2013 Movies

There has never been a year like this before. I thought I watched a lot of movies last year, but this was the year when I had a heap of spare time, lived close to the library, and had no commute. The movies came fast and furious (though not 2Fast2Furious. Ah, movie jokes.) Only four were in theaters (no wonder it now costs nine dollars+ for a ticket), and three others were in outdoor venues. Twenty-two were my second (or more) viewings.

Without further ado,

1. Liberal Arts
2. Looper
3. Back to the Future (re-watch)
4. Premium Rush
5. Because I Said So
6. Back to the Future II (re-watch)
7. Source Code (re-watch)
8. Kansas City Bomber
9. Kissing Jessica Stein (re-watch)
10. To Rome with Love
11. The Watch
12. Trouble with the Curve
13. The Campaign
14. Bonsai
15. Magic Mike
16. Here Comes the Boom
17.  The Words
18. True Grit
19. Whip it (re-watch)
20. When in Rome
21. Rock of Ages
22. Stay Cool
23. Here's the Kicker
24. One for the Money
25. Lincoln
26. Adventureland (re-watch)
27. Taken 2
28. Atlas Shrugged Part II
29. The Great Gatsby (theater)
30. Anna Karenina
31. Humble Pie
32. Safety Not Guaranteed (re-watch)
33. This is 40
34. War Horse
35. Bernie
36. Toast
37. Bend it like Beckham (re-watch)
38. Grease (sing-along)
39. A little help
40. Silver Linings Playbook
41. Take Me Home
42. Playing for Keeps
43. Atlas Shrugged Part I
44. Unstoppable
45. Post Grad
46. Brave
47. The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
48. Argo
49. The Intouchables
50. Robot & Frank
51.  The Incredible Burt Wonderstone
52. The Bourne Legacy
53. New Year's Eve
54. The Mighty Macs
55. Hyde Park on Hudson
56. Ted
57. Hunger Games (re-watch)
58. Now You See it (theater)
59. Moonrise Kingdom
60. Pitch Perfect
61. Broken City
62. The Odd Life of Timothy Green
63. Sneakers (re-watch)
64. Man on a Ledge
65. Identity Thief
66. The Guilt Trip
67. Maverick (in the square)
68. Exporting Raymond
69. Spiderman (in the square)
70. The Cup
71. Jack Reacher
72. The Goonies (re-watch)
73. Flypaper
74. Admissions
75. Flight
76. For a Good Time Call
77. The Red Wagon
78. The Oranges
79. The Sitter
80. The Sessions
81. Cloud Atlas
82. Star Trek: Into Darkness
83. 42
84. Oblivion
85. Interviews with Terrible Men (half-watched, half-ignored)
86. Lifeguard
87. Sex and the City 2
88. Country Strong
89. Sleepwalk with me
90. Your sister's sister
91. This is the end
92. Inception (re-watch)
93. Couples Retreat
94. Super
95. Hitchcock
96. Warren Miller's Ticket to Ride
97. Decoy Bride
98. Batman: The Dark Knight Rises (re-watch)
99. We're the Millers
100. Reality of Love
101. The Grifters
102. The Best and the Brightest
103. MIB3
104. Love Actually (per tradition)
105. Paychcck
106. Hunger Games 2 (theater)
107. Damsels in Distress
108. Gangster Squad
109. Sliding Doors (re-watch)
110. It's a wonderful life (re-watch)
111. Save the Date
112. Home Alone (re-watch)

It's a wonderful life?

It's a wonderful life is a Christmas tradition that just snuck up on me. It's always on network tv right around Christmas and by now I've seen it so many times that I don't think anybody has to watch the whole thing. I can't say when I last watched it from start to finish. I thought last year, but C doubts it. I seem to recall a couple Christmas Eve's curled up on the couch with the faux-fire going and George Bailey trying to get it all figured out. I think I tuned out before I finished those up. I might not have watched It's a wonderful life all the way through since I watched it on KSHB TV-41. That's been a while.

Why tonight? The presents are packed around the tree. I've been here all day, all week, all month, trying to get it figured out. I don't have George's worries, but there's a heaviness, a sense that I need to get out in the world. All that called to me, so I watched. The broadcast was packed with commercials which is pretty funny when I think about it. Aren't commercials pushing Potter's vision?

I sat through it all and it got to me. There was George at 27 being offered a job by Potter. I could see the dollar signs in his eyes before his principles seized him again and he walked out. There was George with a family and the stress of losing all that money. I felt for the guy. I related in a way I've never really related before. Life is piling up moment after moment and plans get moved and forgotten.

So when George had his epiphany, I teared up. I wasn't ready to let go and cry, but I wasn't too far from it. The people matter and it's time to be with the people.

2014 is coming. There's things to be thankful for and things to be done.

It's a wonderful life.

Positive Vibes shooting from my fingertips

Winter league Ultimate started last night. The performance of my creaky body and a brand new drafted together team have taken a back seat to another thought.

There are many things that I miss about coaching at CUA, but one more than I realized. I knew I missed the people, and the Ultimate, but until last night I hadn't realized how much I missed the positive vibes. During the school year, I was twice weekly psyching myself up to be a positive force. Most of the time, that was not a daunting task. Watching and helping people learn Ultimate is a joyous activity, but it still required that I be present and aware.

When I'm playing, I want to be positive, but I get wrapped up in my self. Coaching, I was wrapped up in everybody else. It turns out that was glorious. I was focused on the good. Oh, sure I was sometimes focused on the drops and the distractions and all the rest, but my mind was churning and I was searching for the things I could compliment and cheer for.

How great is that? Two or even three times a week, I was finding things to cheer for. 

I need to do more of that. It might cheer me up.

18:53 for a 5k

If I had to put a percentage on it, I'd say I was seventy-five percent just happy to be outside running and twenty-five percent, come on, man.

I knew when we lined up at the starting line that it was probably going to be about a four-man race. People were avoiding the front like it was the firing line. I didn't really feel like I was in shape to win. My feet have been hurting a lot lately, especially since the broken sesamoid and the exercise hasn't really been a priority. All of that and I was a little antsy without my watch. At go, the wire-to-wire leader bolted out front and I tucked in behind him. I felt good, like the pace was in my comfort zone, and he kept checking his watch. It seemed to be more of a nervous tic than anything else, but maybe it was helping him with pace. I hoped it meant he was beatable.

It didn't.

I hung on his shoulder for about 600 meters and then I couldn't hang anymore. It didn't feel like he was pulling away, but his breathing was silent and mine was panting. I knew things weren't going great when the mile took ages to arrive. I tried not to let him run away from me too much, but 15 seconds became 20 and then the twists and turns of the course took him farther and farther out of my vision.

Third and fourth place were about as far back from me as I was from the leader. When I hit the two-mile mark and thought, "I could be done now," I started to wonder how this 5k was going to end.

I tried to press on. I glanced back a few times and watched as fourth moved past third and wondered if he was on his way to get me. I looked forward and did my best to make sure that wouldn't happen.

The final stretch was a climb and after an initial surge, I wilted a bit, but then in the last 150 meters, I willed myself to finish strong. The leader was about a minute and a half ahead and third was out of view and just under a minute behind, but I finished fighting off imaginary opponents.

I broke 19 minutes and am not all together surprised, but I sure would like to get in a few more runs and start moving the clock in the other direction. It doesn't work that way for age, but it can work that way for races, can't it?

8/31/13 and 9/1/13+- West Van and other Vans

Saturday was spent in a drive to Vancouver that wouldn't seem to end. The border crossing took 45 minutes and the border patrol agent wanted to know why I hesitated at his question of whether anyone in the car had been arrested. I wasn't sure no one had. I don't enjoy border crossings much.

Vancouver traffic seemed bad as we made our way to West Vancouver (fondly called West Van by some t-shirt that I saw) and our gorgeous accommodations next door (possibly?) to Elvis Costello. We had drinks at Tuc where we met Matt and Sharyn coming home from their Alaskan cruise. It was fun to see them again so soon and swap stories from our trips. Matt joined us for sushi and then we set off in search of another round of drinks. West Van was practically shut down. We finally located a tap room and they were slammed after a nearby concert had just concluded. The hostess was very apologetic, but for drinks the speed of service was a-ok. I very much did not enjoy my Backhand of God stout.

9/1- Kirsten and I went out to collect breakfast supplies while the West Van crew slept. Bri would not call this "sleeping in" but at least she got a fine dose of Kirsten's breakfast burrito when she did rise. We headed into Vancouver, rented two tandems and a city bike and rode around Stanley Park. It was a nice counter-clockwise ride, but rather crowded. We did manage to stop at Vancouver's most visited tourist attraction, the totem poles (according to Daimon). After we turned in our bikes, we had a picnic in Stanley Park or at least at its edges. From there we headed back into the synergy of Vancouver.

Vancouver did have an interesting mix of industry, nature, and cosmopolitan city feel, but it didn't seem to capture our imagination and hearts the way it had for Carlton when he told us about it at the Sylvia Beach Hotel. That didn't stop us from repeating "synergy" all around "the couv". (Nobody calls it that as far as I know.) We hit the shops in a market on Granville Island. They were unique, but we weren't in a buying mood. I spotted in a keychain at one store advertising a neon sign exhibit at the MOV (Museum of Vancouver). We headed there next. It was tough to find, but 45 minutes before closing time, Clare and I took in interesting exhibits on neon signs, street photographers, and sex while the others napped outside.

The neon signs exhibit was all I'd hoped it would be, detailing the fight to keep Vancouver beautiful in 1974 and the tidbit that neon signs in Vancouver were maintained by the city (not the business) and so there were many well-preserved signs in the museum.

The best part of the sex exhibit was what wasn't there. In a glass case of vibrators spanning the decades, the 70s and 80s were missing. The sign said that like toy museums, relics from that era are hard to come by (no pun intended) because of the prevalent use of cheap plastics.

The Foncie exhibit on street photographers was an interesting slice of history. In a time before many personal cameras, Foncie was taking millions of candid photos and selling them to people on the streets. The exhibit said that for some people, this was their only photograph. The styles and smiles through the years were telling and amusing.

From the MOV, we headed to Chinatown for dim sum and bakery goods. The coconut bun melted in mouths and vaulted to the culinary (and even perhaps trip) highlight reels. We had a beer in Yaletown at either The Hooker Green or the New Oxford and closed down the night with a gelato. I think Daimon won this round of food vs. exercise, but when my foot is healthy, I hope to return and strike a blow in my favor.

