Entries from September 2007 ↓

 today Basic Instructions had a wonderful post about cats (sort of). Click the excerpt above for the full joyfulness, with 3 more amazing panels.

and yesterday I finalized the getting of a kitten. Coincidence? I think not.

Know what else? I’m part of a delegation. Seriously. I’ve never been part of one of those before. I’m in Monterrey (Mexico), and it looks pretty cool so far. I’ll be back to Texas just in time to see Alex on Wednesday. Yessss!

And I miss my new kitty. Also Dexter, whom I never see anymore :(. Oh well. He is loved, and taken good care of. That’s important.

So I had a bit of an adventure yesterday. I moseyed on up to “Lake” Edinburg (actually a reservoir, not a lake) and paddled. It was overcast, bathwater-warm, and very nice. The lake/pond is a good 2 feet shallower than last time I paddled it, but I still had a good time. Saw 2 kinds of egrets, some herons (small ones…?), some cormorant-type things (lighter-colored, smaller), some kingfisher-type things, frogs, toads, fish jumping… lots of life in semitropical Deep South Texas. Also lots of garbage. Stupid Deep South Texans.

Then at about 7:15 I tried to leave. Tried. All gates locked. @#$%. I beat my brains against that for quite a while. No way out. While I was examining one of the gates for possible lock-jimmying (no dice) or alternative gate opening strategies (even fewer dice), I heard a very loud, piercing meow. I thought perhaps a local person’s cat had come to say hi. But there are no houses for half a mile or so, there. And the cat was a vaguely orange-mud-colored kitten. Very small. And it was bleeding. It ran up to me and whined very loudly. Then it wouldn’t stop following me (stupid cat). So I took it home with me.

This involved walking a little over 3 miles to the nearest phone in my paddling sandals, carrying a sometimes – not – cooperative kitten in a little bag I found in my trunk. We negotiated a position with the bag over my shoulder like a purse, and the cat popping his head and front paws out to see where we were going. After a while, he just slept. Musta been tired. And I found out that nobody picks up a thirtysomething bearded hitchhiker in shorts and a paddling top at night, even if he is carrying a kitten.

The cat was a mess. Huge goobery black eye boogers all over its face, filthy, fleas EVERYWHERE, and bleeding from a wound under its chin. Fresh wound. Craig suggested maybe it was thrown out of a moving car very recently. Or maybe it was bitten by something unfriendly very recently.

Now the wound is healing a bit, the eye boogers are gone, he’s bathed, and he has been given flea treatment, eye ointment, shots, a checkup, and pretty much a clean bill of health. The vet said he’s about 8 weeks old, so that’s a relief (I was worried he was younger). The vet also said he’s a he. I was wrong about that one. Gotta rethink name possibilities.

Now off to get some kitten food. I don’t know if I’ll keep him. Maybe. Or maybe someone else wants a very cute little kitten who’s had his shots and has figured out where his litter box is and everything.

Did I mention today’s my birthday? :)

[The rest of the pictures, after the jump, are mostly for my wife. You can look if you want, but unless you're as gaga for kittens as she is, you might get bored]

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 I KNEW IT!!!

So, the above is a written confession of what I have suspected for some time. It is written–ironically–on a package notification slip. My mailperson apparently does not deliver mail when it is inconvenient to do so. I live in a kind of cul-de-sac with several mailboxes, in groups of 3 or 4, placed around the periphery. When I got home yesterday, there was one car parked with its nose toward my mailbox group. No other cars. The postal employee, in order to fulfill his or her sacred mail duties, would have had to actually get out of the vehicle and walk eight to ten feet.Neither rain, nor snow, nor gloom of night shall stay these couriers from swift completion of their appointed rounds. But don’t make them get out of the car. That’s not in the contract.I’m not sure how loudly I want to complain, though, because… you know… postal worker.

