated, and explained our defeat. He curtly hung up, in a way that told me that he was probably taking it harder than me.

Lessons learned?

If you're going to take the time to drive to Salem and get in line, stay there, even if your friend's foot hurts and stupid people abound.
Listen to the friends who say you can't trust Ticketmaster.com, and not Joe, who not only thinks that Harold & Kumar is the best movie ever, but who was also too lazy to get out of bed to try to buy tickets using his old, afore-mentioned, "tried and true" Ticketmaster.com.
Never, ever be the bearer of bad tidings to JLowe.

So, what now? Well, I'm hoping that someone out there will see this, realize I got screwed by the system, and when December rolls around and their trying to take a last-minute Christmast trip, will offer me the tickets at face-value (with a minor interest rate, I guess) out of sheer sympathy and kindness.

Until then, since the concert was to be my wife's birthday present to me, she is now on the hook for something else that I'd like (like Napoleon Dynamite or a head-shave and scalp massage at Hair M).

When life gives you lemons...

Catch ya later.

P.S. (no pun intended): Hannah finally updated her blog with a funny little story involving not painting all your toenails. I can't sympathize, buy maybe some of you can...

Time crunch, and subsequent lazy re-post

2005-03-11T07:58:00.000-08:00

Well, the superior liked what I wrote so much that he's given me a new angle to cover, which means I'll be working through the lunch hour. So, today I'll just recycle another e-joke from Hannah, who still refuses to update her own blog.

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to takeany word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changingone letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners:

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with. (Not identifying with this one this year)

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

5. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period. (I do identify with this...)

6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late. (JLowe wishes he had this ability)

9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate's disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

18. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an a ** hole."

Catch ya later.

Don't wanna work today

2005-03-10T12:40:00.000-08:00

I suppose I join the rest of the world in having days where I don’t want to work. Sadly, today is one of my more demanding ones, so the option to simply ignore my work, although never really present, is absolutely absent today.

This week I’ve been suffering a case of the blah’s. I’m tired from waking up too early to deal with my dog (imagine how I’ll feel whenever I get around to having a kid). My stomach has been disagreeing with me for the last day or so (nothing major, just a kind of blah feeling down there as well). The weather has been nice outside, and my office doesn’t even have a window. And, to top it all off, I’ve been tasked to do some legal writing to assist one of my superiors.

I’ve noted in the past that I love writing, and that I found in working at the DA’s office in Salem that legal writing was something I enjoyed. Obviously, when I wrote that I hadn’t actually done any legal writing for awhile. I’ve been working on the current project for the last two weeks. It involves discussion of a variety of constitutional and statutory issues, analysis of a variety of cases, and in the end it numbs my mind in its complexity. Which is not to say I can’t handle it. It just requires focus, and solitude, and my job involves too many people coming into my office to ask questions to provide the quiet that I need.

It didn’t help that, as I took my computer home last night to work on the writing, I had forgotten about an after-work meeting that took up an hour of writing time, then I had dinner with my mother-in-law (lovely chicken and dumplings…scrumptious!), then I had to go home and walk the dog, then “Alias” was on, and then I was too tired to write and decided to go to bed instead. I got to work early today to meet my 5pm deadline, and just e-mailed off my last bit of work-product 15 minutes ago.

And, now, I have 20 minutes to finish preparing my in-service class I’m teaching to the local boys and girls in blue regarding how the courts have changed the legal landscape in the last year and a half. After that, I’ll finally get my lunch break, go give my dog her medicine, and come back to see if my superior has requested any modifications to my work. Which he won’t, because when I apply myself, I’m pretty good.

On a separate tangent, query for my readers: have you used ticketmaster.com to buy tickets for a concert that was sure to sell-out quickly, and if so, did you find it to work better than getting in line at a store? I’m trying to decide how best to address my U2 needs on Saturday. By the way, the infamous Joe may come up for the concert, if he can score tickets, and may bring Brother Danielle with him. That should be a treat.

Anyway, need to go over my outline again before class. Hope you’re focusing better today than I am. Why does it have to be so nice outside?

Catch ya later.

Random time-waster

2005-03-09T12:55:00.000-08:00

U2 is coming!