9/2- The border crossing took seconds in the early morning and we had time for a cup of coffee at Fuel after dropping D & K off. From there, it's been airport adventure all the way. From La Bufadora to West Van- that's a long trip, but a good one.

8/29/13 and 8/30/13- Never say die!

P.Y. Post Yurt- We headed to nearby Astoria and popped by the Goonies house. The owner was in the yard and it was all kinds of awkward. We left quickly and went to the jailhouse from the opening scene which also houses the Oregon Film Museum. The OFM consists of some jail history, an incomplete list of films made in Oregon and a jail cell full of Goonies memorabilia. The highlight of the film museum was the opportunity to film five one minute movies with green screens. Our films included a scene from The Shining, a scene from Saved By The Bell, and an original commercial about yurts. In six weeks, we'll see how successful we were, but the takes and our memories were good.

We had lunch at the Wet Dog Cafe and then set our course for the World's Largest Frying Pan in Long Beach, Washington. It should have been an omen when we had to ask for directions a curiousity shop called Marshes'. They directed us across the street where we found what some are calling "the world's biggest disappointment." I think that's over stating it, but can't think of anything other than lunch in Sausalito that was more disappointing on this trip. It wasn't even a real frying pan! For shame. We drove on a while to Olympia, home of Clare's aunt and uncle. They treated us to an evening of delicious food and entertaining stories. Clare's Uncle John is a character, a man one can imagine takes no guff and wouldn't mind wrestling alligators. His stories whether about hunting or not, all seemed to concern animals. Clare and Bri both enjoyed the salmon he had caught the day before. Julie's lemon bars and strawberry rhubarb cobbler were only equaled by the quinoa salad she made for dinner. It was a good stop and we enjoyed the backyard views of the sound.

8/30- From Uncle John's we made our way to Daimon and Kirsten's in Seattle by 11 AM. We took Daimon's tour of Seattle including stops at Paseo for the "best sandwiches in town" (good and sloppy), the locks to watch a few salmon swimming up stream, the Fremont Troll (at our request) to see the sort of creatures that guard Seattle's bridges, a few great view points in the city, and to the Ballard neighborhood. There we made another Oprah Winfrey endorsed stop at Hot Cakes and indulged in molten lava cake. Daimon questioned the use of the term cake for the gooey chocolatey decadent treats.

After Ballard, we made our way to the University of Washington campus where we rented boats under the shadow of UW stadium and set sail (or paddled) for the rich homes of Seattle, the highways, and a glimpse of Mt. Rainer. The canoeing was quite a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. We rewarded ourselves with dinner at Skillet where I stuffed my face with a grilled cheese and a strawberry rhubarb shake. This was after a stop at a great dive bar called the Unicorn. I enjoyed two Deathly Porters and some deep fried snacks. No wonder my stomach hurts.

8/28/13- In 2 parts

Morning- Goodbye Hemingway writing desk and Sylvia Beach hotel with your rooms full of kindred reading spirits. I'd like to escape the soft bed, but your floor was serviceable. I'd like to run from the smell of my boot, but it follows me like another traveling companion. I tried Bri's Febreze, but as another breeze blows through my toes, the noxious odor wafts into my nose. There's no escaping it; I can't write my way out of this one. I'll have to live with the smell or check the foot- ba-BA- BAAAA 

Evening- The smell lives on as the day draws to a close. It did not abate at the delicious breakfast of pancakes, sausage and a collection of cakes. It did not abate in the walk to and through the industrial looking bayfront district. It didn't even abate in the car on the way to Otis. Actually, there it mingled with the dirty clothes and not-quite-dry tents to give our little Kia that lived in high school locker room smell. We stopped at the Devil's Punch Bowl, but he wasn't serving, so we had another walk on the beach and photo shoot. That's kind of our thing.

At Otis, we stopped at a diner of the same name. The was out the door, but we didn't wait long. The food was good. I had a Mexican omelette (2nd breakfast!) and hash browns. The homemade bread toast was amazing. I savored both slices, one of molasses bread and one of whole wheat. They were so good that later when I found crumbs in my teeth, I rejoiced a little bit because I had the chance to savor a little more.

The Tillamook cheese factory was a treat of conveyor belts, cheese, and ice cream. They have a million visitors and so were well prepared to serve us. I had a Tillamook Mudslide milkshake and enjoyed watching the cheese get packaged on the factory floor.

Next we landed in Seaside where the "boardwalk" is a "promenade" and the beat up touristy wares are hawked a street over. We stopped in a Carousel mall and visited a store called "Mostly Hats". The sales associate kindly asked if we were looking for anything. I said, "Hats, mostly." We didn't stay long in Seaside.

Tonight we're living it up in a Yurt. It's like being in a space shuttle with bunk beds. Dinner was cheese (Tillamook!) and crackers and three bottles of Oregon beer. No we're in our bunk bed readying our Yurt for the final frontier of sleep. The countdown won't begin until we've done a little more reading. P.S. It's raining. Point- Yurt.

8/26/13 and 8/27/13- Always north

We woke up late this morning and meandered through the woods marveling at more giants. We were in Eureka, CA soon after noon. We had lunch at the Cafe Nooner and then strolled through the cute downtown. From there we puttered six miles up the road to Arcata where we went to the cash only Cafe Mokka- a coffee shop/spa. Clare and I walked to the bank to get some cash by a route that took us through the town square. Clare said she could live in a place like Arcata, but then we smelled a hippie and she wasn't so sure.

We spent $10 for half an hour of hot tub time. I could see how it might be relaxing, but it was too warm a day to sit in a wooden hot tub, at least for my tastes. To prove my point, I promptly fell asleep when we got back in the car and set on sights on the Mystery Trees. We arrived after closing time, so the mystery remains. It looked a little cheesy, so I'm not sure we missed much in Klamath, CA. We pressed on to Oregon. We had dinner at our camp site in a park outside Brookings. Bri is anxiously stoking the fire, fueled by her success last night and the ever present hope of s'mores. The tension is palpable, or maybe that's the darkness. We'll turn in soon s'mores or no and make our way north again tomorrow.

8/27: I write tonight from the writing desk in the Hemingway room of the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport, Oregon. This seems to be a fantastic place for readers, made better if you're able to enjoy a dinner with those who have a gift of making engaging dinner conversation. I shall return to dinner, but first need to pick up where we left off last night. Bri expended dozens of matches, but eventually prevailed and made fire. We had s'mores and stayed up with the fire well into the starry Oregon night.

We awoke early, but moved slowly. We hiked down to the beach for our morning photoshoot and then drove out to a guidebook recommended vista point. That was also the point that Bri realized she'd forgotten her camera at camp. We turned back and as we pulled up to the campground Clare's phone rang to alert us of the quest we were already on. We collected the camera and headed back to the vista. We'd been promised stone arches, but although the view was lovely and the hike to the water interesting, there was nothing like an arch in view.

We drove on until we reached Coos Bay. There were no traces of Steve Prefontaine, but I hadn't expected any. We ate acceptable Mexican food in Coos Bay just off 101 and then pressed ahead to the Sand Dunes.

Failing to book a dune buggy, we decided to make our third hike of the day West toward the ocean. This one may have been the longest yet. It was no way to enjoy the sand dunes, but ti wasn't a bad way to enjoy the summer sun. We walked a mile out and grumbled a bit. When we finally reached the ocean and tested the water, I decided that such a long walk required a dramatic finish. I stripped down to my BVDs and tentatively dove into the quite cold sea. I felt alive and refreshed. All my cares (both my cares?) were washed away. Clare called it my version of the hot tub experience. We hiked back and arrived in Newport, Oregon a bit after 5:30. We were fortunate to get reservations to dinner. It was a fine dinner, at the Sylvia Beach House Table of Contents Restaurant, but the company at dinner made it truly wonderful. We played two truths and a lie and searched for the thread that tied us all together. We had some wonderful characters at our table and I feel quite inspired to have met them (and quite pleased with the company I keep too).

After dinner, Clare, Bri, and I played the game 10 days in Africa in the third floor library. We now retire to the Hemingway room, while Bri sleeps in the Alice Walker room. This whole place is filled with author-related paraphernalia and wonderful stories. Before dinner I sat on the balcony and read a short story, looking up to see the tide going out. I hate to leave so soon tomorrow. Oregon and this hotel will once again go back on my list of places that I need to spend more time.

8/25/13- From Pygmy to Giant

We woke up a little frustrated with toddler Darren and his family who lacked inside voices, but he did have us up early and on the road quickly. The jetboil was exhausted, but we had plans to hike. We couldn't find the visitor center, so instead chose the scenic "No Parking Anytime" trail to the sea. It actually worked out quite well. We stumbled on "Smooth Rock Beach" and delighted in discoveing starfish, sea anemones and the tubular seaweed. I slipped on a smooth rock, we made a few Planet of the Apes references and carried on unharmed and mildly amused.

We twisted and turned along the coast via iconic highway one, seat dancing and grinding to the sounds of early Britney Spears. Our first stop was Elk where the guide book had promised a "characterful" service station. The building didn't look 112 years old and the characters hadn't shown this Sunday morning. We continued on to the Pygmy Forest where we were enchanted disappointed again. It was intellectually interesting knowing that the 5-foot trees that looked like saplings were 80 to 100 years old, but it was not very visually interesting. It looked like most any shrubbery might. We couldn't even figure out how to take an interesting picture. Clare surmised that the Pygmy Forest might be more interesting on the drive north to south after travelers had already seen the enormous redwoods on the Avenue of the Giants. (It sounded good, but I doubt it.)

We ate lunch on a beach, slightly less post-apocalyptic than the famous NZ beach. The birds weren't quite as predatory either, but they circled our picnic eagerly. The picnic was a success in that we were temporarily sated, but otherwise lacked much charm. We wound along the Pacific Coast and stopped in the small town of Mendocino (nicknamed "Spendocino" according to the guidebook) where we found all the cell service we'd been missing. Everyone placed calls to parents, even me. We stocked up on s'mores supplies, looked at a few shops and pointed the Soul north to Ft. Bragg.

At Ft. Bragg our stop of choice was the Cow Lick. It was another delicious stop. I'd put my black forest ice cream above Smitten. We were also able to obtain more jetboil fuel before our entrance into the Avenue of the Giants. Our first encounter with the giant redwoods was the Drive-Thru tree. Established in 1922, the roadside attraction was well worth the stop. I'm not sure why, but it was thrilling to fold down our mirrors and drive through a tree. It was fun to watch others drive through too.

