Head Carving

Another Day in Paradise.

Today was characterized primarily by time spent with my parents. With a 1:30 hair appointment, then an early dinner at Fernando's in San Mateo, it was a great day. If you are one of those people who might want to be jealous of those of us that live in California, today would be a good day to express your emotions. It was incredible out in Pacifica today, at least for a couple of hours. Everyone was out, not just the surfers. Surf's up. This photo is of Linda Mar.

This person is riding his bike backwards while sitting on the handlebars. During the hair appointment, the sun just went away, being changed to fog, leaving a bunch of people in shorts standing out in the cold. It was summer for a split second -- then it was winter again.

Here's a photo of the guitar's headstock veneer being glued into place on the neck blank. This is not the clamping technique mentioned in the book.

Here's the guitar's neck after yet another -- albeit short -- day at the project. The truss rod is now inserted into a routed slot in the neck and a tenon exists to attach to the body of the guitar. I added the Zebrawood veneer for the head and trimmed everything. I think I am about ready to carve the neck.

Nah, silly, that's my mother working a puzzle with her new do.

Date: 17 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 94.67
February total: 176.31
Max: 28.1
On the Ipod: Howlin Wolf, Built for Comfort

Dear Asshole,

Before.

After.

Dear Thieving Asshole,

I could understand that you might need my rear light to put on your cool bike, so that you won't get hit riding brakeless through the night. I could understand that you might be able to sell that light for six or eight dollars and get some beer.

Although the light was basically free for the taking, I wonder why it was necessary to destroy my seat bag by ripping it to remove the light. Did you almost get caught? I actually don't mind that much that the light was taken -- I probably would have given it to you if you had convinced me that you needed it for your bike. You could have easily slipped that light off without damging the bag. Please try to be more considerate when stealing my shit. As you can see, I was barely inconvenienced by the loss of the light, Nick helped me to bolt the new one onto the bike, for lack of a better place. Please try not to hurt yourself attempting to steal the new one. I don't want to be subjected to a personal injury suit.

Shawn

P.S. If you try to sell it back to me on the street tomorrow, I'll do my best to steal it back from you without damaging your hand.

Go Jill

I'll be watching along ... Go Jill.

I look Interesting in Korean

I was looking at the referrals to my blog and I found someone using the Korean version of Google to find my Korean Soup post. The google page offered to translate me into Korean. I of course had to see it. One thing I noticed is that none of the Korean words are translated, which I found quite funny.

My son's in this movie, you might be able to recognize him near the end.

Working from Home

I had this plan to work from home. It was a good plan, every week on Wednesday I work from home. Wednesday is the least busy day in my week -- I have no meetings no over scheduling , no serious crises, because everyone else works from home.

Every week I end up at work on Wednesday. ... I was really jealous of other people who can workout on their bikes over lunch. So I said -- well -- what if I pick my busiest day and spend that at home. The website gets pushed live, busy staff meeting at one lunch with what's his name Thursday and spend that at home. We all work extremely well together, there will be a lot of evidence that I am working. So I floated the idea -- And everyone said "great". So tomorrow is the next effort at working from home.

Up at 7:00, cafe, work at 8. Lunch Ride at 11:30, Tech Meeting at 1:00, work till Webness is complete. Check on parents and shop ... What I'll spend riding is the time I will gain from my lack of commute, so I'll gain the upextra workout I need every week. I should be able to ride out past the bridge and back for 12-20 miles. That could push my weekly base up to 100 miles, which is where I'd like it. The real incentive for working from home will be the extra hour a week I can spend on my bike -- in a focused ride, rather than a spattering of short city commuting.

Then -- if I manage to schedule a long sunday ride every week I can prepare for the next century I ride; the same one I did last year. Not to disrupt the flow or anything -- I am glad to see that Ruby is back, because I think I may be up for another 700km month in March. Are you with me bud?

Tearing Myself a New Asshole

My Marin™ road bike came with a Selle™ Italia® saddle, a favorite in it's day, but really an ass ripper unless you wear those gotdamned padded shorts, which I really prefer never to wear. It's quite sleek and light in the roadie correct (RC™) way. At 250g, it's dandy if your about to ride 100km in those padded shorts and orange™ jerseys.

What about those of us in street clothes with a bony™ ass sit bones. An old favorite among the bicycle enjoyment (BE™) set is the Brooks™ Professional Saddle. It has a nice ring to it -- "Professional" -- like I might ride a bike like I have a job. At 538g it is a heavy load, and not at all RC. Once I have loaded 39 lbs (7,662,657g) into my PC carrying, camera toting, rain gear, tennis shoes, xtra socks, lumber carrying messenger bag. I am sure that my legs won't notice the extra weight.

For those of you that are metric dysfunctional, 250g is about eight ounces. That's quite a bit less than my wallet. Possibly less than one of these. Here is the seat in a most un-RC orientation. Other advocates of the Brooks™ saddle have done this, put perfectly good Brooks saddles on there otherwise racing bikes.

I can always change it if I ever have to ride a lot of miles in pink™ padded shorts.

My bony™ ass thanks me.

Guitar Neck Construction -- Take 2

Yesterday went slightly better.

Here's the neck blank I put together yeseterday, with a Martin Style truss rod and showing the fingerboard outline. I'll need to route out the location for the truss rod and drop it into place. Then I suppose I can start to convince it to look a bit more like a guitar neck.

Date: 10 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 56.62
February total: 81.64
On the Ipod: The Carnival Steel Drum Band, Linus and Lucy (Peanut's Theme)

Texas Hell Week

Should I go? Reading all the blogs from last year made it sound like fun. Does anyone think They might like to go along with me?

It's Going to Rain

See. Photo http://www.NOAA.gov

Guitar Neck Fabrication

This is the first attempt at the neck fabrication for the guitar. At this point it is still going very well. This is a piece of Honduran mahogany just before being reduced to scrap cut at 15 degrees with a dozuki and then planed to match. I'll be doing this part again next week though, as I learned an important lesson in paying attention, later in the day.

Date: 4 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 70.45
February total: 25.02
On the Ipod: Jackson Browne, Late for the Sky

We're Home

We're all back home, including me -- I'll be staying here (with my folks) tonight as well. We all sat around and watched the Bears lose, ate like pigs.

The Remains of the Day

Read the book referenced in the title of this post. It's charming. My mother recommended it.

I saw my mother this morning. They're treating her now for diabetes, developed as a result of steroid use. Atheletes with race induced asthma should pay very close attention. Albuterol is a steroid, so is prednisone,
cortisone and a variety of treatments for emphysema. You'll recognize these. If you're young and you have trouble breathing because you're racing a bike -- tell your MD he's an ass -- and that it's normal to be out of breath after humping your tushy up whatever race. You don't need his steroids to win. Steroid use. WTF? My mother is just a mother.

My mother is good and somewhat happy. I hope they let her come home soon. I may have to insist on it.

I have driven a car recently, I admit it. My first since Christmas. The trials of the last few days have left me needing to move around a bit better. It's hard to haul the elders around on your bike. My father believes he can drive and -- "I'll stop by and take you dad" -- is the absolutely correct response.

I made chili today for tomorrow's game. It is the food of the gods. I went to my folks to make it -- and I worked on the guitar. I was trying to make enough progress to show to my son tomorrow, but no. Not today. I took pictures of the guitar, and tried to mobile blog them from my phone. They haven't shown up. Maybe tomorrow.