2005-03-09T12:54:00.000-08:00

So, word is that U2 will, finally, be here in December. Finishing off their world tour, no less.

I must confess to you now, that I am an unmitigated U2 fanatic. I discovered U2 back in 1992, when my dear chum Caleb saw fit to introduce me to their album “Wide Awake in America” during a random roadie we went on. During that previously-described trip, Caleb threw in the tape as the sun came up, playing the song “Bad” (the live version) and proceeding to wail along at the top of his lungs as the music got more and more intense.

The music was intoxicating. Caleb’s singing wasn’t, but we’d been friends long enough that I’d learned to block him out.

Soon after, I started borrowing Caleb’s U2 CD’s and copying them to tape. Eventually, I bought out Caleb’s whole CD collection for $200 (this is an interesting story—Caleb decided that, though CD’s were great, he was going to go back to tape, get CD’s from the library, copy them all, and eventually get over on the system. Of course, not long after he was complaining about how I’d bought his CD’s from him for $1 each and he was now having to deal with fast-forwarding and rewinding again…), which included every U2 CD released up to that point, and I became an unabashed fan.

I was almost tripped up with the advent of “Zooropa”, U2’s foray into techno-pop. However, I found that after scratching my head at the first listening, by the third I was back into it. Same held true for their next album, “Pop”.

I got into U2 just late enough that I missed most of their early concerts. But when the opportunity finally came for me to see them in Oregon (the “Popmart” tour in Eugene, Spring 1997), I jumped at it. I remember sitting way up in the bleachers of Autzen Stadium, looking at the clear, starry sky, and singing along to “With or Without You,” just as every other fan was, and thinking that, at that moment, my life was perfect.

I also remember that JLowe went to the December, 1997 “Popmart” concert in Seattle, that I’d been trying to get to, but hadn’t been able, and called me with his cell phone, leaving a voice-mail of Bono crooning undecipherably in the background.

The same held true for their “Elevation” tour in 2001. Only, that time, I was indoors, but that had a disco ball shooting stars around the room (sometimes, I was hit, and I became a star for a moment), and so it was almost as nice.

I had heard rumors that U2 was on tour again, but hadn’t really focused in on them. Recently, I feared I’d missed the ticket sales date, and wouldn’t be able to see them this time around. Until Monday, when my friend BT called to advise me that the tour was ending in Portland, in December, and tickets go on sale this weekend.

Joy! Utter joy filled my heart, realizing that I’d probably be able to eek some tickets out, despite a budget that’s rapidly collapsing, thanks to my puppy.

Turns out Ollie has mites, so I had to spring for a dip yesterday, and some more antibiotics for her almost-gone runny nose, and I feared that, at that point, I’d be relegated to hearing others talk about a concert that I never should have missed.

But The Missus, who still hasn’t bought me a birthday present, has advised that she’ll spring for my ticket. And so, Saturday, I’m going to be bad and skip out on the first part of my church’s “Work Day” (our annual tradition, which I’ve never attended, where we do touch-up painting, clean stuff, work on the plants outside, etc.), and drive to an undisclosed location where I’ve determined I’ll be less likely to be stuck in a long line, and more likely to get tickets for me and JLowe.

Now, in recognition of my upcoming joy, I will go back to work, listening to U2 on my MP3 player all afternoon. And dreaming of that night in December when, again, everything will be just right.

Catch ya later.

P.S.: I applied for, and have been accepted as, a writer for the Portland Metroblog, which I should start working on later this week or next week. My posts there should be less about me and more about the city I live in and love. Feel free to check it out. As I told them, I'm not really that opinionated (at least, not publicly), but do have interesting perspectives on things, and I hope that my posts over there will at least be interesting.

More, as promised

2005-03-07T07:21:00.000-08:00

Pictures of Ollie, my dog.

Also, pictures of our visit to Multnomah Falls yesterday. Me, The Missus (in khaki's), JLowe, Lady Lowe, and JLowe's pugs, Lucy (the one my wife is walking) and Ginger.

Catch ya later.

Busy day

2005-03-05T12:06:00.000-08:00

Currently cleaning the house for tonights "The Missus and Lady Lowe's Official B-Day Slumber Party."