US vs. Canada postal service comparison (to date):
Delivery on Saturday: Advantage –> U.S.A.
General Delivery Speed: Advantage –> U.S.A. (small margin)
Hot Older Lady at Post Office: Advantage –> Canada
Post Offices Open Late: Advantage –> Canada
Any Little Thing Makes Them Not Deliver the Mail: Advantage –> Canada.

In Other News, Lore Sjöberg’s Luddite blog on Wired.com has some interesting, little-known facts about dinosaurs. Consider the following:

There Were No Tyrannosaurus Rexes Named ‘Rex’
These huge predators may have been designed by nature to be unstoppable eating machines, but they also knew a trite name when they heard one. Thorough investigation of late Cretaceous wedding registries indicates that the most common name for male T. rexes was “Jayden,” followed by “Palmer.” The three most popular female T. rex names were “Ashley,” “Ashlee” and “Ashlie,” in that order. There was one T. rex named “Dex,” but he had no friends.

See? You learn new things every time you open up the ol’ webs. Things about dinosaurs. Things about postal workers.

 

some crabs just don’t make it…

So, I was reading this excellent installment of the awesome Cat and Girl comic, and I thought I’d follow her rules and post my names.

Witness Protection Program Name: Darrin Pictureframe

Punk Rock Name: Darrin Timewaster

Prime Minister of India Name: Darrin Gandhi

Singer Songwriter Name: Shadrach Newhaven

Science Fiction Name: Arrow Merona

Trust Fund Name: Elizabeth Lake-Deseret I

For extra credit, I followed the traditional format of [physical or metaphysical attribute]+[geographical location or first name]+[presidential last name] to generate my Blues Name:

Fidgety B.C. Johnson

I challenge… nay, Dare; nay, DEFY you all to do the same. Unless you’re chicken.

bok bok!

So I went to the Island yesterday. Only kayaked for about an hour (left late, due to previously-procrastinated tasks), but it was a good hour. The beach was nice, and nearly empty (one family and one fisherguy), and the waves seemed very manageable. In fact, I was a little disappointed.

I was quite intimidated, however, once I got down nose-to-nose with the waves. A five-foot breaker seems like no big deal until you’re in a boat that only puts your head about 2 1/2 feet above the water, and you’ve got the task of getting over or through that wave. I practiced launching and landing, and the latter is definitely more challenging. I got flipped once (and didn’t even try to roll; just did a wet exit… stupid), but then did 3 more launches (followed by landings, of course). Good experience. By the end, I felt comfortable enough to sit in the breakers and just play lazily for a while. It’s very soothing to let the waves roll under or around you, and be concerned with nothing more than the physical handling of the boat.
There’s a joy in doing something successfully. I got broached a few times, and the high-brace-into-the-wave technique that I had studied (but never tried) is wonderfully effective at preventing being flipped. Toward the end of the session, I got myself broadsided on purpose by a largish breaker, just to see. It was a cool sensation to be holding the boat upright in front of the crest with a paddle in the water behind the crest of the wave, while being pushed (fast!) sideways, about 20 yards toward shore.

I tried surfing a few times, too (on the smaller of these already-small waves), instead of the more rational, patient approach to landing. Wow. Surfing is kind of difficult. At least for me. It’s an all-or-nothing game, almost. Like downhill skiing, or freeriding; if you go slowly enough, you have a little control, but if you let fly, you’d better know what you’re doing.

Of course, the usual penalty for messing up is usually just a swim and gear retrieval. Not like the certain broken bones to be had on a black diamond mogul field.

Past the breakers is an interesting place to be, emotionally. Land is close, but it seems very far. The swells are not terribly dangerous (like very slow rollercoasters), but they’re impressive and more menacing than the little breakers, farther in. They imply an unstoppable, non-negotiable force, right under your tiny boat. I never went more than 1/4 or *maybe* 1/2 mile out, but it seemed like much farther. The breaker zone was a strong psychological dividing point for me.