It's late. I am old and tired now. I have only the remains of the day to look at. I sure appreciate the folks that have taken the time to let me know they are thinking of me. I am glad to know that you care. I am touched.

Let's hope tomorrow is better. Go Bears.

Gosh.

I rode around the corner a few blocks from my parent's house and there was bla fire engine in sight down the street. I knew instantly that something was wrong my father. He's been at home alone a bit this week, and it's been a busy week for all of us, and I knew. My father. He's been feeling really good, and talking about playing golf. I pulled up and there were firefighters there in triage. The Chief had fallen down.

It's hard for me to imagine the world I live in today.

When I was young, it was a different place. Jets hurled through the sky a supersonic speeds and the sonic booms rallied the glassware to leap to the floor. My life was dominated by a Naval hero and a military haircut. During the 60's it was the Packers and the Dodgers, and sandlot broken window Sandy Koufax baseball in the driveway with the bat pointed at the neighbor's house. It was stingrays in the mud hole that we called a park and riding out to the swamps in the afternoon. There were fallout shelters and we hid under our desks at the sound of a bell to fend off nuclear war. I actually broke the frame on my ugly bike. My sister was a h i p p y and my brother was always in trouble. I remember once I put out the window of a house well past Home Run distance in a glorious and fright filled batting moment. I had to work for hours to replace that window. I had no idea the bay was polluted, and about ten other things. My father was there, building, making, working, fixing, being. Guiding me.

My neighbor Mrs. Miller used to keep the balls in a box in the backyard and not give them to us -- we used to sneak in and steal them back when she went grocery shopping. Me and Vic the Sushi Man. Tonight, it was as if everyone knew something was wrong with John. The Chief. My father. The neighbor stopped by and the Chief didn't answer the door. Folks called from everywhere and the phone was busy. I heard that and raced across town on my bike. My sister in-law showed up right after I got there. Mrs Miller came over.

The Chief had fallen, he hit his head, and got a bit banged up. My father was a strong man. He was a sailor. He led us in a proud way toward a better life, a life. A good life. Through the valley of the shadow of evil. It was harsh at times, but there were many character building experiences. It wasn't necessarily always right -- but I am sure he thought it was.

The Chief grew up in a different era altogether. He was born in 1923. There were planes, cars, blimps. Buzz bombs, radio, radar, Tommy Dorsey, Amelia Earhardt, Charles Lindbergh and war came later. When my mother was 20, in 1941, she started smoking. She smoked for forty-five years. She will die of emphysema. She doesn't want the doctors to investigate much, she doesn't want to be resuscitated. She's in a different hospital, across town. She's scared now. Me too. We are all going to die in seperate places.

The world I live in today has cell phones, and mobile blogging, and this. And spontaneous world wide communications. As Jean Baudrillard said in 1948 -- it is -- An Ecstasy of Communication. It's a world my father can't fathom, and I can barely keep up with. It's extended the life of America by ten or fifteen years, but it hasn't lessened the pain of watching your parents fade. They were so strong.

I guess I need to be strong now.

Phone Hell 2

Phone Hell

Date: 31 January 2007
Mileage for the last bit of the month: 45.25
January total: 371.46
Max 24.2
On the Ipod: Cowboy Junkies, 200 More Miles

Alaska Vacation -- Round Island

You can get a permit that allows you to take, harass, or kill marine mammals, if you have a good enough reason. If you have a good enough reason -- you can take a walrus. And if you're big enough. But where?

I don't want to take any walrus, I just want to take their picture. This is not like taking a picture of a petroglyph (or the honeycombs behind the petroglyphs) in Carrizo Plain National Moneymint, where you get threatened with ticketing and or arrest if you suggest taking pictures of petroglyph rock (If I even see you here with a camera ..."), this is a walrus we're talking about. This is not some light love making.

This is serious. Under the Marine Mammal Protection Act, it is illegal to take, harrass or kill a marine mammal, specifically whales, dolphins, seals, polar bears and walrus. If you take a camera and approach a walrus close enough to get a good picture without a $5000 lens, you probably need a permit. If he feels harassed, you may need to be able to run. I don't think the Marine Mammal Protection Act actually says any thing about that. Quote: "You must be able to run like a ... 'If I even see you here with a camera,' says the walrus"

Go figure, aren't I a marine mammal, in need of protection? Doesn't the walrus need a permit to hassle me. No -- I have to take my chances.

Flight to Dillinger -- $1000
Fly to somewhere -- I am not sure where -- a point on Homer spit or a beach -- $400
Boat to Round Island $400
Hotels meals etc. -- $600
One week Camping, permits, fees, food, film, and ... did I mention food? ... $500

12 day trip to Round Island to photograph walrus -- $2900

Holy shit, Batman

Any one care to join me?

About your Car ...

It went like this. I got caught at the light, and there was a young guy trackstanding for an eternity, then sped away. I, of course can barely stand, so trackstanding seems impossible. I did catch him and comment on his talents and then blow by him into traffic. I was wailing throught the ring street at the end of Townsend onto John Henry at speed, and this woman in front of me saw a parking spot and stopped. I hit the brakes and watched ... sliding ... an eternity passed. I was picking out how I was going to (safely) land on the back of her car, when she looked up and hit the gas. I think I was less than an inch from her bumber when the car lunged forward. Raise one for the driver. She actually gave up her parking spot to save me.

But don't raise one for this driver.

Ok so this Cool for the Bikers

Photo © Jill Homer 2007.

Jill the uber winter cyclist in Juneau, Alaska, who is currently preparing for the Susitna 100 (A 100 mile winter bike race in Alaska, and did I mention Winter?) and blogging about it, was nominated for a Bloggy award in the Best Sports Blog category. I think this is pretty impressive. Even to get nominated for that. A young woman who rides her bike in the snow and writes about it. No super bowl, no fantasy football, just a girl woman on a bike with a camera and a pen.

If you like winter, your bike, or women, or great achievements, then please go and vote for her. If that doesn't work for you -- then go read her blog and see if you like that.

Today, she rode a Big Century. Amen to that.

Date: 27 January 2007
Mileage for the week: 66.03
January total: 326.21
On the Ipod: David Grisman and Tony Rice: Tone Poems

Soon-dubu Chigae

Ok, some soups are unique colorful and photogenic. When I was in Korea I learned some things about food. First, when you buy stuff like cereal, look on the back of the box to see if there's a picture of a woman dumping it into a washing machine or cleaning a drain with it or any other obvious signs that its not food.

If it looks good, smells good, or has a lot of garlic, live octopi, chili, or kimchi, it's probably good to eat. Three or four or five foods became my staple diet there, with surprises occasionally. I love kimchi. There was a vendor right near my place there that made kimchee mandu in a tall stack of steamer baskets, which became a regular afternoon snack between classes. Another street vender would sell a garbage bag filled with puffed corn for about a buck. This was frequently breakfast. In the city I was in, bibimbop was the regional specialty. I preferred bibimbap hot (Dulsot) but one of my roommates there would rather it be cold.