So, I shouldn't really be taking any time away for this.

But, I just wanted everyone to know that I'm also spending some time taking puppy pictures. Hope to have them up by Monday.

Catch ya later.

Hannah's Daily E-mail

2005-03-04T16:45:00.000-08:00

Hannah (link at right) is a friend from waaaaay back in the day. She has a blog, but doesn't do much with it. Instead, she just e-mails me stuff which I keep foolishly adding to my blog.

I was about to log out of my computer, and received the following e-mail. Darn it, Hannah! I gots to go!

Anyway, behold the Wisdom of Will Rogers.

Will Rogers, who died in a plane crash with Wylie Post in 1935, was probably the greatest political sage this country has ever known.

Enjoy the following:

1. Never slap a man who's chewing tobacco.
2. Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.
3. There are 2 theories to arguing with a woman...neither works.
4. Never miss a good chance to shut up.
5. Always drink upstream from the herd.
6. If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.
7. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it and put it back in your pocket.
8. There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves.
9. Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.
10. If you're riding' ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it's still there.
11. Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back.
12. After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The moral: When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut.
ABOUT GROWING OLDER...
First ~ Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.
Second ~ The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.
Third ~ Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me, I want people to know "why" I look this way. I've traveled a long way and some of the roads weren't paved.
Fourth ~ When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth, think of Algebra.
Fifth ~ You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.
Sixth ~ I don't know how I got over the hill without getting to the top.
Seventh ~ One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it is such a nice change from being young.
Eighth ~ One must wait until evening to see how splendid the day has been.
Ninth ~ Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.
Tenth ~ Long ago when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today it's called golf.
And finally ~ If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you are old."

Following Mak's lead

2005-03-04T16:34:00.000-08:00

Been a long week, and it's too nice out to stay here, so I'm heading home (actually, I looked and it's not that nice out, but it was at lunch so I have faith in the future, and besides I haven't hung with The Missus enough this week).

First though, this from Mak's blog (link to right). Hey, Mak, thanks for the link!

You Are 70% Extrovert, 30% Introvert

You are quite outgoing

You are a social connector - you know a ton of people

While you aren't a wild extrovert, you are a great talker

A fantastic storyteller, you keep everyone laughing

Are You An Extrovert or An Introvert?

Shotgun approach

2005-03-04T12:29:00.000-08:00

So, the other day I listed a bunch of potential blog topics. As the days pass, these are less fresh and exciting to me (but, sadly, I’ve thought of nothing else to blog on) so, today, I will hit a bunch of them in one broad swoop.

Jury Duty
As I’ve mentioned, I’m an attorney in Portland. As a Multnomah County citizen, I am assured of a few things. Taxes. Vicissitudes in government. One other is that every two years or so, with remarkable regularity, I will be called for jury duty (my wife has only been called once in her life; I’ve been called twice in the last 3 years). And, as an attorney, I will never, ever get to sit on any jury.

Anyway, another colossal waste of a day was had on Thursday, as I went downtown to serve time in the jury room. Last time I went, I took a backpack full of things to read and ended up bored out of my mind. This time, knowing that boredom was inevitable, I decided against the heavy bag and instead just took a newspaper, a pen, and my MP3 player (to protect me from conversation).

After the initially entertaining experience of hearing one of our local judges give a pre-packaged speech on how great it was that we were here today to take an active role in the judicial system, I got the added thrill of hearing the Sheriff’s Office Captain who oversees Courthouse Security give his speech on courthouse safety and all the things you can, and can’t, bring in (I love the part about not going out during lunch, buying a bunch of booze, and trying to bring it in with you). Then the sitting began.

At least the courthouse is springing for cushy chairs. Slowly, but surely, the old plastic seats are giving away to more comforting places to rest your keister as you fight off sleep.

To my right, a seventh grade teacher sat trying to make conversation with anyone who would listen. I was honestly trying not to, but she was louder than my music, so I heard her talk about school, kids, programs, budget cuts, and being from Vermont (as a side note, when I heard her say she was from Vermont, I automatically assumed she was gay. This may be wrong of me, but I felt vindicated when the lady she was talking to mentioned she knew a nice, single young man and the teacher rebutted with at “Thanks, but I like women”).