We cruised on the avenue checking out giants until we arrived at Humboldt Redwoods State Park. We drove over to a grove and tried in the Eel river. Clare and Bri were successful, but between my silly broken sesamoid and the algae, I was more comfortable throwing rocks from the bank.

Back at camp, we successfully started a fire and cooked bratwurst over the flame. Magnifique!  Bri was awarded a found junior ranger button for her efforts. The s'mores were a fine finish and we enjoyed the fire well into the night.

8/24/13- Land's End to Salt Point

The day got off to a slow start. Clare and I ran a few errands. It seems that the remains of the Occupy movement have set up shop at the Berkeley Post Office. Perhaps that's not so surprising. I strolled through the Berkeley farmer's market. These people seemed like farmer's market people.

We hiked at Land's End (after battling obnoxious SF traffic) with Bri, Yelena, and Natalia. The hike had great views of the Golden Gate Bridge and an interesting history as the site of Sutro baths where the 1900s rich-crowd hung out. Bri joined in the Kia Soul rolling adventure and after crossing the bridge for the third time in two days, we were on our excellent way. The first stop was a late lunch at The Shed of Flatbread in Mill Valley. From there we wound past Muir Woods and found highway one. The views were good and the road windy. We arrived to a full (and possibly- yes confirmed- loud) campground at the Salt Point State park. Bri was excited about her camping adventure. We'll see how that excitement holds tomorrow.

8/22/13 and 8/23/13- Yahoo! and Full House

After a slow start and some car re-organization, we cruised the Santa Cruz boardwalk, rode the ferris wheel and split. We had a lunch date on the Yahoo! campus. Chris graciously let us partake in the lunch time chaos of Yahoo!. They give employees free meals and there was a farmer's market going on (as well as soccer and pool games). Clare said they should put in dorms, but Chris didn't seem too keen on that idea. I enjoyed my Indian dish and we were soon on our way to the "granny flat" just outside of Oakland. I wandered up Adeline toward Berkeley while Clare napped in our airbnb accommodations. We had dinner at Build, a fine pizza place that reminded us of Vapiano's (only better). I enjoyed an Organic Chocolate Stout from a local brewery. We walked the streets a bit, shared one shake with two straws at Burger Meister. Clare did not die from cuteness. Tonight, we shower. Tomorrow, San Francisco.

8/23- Clare greeted the morning with the battle cry, "Wake Up, San Francisco!" I asked her what had gotten into her and she informed me that our coming day was inspired by the hit TV show Full House. We considered trying to speak all day long in Full House catch phrases, but a la Joey Gladstone decided to "cut. it. out." instead. We took BART to MUNI, to a street car (not named Desire) to Fisherman's Wharf where we met traveling companion Bri and rented bikes. Clare wanted to ride an orange Public brand bike, so Bri and I rented a tandem.

The first hill proved a challenge as our chain came off three times. Fortunately, from there it was relatively smooth sailing. We headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge with hundreds of others. We stopped briefly and considered spending an hour bouncing on trampolines. Instead, we bounced on to the bridge with the masses. It was a little tight in places, but Bri and I managed to keep our balance and remain injury free. We zipped past Clare on the downhill into Sausalito.

A street performer offered us a spoken word poem about bikes if we'd give him three bicycle-related words. Bri chose chains and spoke and I chose velodrome. This seemed to cause some problem. To see how much, please refer to Bri's recording. We ate lunch at the least crowded joint, the Bridgeway Cafe and had a passable lunch. It's still the only complete meal disappointment to date. We also learned a valuable lesson about crowds and restaurants.

Clare and Bri took the ferry back to San Fran and I biked the orange bike back across the bridge and through the Presidio neighborhood (by mistake). After bikes, we walked up Lombard street and caught a cable car. (Note: I like how this sounds so simple and not at all like we waited 45 minutes in a line for a cable car that wasn't too crowded to ride.) I once again got to stand on the outside hanging on and was thrilled by what Clare is calling "the slowest roller coaster." There's something pretty special about hanging out of public transportation up and down the hills of San Francisco.

Turning to street car, we navigated our way to an ice cream shop called Smitten where the ice cream is made on the spot using a fancy machine called Brrr (not that fancy a name) that uses liquid nitrogen. The theory is that the extra cold and the lack of storage result in a creamier ice cream. It was good stuff, but not life-changing (or even my favorite on the trip). Clare and I power-walked up the hill to see the "painted ladies" houses at Alamo Square from the opening credits of Full House (and many other SF establishing shots). We then hurried to Oakland to meet Susan (of Hello. Susan. FARC/FIG fame). We crammed into a table (much to Susan's dismay) at a favorite Burmese restaurant of Susan's Burma Superstar. The food was top-notch (we were back on track). We all caught up on the last 11 (or 6) years and some of those items not on Facebook. After dinner Susan took us to the Pub in Albany. She promised a great relaxing place that almost felt like a neighbor's home. The Pub delivered. I'm extremely grateful to catch up with old friends and I can't even explain the joy I feel after the experience.

8/21/13- From Big Sur to Santa Cruz

We woke up to another overcast morning, hiked a bit to a waterfall and to the old lime kilns and then set off to Julia Pfieffer Burns State Park. After a short hike, we had a spectacular view of another waterfall and a gorgeous beach. It's no wonder the Browns built a house on the hill above the sea in the 40s. It seemed unfortunate that the state couldn't find a use for the house, but there was very little around.

We drove on to Monterey where a free sample of clam chowder and the promise of a window seat lured Clare into one of the many Fisherman's Wharf restaurants. Clare enjoyed an open-faced seafodd sandwich and I thought I sort of enjoyed beef ribs. My stomach hasn't been the same since. The window seat did give us a view of a dozen lounging seals, a few swimmers and a jelly fish puttering along.

From lunch, we headed north to a slough for some tandem kayaking. I was quite unnerved by the sea lion and sea otter heads popping out of the water on a regular basis. We saw dozens of swimming and sunning sea lions, sea otters, and/or seals. We saw countless birds as well, including a fleet of swooping pelicans. It took me most of an hour to calm down enough to enjoy the trip. I'm not sure where the irrational fear came from, but being on a tiny boat in a choppy sea (sort of) didn't help. I just felt so small and helpless.

We kept packing it in and next enjoyed the Mystery Spot. Clare remains skeptical, but I was fascinated by the incredible lean, and the ball and water going up hill. The tour guide's jokes were terrible and wonderful too. It was five dollars well spent.

Just outside Santa Cruz, we made camp at Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. We were given a site with "a view" and mostly had enough daylight to enjoy the view of sky and trees. We managed to have a fire, although it took too long to start for it to be a fire for our chili. Fortunately, the jetboil took care of our heating needs. Celebrating our fire, we stayed up later than usual and then compounded that with my four minutes of luxury in the shower and Clare's hair washing in the sink. Oh what a night.

August 19, 20: Heading North

The adventures started early because Matt had to get to work. Our border crossings had been non-events until this point, but this one became a bit of an event as we got just a glimpse of some of the hassles that come from regular border crossings. The issue seemed to boil down to who could use the special plates and surely Clare and my presence didn't help. Matt waited patiently and after a 20-30 minute delay and a (fortunate?) shift change got us to San Diego transit and himself on the way.

We rode into Little Italy where we drank coffee, charged phones, and waited to rent our car. My KC Royals hat was again a conversation piece as the barista claimed to be Ewing Ka*uffman's grandson. I didn't know what to say when he told me that, so I chose, "Nice to meet you."

Rolling along in our Kia Soul, we set sail for Newport Beach. We stopped for REI fuel and Wal-Mart groceries and stopped again at a harbor for lunch after declining to pay $15 for a park entrance fee. We arrived just after two for what was supposed to be tea with Jean (my third cousin). By three, we'd had drinks and been then started into a  full lunch. The lunch included fresh fruit, some persian items, and baklava for the road. Taghi, grandson Jay and son-in-law Juve' also kept us entertained. I wish we'd been able to stay longer, but we had to head out and battle LA traffic. It wasn't as bad as expected and we made it to Point Magu and camping on the beach before sunset. The wind was whipping our tent around and the tide was coming in, but all the noise drowned out the sounds of the highway. It was a noisy evening for sure. I awoke at two am and found the gibbous moon was nowhere to be seen, except for what looked like a continuous headlight around the bend on 101.

Clare woke up first the next morning and started breakfast. After cooking through the plastic lid of the jetboil, her cooking improved. We packed up camp and hit the road in fits and starts. Our first stop was Santa Barbara. I had a hankering for cinnamon rolls and we managed to find Recipes Bakery for a pair of delicious ones. After a stroll down the main drag and a stop in the old courthouse, we headed on to lunch at a Cal-Mex place recommend by Sunset magazine just outside of Santa Maria called Rancho Nipomo.

From there we visited the slightly disappointing location of the first motel. I wanted to make a joke about the pool since its remnants were still visible, but I still don't have one. We also had a few tastes of beer at the Central Coast brewery, both in SLO, San Luis Obispo.

We drove on from there to Nit Wit Ridge which is no longer open. Some had called it a poor man's Hearst Castle, but after visiting Hearst I wonder if it might have been more my speed. Hearst's "ranch" was an ostentatious art collection on a hill, way up on a hill. Our guide thought he was a legend, but I have to wonder if the guidebook's description of him as a meglomaniac might be more accurate. Something about the place really bugged me. Maybe the fact that it was only a part-time home.

We pushed on to Big Sur, arriving to our creekside campground just before dark. The creek was rushing by and we'd had dinner for the first time since the tacos in Tijuana. The dark clean-up was a little challenging, but now we're settled in for the night.

Trip log: August 16, 17, 18

Matt H. picked us up at the San Diego airport and whisked us to Mexico. The border crossing was a cinch and we were on the sixth floor of a Tijuana apartment building in no time. After visiting with Sharyn and Matt, we headed to bed.

Saturday morning, after a B&B-worthy breakfast, Matt resumed aggressively driving us through Mexico down to La Bufadora a.ka. "The Blowhole". We were all "overwhelmed" by the many opportunities to purchase Mexican (and non-Mexican) souvenirs (T-shirt highlight: "Don't ask me for Sh*t" Ensenada, Mexico). The blowhole was popular, but we weren't able to see a hole, just water spraying up from the marine geyser.