My favorite breakfast of all time is the Adobo chile at the Horseman's Haven in Santa Fe, NM -- but I'll need to talk about Korea now, and that later. Second, of course was soon-dubu chigae, which is a Korean Soup described with other common Korean soups here:

Korean stews (chigae) generally have two things in common, they're hot and spicy. The most common stews, which are all served with rice, are kimchi chigae, dwen-jang chigae, soon-dubu chigae and boo-dae chigae. All of these stews contain enough hot pepper to burn the hairs in your nostrils. On a frigid winter day, nothing will warm you up more than a hot bowl of boo-dae chigae (my preference). Kimchi chigae is loaded with kimchi, small pieces of pork and various vegetables. Dwen-jang chigae is a soy bean paste based soup filled with vegetables and clams. If you like tofu, you'll love soon-dubu chigae. Vegetables, clams and an egg are added to this tofu bonanza. Boo-dae chigae originated from the Korean War. After the American soldiers finished eating, many times they had a little food remaining that they threw away. The Koreans were very poor at that time and they would go around collecting that thrown away food and put it in a big pot and presto, the birth of boo-dae chigae. It includes hot dogs slices, ham, glutinous rice, and other vegetables. Ramen noodles are usually thrown in as well.

Soon-dubu chigae is a hot spicy meal. It's a power packed food and tasty. In my notebooks from Korea a recipe exists, along with how to make pickled garlic, which everyone should experience one in their life. I need to find a good recipe for Soon-dubu Chigae. Although it is a vegetable soup, it does contain Anchovy Sauce, meaning it's not really vegetarian.

The with clams part of the recipes, may rely on regional differences in Korea. Places nearer the sea include more seafood in there diet ... as students and teachers in Korea, we really didn't have all that much money, so certain foods were luxurious.

Photo from The Tofu House in San Francisco.

Why do People take Pictures of their Feet?

Because of the cool and stealthy new cycling shoes that arrived in the mail today from Lake Cycling.

Sunday Morning Social Ride

I'll be leading a ride from the Bean Street Cafe in San Mateo, on B street between Third and Fourth, Sunday at 10 AM, to the San Mateo-Hayward bridge on the Bay Front Trail. It's a social there and back ride -- so come and enjoy it. I think Bean Street is going buy the coffee.

It's about 10 miles round trip to the bridge. If you don't want to go that far, turn around and go back. Maybe we can all eat shrimp tacos at Pancho Villa afterwards. Maybe we will get back so soon we'll have to have bagels with cream cheese, onions, and smoked salmon at the cafe.

Note: I just changed the time from 8 to 10 AM.

ooooh!

Stuff came in boxes today. I bet there was a time in the not too distant past when a Luthier had to spend quite a bit of time aquiring and drying appropriate woods for his craft.

The internet speeds that process up a bit. So does fedex.

The picture above shows the better parts of the skinny end of a guitar. Clockwise from the top left: wicker trunk, ebony fingerboard, Honduran mahogany neck stock, adjustable truss rod, more Honduran mahogany, racoon, remote, mahogany heel block, gold tuning machines, zebrawood head veneer.

That means that there's work to do. Before that, however, I am going to try out Fritz' Grandmother's miso soup recipe. But first I have to find some Niboshi Dashi. Or whatever that was that his grandmother had on the wall in her kitchen. There's a bonus venison onion soup recipe in the comments.

Soup Recipe

Really -- I am looking for Cioppino, Minestrone, Italian Wedding Soup, Clam Chowder, Gumbo, Tortilla soup and the other great soups of the world to round out my list. I'll be happy to test out your soup recipes.

And I am listening to the Cream -- Live at Winterland. Crossroads. The man on the street in my building is Robert Johnson. I was thinking of making a CD for him. He's never actually heard Robert Johnson. I can't imagine what that's like.

I was too young to see the Cream at Winterland on March 10, 1968 -- but I did see The Who there and many great shows. Rumor Myth has it that Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil for his musical talent at the Crossroads. That's powerful juju. I would recommend turning it up -- A lot.

I believe I am sinking down. Make soup outta that. Go through the list of great musicians that went down the road with Robert Johnson:

Eric Clapton and Cream -- Crossroads and a variety of other songs
The Cowboy Junkies -- Me and the Devil
Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett with Duane Allman -- Come on in my Kitchen
The Rolling Stones -- Love in Vain
Ramblin on my Mind -- John Mayall and the BluesBreakers
SweetHome Chicago -- The Blues Brothers

and you got great soup. Maybe the Blues Brothers are a stretch -- but what the heck. I shouldn't have any trouble making a great Robert Johnson CD.

Yeah, I followed her to the station with a suitcase in my hand
Well, it's hard to tell, it's hard to tell, but all true love's in vain
When the train come in the station I looked her in the eye
Well, the train come in the station I looked her in the eye
Well, I felt so sad and lonesome that I could not help but cry
When the train left the station, it had two lights on behind
Well, the blue light was my baby and the red light was my mind
All my love's in vain

Pick of the Week®

Pick of the week goes to Jill. For this.

Guitar Project

I have a long and serious relationship with wood. Being a Sculptor -- I learned early on to appreciate its virtues. I have pieces of ebony and walnut and purpleheart and bloodwood lying around in my house, my studio, in my sculpture. In my living room is a table I built from Port Orford cedar and zebrawood. I walked in to my local hardwood supplier (I bet you all have one) and talked to a young guy for a while about Honduran mahogany. I bought a single small piece of rosewood.

The old man walked in while I was paying my bill, and said ... "How you been?" I said -- "I am good, how about you? ." He remembered me from God knows when. 1997. He hasn't aged a day. I bought a lot of wood from him when I was trying to get through grad school.

When I buy a piece of wood I tap on it, test it, check its worthyness. I listen to it. I look at it -- Is it gorgeous or just crap. I want to know that it's a sweet piece.

Over the last few days I have bought a variety of stuff. Tuning machines. Honduran mahogany stock for necks, the rosewood mentioned above, an already cut for frets fingerboard in the Martin length, and ebony, fretwire, a zebrawood plate for the tuning pegs. Ivory. A readymade tensioner for an acoustic guitar. A spokeshave. I never got to tap on any of it. I'll have to check it out when it gets here.

I am thinking -- a 1964 gibson acoustic might be cheaper ...

I said to that kid -- that piece is flatsawn. I need a quartersawn piece, do you have one. No. Thanks. Bye. Gotta go.

Smile

It's one of the Smiths. Smith Factors.

Date: 20 January 2007
Mileage for the week: 70.78
January total: 260.18
On the Ipod: The Gypsy Kings: Mosaique

There's the Elder Brother

My brother Kevin Kielty speaks out on behalf of Tom the tree. Long live Tom the tree. He knows trees.

The Susitna 100

Jill is racing in the Susitna 100. In February. She rode 80 miles today in 5 or so inches of snow. Check it out.

Chrome Citizen Messenger Bag

Ever since the time I first saw a messenger bag, I thought it would be nice to try a great one out. Today I managed to get my hands on a Chrome Citizen messenger bag from Chrome Transport located here in San Francisco. The Citizen is a medium sized bag on a scale which includes small (Mini Metro), medium(Citizen), large (metropolis) and the huge Kremlin.

Mine is a right shouldered model, unlike most, and I put my old bag right into it for the ride home. I added the Chrome Ipod holder and the existing phone holder I had. Despite the medium size, it easily accomodated the old bag I had and all it's contents. I can see it's ample size handling cartons of milk, six packs of beer and loaves of bread, contents of soup recipes, along with some other more difficult projects like my 4x5 camera rig, or my Canon SLR digital setup.

The vertical orientation of the bag when riding will mean that certain cargo may be easier to carry, like a tripod, or snowboard. This totally defeats the racktop bags, like this one, or the one from the Banjo Brothers, which can't possibly manage the length of a tripod, much less a snowboard.
It has an outer shell with a full interior lining of waterproof material, which should mean you precious cargo will be dry when you arrive, unless you happen to fully submerge. The closure on the bag is broad velcro and clipped reflective straps.