To my left, a quiet lady with too much perfume.

On my lap, a crossword puzzle which was far too hard, and a jumble which took 45 seconds.

After two hours, the lady to my left asked me where there was good coffee. I directed her to JLowe’s coffee empire, City Coffee, and then when she decided I was a willing participant she chatted me up for 45 minutes until, thankfully, I was called to a jury.

As I made my way upstairs, I looked at the people on the elevator, heading to the courtroom with me, and wondered how long I would have to be with them.

We went to the seventh floor, the courtroom of Jan Wyers. Based on the number of jurors called, I assumed this would be a misdemeanor criminal case. I was wrong. I didn’t recognize any of the attorneys in the room, so I knew at that point that it was a civil case. Further, there were two attorneys on one side of the table, so it was one person suing at least two other parties.

We sat down, and the lady next to me said “when they said Jan Wyers, I was assuming the judge was a woman.” “He’s Dutch,” I replied. “Oh. Actually, I think I know a guy named Jan.” God, would this day ever end?

So, we sat in the courtroom, and were instantly sent to the cramped jury room for 15 minutes as the attorneys took a morning recess. At that point, after listening to some of the opinionated opiners opining back and forth, I realized I really, really didn’t want to be here today.

After court resumed, the attorneys began the process of voir dire, or jury selection. First, the judge seated us in order (I was relieved to see that I was the last person, and after doing some mental math, realized it was an impossibility that I would be called; the poor girl next to me might not be so lucky, though, and she obviously hated this more than me). The judge then asked us to answer a standard list of questions.

I’ve appeared before Wyers several times, but not in the past year or two. So I don’t know whether or not I should have been so offended when he butchered my hard-to-pronounce, but very distinctive last name. Or by how shocked he looked when I mentioned that I occupied my time working as a local attorney, who did make appearances in court. I did feel a tad put-off, though. But whatever.

The voir dire was awful. Voir dire is a time for attorneys to educate jurors about concepts surrounding their case, and to engage jurors in a dialogue about how they feel about those concepts. It’s a feeling-out period, and also your only real chance to really connect with the people potentially deciding the case. These attorneys were hideous at it. They all looked uncomfortable, they all asked general questions, and all were generally afraid of a real dialogue with anyone.

After voir dire, I sat in the jury room next to the poor girl from next to me in the courtroom, who I’d caught rolling her eyes and quietly, but audibly, pondering some of the dumber points raised by the attorneys. We sat away from the bulk of the jurors, who were all engaged in some vapid conversation. The girl ended up being a state employee. Another state employee hovered our direction, and we ended up talking about the PERS retirement system. Really, this was boring.

I also told the guy state employee that he should get comfortable, because I was fairly certain he’d be on the jury. I explained that I’d picked out three likely candidates for getting booted (only one of which I was right on), and that he was a mathematical certainty to be seated as a juror. I told the girl that she was safe, as was I. After too many minutes, me and the girl were excused, and the poor guy was, indeed, picked for the jury.

At that point I got to go home. It was 3pm, and sunny, and me and the dog had a nice, long walk.

Man, I hate jury duty. Of course, I’ll be blogging about it again in about 800 days. See you then.

Joe D’s Cold?
Joe had a cold when he came to town. He claimed that he’d received it from his “Brother” Danielle (actually his girlfriend, this is an in-joke which I can’t possibly explain). My dog also has some sort of cold or something. Between the two of them, they’ve left me infested with some sort of early-spring illness.

That wasn’t nearly as interesting as I contemplated it being. Oh, well…

Too much beer and Sunny weather
While Joe was in town, on Friday, we decided it was too nice a day out to waste, but also that we were too lazy to do anything special. So, I went to Safeway and picked Joe up some Alleve Cold & Sinus (the stuff does wonders) and, while I was at it, grabbed an 18 back of Coors Light tall-boys.