From La Bufadora we headed to Mexican wine country. The valley was quite pretty and we ate outside at Deckman's. The four of us sat just a few yards from vineyard and outdoor kitchen under the shade of a sizable tree. We delighted in a white wine and the "three" courses of delicacies including tuna, oysters, scallops, quail, and pork. Every course was so good that even I downed the seafood. The vegetables were exquisitely charred on the grill. It was nearly perfect.

Since we'd driven the coast down, we cut through the mountains on the way home. As we drove through Tecate, I was struck by the border fence. It didn't feel right. I don't have the answers, but I recalled a quote regarding the mixed signals of the Statue of Liberty and a fence. Not only that, but the fence is on the side of a mountain. Couldn't someone give a little  and put the hill clearly on one side or the other if the fence has to be there?

Late night dinner at El Franck's. I had nearly forgotten how delicious tacos in Mexico can be.

Sunday, we crossed into San Diego. Matt and Sharyn said that normal border crossings run 2-4 hours without a sentri pass. We were through in 20 minutes and on our way to the Hotel Del at Coronado Beach. The Del was a fine hotel, but Clare's descriptions of the days when a rail spur brought rich patrons to the doorstep were more compelling than any remaining architectural detail. We spent the afternoon on the beach. It was great to throw with Matt and lounge around.

We were joined on the beach by recent transplants Jeff and Sheri. Good times. For a late lunch, we made our way to Leroy's. My burger with bacon jam was excellent, the Downtown Brown beer was ok, but the dessert at Moo Time took the cake, well actually the ice cream. From lunch, we headed up to Soledad park where we had great views of San Diego. then we chilled with sea lions (or seals?) in La Jolla.

Matt and Sharyn were such wonderful gracious hosts and it was such a pleasure to begin our trip among friends. In some ways, it made the vacation feel more at home than home.

From lungbuster to 5k

It's been a big week for sports. I went to a tournament in Breckenridge last weekend. I was invited up Friday morning. The team was thrown together, but the setting was perfect. I had several of those "I can't believe I live here" moments as I was looking at the mountains and preparing for my first non-beach Ultimate tournament in ages.

The team, named GRUDGE, came together well. We clicked, we pulled in pick-up after pick-up, sometimes from the very team that would play us next. The pick-ups seemed to get better as the weekend went on. We went 2-2 on Saturday. I had 5 turns and a few nice highlights including a grab on a hammer that had seemingly sailed over my head. Somehow I hung in the air and it stuck to my hand. Sunday, we made quick work of the first team, although my layout resulted in some ringing ears and then we made pretty quick work to avenge a loss from Saturday. We took our semi-final game to 9-9 before succumbing 13-10. I got to land our last punch, though, with a down wind high release backhand break. I'm skipping over a few moments, including a not-so-pretty argument where I was unintentionally in a guy's face regarding a strip call and a whole lot of anger over bad score-keeping. I'm skipping over some good moments too including a hot tub and no turns on Sunday that I can recall. I'm amazed and thrilled that I made it through 7 games. I've definitely hurt worse.

I farmed on Monday and played in a disappointing league game that we lost by a point. My feet and boy were starting to complain, but I managed a slow bike ride and a light run to get ready for the 5k still ahead.

Good times.

Nursing some soreness, I entered a 5k on the fourth of July. It was poorly run, but I was able to knock it out with a performance that looked a lot like my last 5k. The plan was to follow one of my brother-in-law's high school stars, but in the first 400 meters I realized that her pace wasn't quite what I had in mind. I heard cheers for her all the way though, so my pace wasn't a whole lot quicker. There wasn't a lot of intrigue in the race. I'd expected 18:30 and I ran 18:26. I was fighting hard to beat the lead dog at mile one (5:52), but never saw him again after he and his owner stopped for water. I crossed the 2-mile alone at 11:46, passed one more guy with about 800 meters to go, struggled to manufacture any sort of kick and finished 8th, well back of 7th and about 10 seconds ahead of 9th.

It was nice to be back on the fields and on the run. I need to grab a little more of that glory this summer.

It's all new except what isn't

So much has changed lately, but I return to write about a familiar topic. I'm not sure why I keep coming back to it. As I watched The Office series finale and Jim said of the documentary of Dunder Mifflin something like, "You've given me a tape that's allowed me to watch myself grow up. How cool is that?" I thought, SUPER COOL. It's the highlight reel I've often dreamt about. This blog might be mine. There are many highlights and much to consider, but I'm drawn to the sports highlights.

I'm in a new place in a new city. I'm struggling to find my way a bit; just as things were about to get a little ugly, not Atlas Shrugged ugly, but someone smoking at the table next to me ugly, Ultimate leapt back into my life.

I'd been thinking about letting it fade away. I'd been able to play winter league in DC. I missed out as my team went on to be champions, but I'd helped in the regular season. My body had held up. Now, without physical therapy and more limited transportation options, it seemed like maybe Ultimate was something that I could let slide away. I was missing CUA terribly and playing didn't seem like a remedy. A new home could mean new hobbies.

Instead, a friend, a former teammate from DC, who moved out here several years ago announced that I was playing with his team in spring league. "Before someone else scoops you up," he said. I accepted. The scoop became like an embrace. For much of spring the embrace took place in and between snow storms, but it breathed new life into my new life. I'd sit on the couch on Monday nights an hour before I could even reasonably leave for my game and twitch. I'd scurry around the house packing my things. I'd do a little extra stretching and I'd be excited to play.

Move ahead seven weeks through some ups and downs and many very close games. We won some and lost some and I enjoyed them a lot. A whole lot. Highlight of my week, lot. Monday, it was time for our  playoff game. Somewhere along the line, the team had realized that I was the youngest player, or at least the youngest male. I share that fact because it surprised me. I don't feel like I could be the youngest. Many times during the spring as I faced off against those ten or more years younger, it showed. The fun, the joy I feel at running around and snagging discs, though, that feels timeless. I felt young, younger, youngest out there.

Monday night, I came to play. I was nervous about my usual aches and I had blisters on both my palms. I wasn't sure how my body was going to do, but I was still ready to go. The game was pretty sloppy and subject to momentum shifts. Our team had trouble on offense and the stack was stagnating.

I may be the youngest on the team, but I'm far from the tallest. This worked in my favor. Instead of drawing the taller defenders, I got to pick on someone my own size when on offense. As the disc moved to one of our handlers with a penchant for hammers, I saw my opening. The disc moved to my side of the field, I was basically in the lane, but there was a clear, though rather long, path to the opposite corner of the end zone. I glanced at the handler with a look that could only mean, "look for the hammer" and I took off running. He didn't disappoint. He reared back and launched a hammer that nearly flew too far, but managed to sneak past the jumping defender and into my hands. It was quite satisfying.

Later, on the wrong end of a momentum shift, a play was called. The play was, get it to Will and huck it to Dave. As the disc moved to Will, I cut a few steps across the field and then took off to the forehand corner. The throw went up and began to slice back toward the middle of the field. I tracked it and once again had good fortune that my hands were especially sticky on this evening. Yes!

Nearly everything was working for me, although one big huck did get off endzone to endzone right through my straight up mark. Still, the cutting had gone well. I handled for a bit and felt like I was moving it well and had some nice up the line cuts, but things down field weren't developing. I was stuck and my dump was covered. The force was forehand and I wanted to get off a backhand dump. The count was at 8 when a second handler made an up the line cut. I didn't have time to adjust to my forehand so I just brought my backhand through and flipped it ahead. It was a fine mixture of creativity and desperation. It's not something that usually works out for me, but it did there.

I got a tipped disc, not quite a handblock, and threw a nice looping inside out for a score, but still we struggled as a team to pull it all together. I had my eye on a callahan, but that requires a fast twitch that seems to be missing from my game. We took half 7-6, but succumbed to the final momentum surge and lost 8-7. I'm proud of the way I played and proud of the way the team kept coming back. I don't understand entirely what it takes and means to win, not in a recreational league and not at higher levels, but I know that playing and battling meant a great deal. Playing well was a thrill and reliving it has carried me through the week.

There are questions about winning, losing, aging, and narcissism swirling inside me, but I think I'd rather day dream about chasing plastic and get ready to go again when summer league starts.

Inauguration Station

The stated reason for waking up at 6:00 AM was to follow Jim down to the mall and to take a contest-entry-worthy photo of the festivities that engulf this town every four years. Even as I pulled on my long johns and threw my camera bag over my shoulder I knew that photos were secondary to something else.

I walked through the dark and found the streets mostly empty of cars and populated with growing foot traffic. There was energy in the air, but it was more relaxed than the energy of four years ago.

This was my third inauguration, but my first chance to walk into history. As we wound around and around and around the security barriers, it turned out that walking into history was more circuitous than I'd expected. The crowds came together into a mass and then shed a bit at each entrance for the ticketed. After an hour of walking, we finally reached the crush of general public making their way onto the National Mall.

A mere four hours from the ceremony and the big screen TVs were already playing reruns and Ellen jokes. It was the first round of several. The crowd looked large, but again not the crowd of the first swearing-in. We wandered a bit, priced handwarmers (two for $5, two for $8, if you paid more than $1 you were ripped off), and took a few opportunities to sit. The mall itself was covered in plastic and it felt a bit like being on the roof.  (National Treasure would have a field day with that, but it kept us out of the mud.)

As I waited, and looked around, I saw some of the hope and change, but still couldn't quite figure out why we, or really I had come. I was a good 100,000 people away from the capitol and watching the pageantry on TV. There was plenty of Obama paraphernalia,  a few chants of U.S.A., and a lot of stars and stripes. More were on their way.

The crowd didn't "Shout" when instructed this year by the big screens. The flags did wave, sometimes with fervor, but that magic of four years ago was not present, at least not for me. I listened to the invocation of Evers-Williams and looked around trying to figure out what I was waiting for.

After the president was sworn in and he began to speak, I realized what I'd come for. It was inspiration and a reminder that I'm a small part of something bigger. I waved my flag vigorously as Obama checked off many areas this country can improve from equal pay, gay rights, the environment to the economy and world peace. It was big, general talk for a big diverse audience, but it made me realize why I woke up so early. I'm a part of this crowd. I can approach it cynically and crack jokes or wonder about my sanity as I'm swept up in a crowd moving in the wrong direction or I can do what I can to be heard and to be a part of this crowd. I've got a voice and I get to be heard even just a little bit. Sometimes, we'll have to turn around and take an alternate route, but the crowd has power that we fail to appreciate. This was the "I voted" sticker come to life. It doesn't always have to be bickering and bad news. Obama reminded me that don't have to have all the answers, we just have to take steps and push ourselves.