I think it may be fair to say that I am more than a little enamored of the big metal seat buckle and hardware. The photo below shows the buckle and the pull ring which combine to provide one handed closing, opening, and adjustment. Pulling the ring loosens the strap -- while yanking on the end of the strap will tighten it -- so it's easy to adjust when riding. Also included in this foto are the Chrome IPod holder, which is quite secure, although provides no opportunity for operating easily while riding. Be sure not to miss the clip for securing the load to your body, which totally comes out the wrong side of the strap, proving itself complete impossible to easily operate.

Timbuk2's bag after being removed from the new bag is shown below for a size comparison.

Although the yellow color on the Chrome bag is bright, there could be more reflective material, but as one of my fellow riders said to me recently, "Visibility at night is really about lights, after that it's just a fashion statement." That large field of reflective material on the Timbuk2 bag leaves me feeling secure about being visible.

There are three pockets along the back here to organize the smaller items, one zippered and two open. These would all be under the back flap when closed. The reflective strapping is clearly visible in this flash shot.

Because of the criss cross pattern of the velcro in the rear closure, odd shaped items like this tripod are no sweat. Notice the verticle orientation of the tripod.

It's a good bag-- it's secure, tough, well built, and looks great -- I give it a peace sign for eco-friendly construction, and a thumbs up for being totally smart. It rocks. I hope for a long and happy life together.

Early Guitar Project

... hmmm... well, it's started. I am reminded of the time two of my neighbors were talking once in the street in Hayward and I could hear them, because of a peculiar twist of the wind.

"What do you think our crazy neighbor is up to today?"
"You don't suppose he's going to cook up a boiling, smoky, oil filled cauldon out in the
driveway today?"
"Hard to say. He's probably going to wait till dark to do that, don't ya think?."
"Hmm, yeah."

This of course, was the day after I mixed a 20 gallon batch of oil-based clay in a drum over an open fire in my driveway. It started on the coleman stove, and then briquets and sticks, and then bark and firewood. It takes quite a bit of fuel to melt 20lbs of wax. Looking back ...

One of my friends gave me the strangest look the other day when I was describing the guitar project. It's clear that some people think this is an interesting project. Too interesting. It was one of those "you actually make baskets?" sort of looks.

The image above is a 1.5 inch thick workboard with a paper pattern and guitar shaped gasket (the shim) and "shoe," ultimately to hold and assembly the guitar. The next step is to layout the strings and neck, but let's just say, I am making some progress.

Snow?

Perhaps. I am charging the batteries in my camera and having a hot chocolate now , and waiting.

It's supposed to fall to 35°F. overnight with a 60% chance of rain. The front has already passed and the temperature is already falling. With scatterred clouds and a chance of precipitation -- there's a chance we may see snow on the flat in the morning. And we definitely should see it on the surrounding hills.

S

Update : Yes -- here.

Feeding a Tapeworm

Gluttony is still one of the seven deadly sins. Looking at this empty carton you'll discover that it contains 4 servings of 300 calories each. Burp.

The temps have been low, and it's been windy. Over the last two days it has been below freezing a few times and the onshore breeze has kept everyone a bit chilly. I rode my bicycle on sheet ice and black ice over the past two days. What I notice the most is this insatiable hunger like I might get if I had a tapeworm, even noticeable right after I eat.

Number of comparable items required to deliver 1200 calories:

Qt. Vanilla Swiss Almond Ice Cream -- 1
Venti® Caramel Machiatto -- 1.5
12 oz. Beers -- 6
Small cans of bumble bee tuna -- 12.2

The ice cream is clearly the best choice from this list. Why do we eat it on hot days? Because it's cold. Why eat it on cold days? Because we are cold.

Pick of the Week®

Goes to Fritz! Great Photo.

Date: 13 January 2007
Mileage for the week: 58.89
January total: 189.40
On the Ipod: Don't Look Back, Luscious Jackson

Buying a Guitar Really Might be Easier

So now -- I've read the faq here. and I've read two books on the subject. Since I am now into it more that it would take to buy an acoustic guitar, it seems that I have again chosen the harder less travelled path. I haven't memorized them yet, but I did read Guitarmaking, Tradition and Technology, by William D. Cumpiano and Jonathan D. Natelson and The Guitar Masters Workshop, by Rik Middleton, which I didn't like because he calls clamping "cramping" and a c-clamp a "G-cramp". That troubles me. I am not sure what a G-cramp is, but I think it might have to do with not having sex during pregnancy. I shouldn't be so irreverant of someone skilled enough to make a guitar. The book was quite informative. It primarily talks about making a classical guitar. Later, when I have taught my self to play Flamenco -- I will be more interested in classical guitars.

Now, I am sure you are wondering what has possesed me to think I should build a guitar. I once read a detailed description of how to build a violin and it was quite facinating. Right now I am shopping around for that thing that is going to carry me emotionally and financially through the next 20 or so years of my life and it seems that making something with craft, tradition. and history, could be a cool place to start. I have the kind of patience, hands, and intent, to do quite well at something so simple and sophisticated.

I considered some other things, like being a bum, or just getting paid to travel.

I have a great piece of Port Orford Cedar which is just an inch or so too small to make a guitar soundboard ... so I think I am going to need to buy some spruce. Tomorrow -- I will do what I always do when starting a project. Clean up and collect the tools in one place.

After I go for a nice long ride.

1966 Miles Riding in 2006

Although this is a great photo of Mono Lake, I didn't ride there, or ride in the snow. © Shawn Kielty 2005. All rights reserved.

Month/Miles

January 6
February 211.7
March 330.47
April 415.21
May 303.89
June 159.67
July 95.16
August 139.47
September 70.21
October 67.05
November 194.36
December 299.91

Total 1966.10

Well -- that's not really 2000 miles; now is it? Maybe if I count the miles hiked, too (it's only 5ish miles a day, which ain't so good).

Per Volquartz' Joshua Tree Photography Workshop

It's free. Dates: January 26-27-28, come all three days or just for one day! Place: Jumbo Rock campground, second to the last loop, Joshua Tree National Park, Southern California.
I think I'll be there! For more info find Per Volquartz here. Just to make sure sure there's no confusion, that image is © Shawn Kielty, 2005.

Shoot the Dog

It's quite nice right at the moment. The cold of the recent past was replaced with warmth and sunshine in the seriously California way. Shoot the Dog by The Alison Brown Quartet on the iPod.

It won't last is what I hear. But let's just say it was a nice ride into work.

Date: 7 January 2007
Mileage for the week: 94.65
January total: 130.51
On the Ipod: Do the Do, Howlin Wolf, from The London Howling Wolf Sessions

Lentil Soup Monastery Style

This is adapted from Frances Moore Lappe's recipe in Diet for a Small Planet, which is good, hearty and well ... it just needs garlic, ham and a few more carrots. Her original recipe is tried and true, since her book is now over 20 years old. It's guest tested. I personally have served it to several dozen guinea pigs people.