You should know that the beer was intended to last awhile. I got back to my place and Joe and I took the dog out back, where she played in the yard as we sat and shot the breeze under the nice, warm sunny sky. We drank some beer and ate some potato chips. Before long, we’d downed four beers a piece, and we’d be needing to go to dinner soon. We headed out with the idea of seeing a movie at the Laurelhurst Theater and Pub, where you can enjoy Pizzicato and drink suds (we would’ve headed to McMenamins, but their movies didn’t interest Joe). When Joe, JLowe, Lady Lowe and I (The Missus was feeling ill from some bad Baja Fresh), the theater was full. So, to Plan B. We drove out to Beaverton to Joe’s favorite restaurant, Noodles.

There, I had two beers (Bud Light).

Then, we went back home and decided to play video games late into the night. We also decided to drink more beer. The result? At 2am, we were up playing MVP Baseball 2005 and, sadly, realized we'd gone through the whole 18 pack. We realized that we were both not really fit to play baseball anymore, and we both retired to our respective rooms. The next day, Joe wasn't so happy. He's since rebuked me for subjecting him to such cheap beer.

Whatever. The best part of the weekend was the sunshine. I actually got to wear my shorts for the first time since my Mexico vacation, and in February that's a great, great thing.

Sushi night
Anyway, Sunday Joe finally left. Thank God. Just kidding.

After we dropped him off at the airport, we prepared for dinner. What to eat? Well, it was my birthday Sunday (31st, if you care to know), so for dinner we had Sushi at Yoko's (link to the right in my Finest Foods section). We invited several people from work, but only Hozay took me up on it (which ended up being just fine, because the place is small-ish).

What did we have? Some of the most delightful sushi I've ever had. And sake, at Hozay's behest, and also Kirin. Between the sake and the Kirin (which I've discussed in the past), we ended up racking up quite a bill, which I never saw because Hozay swooped in at the last minute and demanded to pay. Despite our protestations, he shelled out a pretty penny (my wife says she spied the bill and he hit triple digits), which was too kind, and very appreciated.

After, Hozay came over and met Ollie, and found out what anyone who's seen her picture already knows--she's an awesome puppy.

By the way, she made it through all day yesterday, last night, and this morning without pooping in the house. Is it possible we've turned the corner? Or have I just jinxed myself?

So, there's my shotgun blog. Don't know if I'll get back this weekend, but if I don't, rest assured I'll think of something more interesting than this drivel to cover. Until then,

Catch ya later.

Harold & Kumar (aka Mea Culpa, Joe)

2005-03-03T12:15:00.000-08:00

So, as I announced last week, Joe came up to visit. Joe is many things, but a trustworthy movie critic is not one of them (note: some would say the same of me; I loved The Anchorman, but most people I’ve forced to watch it didn’t think it was nearly as funny as, say, Schindler’s List…)

Back in August, Joe sent me an e-mail declaring Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle to be one of the greatest cinematic triumphs in history. In keeping with my traditional sarcasm, I skewered his opinion on my blog, and it took him until February to actually figure out that he was the friend that sent me the e-mail I blasted.

Once he did figure out that I’d publicly quashed him, he was irate. He sent me a series of e-mails telling me how irresponsible it is for someone to cap on someone’s opinion without researching it. And, I think, he was serious.

“Fine,” I said, “bring Harold & Kumar with you when you come visit, and if I like it, I’ll apologize to you publicly.”

Joe, of course, waited with eager anticipation for me to eat crow. He flew up last Thursday, but already before that we had planned around H&K, making it the center of Saturday night’s activities.

So, the night came, and we watched.

And I liked it.

In the theatrical trailers, all I could see was that the movie involved two non-white guys trying to go to White Castle and get in hijinx along the way. Didn’t seem very compelling.

But little did I know about the underlying drug use in the film. Face it, whenever you get people using drugs, funny things happen. Just look at Dazed & Confused, History of the World Part I (remember “Mighty Joint”?), and Dude, Where’s My Car (which was stupid, but in a good way). In H&K, our heroes get baked, and decide to trek to the nearest White Castle to satisfy their chronic-induced munchies. With the combination of a search for a sacred item and antics surrounding getting ripped and trying to get ripped some more, how could you go wrong?

Not to say that it was the theatrical triumph that Joe described. But it was pretty good.

Maybe I should give you a scale to discern what “pretty good” means to me. Given my love of The Anchorman, and the public’s disdain for my love of it, a scale to gauge my tastes is fair to inform you of what my opinion’s worth.