What does it all mean?

I played Ultimate yesterday. I rejoined my Team Schaefer and took the field on a 60-degree winter day.  It was 5 on 5 and the team we were playing had just crushed their previous opponent. Still they eyed us nervously. I looked at us, an aging hodge-podge of Ultimate players that I knew and didn't, and worried that perhaps we were being judged by past success.

I'm still not sure who was right. My body allowed me to play. I was tentative at times, and certainly out of shape, but I got to play. I got an early D. I handled a bit. I threw one away. I couldn't figure out where and when to cut, but still grabbed a few scores. The story lines look about the same as they always have. It's hard to judge a single sloppy game where most of the offense came from hucks and most of the defense came from body positioning and ill-advised throws. I handled more than I would have liked, but my cuts weren't that effective. I didn't get beat much on defense, but I wasn't scaring anybody either.

We won. We battled back from 10-12 to win 15-13. Somehow I expected a more triumphant return. I couldn't have expected it from my body. It's been neglected in all facets save flexibility. I shouldn't have expected it from the sidelines or the team. They were as present or not as they've always been.

One game may be one game. It's the accumulation that matters. As I stretch and massage and try to recover, I try not think about how challenging accumulation has become.

2012 movies

1. 2012
2. Delirious
3. For your consideration
4. One Day
5. Moneyball
6. Made in Dagenham
7. Our Idiot Brother
8. No Strings Attached
9. Friends with Benefits
10. I don't know how she does it
11. Nine Queens (re-watch)
12. Tron: Legacy
13. Win Win
14. 50/50
15. In Time
16. Proof
17. Ides of March
18. Racing Dreams
19. Like Crazy
20. Limitless
21. The Hunger Games (theater)
22. Water for Elephants
23. Footloose
24. Following
25. The Iron Lady
26. Carnage
27. 30 minutes or Less
28. Paul
29. Safe (theater)
30. My Week with Marilyn
31. Down by Law
32. Role Models
33. The Avengers
34. Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
35. Rum Diary
36. Exit Through the Gift Shop
37. The Giant Mechanical Man
38. X-Men: 1st Class
39. The Vow
40. Drive
41. Being There
42. The Big Year
43. Margin Call
44. Wanderlust
45. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (theater)
46. Young Adult
47. Safety Not Guaranteed (theater)
48. L'auberge espagnole
49. A Dangerous Method
50. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
51. Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows
52.
53. Friends with Kids
54. Going the Distance
55. Jeff, who lives at home
56. 21 Jump Street
57. Salmon Fishing in Yemen
58. The Ten Inch Hero
59. Keeping Mum
60. Albatross
61. Bachelorettes
62. Ceremony
63. Clue (re-watch)
64. Mystery Team
65. Harold
66. The Dictator
67. The Edge of Love
68. The Perks of Being a Wallflower
69. Frida
70. Ghostbusters (re-watch)
71. We Bought a Zoo
72. All the Queen's Men
73. National Lampoon's Vacation (re-watch)
74. The 5-year engagement
75. 28 days later (re-watch)
76. Grown-ups
77. Priceless
78. 28 weeks later
79. Sex and Lucia
80. Butter
81. Seeking a Friend for the End of the World
82. The Proposal (re-watch)
83. Ruby Sparks
84. Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

Wow. That was a lot of movies. I think 13, 80, and 83 stand out at the moment. My least favorite have already been blocked out, though not completely for 74 or 35.

2012 Books

1. Bowerman and the Men of Oregon
2. I am the Messenger
3. Paper Towns
4. The Other Wes Moore
5. Adland
6. The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey
7. Super Sad True Love Story
8. State of Wonder
9. The Gashouse Gang
10. When the Game was Ours
11. The Thieves of Manhattan
12. Ready Player One
13. Game of Thrones (Song of Fire's Ice #1)
14. Livability: Stories
15. One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding
16. True Blue
17. Joe College: Novel
18. Divergent
19. The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet
20. The Night Circus
21. The Age of Innocence
22. Consider: Harnessing the Power of Reflective Thinking in your organization
23. Why we make mistakes
24. Spousonomics
25. Just one look
26. What the dog saw
27. An Object of Beauty
28. Memoirs of a teenage amnesiac
29. Swamplandia
30. Great by Choice
31. Red Ink
32. Oryx and Crake
33. The Invisible Gorilla
34. The Hypnotist
35. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time
36. Gone Girl

My winners: 8, 20, 27, 32, 36.  The losers: 5, 9
I did not read a book that I wanted to give five stars to in 2012.

12/15/11- Gunn's Place and adventure

It's raining. We're in a little cabin beneath some snow capped peaks. It's called Gunn's place and it's in Hollyford about 40 km from Milford Sound. We'd planned to camp, but the rain doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon. We'll try again tomorrow night. My dad would appreciate this place. It has a quirky sense of humor. Gunn had a horse named Jane who lived to be 38. On one side of the horse, Gunn painted "horse". Visitors would ask why and he'd tell them with so many hunters around he didn't want Jane getting shot. The visitors would ask, "Why does the other side say 'cow'?"

"I need the milk," was Gunn's answer.

The shower water was heated by wood burning and there's a generator running the camp's electricity. Even through the rain the drive here was gorgeous. I am running out of adjectives for New Zealand.

This morning we packed in a few thrills on a canyoning adventure. Dressed in wet suits and climbing harnesses, we took to the woods near Queenstown. We walked up for about five minutes, spent some time criss-crossing a stream on ziplines and then abseiled/rappelled down to the stream. I enjoyed the rappelling and started to get a reputation as the group daredevil (not at all like a real daredevil) with a big kick off the wall for the photo they'd try to sell me later. Then I was eager to volunteer for a seven meter slide down a falls. I almost lost a shoe. The five meter and eight meter jumps were right up my alley too. The skydiving really knocked some of my fears away. I still had a slight hesitation at eight meters, but not much. Splish Splash!

C wasn't able to make the climb up for the jumps, but even after slipping and falling she remained in good spirits. I seemed more rattled by it than she was. Over the same pool as the jumps, we also took a zip line out over it (11m), belayed ourselves down and then released into the water. I couldn't get my knot undone, so required help from the guide, but it was still a hoot. We went through a narrow channel of water, belly-flopped into a pool and abseiled once more. It was a good time. Expensive for what it was, but not something easily recreated at home.

I accidently put our shoes and shirts in the wrong van which caused some more excitement to close out the adventure, but we eventually set things right and headed to Fergburger.  It was underwhelming all ways but size. We were probably hungry, so a big burger was a win. Dinner was supermarket fare. Had we known we weren't going to camp we could have bought hot food, but the salami, Edam, and kiwi fruits were winners again. C wasn't feeling well and let me to shop for the next three meals. If we survive, I will have succeeded.  I think I'm a little disappointed we aren't heading out on a bigger hike, but right now I'm not really prepared materially for a bigger hike and we don't really have time for one.

I'm still more hiker in my mind than reality. Someday I may acquire the right supplies, mindset, and time all at once. Until then 10 sleeps* until Christmas.

Other note: For some reason New Zealand has reminded me of college- perhaps the freedom, perhaps I just miss my friends a bit, but I've got a postcard off to the Smiths. Australia immediately reminded me of MS's time there. the silver fern looks like Jif's tattoo. We've heard music by S by iPod.

Not college, but I'm also reminded of MP's stories from South Africa. Maybe I do miss my friends a bit. There are many nice people on trips here. Maybe it's that common experience of holiday replacing college. Maybe it's all the talk of drinking. "Don't drink and fry." It's definitely been a good trip for a long one- not having the language barrier has been a huge relief.

(*Unless you happen to be flying back to the US and gaining a sleep.)

12/13/11- From lodge to Mt. Cook

I'm a day behind writing (and more than a year behind in transcribing), but I'll try to get caught back up. We opted for a cold breakfast only forcing our chef to slice carrots, oranges, and ginger for a morning smoothie rather than cooking a complete breakfast. We then got a very interesting garden tour from the head gardener. It felt strange to have our car brought up to us and our bags brought down, but our lifestyles of the faux-rich and pretend-famous were coming to a close.

We headed toward Mt. Cook, stopped for lunch in a shopping center where I had a delicious savory pie, and then rolled on. As the gardner had promised the first hour of the drive wasn't that pretty, but soon the vistas improved. When we hit the brilliant blue of Lake Tekapo we had to pull over to take pictures. Sediment disturbance caused by glaciers when they formed the lake gave it a bright blue coloring. It was gorgeous. Mt. Cook became visible an hour later in front of a bright blue lake as well. Our DOC campground was in the shadow of a glacier and hill a hill in the shadow of Mt. Cook. We set up camp and walked 45 minutes until we could see Mt. Cook clearly.  We had dinner at a ski lodge, I had Sir Edmund Hillary's Pork Sausages. It was the most expensive meal (we've paid for). We went to bed while it was still light out and awoke to a light rain and awoke to a light-ish rain, and awoke to rain.

We packed our wetness in a hurry just before 7 AM, skipped the hike we'd planned and pointed toward  Queenstown. We had breakfast in Twizel in a park with food courtesy of an open Four Square supermarket. Driving on to Queenstown, we stopped to admire Merino wool and possibly the home of Shrek the most famous sheep (blinded by his 25 kilogram coat). I'm not clear on the fame or Shrek's life story. Traffic picked up as we entered Queenstown, so did lodges and perhaps intensity. C compared Queenstown to Gatlinburg, it's apt, but it's also like an amped up ski town or college town where adventure activity is the university. Almost every third store on the main drag was able to book some type of adventure for an interested traveler. We go canyoning tomorrow.

We had lunch at a kebab place and then decided to separate for the afternoon. C went to Arrowtown and I rented a mountain bike and rode around the peninsula. The scenery was great, but getting my heart pumping and getting a taste for what a mountain bike could really do were even better. It was mostly flat stretches, but there were some wiggles through trees and over rocks. I returned to town the same way I'd come pumping hard to get back. It took about two hours and then I spent 45 minutes more trying to climb some of the ridiculously steep streets around. I don't know if I've ever climbed anything so steep for so long. I had to stop because my legs were burning. It was great in an odd sort of way. Tonight we're up on the roof deck of our hostel the Laughing Southerner after pizza at Winne's (and a Monteith Black- yum) and some ginger dark fudge. The view from here is once again spectacular as clouds have just released the tall peak to the North (?). If it weren't for the 500 or so resort-style homes and hotels in my view I could believe I was in Middle Earth looking to unload the ring.

