By the numbers 2013 (or a year of logs)

• 78 books read or 27,495 pages
• 112 movies watched
• 114 rounds of disc golf at 13 different courses
• October 9th, first (and only) ace unwitnessed, except by walkers
• 1 round of disc golf random draw doubles (pay-in)
• 17 meals of pizza
• 2 races of the 5k distance and 1 race of about 2.5 miles thanks to me turning around early
• 10 job applications
• 2 job interviews (for the same job)
• 1 move across the country
• 2 road trips- aforementioned move and the Pacific Coast
• 2 foreign countries visited (Mexico and Canada)
• 1 wedding attended
• 1 Ultimate tournament played (Lungbuster in Breckenridge)
• 1 broken sesamoid which led to 1 missed half-marathon and several missed Ultimate games (including a summer championship)
• A record of 22-14-1 in the board game of Carcassonne (Not including 1 game which was declared ineligible for harmonious relationship reasons)

Happy New Year!

2013 books

Working part-time, living near the library, time for a few books...

1. Talking to Girls about Duran Duran
2. The Forgotten
3. Is Everyone Hanging Out without Me?
4. Lord Vishnu's Love Handles: A spy novel
5. 11/22/63
6. The Age of Miracles
7. Bike Snob
8. One thousand beards
9. The Art of Fielding
10. Who will run the Frog Hospital?
11. Casual Vacancy
12. Calico Joe
13. Doomsday Book
14. Farm City: The education of an Urban Farmer
15. Dream Team: How Michael, Magic, Larry, Charles, and the Greatest Team of All Time Conquered the World and Changed the Game of Basketball Forever
16. Seraphina
17. To Sell is Human
18. Room
19. Flight Behavior
20. The Fault in Our Starts
21. Weird Things Customers say in bookstores
22. Atlas Shrugged
23. Looking for Calvin and Hobbes
24. The Nightmare
25. Arcadia
26. Dare Me
27. Divergent
28. Love's Winning Plays
29. To Kill a Mockingbird (re-read)
30. And the Mountains Echoed
31. The Racketeer
32. Beer Blast
33. Candy Freak
34. Let's Pretend This Never Happened
35. Running the Rift
36. Six Years
37. What Would Google Do?
38. Time and Again
39. Duel in the Sun
40. In the City of Bikes
41. Unbroken
42. Steve Jobs
43. More Baths, Less Talking
44. Heads in Beds
45. Ten Little Indians
46. The Bartender's Tale
47. The Burgess Boys
48. Decisive
49. The Best a Man can get
50. What Happened to Sophie Wilder
51. Hairstyles of the Damned
52. Wild
53. Fire Witness
54. The Husbands of Wives Club
55. The Dinner
56. Stay Close
57. Half asleep in Frog Pajamas
58. The Gospel According to Larry
59. Good to Great
60. The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
61. The Uncoupling
62. The Interestings
63. Eleanor & Park
64. Fangirl
65. The Hit
66. Thinking Fast and Slow
67. Open
68. Mr. Penumbra's 24-hour bookstore
69. The Just Right Home
70. Abstinence Teacher
71. Hour Game
72. The Reason I Jump
73. Lady Oracle
74. Bringing up Bebe
75. The Money Code
76. I Love You Miss Huddleston
77. The House on Mango Street
78. The Zero Game
79.

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.