Freakin’ Hilarious: Monty Python’s Holy Grail; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off; Napoleon Dynamite

Very Good: The Sandler Trilogy (Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore, and Mr. Deeds); The Anchorman; Animal House; Elf; The Focker films (Meet the Parents and Meet the Fockers); Tommy Boy; Dumb & Dumber; National Lampoon’s Vacation; American Pie; The Jerk; The Kevin Smith Trilogy (Clerks, Mallrats, and Jay & Silent Bob)

Good: Van Wilder; Dodgeball; Weird Science; The Blues Brothers; Bruce Almighty; Old School (borders on Very Good); National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation; The Grumpy Old Men movies; The Big Lebowski; Sixteen Candles

Pretty Good: The Sandler Also-rans (The Waterboy, The Wedding Singer, Anger Management); PCU; Zoolander; EuroTrip; Road Trip; American Pie II; Foul Play; Intolerable Cruelty; Not Another Teen Movie; Scary Movie; The Breakfast Club

Not-so Good: Starsky & Hutch; Black Sheep (aka Farley and Spade try to do it again); Beetlejuice; American Wedding; Major Payne; Chasing Amy; Scary Movie 2; Can't Hardly Wait

Sucked: The Sandler lapses (Going Overboard, Little Nicky; Bullet Proof); The Goldberg debacles (aka Sister Acts I & II); National Lampoon’s European Vacation; All Cannonball Run films and most of the Smokey and the Bandit ones.

So, Joe, my apologies. H&K was a good movie.

Hannah’s Joke o’ the Day
I’m trying to get Hannah to take ownership over her funny e-mail jokes by posting them, but she hasn’t yet, and I thought this was too funny to pass up.

In Pharmacology, all drugs have two names, a trade name and generic name. For example, the trade name of Tylenol also has a generic name of Acetaminophen. Aleve is also called Naproxen. Amoxil is also called Amoxicillin and Advil is also called Ibuprofen. The FDA has been looking for a generic name for Viagra. After carefulc onsideration by a team of government experts, it recently announced that it has settled on the generic name of Mycoxafloppin. Also considered were Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin, Dixafix, and of course, Ibepokin. Pfizer Corp. announced today that VIAGRA will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of "cocktails", "highballs" and just a good old-fashioned "stiff drink." Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: "MOUNT & DO."

Catch ya later.

Frustrating times

2005-03-02T12:48:00.000-08:00

I’m coming to the unwelcome realization that my normal blogging hours (in the evening) are no longer mine. When I try to get up early to blog, that time is no longer mine, either. Those are frustrating times.

My puppy, Ollie, is claiming my life. Which is fine. I knew, going in, that a puppy would be an attention whore and would crave company constantly for the first few months. I just didn’t think through how it would impact my favorite non-video game, non-hanging w/ wife, non-going out pastime.

Traditionally, I blog at night in part because my wife sometimes has to get up really early, and likes to fall asleep before I come to bed on those nights because I apparently am too fidgety and breathe too loud for her to fall asleep in my presence. So, I end up killing time on the blog.

But, now, there’s Ollie. Let me describe my day to you, in this new era.

6 am: Wake up to use the bathroom (or wake up because my wife wants me to keep the dog from bothering her while she’s getting ready for work).

6:03 am: Get done using the restroom, ponder the sniffing noises I’m hearing below the bathroom door, drink two large glasses of water, take my morning medicines, and put on my tennis shoes.

6:04 am: Walk my dog to the back yard, where I stand in my t-shirt and boxers (not caring who may see me) begging my dog to go potty.

6:12 am: After my dog has gone number 1 at least twice, and stubbornly refused to go number 2, I take her back in.

6:30 am: Realizing my dog is hyper and will not leave me in peace, I put on whatever pair of jeans she put paw prints all over yesterday (it was better when there wasn’t the raining going on) and take her for a 20 minute walk through the neighborhood.

6:50 am: Go to computer to blog. Dog follows me. I try to get her to lay on the guest bed, but she sees her reflection in the mirror and decides to bark at it or go and jump on the mirror.

6:51 am: Can’t blog. Take dog to basement (where our TV is).