12/12/11- Otahuna Lodge

Fancy dinner. Fancy hotel. More to come.

Continued the next morning.

If jumping out of a plane was a strange sensation it's hard to describe what staying at Otahuna Lodge is like.  It lacks the adrenaline rush of skydiving, but it's novel or mor accurately makes me feel like I'm in a novel (or perhaps a movie). A lovely Queen Anne home part way up a hill, surrounded by countryside, it's where the very rich come to stay. The per night prices hover in the area of our monthly rent. Our room with verandah hovers in the same square footage as well. We were almost so comfortable, it was uncomfortable. If we hadn't felt out of place, our every whim appeared to be just a wink and a nod away. Hooray for this perk from C's job.

At 6:30 last night we went down for drinks. I had a Glenmorangie neat. The scotch selection was not that impressive, but otherwise I'm awed. We talked with Ben the butler until the other two guests Aussies Victoria and Olivia arrived. After socializing a while and learning that Olivia had been to the Kentucky Derby for her birthday, we settled down for a five course meal. I don't usually like wine, but I found out that wine (well-paired) with gourmet dishes made mostly from local (as in on the property) items can be delicious. By the time the port came with dessert, I had drank enough. Ben recommended we stroll around the grounds once more while the sun set in the pink sky. We giggled through a walk before retiring to our elegant room. It's all almost too much. Is this how Pretty Woman felt?

During the day yesterday, we biked a bit in Christchurch. We saw some earthquake damage and had coffee and scones at C in the Re:Start shipping container mall. It was quite chic. We heard there were other shipping container malls, but none were being used post-disaster like this. It reminded us of the tin city we'd learned about in Napier, post-disaster there. It made me want a shipping container home. I do enjoy the re-purposed building/container.

On pause

I sit at the desk with poor posture as my back crushes itself. Those muscles that hold me up grow lazy and weak from lack of use. My writing muscles follow the same regime. I sometimes ride to work and sometimes rally my pen there too, but neither are enough exercise to grow strong, just enough to stop from putting on much weight.

I've straightened my back and I'm searching for the rhythm on the computer keyboard. The tap-tap-tappity-tap of a confident writer. I gaze into that space between glasses and screen, the space that blocks out the world and where creativity might float by. I've strapped on my headphones and turned up Hem to drown out the sounds of TV. The light bulbs of our Christmas tree dance in my peripheral vision and reflect in the corner of my iMac.

If questioned, I'd still call Hem my favorite band. Sure, Carley Rae Jepsen's Call Me Maybe and PSY's Gangnam Style make me want to sing along and dance respectively, but no body of work moves me like Hem's. There are rumors that new music is coming and I look on with interest. I can't say exactly what it is about Hem that's allowed them to not only claim the title of my favorite band, but to remain there, virtually unchallenged. There's something so beautiful (and perhaps timeless) about the music, the lyrics, and the singing. I find each song filled with emotion. The songs manage to be inspirational, sad, and uplifting all at the same time. As I listen and write I wonder why I haven't listened more recently.

I could use some of that inspiration to propel me through more blog posts. Perhaps I needed to slow down enough to appreciate the nuance of sad and uplifting. Maybe I just need more exercise.

Missed my 10 year

Poor neglected little blog- Ten years ago you were the adventure in social media. I was connecting with friends, getting my writing out there, and trying to find my voice. There have been a few restarts and some side projects, but for the most part this little blog has all but dried up. I'm connecting on Facebook, in a sense, maybe, I think. My writing is tucked away, hibernating, waiting to re-emerge when inspiration strikes. Those strikes seem few and far between. My voice is this one. It doesn't feel as wacky as it once did. The vocal cords are rusty. If they were in a wagon, they'd need a push down the hill.

Yet, somehow, I can't quite give this up. Both of my readers might be disappointed. What would they read once every month? Where would they go for the latest in vague statements and stories about running.

At 10, I sense it might be time for a change, but I don't know yet what that change might be. I thought there would be more shocks to the system, more giant spotlights pointing me in the right direction, more trumpets heralding the path, more giant arrows, but instead I find just little clues. Life is a lot more like a scavenger hunt and lot less like a movie than I was expecting.

A little bit crushed

I didn't expect to feel this way. I only went to one game. I only watched a handful on TV. Last night, I checked the updating box score online and then finally in the seventh inning turned on the radio and curled up on the kitchen floor.

As I listened to the Nationals in game 5 of this wild series, I flashed back to my childhood. I missed Denny Matthews and Paul Splitorff, Kansas City Royals announcers, even as I pictured the game currently in progress. I missed my transistor radio too.

I could tell it was nuts at the stadium, but my heart remained relatively calm. I checked my pulse even as the Cardinals made their surprising ninth-inning comeback. My pulse remained relatively normal. I still believed. These Nats had come back before. They would do it again. This was the year.

Then it was over.

I turned off the radio and went to bed. Disappointed that I didn't get to bust out the door and join DC for some cheering in the streets, I fell asleep quickly. I thought when I woke up it might be different.

I turned to the sports page and it described the disappointment and shock so well. I turned to Facebook and read the alternating reports of jubilation from the many Missouri pals and sadness from the DC area. I celebrated most of the season with the Internet. I read Washington Post stories all year and excitedly followed this young Nats team, yet today the Internet's account feels inadequate.

Even my oatmeal lacks a certain something this morning.

12/11/11- Glowing and waiting

It's been a day of waiting. I woke up early and wandered the mean street of Waitomo, then we loitered until an i-Site opened up so we could book a Waitomo cave "tubing" ticket and loiter some more. After all our waiting we were rewarded with a glow worm* tour of the caves. It was a walk, crawl, slide through a cave, about 1.5 km of cave. The glow worms have a tail light that shines during their pupae stage. The caves had been compared to the night sky and the glow worms stars, but I thought they looked more like a city at night when a plane is landing. The lights tended to extend more like a peninsula and less like the cosmos.

We wore wetsuits in the caves. I can only imagine what discovering those caves must have been like, the glow, the strands (like a spider's web) hanging from the ceiling. Our moment of faux-discovery was a waterfall. We had to earn it by wading through waist deep water and then crawling through a space that would have scared me heaps if I'd come across it on my own. We emerged under a seven meter falls and it was pretty neat. From there it was more glowing and more tubing, not to mention a slide and a backwards hop onto our tube. All in all kind of fun.

The drive to the airport, complete with lap sandwiches, lead us to a delayed flight that finally got us to the South Island. The window seat was glorious. The South Island mountains had snow on top. The scenery was gorgeous- LOTR gorgeous. I'm excited again. To top it off, our hostel for the night is a converted jailhouse and they've tried to stick with the theme. I swear the lights clanked off. We're in a cell in bunk beds. The windows are barred and there are some serious creaking noises. I look forward to seeing daylight. A nice pick by C.


*The worms are insects, so not worms at all.

12/10/11- Jumping out of the sky

It's hard to know where to start this day. Yes, it was great to wake up in our free campsite to the sounds of goats, stream, and NZ yokels. There was a light mist accompanying breakfast, but we got ready to go and headed to Taupo. We arrived to find the trappings of a race. It wouldn't be until after second breakfast at Indulgence (bacon and egg sandwich and an iced coffee- oh look iced coffee here comes with ice cream. Score.) that we'd discover the race was the Taupo half-Ironman. I watched a bit of the bike to run transition and decided that I need to enter a tri. 2012 goal? Straight from NZ.

All morning we kicked around the idea of skydiving, but it was overcast and I was scared, so we put it off. We hiked out to Huku Falls (a little over 5k) and had the good fortune to see three kayaks run the falls. We had wandered through the park which included a "confidence course" and a zipline (6 inches off the ground under our weight.) on the way out to the falls. On the way back, we jumped into the Waikato River. It was fed in one place by a geothermal stream, but it was still cold and refreshing at our chosen plunge point. C was shocked by the temperature, having expected the spring to warm the water considerably. From there we went to sit in the geo-thermal stream-feed. The sun had started shining, but only winter could have made the stream a place to sit comfortably. The water was H-O-T, HOT!  We dipped our toes and sat for a bit where river and stream met, before heading on to lunch.

Taupo was an athletic sort of place, on a lake and river and particularly today holding a triathlon. I liked it. I had a mexican stack (pie-like enchilada) and a Phoenix Lemon and Lime and Bitters for lunch at Replete. I'd say I'm three for three on soda that are ok, but that I don't really need again.  With the sun out and our bellies full, we decided to see Taupo from the sky, or at least check out the skydiving options.

We drove out to the airport, found the very yellow Taupo tandem skydive business and steeled ourselves. TTS had a million jump options, 12k feet or 15k feet, with a photographer or a videographer, silver, platinum, gold options all to choose from. C and I decided that our budget could and should only handle the most basic package. We got a long chat from a worker on the experience chose our package and proceeded to wait another 30 minutes to even start to get going.

I was terribly nervous on the way in and sitting on the couch. I was nervous waiting, and then I put on my flight suit. The nerves didn't go away, but they were suddenly more manageable. Cue the safety video and harness set up before heading out for more waiting. Now we could see others floating down from the sky. I met a nice German named Markus on a 3.5?! month trip. More waiting and then Albert appeared and introduced himself.

Albert was nice enough, but I couldn't help noticing his crazy eyes. He had over 4,000 jumps, probably more and he seemed a bit disappointed that I wasn't going to pony up for the 15k jump. He seemed far more possessive than the other jump masters, but what the hey.

We boarded the plane, sitting close between the legs of our tandem master. They closed the gate, passed the camera and the plane started to take off. We were facing backwards and I had another jolt of nerves that I was able to clam. Albert asked if I liked flying. I answered yes and I thought about all those commercial flights where my nose was pressed against the glass taking in the city. I tried to do the same as the little prop plane climbed and climbed above Taupo, but my palms were sweating. My heart and breathing seemed ok. The scenery was brilliant, mountains, cityscape, the giant lake. On we climbed, circling up to our height. I was calmer than I'd been in the waiting room, but still had to push down thoughts of, "What the hell did I just sign on for?" 

Albert put me on his lap and tightened us in together. The altitude got me a bit at around 11k feet. Albert's conversation attempts were politely answered and I was forcing a smile. C seemed to be ignoring my looks, but she did glance back a few times and we shared nervous smiles. At 12k feet, they opened the door. One cameraman stood outside the plane, wind and sky were rushing by. My thoughts shifted again as I tried to stifle a "You've got to be kidding me!"