On the way back, I snapped the pic of the little guy you see at the beginning of this post. My best guess is that he’s a Red-Shouldered Hawk, but I’m not sure. If you have info on this topic, please share.

I also took another couple of photos, although clearly not as cool.

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But first, some comic joy from Basic Instructions, a web comic that consistently makes me chuckle:

 [click for the full comic]

Note: this is not a commentary on my feelings for my wife, which are still quite positive, thank you. Now, on to…

How to be one kind of super-cool 21st-century cyclist

1. You’re going to ride a fixed-gear bike. You just are. Shut up.
2. Buy that $1,500 frame you’ve had your eye on. No, not the titanium frame. Not the aluminum frame. The steel frame. Steel is real, with its reality varying in direct proportion to its cost.
3. Drop a few hundred on track-approved cogs, hubs, pedals, bars, and wheels. But build it all up yourself (or pretend you did). It would be a violation of the cycling ethos to pay someone else to do it.
4. Avoid brakes. They add weight and ruin the graceful minimalism of your bicycle. Also, a demonstrated fear of death is the antithesis of cool.
5. Avoid derailleurs. You don’t need them. You may think you do, but you don’t. No questions.
6. No bike racks. See previous item.
7. Get a really good bike messenger bag (about $200). Better yet, make one out of $75 worth of materials you find at the fabric store, so you can keep in the do-it-yourself mindset. Better make it a huge bag; after all, you don’t have a bike rack. TIP: Make sure to wear your cool cycling clothes to the store, so nobody thinks you’re a sissy craft-type person. But don’t bike there; what would you carry your fabric home in…. a backpack? It’s important to think ahead.
8. Now that your bike is super-light, buy a Brooks saddle ($60 – $600) and add a couple of pounds. Get a pre-broken-in one for a few extra clams. Also get the leather protectant and a seat cover. And don’t ride in the rain. It will ruin your saddle.
9. No padded bike shorts. Sure, a Brooks will very possibly not make you impotent, but that’s not your concern. Bike culture is more important than your sex life, your wife’s sex life, or your potential progeny.
10. You’re going to need a new wardrobe. It will include a lot of hipster, punk-esque clothing that looks old but is expensive. Think like a BMXer: shop where the people who ride your kind of bike shop. After a while, you’ll recognize your in-crowd even if they are nowhere near their bikes (not that you’ll ever see them more than a few feet away from their bikes, but, you know, hypothetically).
11. Toss out your helmet, lights, reflectors, and pantleg clips. If you absolutely must commute on the thing of beauty you have created, you’ll just have to quit your current job and get one that allows you to wear those capri pants that all the cool fixie riders wear.
12. Fixed-gear bikes are very low-maintenance. You will come to appreciate the lack of extra parts as you clean and polish your fixie three times a week, in fear that another cool fixie rider might see the grimy state of your steed. Especially mortifying is if they recognize the bike from its photo on fixedgeargallery.com and note how the mighty have fallen.
13. Now, get out there and disobey some traffic laws and the dictates of your better judgment!

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What have I been doing instead of working? The list is long, ending with reading the UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which was signed by 144 nations and pointedly NOT signed by 4. The U.S., Canada, Australia and New Zealand. What? We didn’t sign something that says “rights of indigenous peoples?!?”
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Current bike setup, moosehorns and all

That there’s the bike. I’m tempted to call it “ox” or “moose” instead of “La Pulga” (which I’ve decided is its name, since that’s where I found it). I’m enjoying this bike quite a bit, which is good, since Mr. Bikey, my 2003 Xtc2, needs new bearings and a new race cup (sounds more personal than it is). [Note: I finally (!!!) got hold of someone from Giant customer service (I used the phone number 800-874-4268, and got transferred several times; it is HARD to find any contact info for the largest bike manufacturer in the world), and they told me a new headset is $40, ordered from my LBS. I'll probably do it, because they said there's no technical manual or specs available (unsaid: to me)] .