Now, on this point: There is one place I know my dog will settle down. That’s on our couch, at least partially seated on my lap (or at least with her head resting on it) while I sit really, really still hoping she will stay this sweet and peaceful all day.

7:20 am: Finish playing video game or watching news or whatever I’m doing to kill time and go take a shower. With the fan on, I can’t hear the sniffing under the door.

7:30 am: One last bit of begging to go potty. Somewhere in the above timeline (it’s flexible) she’s been fed, so I know she’s got something in there, but in the mornings she can be stubborn, and I eventually have to accept my sad fate: lunchtime messes.

8 am: Squeak into the office barely on time. Commence day. Plan to blog over lunch hour, in lieu of my old life.

11:45-noon: Head home for lunch. Give dog her medicine (she’s still got the runny nose, so she gets “pilled” 3 times a day), clean up whatever gifts she’s left for me, and make her pee. Grab something out of fridge and get out quickly, so that I might have 15 minutes or so to write when I get back to work.

1 pm: Resume work, hopefully having successfully posted something.

5 pm: Assuming it’s a normal day (which today isn’t), head home. Otherwise go to whatever after-work meeting I have scheduled.

6:30 pm: Take dog for walk with The Missus.

7 pm: Dinner time, for puppy and for us.

8 pm: Consult my TV guide. If none of my shows are on, we’re probably renting a movie, or catching up on shows we’ve had to tape.

10 pm: The Missus goes to bed. I go to tuck her in, then sit with the puppy on the couch, giving my wife time to go to sleep, and pondering whether I can get a blog done.

10:05 pm: Fall asleep on couch, as trying to keep really, really still can tend to get boring.

Midnight: Go to bed, after taking dog out once more.

6 am: Rinse and repeat.

And so on.

Anyway, I have a delightful bevy of blog topics I’m planning on writing on. I’m guessing that, for the immediate future, weekday blogs will be posted during the lunch hour. At least for you working stiffs, that helps you economize your time-wasting by knowing where not to go first thing in the morning.

What blog topics do I plan on covering? Well, here’s the e-mail reminder I sent myself while brainstorming the other day:

Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle
Jury Duty
Joe D's cold
Puppy training
The end of Angel
Sushi night
Too much beer
Sunny weather

I think we’ve covered the puppy training, to some extent, so tomorrow I might move on to H&K, about which I owe Joe D a post.

Catch ya later.

Quick lunch post

2005-03-01T12:55:00.000-08:00

Since I had to come home for lunch to give my puppy her antibiotics and clean up a little mess she made, thought I'd give you a couple quick links and a joke, all courtesy of my friend Hannah.

Here is a funny video of a white boy who thinks he can dance. May want to turn your speakers down a bit.

Here is a slideshow of some amazing pictures taken by the Hubble Telescope. Has music to inspire you.

And, finally, the joke:

A timeless lesson on how consultants can make a difference for an organization
Last week, we took some friends out to a new restaurant, and noticed that the waiter who took our order carried a spoon in his shirt pocket. It seemed a little strange. When the busboy brought our water and utensils, I noticed he also had a spoon in his shirt pocket. Then I looked around and saw that all the staff had spoons in their pockets.

When the waiter came back to serve our soup I asked, "Why the spoon?"

"Well," he explained, "the restaurant's owners hired Andersen Consulting to revamp all our processes. After several months of analysis, they concluded that the spoon was the most frequently dropped utensil. It represents a drop frequency of approximately 3 spoons per table per hour. If our personnel are better prepared, we can reduce the number of trips back to the kitchen and save 15 man-hours per shift." As luck would have it, I dropped my spoon and he was able to replace it with his spare. "I'll get another spoon next time I go to the kitchen instead of making an extra trip to get it right now."

I was impressed. I also noticed that there was a string hanging out ofthe waiter's fly. Looking around, I noticed that all the waiters had the same string hanging from their flies. So before he walked off, I asked the waiter, "Excuse me, but can you tell me why you have that string right there?"

"Oh, certainly!" Then he lowered his voice. "Not everyone is so observant. That consulting firm I mentioned also found out that we can save time in the restroom. By tying this string to the tip of you know what, we can pull it out without touching it and eliminate the need to wash our hands, shortening the time spent in the restroom by 76.39 percent."