Three jumpers and two cameramen were away and my tandem and I shifted closer to the open door. C had jumped, but I don't recall seeing her go.  As we moved toward the door, my legs filled with lead. I could feel Albert straining against my weight to get us seated with our feet out in the sky. I couldn't move my legs, but Albert got us out the door. We leaned back to have our photo taken. I smiled brightly and then we were off tumbling- plane and cloud and sky and free fall.

It was strangely calming for a 200 km/h fall. I found a comfort level quickly. We plunged. I released my hands and got in a few gyrations, like the dancing catfish, and then plunged on trying to take it in. We fell through a cloud. Oh my god, a cloud! I had time to register the cloud, consider that it felt colder in there and wonder when I'd be able to see again.  Still falling- unbelievable!

And then the parachute pull. Violently, I was jerked vertically with my feet toward the ground. We spun quickly in circles; it was frightening again, but then we settled into a graceful float. I had to hold the controls for a moment and I didn't have full function, in fact in writing this I get nervous thinking about it. We continued to float lower and lower. I tried to soak up the sights. It was a postcard in every direction. We landed with a thud. I reluctantly tried to stand up on the rocky landing patch.

Triumph! TTS tried to sell us a DVD afterwards, but we resisted the cheesy pitch. I did buy a photo of my exit from the plane (which immediately was shared on Facebook with pride), but decided that my memory would serve me best on this adventure.

From there we drove excitedly to Waitomo. I couldn't drive because I was still so pumped up. C drove us to a nice hostel Kiwi Paka with a bar down the hill called Curly's. We had dinner there. I had a Sheperd's Pie and a Steighton Old Dark (thumps up) and a Waikato Draught (so-so). The highlight though was sharing a table with a couple of Kiwis. They were very nice and we traded stories, quite a few about animals and roadkill. I was quite excited to discover that one of the women was Maori. I didn't catch her name, but she was lovely and it was pleasing to meet a Maori after hearing quite a lot about the indigenous people of New Zealand. Bed has come late tonight and I think I may be in a bit of trouble since retelling my day has give me another kick of energy.

12/9/11- Art Deco style

Today is a new day and I'm going to wipe yesterday's frustration away. Little orphan Annie did say the sun would be out today, or was it tomorrow? Either way I'm going to take some deep breaths and make today a good one.

The campground echoes with CCR and Lynard Skynard? Am I home? It's 20:30 in December and children at one end of the grounds are kicking a soccer ball while children at the other are playing cricket. Oh, I'm in New Zealand. This FREE DOC campground is almost all I could dream of. It's on a river in the shadows of rolling green hills; sheep are bleating when the music is off.

We drove to Napier this morning and arrived in the art deco capital of the world. I had expected something quainter and more clearly demarcated between art deco and other styles. We wandered a bit and found lunch. I had fancy nachos and Frank's Pink grapefruit soda. We then hit the Internet. It wasn't that busy. We wandered some more. I found opossum world and discovered what I'd been seeing splattered on so many of the winding roads. Speaking of roads, I discovered today that right-of-way is about turning vehicles today. (As I retype this, I now have no idea what this means. It might mean that turning vehicles get to go first?)

We took an art deco walking tour in Napier. Our volunteer guide had some interesting asides and showed us numerous art deco and Spanish mission buildings. The most interesting tidbit from the tour was actually about the earthquake that started it all for Napier. It moved the ground up two meters, filled in swamp land and allowed Napier to expand.

We left town, stocked up for a roughing-it style dinner at a roadside fruit stand with cheese, golden kiwis, and some bread, and then made our way to this little piece of paradise (now with groovin' soundtrack- either me singing songs about tiny towels or some Maori radio. I'm not sure which.)

12/8/11 Pacific Coast Highway

The day started well as we watched the sunrise. Sure we set off the car alarm twice in  the pre-dawn hours , but things could only look up from there, right? Not so fast. It seemed ok for a while as we made our way to the East Cape. We had second breakfast at a Robert Harris coffee chain in Tauranga. Driving was going pretty ok for me. I was enjoying the road squiggles and trying to sort out my left from right. As we neared the point of no return I saw that the trip was going to take six more hours. I made a weak case for skipping the coast. On we went to the land of scenery. There were some beautiful vistas, the ocean in blues and greens, stormy clouds, sheep lice on chia pet  hills, but the driving to to be too much and the scenery not enough.

Travel, hunger, tiredness, mis-communication, took us places we didn't want to go. Now we're stuck. We've driven a long way to do less. We've seen more of New Zealand in the mileage sense, but I'm frustrated with myself and us for cutting so much into our ability to explore. C had a great route planned for us, but I nudged it and then she pushed it and now we need to find a way to get back on track.

Pasta  and salad at the Gisborne hostel thanks to Pak & Save got us back on track. The Tim Tams didn't hurt. Tomorrow we drive on...

Oh, I nearly forgot about the lunch spot on the "post-apocalyptic" beach- no tables, a creepy playground and gulls circling and coming way too close. We left in a hurry.

11/28/11 and 12/7/11- Supreme and the left

Upon reflection this day was great. It didn't always feel that way within, but as a whole it comes out a head. The main reason is the  Supreme Court. I watched an oral argument. It was fascinating. The best part was body language. Clarence Thomas slouched a lot. Justices looked perplexed, thoughtful, frustrated, pleased and they joked and prodded. I would have been completely lost if not for the helpful explanation of a stranger in line. He helped me listen to the case with context.

The case was about standing, injury in fact or injury in law. It made sense at the time.

I actually had long-ish conversations with three strangers today. The last in a game shop where I may have completed Christmas shopping.

Productivity was solid. Activity was decent. Thankfulness good. Creativity didn't kick in until I captioned my photos. More to do tomorrow, but it will be hard to top today's success in court.


12/7/11- The Internet calls to me this morning. Its call is hunger, boredom, a need for connection. I have none of these things with much strength, but there's an emptiness before breakfast I'm going to look at the map and see if that settles me.

We're in Opoutere now at a quaint little campground with beach access. We spent several hours walking the beach and lounging about. It was quite nice. Driving out of Auckland was Xtreme!, but otherwise the left side of the road makes about as much sense as the right. Turns still scare me a bit, but for the most part I found a groove as we drove to and then rejected a Department of Conservation (DOC) campsite. It was lovely and spartan, but we were unprepared at that point.

We had lunch in a beach town, Tairua, at a joint called "Out of the Blue." It seemed family run. Both our dishes had plum sauce and were quite good. We also sampled L&P, world famous in New Zealand since ages ago, as recommeded by TJ and Reis . Tasty, but not noel like Malt in Iceland. I often find myself making comparisons like that, though not always with so much judgment. It's like I'm seeking to classify the experience with or near another I've had. Even the walk to the beach reminded me of Jurassic Park and I didn't even experience that. Hopefully a T-rex won't wake us from our tent slumber tonight. We can hear lots of birds and the wind is whipping over the hills, but I think crashing waves are out of earshot.

11/26/11 - Kermit and fate?

The Muppets were the highlight of the day. Better than the Pancake Pantry, better than the Cherokee Grill, better than a canoe ride around the lake, even better than a little run, enjoying the Muppets in theaters with Clare, Carol, and Mimi took the cake. I laughed. I nearly cried. I missed my grandma and our trips to the movies. I missed my childhood and the hopeful singing messages of those wonderful Jim Henson puppets.  They were self-aware enough to be cool. Cheesy enough to be fun. I think I laughed more than anyone in the theater.

I'm ready to be home again. I hope I can last longer in New Zealand. Wait. One more note on the Muppets: I found it particularly troubling that Kermit had slipped into a life he'd never meant. If Kermit can't stay the course, how can the rest of us hope to?

11/25/11 and 12/6/11- Naps and Mac's

Napping, hiking, eating, napping- today was a day of classic relaxation. We hiked to Abram Falls, about 5 miles and I'm not sure what else we did. I'm thankful that I got to spend some time with C and have a nice chat with her sister. I got a few decent photos, played a 30-minute hand of UNO and watched the tale end of Lohan's Freaky Friday. I go to bed thinking I need to run. It wasn't a bad day at all, but I look forward to eating better soon. Soon is probably not tomorrow. By better, I really only mean fewer desserts.

12/6- I crashed hard on the flight to Auckland and struggled to get to the youth hostel. We made it though. C said at one point my sleep was a snore. I remember saying that I didn't like the bed while sitting up, but as soon as I was prone it was glorious. I look forward to a return to bed right now.

I woke up early, maybe 6:30 NZ time, walked around the block, started a new book and then crashed until 10 AM. We had some pies for breakfast. What is silver beet? We then walked down Queen St. to the harbor. We looked at marked down Rugby World Cup merchandise, but didn't buy. C needed a nap, I went to a nearby square where Occupy Auckland and a live art display shared some space. I helped a small group of people put together a puzzle of red over-sized pieces. It had the desired effect as strangers were talking and working together. I left extremely satisfied. Not even giant seagulls or dancing businessmen with cell phones could deter me.

C and I ate lunch at a cafe called Shaky Isles. We then took a bus to Mt. Eden, a former volcano now with grassy crater, with great views of Auckland. There's much more to the city than we'll see, but we got ready for our meal with Daimon's friend TJ and his flat mate Reis. They are both comedians and it was a joy to share a Mac's beer and exchange observations and conversation. We had drinks at Cassette and dinner at Mezze. I'd to like to better recount the day and tie it to philosophy the way my book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance does, but sleep calls and I just want to get the day down. Tomorrow we drive--- on the left.

12/5/11- A long day

There is no December 4 entry. It was gobbled up in a mess of time zones and travel. The flight to Sydney was better than expected. I watched "Bridesmaids," "Thor," and "I love you too" before finally getting to sleep at something like who knows what time- maybe ten to midnight Sydney time. I was very grateful for the in-flight entertainment options of Virgin Australia and for the kind flight attendants with brilliant accents. I slept off and on for four good hours and two average hours. The plane landed around 6:30 AM and we were seeing the Sydney sights by about 7:30.

The Opera House and the bridge were very photo-worthy in the morning. We walked the bridge, had a snack, headed to Balmain by ferry and had brunch. I enjoyed green eggs and ham. We walked Darling street for a while and battled fatigue. We then headed to Bondi beach. C had hopes of a nap on the beach, but a brisk wind and a light rain curtailed that desire. We walked Bondi street to Bondi junction passing souvenir shops and homes along the way. We had very little interest in anything as a desire to sleep grew stronger. We were looking forward to a New Zealand bed that night, but that was another three hour flight away. This is the other side of the world.