I am seriously considering going singlespeed on this, since there are no hills around here, and I mostly just commute (2 freakin’ miles) anyway. But I have no real complaints with the gears or the weight of the bike. I rarely shift (note where the shifters are), which removes most of the hassles of a geared bike, but it’s nice to shift down in a headwind or up on an open stretch.

Okay. Back to work. More pictures after the cut.

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Looking around for tips on what to do, brake-wise, with my new handlebars (came in the mail today!), I came across a bunch of crazy yahoos in Australia who ride fixed-gear, no-brake death machines. There is some fun stuff on the site — especially the videos. Here are two. The first is pretty un-amazing until the last fifteen seconds or so, when it becomes the exact opposite of that. The second is lots of very cool urban FG crazyperson footage, with soothing new age music instead of the standard fare. Please note the missing teeth of the guy in the second video before you fixify your bike and remove your brakes.

That is all.

Redline fixie on campus

So, cool bike on campus, eh? I just happened to be out with my new camera, shooting all kinds of terrible pictures, when I saw it. First fixed-gear bike I’ve seen here. Kinda neat. I especially like the strapless MTB clips (I’ve seen those for sale, and they looked interesting) and the clearly homemade aluminum-from-Home-Depot rack (I should have taken close-ups of the welds; they look neat).

So, I went to a couple of Rio Grande Valley Icehole games this week. Interesting experience. I don’t think I’ll be joining up, after all. [warning: rationalization and excuses ahead]. It wasn’t just the deafeningly loud music blasting for the entire 60-minute game. It wasn’t just the hecklers in the crowd (after all, they didn’t heckle *me*). It wasn’t the increased pushing and shoving on the ice (I can get used to that, and shove back). It wasn’t the run-down arena with dripping ceilings and mounds and pits on the ice (actually, the arena is pretty endearing and cool in that way).

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This is interesting. It comes from what appears to be an openly right-leaning site. The Governor of Massachussetts apparently said,

“Among many other things, 9/11 was a failure of human understanding […] It was a mean and nasty and bitter attack on the United States. But it was also a failure of human beings to understand each other, to learn to love each other.”

Personally, I think I see where the Gov is coming from, and from (what I hope is) his perspective, I agree. However, the folks at proteinwisdom.com saw the comment in a different light. From the blog response:

“Well, okay. But in fairness to those 3000 people who died in the WTC attacks, they were never given the choice between ‘send al Qaeda some flowers and a box of chocolate covered cherries’ and ‘death by immolation or grudging 100 story swan dive.’”

And from the comments,

“Ooooh, oooh, I can play too. Here goes:
The . . . Holocaust . . . was a failure of human understanding.
What do I win. (I hope some pie?)”

GODWIN’S LAW!

Puddy Tat at the Zoo we visited in Spokane (click for BIG Romeo)

So, stake conference was interesting. We’ve known for months that something was up with changing boundaries, or creating new wards, or something. The Stake President this morning talked all about that. Apparently, we’ll meet again as a stake for a fast & testimony Sacrament meeting on Sept. 30 (this is all very irregular, and therefore, cool) to hear about the details, which were not disclosed today.The process of reorganizing the stake, making new wards, dividing old ones, re-drawing boundary lines, etc., will require quite a number of changes in leadership. New leaders will be called, and as the Stake President put it, “These people do not want these callings, they did not ask for these callings, and in most cases they have no clue. Yet.”

He then went on to add, “…if you get a call from us in the next couple of weeks, please answer the phone.”

Le camera, she torhturez me wis ze anticipacioun. She eez a cruelle meesteriss, zees camera.

I have already received…

~ my SanDisk Sansa Express 2GB mp3 player. I love it.

~ my big huge extra-strength, UV-resistant tarp (turns out it’s a little *too* big) to cover my kayaks. I’ve already burned through 3 normal-sized tarps and a couple of old bedsheets. Man, the sun just kills things dead.