"After you get it out, how do you put it back?"

"Well," he whispered, "I don't know about the others, but I use the spoon."

Yeah, it's sick. But it's funny, too.

Back to work. Catch ya later.

Playing some catch up

2005-03-01T07:13:00.000-08:00

Well, I was anyway. Just wrote a whole post, which the computer ate up.

Come back tonight.

Here's a picture of the dog.

Ain't she cute?

Puppy pics are coming!

2005-02-28T07:56:00.000-08:00

I promised, and the Pieman never breaks a promise (assuming he remembers he made it).

I modeled with the puppy for JLowe this weekend, since I still am without a quality digital camera, but he forgot to e-mail me the photos last night (or they were over 10 megs total) and so I don't have them to post yet.

But I'm done entertaining for the weekend, and the dog has finally stopped freaking out when we leave her alone in the living room (the computer is secluded to avoid cable-chewing), so I plan on a thorough blogging tonight.

Until then,

Catch ya later.

FYI

2005-02-22T12:58:00.000-08:00

Got the dog, too busy to blog.

She's cute as a button, though. And the shelter gave me a discount due to the miscommunication on the spaying issue. Thanks to them!

Also, Happy Birthday to The Missus!

Catch ya later!

Picking up the dog Monday

2005-02-20T12:57:00.000-08:00

Unspayed and all.

JLowe and his wife have pointed us to Banfield Pet Hospital, where you can invest in the "Puppy Plan" for an initial cost of $99 and then $10/month after that, and the plan includes spaying, follow-ups, all shots for the year, and the cost of check-ups (unless special meds are required, but then you get a discount).

Tomorrow, my friends, sweet Olive will be here.

Thursday, Joe's coming back to visit for The Missus and my birthdays. Should be fun for us, but a slow week for writing.

Will post a picture of the dog ASAP.

Catch ya later.

(p.s. Mak, thanks for the link to the humane society...)

Minor hitch...

2005-02-18T20:43:00.000-08:00

So, in our eager anticipation, we went to Petco and spent $200+ on new pet stuff, ready to scoop up our dog (to be named Olive) tomorrow.

Then, after the shelter closed today, I got this e-mail:

"Do you know that she has to be fixed. If you want to take her home tomorrow you will have to fill out a Mandatory Spay/Neuter Agreement and then have her spayed at your vet at your own expense. If not she can be picked up on Monday or Tuesday at our Vet. You will need to speak to Cindy Woods when you arrive at the shelter."

Which wouldn't be so bad, but it costs about $200 to spay a dog, and we just found out that Uncle Sam will be claiming (perhaps) more than his pound of flesh this year.

This, of course, pisses me off immensely, as I've spent the whole week trying to secure our dog, and spoke to Mr. Merry at the pound today, and he didn't mention any of this foolishness.

So, this may or may not happen. Here's the official Pieman's response:

"Mr. Merry,

I'm disappointed that you've waited until after business hours to advise me that the dog is not yet spayed, especially as I've kept you advised throughout the week that, if the dog was available, I would be happy to come get her on Saturday.

My wife and I just spent over $200 on new pet supplies on the assumption that we would be getting Dobi tomorrow. Your website gives the following prices:

"ADOPTING A FRIEND
Our adoption fees are:

Unaltered Puppy: $80.00 (Includes spay/neuter surgery)
Unaltered Dog: $70.00 (Includes spay/neuter surgery)
Unaltered Cat: $65.00 (Includes spay/neuter surgery)
Altered Dog: $50.00
Altered Cat: $30.00"

This indicates to the interested party that the spaying and/or neutering is already done.

I want Dobi, but at this point the only way I can get her is if you can promise to have her available Monday, as I have that day off. If the vet cannot accomodate the spaying by Monday, we cannot adopt her unless you could hold her until the following weekend (which you've already indicated is against policy).

Please call me tomorrow at (503) 657-5309 [not my real number, of courese] so we can discuss this matter.

Thanks.

The Pieman"

Grr. So, let's hope this still works out for a (delayed) roadie. More prayers, please...