1/4 cup olive oil
2 large onions, chopped
2 or 3 cloves of garlic crushed and chopped (optional)
2 fresh (never frozen) carrots, chopped
1/2 teaspoon each thyme and marjoram
3 cups Seasoned Stock (Lappe calls for vegetable broth -- I never use that I always use chicken stock)
1 cups lentils, rinsed
salt to taste
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 1-pound can tomatoes
6 oz or so cubed ham pieces (optional)
1/4 cup dry sherry
2/3 cup grated swiss cheese

Heat oil in a large pot and saute onions, garlic and carrots for 3 to 5 minutes. Add herbs and saute 1 minute. Add stock, lentils, salt, parsley, ham and tomatoes and cook, covered,until lentils are tender, about 45 minutes. Add sherry (or use red wine, or my personal favorite, beer). To serve, put 2 tablespoons cheese in each bowl and fill with soup. Or grate the cheese on top. Or do both Serves 4-6.

With this soup I would choose a light salad (Romaine hearts and endive with a dressing made from plain yogurt, maple syrup and Indian curry) before it with a crisp white like a Suave Bollo or Pinot Grigio. Serve this with flatbread and a red like a Merlot and follow with a plate of aromatic cheeses and a Petite Sirah.

Or -- just toss it down with a beer.

Mangez!

Notes on Making a Guitar

[Air guitar playing]
I walked 47 miles of bobwire
I got a cobra snake for a necktie
A brand new house on the roadside
and its made out of rattlesnake hide
Gat a brand new chimney made to fit on top
and it's made outta human skulls
Com'on take a little walk with me baby
And tell me who do you love ...
Now around the town I
Use a rattlesnake whip ...

Around noon today I set out across the soccer field after eating a bowl of miso soup, butteryaki somethingfish, and about a pound of rice, when I realized that the internal furnace was kickin in. I was hot. It was still bitter wind winter San Francisco California freezing, but I was feeling normal.

This has happened to me before, like the time I decided to put cream in my coffee. I was a grad student in Eastern Washington, and I got up one morning and it was 15 degrees out (the day before it was like 47) ... and there was snow on the ground. I walked across town and froze. And decided to start putting cream in my coffee to add some fat in my diet. I had already started putting the cream in my coffee, when a couple of days later -- I suddenly got warm. I stayed warm until March when it started to rain.

Yes, I was overdressed. Yes, I wasn't all tucked in in the right places. Yes, I left my Goretex™ windbreaker and jacket™ at home. Yes, I was getting sweaty. And I wasn't even playing soccer. Just burning rice and evolving. Just surviving.

Darwin was right... Here's to evolution.

As a sculptor, I occasional get these bright ideas to build things. I was looking at a piece of sculpture I made a few years ago (It's made from the arm of a chair and invokes the image of a violin) and thinking about my son and a guy named Tim Doebler and what was so special about Stratovarious anyway. I never really cared for Tim's ironwork, but he often made these sardine can mandolins, and other weird and unique string instruments, which I thought were brilliant. I hear a Stratovarios™ is actually brilliant.

So there I was, remembering the book I read about building a violin, and thinking how I never managed to get that boat I built all those years ago to float -- how I never built that wood canoe ... and I was thinking that I would never manage to build a guitar. Then I remembered that I know how to do that. I have an advanced degree in building stuff. SO I went to the bookstore and the big library in sky.

Tomorrow I am going to look for some wood.

Then, I'll start to make notes about building a guitar.

I am Cold

I am cold. It's 46 degrees out. I rode a measly 9.35 miles today. The wind is out of the NW at about 10-15 and gusty. Nothing like the weather reports of yesterday. But I am cold. Folks in places like Alaska, Minneapolis and Colorado, Toronto even, must think I am a bit crazy.

Let's not forget I just spent 2 and a half years in *&$#*@& hell paradise. Arizona.

So I put on an extra layer today. I saw the guy with a balaclava and shorts on the train, Lauren. I threw the rain gear in my bike bag. I even ate breakfast, to help me keep warm. I froze totally. Anything I might have offered as advice about how to keep warm is pretty much crap at this point. The one part of my anatomy that wasn't cold was my lunch office feet. The Mysterioso™ are good socks when they are not wet. All those clothes and I am cold.

I never was wet. When I got on the bike at 9:30 Pm across town to ride home -- I threw on my raincoat. It was 30 someodd degrees and straight into the wind. Grin and bear it. I grew up here on a bike. It can be nasty here. I rode home and I wasn't wet. Now I am here with hot chocolate and a heater. It was a character building experience.

And a lot of you are in places like Minnesota and Colorado and Juneau. I will get warm eventually, as for you, I can't say. I hear that with the exception of the occasional blizzard -- it's been warm there. But it's still colder than here.

It's Acting all like it's Going to Rain ... And Stuff

Tim and Marco play Felice Navidad at the Cafe.

The weather tomorrow looks like it might be a bit scary. Particularly this bit:

Thursday: Rain showers. Strong winds developing in the afternoon. Highs in the lower 50s. West winds 15 to 25 mph...becoming northwest 30 to 40 mph with gusts
to 60 mph possible in the afternoon.

"Rain Showers ... Gusts to 60 mph." "Dress thoughtfully," to quote Jill. I will be testing out the Mysteriouso™ Sock under my Shimano™ riding shoes tomorrow, as I continue with my plan to avoid buying any $50 (at the local bike shop) waterproof shoe covers by Louis Garneau™.

I am not good at the calculation of any thing really, so rather than try any sort of math, I'll try this. At 52° F. with 60 mph gusts it could get freaky cold, especially with the wet from rain part included. So ...

Patagonia™ Capilene™ performance baselayer (sometimes referred to as long underwear) , SmartWool™ 100% wool long sleeve pullover, thin REI™ balaclava, helmet with helmet raincap, levi's and Marmot™ rain pants, Cotton shirt, fleece pullover, NorthFace™ Goretex™ rain jacket, wool socks with the Mysterioso™ socks, and the Shimano™ shoes. Some Fox™ insulated gloves.

In the messenger bag: A change of shoes and socks. bag of m&m's™ and Gu™.

Something tells me it's either not going to materialize, or it's going to be quite nasty™. Sometimes it just get's that way here. Maybe I'll just stay in with a hot coffee.

New Year's Day 2007

Last year on this day I was out in the shed digging up an old bicycle and washing it off because I was having a hard time walking more than about a mile driving through the Nevada desert, dodging a blizzard. This would be the first year I can go back into my blog and check to see what I was really doing. I will have to be pretty honest from now on. By this time last year that bike was clean and in the truck -- I think. Any way -- some time around now last year I was thinking about a bike ride.

Date: 1 January 2007
Mileage: 35.86
Average: 14.8
Max: 24.0
Week: 45.96
January total: 35.86
On the Ipod: Time out of Mind, Steely Dan

This morning my back was troubling me, and I was sitting around thinking about how to start out the New Year. I looked around at my messy house and the state of the place and being reminded by the gnawing thing in my back that I am not getting enough exercise and I thought -- I should go for a decent ride. I could hustle out to Coyote Point and ride down the Bay Front Trail and find out how far I can go.

Since I had to be at my parents for a little later in the day, I cleaned the house instead I suited up immediately. The best way to cross the 101 at Peninsula is to walk, to use the staircases and walk your bike.

From Coyote Point south the Bay Front trail is a hodge podge of routes adjacent or very near the San Francico Bay, mostly paved multi-use trail with a lot of folks on it. New bikes, new runners, new riders, and me; I was trying to keep my pace above 15 mph for the day overall. Since it follows the west shore of the bay down the Peninsula, it's dead flat ... and nothing about it is straight. I traveled about 15 miles before I gave up on a gravelled stretch, just past the dog park in Redwood City, after some debate about whether it was going to be possible to continue in a 1/2 mile or so.