~ MR. BIKEY!!! He arrived this morning. He’s in pieces still, but both he and the box look undamaged. Sigh. His shipping has now cost me approximately as much as I will have spent (when I’m finished) on both Canada bike and La Pulga. Again with the lessons.

I am still waiting for…

~ BoxWave screen protectors for my PDA (old one is nearly worn out), my point-&-shoot digital camera, and the next item in this list. These screen protectors are expensive, but they last for years and perform amazingly.

~ my saved-up-for-8-months exercise-reward Canon Rebel Xti!!1! :D Friday it should arrive. And UPS doesn’t deliver on weekends, so I’m going home early to camp by the door. I’m sure there will be way too many pictures on here for a while after that.

That is all.

dead dishwasher at the pulga where I found the bike

I just received this from the former owner of the bike (whose name, I think, will be Pulga or Pulguita or something; or Mr. Zippy; maybe):

You did a very nice thing to alert me of the situation. I had given that bike to my son several years ago. A few months ago they moved from one house in Dallas to another. They got rid of a lot of stuff they didn’t use anymore, including the bike. In fact they donated it to goodwill or something like it. The story of how it got to you, and so fast, would be an interesting one to follow.

Woo hoo!

In other news, I’m finally (like 10 years after I got it) outfitting my blue Prijon Yukon (which I call the Blue Pig). Putting in a heel pad, seat padding, and knee/thigh rests. Maybe some thigh braces later. Turns out the contact cement makes you get a headache. Maybe I didn’t ventilate the house enough.

[cat in the UTPA covered walkway]

I pumped up the front tire, and it held 80 psi. Miracle for those cracked, crumbling, barely-there tires. Cross fingers. The rear was a mess, but I patched it twice, then removed the (not working) patches and did it again. It held air, too. I adjusted the brakes, put a little lube here and there, and went for a ride. Also I put some lubricant on the bike.

A 3 mile ride went off without a hitch, as they say. Enjoyable. The rear tire went flat a few minutes after the ride, though. Screw it. New tube. The old one was flaking away in hunks anyway, when I was roughening the patch area.

The bike fit is not bad (I raised the seat an inch or so), but the drop stem may have to go, and the drop bars will definitely be finding their way into the spare parts collection soon. Also these 6-inch-wide handlebars. It’s weird to feel my chest actually constricted while riding, from keeping my arms in far enough to rest on the hoods or the drops. Ugh.

Turns out the seatpost diameter is 27.2mm, so I think the old seatpost from  Mr. Bikey will work. The one on there kind of suxxorz, even though it’s pretty light.

I’m doing this to take my mind off Alex. She left a few hours ago, and must be in the air even while I write. I had a rude shock a moment ago, when I realized that she will not be blogging in the other room when she reads this.

I live in three different worlds, it seems. There’s Canada world (which includes Alex), Texas-with-Alex world, and Texas-without-Alex world. More than Alex leaving, it seems like I just slid from one world into the other.

So I know how irresponsible it is and everything, but before you say anything, just try to imagine what it was like. There I was, out in the flea market all alone, walking along, and I had already been tempted by a $10 singlespeed Schwinn ladies’ cruiser just about Alex’s size, as well as cruelly mocked by any number of Murrays and Huffys that looked SO much better before I got close.

And you know I have never fully recovered from the Vera Horsman experience (even though that centurion was much better for her than it would have been for me). I been pining, you know?

So put yourself in my shoes. There you are, thirty meters away, jaded and longing for bikeness, and you see THIS:

zippy at a distance

What do you do? What do you do?

Me, I talked to the guy, and then talked some more. He wanted $65. I had $31. He wouldn’t let it go for that. I walked away. He said $50. I still walked away, because I only had $31. I went to an ATM and got $20 more, and brought it home. Continue reading →