Arriving in Sydney, looking down at the ocean and trying to consider that we'd been over that water for 14 hours was too much to handle, but getting outside and getting to see some sites was worth it. Seeing the city as we landed was exciting. I sometimes forget how much I enjoy new places. There is mystery and fun in the new.

I'm tired and words aren't coming easily. The flight announcements are breaking my concentration. I'm easily distracted and easily angered. This may be the price of "time travel".

11/23 and 11/24/11- On pie and pace

My work may be on hiatus, but Clare's goes on. We spent the morning in her office and I reaffirmed my distaste for: 1) long commutes 2) intern-type work.

The long drive to Gatlinburg, TN was a great chance to talk about the future, so we did. Nothing was settled, but we share more freely and we're in a good lace together even as we sometimes struggle to be in a good place individually. The drive did steal away some of my feeling of endless time and freedom. The miles will go quickly. I'm thankful to be here with Clare's family and I'm looking forward to our Thanksgiving day hike. Clare's sister is having a baby, affirming that Clare and I are moving at our own pace.

11/24- I appreciate the Thanksgiving tradition of the last 4 years. Clare, her dad, and I hike ini the Smoky Mountains while her mom and grandmother prepare dinner. This year's hike involved a cabin and a schoolhouse, a departure from our usual high altitude, big-view hikes of the past. Dinner was delicious, but the day challenged me. I couldn't find a satisfying balance of napping and not. I missed my family.

Tonight, we shopped. The chaos lasted a little more than an hour. I'd like to say it was a sociology experiment, but I must admit I was swept up in the idea of finding a bargain. I found none and instead found myself overwhelmed by the crowds.

12/3/11- Headed to New Zealand

Dear Diary:
We're in LA. We've been traveling all day. Now it's time to travel all night. I feel better than expected at this point. I hope that can continue. We've had some bumpy spots; already had to change flights coming back, needed an Australia visa to be there for 13 hours. It's all ok though. C and I are snapping at one another a bit. Hopefully we can get used to spending this much time together again. I'm thankful we have the opportunity to try.

Today we've had no real problems. We're on time, our flights have been smooth, our Gyros delicious. I look forward to movies and sleep. I don't actually know when to call this day over. I'm amused by my lack of clarity about time and day already. Also totally psyched for more Aussie and Kiwi accents.

11/22/11- The first day of renewal

After being with my company for seven years, they offer four additional weeks of vacation to be taken all at once. The program is called "renewal" and it comes with a two-year commitment to stay with the organization. It's a pretty sweet deal. I'm now seven months into that two-year commitment and needing to look back at my renewal. I kept a journal during that time and will share parts of that journal here. I reserve the right to edit as I go.


RENEWAL: My practice retirement started today. Leaving work reminded me of the last day  of school. I had the urge to pull papers from my locker and  toss them in the air.

I walked to the library in the rain. It was damp and dreary, but I smiled. Time was on my side. Time. Time. Stretched out before me.

I've cleaned, watched TV, made this journal more personal and now prepare to read and go to bed early. Work stress flared up a bit, but this writing is helping me calm back down. I'm considering a one Internet connection per day rule. I like the potential peace that could bring to my days. The rule did cause me to enter, leave, and re-enter the living room several times as I tried to figure out what to do with my time, glorious time. It feels weightless.

New vocuabulary- straight from Germany

I learned a new word today: torschlusspanik. I'm told it's German and means something along the lines of worrying about diminishing opportunities as I age. There are a number of reasons for my torschlusspanik: another birthday approaches, another olympics approaches, Ultimate isn't being played, finding my dream job is a much slower process when I never make efforts, etc., etc.

I keep having this Facebook status thought that goes something like: "This past year has really sucked when you take out my 6 week vacation that included 2 weeks in New Zealand, the fact that I got engaged, and the fact that CUA played its best Ultimate yet."  Look at that statement. When am I going to have another 6 week vacation? Retirement or unemployment are my best hopes. New Zealand was amazing. Gorgeous. Awesome. There's more to come on those 6 weeks. I've got blog posts already written. Engaged? That's good stuff. Good Ultimate from the team I coached? What's not to like?

It makes for a ridiculous statement, yet the day-to-day has been pretty frustrating over the last year. There's been more job stress and uncertainty. There's been less exercise and certainly less intense exercise. I've stopped or lost almost every other pseudo-hobby I've had. I watch way too many movies and spend way too much time on the Internet.

If I get it down here, if I re-live or at least re-write my renewal, maybe I can change that status update. Maybe it can say something like: "Torschlusspanik or not, I knocked off some pretty serious stuff from my bucket list this year. Not too shabby, but man, I'd like to play some Ultimate."  Maybe.

Perspiring quietly- additional reflections on life without AC

The whir of the portable fan begins to drown out the more pronounced shoosh-click of the ceiling fan. I watch the blades turn until my eyes can find just one. I follow it round and round and round until my eyeballs get sore, a hint of the dizzy sets in, and I start to worry that the light fixture will fall down on my head when I sleep.

Sleep. I long for it. I try not to focus on the sweat I can feel forming where my body and the sheets meet. I move ever so slightly, hoping my grateful warm skin will appreciate the air just enough that it will cancel out the effort of moving. Being hot is a form of relaxation. It limits movement, slows down bodies and thoughts. Being hot forces me to the floor. I want to be low, like a limbo-winner, lower still. I want to hover just above the ground. In a perfect world I'd have a whirring fan so powerful that it could lift me off the ground and keep my beads of sweat from forming. Instead, I have a fan the size of my head that can blow air all the way to my toes. Only a few beads will form. It could be worse.

Air conditioning has made me this way. I'm used to a certain level of cool, used to certain level of whir, used to covering my skin with a little weight when I sleep. Air has conditioned me to expect these things and to rebel when I don't have them. My rebellion is a quiet sort. It's a grassroots movement that starts in my hair follicles and eventually agitates my whole being. I'd twitch violently, but that would just be more movement. Slowly, I wipe the sweat away, adjust my beard just so, and count the sheep jumping into the pool.

Highway to some unpleasant locale

The AC went out on me on Thursday. There was a power thingy and some surges, probably some lightning, and I'm not a doctor, but the cool breeze that blows out of my floorboards stopped blowing. This seemed bad. Particularly, when I considered that summer, the official one, had just arrived.  The heat from the outside became Miami's basketball team- The Heat. I turned on all the fans that we had- 4 in 3 rooms and just sweated a lot when using the WC. My sweat had a cooling effect and fortunately, some actual thunder accompanying a rain cloud also cooled the world a little because I was sweating up a storm in my own home.

The AC returned today, but not before I had the chance to reconnect with summer. There was a time, some number of years ago greater than the number of years ago that I graduated high school when my world was not always climate controlled. (That time resurfaced in college, but I'm thinking of a time when only one room in our house had a window unit.) Summer was hot and sticky those days. People drank lemonade and looked for shade. They also congregated around the window unit which is why central air conditioning became so popular. The days of window units are all but gone. My office now requires a sweater in the summer.  I can go from air conditioned building to air conditioned building with just a hint of sweat on my brow. I had forgotten summer.

It can't all be blamed on central air. I haven't had nearly the same punishing outdoor schedule of years past and the weather hasn't stayed as consistently warm. Nonetheless, it was time for me to reacquaint myself with summer time. The living may be easy, but it's also pretty sweaty. Somehow, through the fits and starts of sleep and the sweaty television viewing, I found myself comfortably warm. The outside temperature and my body temperature were not so far apart. The world and I were one. Nature was just on the other side of the screen and sweat was a lubricant for life.

Today, the AC returned. I'll go back to admiring summer from behind the glass.

A flight to nowhere, a honeymoon, and a 15 year reunion

The vacation did not begin well. After 30 minutes of flying toward KC, the pilot announced we were returning to DC. The delays became cancellation and the scramble to get a new flight as the tornado rolled into town became a scramble to find a flight the next day.  Thanks to the generosity of C&L, we made the most of our flight to DC with a nice dinner and some movie watching.

After a sunrise jaunt to Chi-town, we nabbed a stand-by flight to KC and got to town well ahead of my cousin's wedding. The wedding was a jumbled gyration of family and FOG. It was over before the DJ even had a chance to play "Call me maybe". He did manage to play the cupid shuffle twice thanks to Madeline's request, however. My nieces danced 'til late, but would not be outdone by the bride and groom who kept going strong even after this clean up crew began removing decorations. This apple doesn't fall far from that tree.

Although some of the FOG dispersed, two clans headed out for an annual canoe trip, now with honeymooning. The usual water gun fights were complimented with a rope drop. The rope drop is a close cousin of the rope swing, but instead of that graceful arc out over the deep water of the Niangua, this involved hands being ripped raw from the rope as those of us who tried fell into the water. Tedward had more luck than I did, but I feel lucky that my only injury was rope burn.

I enjoy canoeing as it happens, but I think I enjoy it more in retrospect. It's such a peaceful activity with an occasional burst of activity and tension. It's a good mixture of relaxing and interesting. Parker made her first trip successfully. She relaxed so much that at different points on the trip she fell asleep, head lolling  while the boat drifted down stream.

My sister discovered that although the her grown-up version enjoys canoeing far more than the teenage version, she still doesn't want to run a boat, at least not with her kids in it. For a while I wondered if I'd contributed to this lack of confidence, but then I decided that even if I hadn't been running the boat in our teen years, she would have resisted. It really seemed like she didn't like it those years. Eventually, every woman on the trip (except my mom) decided that, at least on a river like this, she preferred a kayak. I don't think it was a statement of independence as much as it was a comment on boat agility.

I particularly argue this since C and I closed out the week with a tandem ride. It didn't solve all our problems, but it was nice to be on the same bike ride at the same time. We would get better with starting given time. That required a little extra trust.

My story telling feels off now, but I'm trying to fight through it. My final paragraph is about the 15-year reunion I had with my track. My legs had no zip, but I still wanted to run a mile. It resulted in a pretty evenly paced 5:19. This is a good 4 seconds per year slower than, well, 15 years ago. I don't know that this is entirely reflective of my state of fitness, but it's pretty close as I continue to fight with this same mess. I'm back to PT and hoping to get over the hump. I want to sprint again and jump again (and yeah, play some Ultimate again.)