Ultimately, I was hoping that it would be possible to ride a century out my door on that route. Maybe next time. It may be possible to connect the stretch of it further South with this section of it by actually riding on the road. I'll need to get out a map and start earlier.


These are Canvasback Ducks, red head, white body, formerly fairly rare, having been overhunted.

I think Thom is going to give us annual tallies from the Saturday Spinners. It will be interesting to see what I have tallied since then ... I am guessing my miles for the year to be about 2500. We'll see.


Since I was in the desert last year -- It probably wouldn't have mattered if there was an earthquake on the Parkfield section of the San Andreas Fault, like there was today. The USGS is banking the farm on that one going next. Let's all wait and see.


I think that these cats out on the trail are maybe being overfed by the cat feeders. If you notice, that cat seems unaware that there is a pigeon right next to him. There were so many fat and healthy cats along the trail, I was beginning to wonder if they were actually pets feral. I guess we are a benevolent society after all, towards cats at least. And, I guess I am still a cynic, despite the New Year and all it's optimism.

Happy New Year everyone!

That's your moment of optimism; enjoy it.

I Once was Lost, but Now I am Found ...

Was blind, but now I see. ...

Well, -- I went for a leisurely little climb today. I was discussing routes around town the other day and *someone* suggested I ride up to the College of San Mateo via 26th Avenue. It's a short climb ... Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound ... a climb.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

Through many dangers, toils, dangers toils and snares
I have already come
I've already, I've already come
'Tis grace hath brought me safe, it's brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead, gonna lead me home
Oh, yes he will

I believed I could make it to the top of that hill ... Some young women (downhill) runners on 26th Avenue were cheering me on. I am thinking they will probably want to take a cab (that's what I wanted) back up the hill after having coffee at the mall. It will be really bad for them if they insist on running.

From the hard deck (20' elevation max -- i.e. just slightly above high tide) to the top of the top of the hill at CSM is about 600 vertical feet. Although my ride was around 10.6 miles, the hill climbing part of all this was in less than a mile. Ultimately my route doesn't go all the way to the top -- bailing out early at about 525 ft.


The sweet view at the top from Parrot Drive.


That's San Francisco there, go ahead and blow it up (the picture, silly).

When I was a lad, the route up Parrot Drive was my favorite. After school I would often ride up there and come down 26th to the mall and get coffee. It was always fun. The rapid descent of 26th Avenue was -- well -- fun. The route is the same route in reverse. Ride up 26th to the top. Toss your 1000 $100 bike over the fence onto Campus Drive. Hump up that hill to Laurelwood, and turn on to Hillsdale up and up to CSM Drive. Turn left and then right on Parrot Drive. and enjoy the panorama, and the rapid descent into downtown San Mateo. Enjoy coffee.

I am redeemed. I made it. I had to stop for oxygen at the cul-de-sac, and for beer water at the liquor store. I got spotted by Tassia in the Hallmark store at Laurelwood. I rode up the hill and returned. It felt great to take a ride again for pleasure.

I know it was just ten or so miles -- but I smell bag balm linament ... it hurt just a bit. I feel great though. Pass the Chili. If you can't warm it from outside; warm it from within.

The route. Yahoo's routing algorythm isn't consistent enough to produce the same result when I plan as it is when you view it. I tried to get them to hire me to do their quality -- but ... So it isn't quite right. You probably won't want to ride on that freeway.

Keep on rocking in the free world!

Shawn's Chili

You might be wondering right about now, "What the heck is wrong with Shawn?" It appears as if he is on vacation, but he is hanging around the house cooking. Yeah. What's that about?

Well, I like it here. And I don't want to go anywhere. I need the down time.

So -- I am at the golden spot -- I have made the chili and now wait for the result. 45 minutes of stinky ecstasy, as the beans cook and the chili roasts, sending the neighbors to place like Mesa, Arizona in search of these delights. This is not my mother's chili. This is serious tailgate party chili. Serious southwest chili goodness. The house is rich with the aroma of it all. I promise to sweat when I eat it.

It all started because I told my ex-gf that I made chili for my parents. "You made that chili you make?" No ... I made my mother's chili. "Oh, I thought maybe you were seriously cooking for them. That's too bad." ... or something similar to that.


I am going to share this recipe with you ... gentle readers.

1 lb Pinto or red beans
One cube of butter
2 T. vegetable oil
2 lbs. chuck steak or sirloin tips cut for stir fry into 1/2" x 2" strips
1 1/2 lbs. of good ground beef
4 small onions reduced to 1/2-1 inch pieces
4 hot house tomatoes chopped and seeded
8 garlic cloves crushed then chopped into large pieces.
1/3 c. powdered chili (herein lies the magic -- this is ground/crushed arbor chilis, hot New Mexico chilis, California Mohave chilis. Mohave Foods Corp in Los Angeles offers them in little bags in Safeway.) Adjust this to your palette. It can get out of hand quickly
Large can of stewed tomatoes
2 cans of ortega chilis chopped
2 Jalepeno peppers -- chopped
1 Pasilla or Anahiem Pepper chopped
1+ t. brown sugar
1+ t. salt
1/2 t. fresh ground pepper
A bay leaf or two -- If you live here on the west coast you can find these -- they grow as a Bay Laurel -- or Myrtlewood tree.
1+ t. cayenne
Pinch thyme
1+ T. Worchesterschire sauce
32 oz of beef stock
Squeeze of Lemon or touch of vinegar or splash of beer -- to add interest and help emulsify the fat ...
Beer
Cheddar Cheese
Crackers

Oh my -- I just tasted it. I simultaneously thrills the tongue and warms the testicles soul.

Soak the beans overnight to reconstitute them.
Fire the wod burning oven to 300 degrees
Brown the strips of meat in half the butter and half the oil -- reserve all the result in a large pot.
Add the hamburger to the skillet and brown -- add that to the large pot
Discard all the fat from your skillet add the rest of the butter and the onions and saute -- add the garlic near the end -- when the onions are transparent -- move to the pot with the meat.
Add the chili powders to this mix.
Add all the remaining ingredients to the large pot except the beans.
Boil all this and put in a 300 degree oven
Bake covered for 1 1/2 hours
Drain and cook the beans for about an hour
Add the beans and the meat mixture together
Add a splash of beer. vinegar, or lemon juice and stir
Bake uncovered for an additional 1/2 hour
Add more beef broth if it dries out
Drink remainder of beer


Grate cheddar cheese on top and serve with raw onions for real chili goodness.

From my Mother's Kitchen

She claims this is the Smacky's chili of Eau Claire, Wisconsin fame.

One large can (or bottle, go figure) tomato juice
Two stalks of Celery (chopped)
One small onion diced
One lb ground beef
1 T. Chili Powder
1 t. Sugar
1/4 to 1/2 lb sphagetti
1 can dark kidney beans
Salt and pepper to taste

This is quite simple.

To a large pot add the tomato juice and an equal amount of water, the chili powder and sugar and bring to a rolling boil. Be sure to salt (imagine trying to kill the nearest coronary patient) and pepper this. When it boils, uncover, add the pasta and the celery and cook till the pasta is done -- about 15 minutes.

In a skillet fire up the meat and add the onions. Brown the ground beef and drain most of the fat (save that coronary candidate now) . Add the kidney beans to this and heat it up.

Combine the two in the big pot and make sure it's all hot.

In my family, on a cold day, a windy day, a wet day, this was the best meal ever. I called my brother and that's what his wife made today. It was windy and cold today -- so that's what I made for my folks tonight.

The storm front has passed and the wind is howling down here from the north, bringing cooler temps and fallen trees. I like to eat the chili with soda crackers coated in butter. Yum. And it's good with a glass of milk.

My other brother used to insist that the kidney beans be in the pot -- but he wouldn't eat a single one. He would dig them out and give them to my father. Go figure.

My Package from Alaska has Arrived

Three or four days of Jill's weather. Notice the resemblance of my weather to Jill's. The only real difference is about 20 degree's in temperature. She has had wind advisories, hazardous weather outlooks and probably even flash flood warnings. I been here for a while, and it's fixing to rain in a grown-up way.

Any way -- I still have no seal skin booties neoprene socks, but I do have marmot rain pants. ... I can get a bit grumpy when my feet get wet. Maybe I'll need to ride over to the dive shop. It's either that or poach a seal and find an Inuit wife.

Logs

Turn up Ipod -- Mingle with pedestrians and cross street to enter traffic. Talk to ups driver waiting at light ... avoid acute crossing of rail by cutting into traffic slowing down some BMW driver who is a hothead. Fantasize about working at Advent or one of these cool content shops near the rail station. Oh that's a truck stopped ... pass this doofus -- stand up and pedal hard. Sprint through intersection! Scream at person on phone trying to kill me with a Honda. Realize adrenaline. Signal. Ring street. Ring bell. Miss pedestrian! Pick up egg mctedwich and secure to rack. Jump curb. Avoid same woman trying to park as yesterday. Race uphill, accelerate. Coast ... to time intersection to run stop sign. Jump curb, wave to security and ride into lobby.

Who needs a training log?

Mileage for the week, 63.90; Maybe I do. because I used to ride that in a day.

Manfrotto Mono Pod

My new Manfrotto™ 679b tri mono pod. it weighs 1 pound 6 ounces. It also came with new Slic ball head (SBH-120).

It can double as a walking stick.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Plan your Escapes

Look closely at this map. It's from the United States Geologic Survey (USGS) latest quake page. It shows a 3.7 magnitude earthquake in red (and a smaller one in the same place). These two earthquakes obscure another one which happened in the last week. There are four earthquakes south of this quake. Clockwise from the red one -- an earthquake East of San Jose on the Calaveras fault and the blue one at the bottom of the map (both no big deal), an earthquake near the site of the Loma Prieta quake of 1989, a small earth quake near at the epicenter of the 1906 quake and the 1957 Daly City Quake, and then the recent quakes on the Hayward fault in Berkeley (3 at least but who's counting).

The other day I was at work and I was looking around the room -- noticing the brick walls and the evidence of earthquake retrofit. I said to my friend the transplant from the Mid West, "Do you know what to do in an earthquake here?" Get under your desk ... one brick in the head can do a job on you.

I grew up in California. I think about the world in terms of escape from collapsing buildings. Especially brick ones. Glass ones are freaking scary too. Not to mention the ones on stilts. Thinking ahead is important ... planning what to do is valuable.

Having survived a dozen or so noticeable earthquakes and some moderate to large ones (never any great ones), I want to get back to talking about the map. The thing that scares me is the earthquake at the hitch in the fault. The hitch in the fault. There's a small dogleg in the San Andreas fault right at the epicenter of the last major quake in the region. Despite a myriad of opinion to the contrary (opinion puts it north in Marin County), I think the epicenter of the great 1906 quake was at the site of that small quake in the picture -- also approximately the site of the 1957 Daly City quake. It's all based on an artist's observation of the map, unlike the science used in 1906. Quakes along the San Andreas in this section of the fault make me nervous -- even if they are very small.

My son was born right after one of these noticable quakes -- he was born the day after the Loma Prieta quake in 1989. I'll tell that story tomorrow perhaps. Today -- I was at my parents house with my daughter -- as I was that day in 1989 -- and strangely I was reminded of that day for some reason. It's 17 years later. During the quake in 1989, I was in my parents house. I have been there for most of the quakes I have enjoyed, endured. Let's just say I knew what to do.

My son and I went shopping today, and hung out with the men at the cafe. We got something for my daughter and his mother. There are many mysteries in the world -- earthquakes are one -- how men shop -- what hummus is made of -- and then there's this:

You come out at night
That's when the energy comes
And the dark sides light
And the vampires roam
You strut your rasta wear
And your suicide poem
And a cross from a faith
That died before Jesus came
You're building a mystery

You live in a church
Where you sleep with voodoo dolls
And you wont give up the search
For the ghosts in the halls
You wear sandals in the snow
And a smile that wont wash away
Can you look out the window
Without your shadow getting in the way
Oh you're so beautiful
With an edge and a charm
But so careful
When I'm in your arms

Chorus
cause you're working
Building a mystery
Holding on and holding it in
Yeah you're working
Building a mystery
And choosing so carefully

You woke up screaming aloud
A prayer from your secret god
You feed off our fears
And hold back your tears

Give us a tantrum
And a know it all grin
Just when we need one
When the evenings thin

Oh you're a beautiful
A beautiful fucked up man
Youre setting up your
Razor wire shrine

Chorus

Repeat chorus

Did you hear that?

You woke up screaming aloud
A prayer from your secret god

It was Sarah McLachlan. Building a Mystery. Any way there was another quake today at the same spot in Berkeley. Plan your escape carefully.

My Japanese Name

My japanese name is 石川 Ishikawa (stone river) 天音 Amane (sound of heaven).
Take your real japanese name generator! today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

Cruising the Blog World

I went out cruising the blog world. I figure that if you browse around a bit -- maybe some folks will blog back into your world and we will all get better.

So I am looking at blogs using the next blog feature which finds a random blog ...

In whatever language is there. It would be nice if it knew I spoke English and pointed me at blogs in English. They know I speak English -- Google ... i.e. blogger -- knows who I am and knows my search preferences. They probably know I like to search for "Free Asian Women," among a half a million other things. The might know what books I have read and when. They know I speak English and French and could read in Spanish if I tried for a while. They know this. I am convinced that's why they didn't hire me. They've been imagining what I've been thinking.

So I am looking at a blog that is so unintelligible that I have no idea what language it is -- it might as well be Martian (poor persecuted Martians).

It says: "anwinatza uevflk haltsv bhngv kgwa" among other things -- which frankly -- I can't read. But I have this overwhelming desire to comment: "asdf ghjkl qwerty yuoit zxcv bnm," or "klaatu berrata nicte" just to see if I get a response. This sort of anarchy could make me very happy, much in the same way as having a bike lane stencil, a can of spray paint and some free time would.

That's a guarenteed opening to anarchy, "The pursuit of happiness," maybe we should leave that out of the constitution. Amen, Brother. I remember being up at Stanford looking at a New Guinea Sculpture garden near Roble Hall. The sculptors were brought to Stanford to make this garden and while they were here they had the opportunity to enjoy Rodin's work at Stanford. After seeing this -- one of them said -- "This is nothing, we can do better than that." That ... is optimism.

Aim high. We can do better than that.

7.83 miles today. Temperature: chilly. This morning (or last night while giving some young cyclist a safer route to Palo Alto), I pulled a muscle in my calve. Ride home, hot dog and garlic fries, hot tub, cold refreshing liquids, Ben Gay™ ... bag of popcorn, sleep.

Today's 8.5

Miles ... 8.5 miles riding. I rode to work in the frost on the ground frigidness. I left my bike at work and then walked from potrero hill to Pacific Heights and then to North Beach for dinner, about 4 miles. A cab back to work then ride over to BART and train to Millbrae. Ride through the ice on the road frosty chillyness to home at midnight.

Brrrr... No snow though. I put on an extra layer this morning and was still chilly as I left the station tonight. I stopped and put on my gloves and something around my neck. By the time I got home and into the house I was seriously overheated and ripping my clothes off,

I've been Tagged

I once got pulled over on my bike for speeding through a school zone -- I was younger then. Gilby has tagged me -- I suppose I will need to tag someone now, too. But, that might take some thought. Fortunately, right after I got tagged I wrote this, which reveals several things about me.

1. My brother killed himself twenty years ago.
2. I lived in a warehouse with a menagerie.
3. I studied Fine Art as a graduate student in Pullman, WA -- I am not going to get all POMO on your ass like Annie.
4. I used to fish alot with my older brother. He liked to fish in the stanislaus river.
and
5. I have never ridden a bicycle in the snow. I have gotten laid in the snow -- and you know what they say about getting laid and riding a bike.

And the bonus. My son was born the day after the Loma Prieta Earthquake. There's a huge story there which I might tell someday. Two things are worth understanding. I survived a major earthquake, and so did he. Fortunately, he doesn't remember.

So I think I want to tag the old bag, and Ruby to tell me 5 things about them I don't know.

Spare me a little bit ...

I was really trying to read Edward Abbey's Journey Home, but unfortunately it's just a bit too much about actually returning home, which is what I thought I was doing, unfortunately, you never actually go back ... so instead I am listening to the Cowboy Junkies on the IPod at volume 11.

Things are returning to normal. What's normal? Four years ago I lived in a warehouse with concrete floors, more than a few dozen orchids, a crazy bird, a woman named Jane, and three somewhat feral cats, and a Pacific tree frog. It had no heat and a makeshift kitchen and a clawfoot tub right in the middle of the living room, which we fondly referred to as the observatory. ... Jane would be out, and I would have the volume on the stereo at nine with Juliana Hatfield taking the paint off the walls ... I could pretty much park my bikes anywhere. There was a 1+ mile hike to the bay directly out my door. That still seems pretty normal to me. My brother would have shown up with beer and a couple of friends, turned the stereo up, if he could have.

Two years ago I lived in the desert. The Sonoran desert. 15 minutes from the most stunning of wilderness. Scorpions, coyotes, bobcats, javelina, tortoise and tarantula, not to mention snakes. You never really had to go anywhere to find them -- they would come and visit you -- no waiting. Stereo on and up. My brother would have been there to check out the sights and bag a few peaks with his dog, who would chew up the couch. He would have complained about the heat and made more Margaritas. The desert would have begged us to hike and ride. I left that virile sun to return home.

I made a journey home like this once before. A journey back to the place I was born. Where I grew up. I went back home after grad school, after I graduated in the desert, after I did what no other person in my family has ever done. I went back. Nothing was as I remembered it. I grew in a sleepy burb ... which grew up into a freeway coated metropolis.

So I have done it again. Gone forward into something that looks like the past, to find out that it isn't there. It's just not; the past is not here. I am miles from my home.

If I could just reach the crest of that hill
this whole day will tumble and out the night will spill
The sky is still as a spinning top,
shooting stars drop like burning words from above
If I could just connect all these dots,
the truth would tumble like a cynic vexed by love

I am many miles from my home. In the place I grew up there was my brother. "I was Walking After Midnight, Searching for You." He was there, always there. He would show up on Saturday morning with two tickets to The Day on the Green. Stop in on Thursday night looking for me to go see the Taming of the Shrew with him. Pick me up on Friday night for a trip fishing to the Eel River, or whatever. It was always something -- and he was always late, but it was often good. He was always a good place for a party to start. He was smart -- brilliant -- and a disaster. My father used to say he could "snatch defeat from the jaws of victory." I travelled across the country with him, my brother. He always said that it was great to be alive. He said that, my brother. Then he killed himself. He killed himself on Christmas Day 20 years ago. Happy fucking anniversary.

On the Ipod is 'Misguided Angel.' Brother, you speak to me of passion, You said never settle for nothing less ... There comes a time when you live to break away. Baby there are things that we cling to all our life. ... Misguided Angel hanging over me. Hard like a Gabriel, pure white as ivory, soul like a lucifer, black and cold like a piece of lead.

When I was writing the introduction to my thesis I talked about my brother. Early in my life he inspired me to want to be a Painter, an Artist. When I was about 5 he painted a painting of hot air ballons ... and I decided to be like him -- to be an Artist. I talked about his inspiring me. My whole life changed that day. It's too bad he was never here to see what he had done. When I was in Pullman Washington -- he would have been there. To party! -- and to cheer me on. He would have shown up unannounced with his Pentax, and say I was in the area ... We would have smoked some hash and ...

JUST WANT TO SEE
(Michael Timmins)

I don't want to be no patch on no quilt
(I just want to see...)
Tear-stained stitching linking memories to guilt
(I just want to see...)
I don't want to be no hair on no wall
(I just want to see...)
Blood-stained note saying fuck you all
(I just want to see what kills me)

Tommy, are you ready we better head to town
J.D.'s box is waiting to be lowered down
and you know how he hates to be kept waiting 'round

I don't want to be no chalk line drawing
(I just want to see...)
Toe-tagged question mark, until identifying
(I just want to see...)
I don't want to fuse with no economy seat
(I just want to see...)
fuel some fireball at 30,000 feet
(I just want to see what kills me)

Tommy, did you catch his face
before they closed the lid?
I swear I saw him wink once and flash me that old grin
Oh, you know, that would be just like him

I don't want to face no hollow-eyed ending
(I just want to see...)
Loved ones buried, empty days of waiting
(I just want to see what kills me)

Tommy, darling, come to bed
we'll try and sleep away this sadness
These memories, too, are bound to die
so our dreams will have to serve us
Tomorrow may be the day that our love betrays us

Do you think it's too late to volunteer to work on the suicide hotline on Christmas morning?

Sheer Madness

This is madness. Please spread condoms to Africa to prevent the spread of aids. Not this voodoo. I can't imagine why the New York Times thinks this is news.

You'll have to sign in. If not it says that circumcision reduces the chance of infection with HIV by about 50% for men (let's not even bother to talk about the women who have unprotected sex with these men). Those odds can be beat I think.

Happy Days!

Make your own Razz!

My Kitchen Would Like Some Attention

Oh, well. The sink flooded the other day and slowed the pace of blogging all to hell. Made a mess of things out into the hall and I woke with security in my kitchen. SO I have fans all drying me out and things look like they might get back to normal sometime after the new year.

The upside:

It's easier to park the bikes on the concrete floor in the living room.

The heater is on, so it looks like I might stop feeling cold before March.

I rode 55+ miles last week because I was so comfortable in my place.

I got to sleep on a cat last night at my friends house.

I don't have to lock the door because so many people are going in and out every day.

I won't need to worry about whether I will have enough money to run the Colorado again this year.

There appears not to be a really large amount of damage (fingers crossed).

Drawing with a Pencil

So here I am -- in San Francisco -- far from the adventures I have known in my recent past, close to all the adventures of my childhood, reading, as it were, the future and current adventures of Jill. I have to admit I am more than a bit jealous.

I have boots, and a bike, and a truck. I can walk, hike, ride, camp, bike, but can't manage to get away, so I stay here. I miss the new Jane, the "happy hiking buddy™", and the Superstition Ridgeline. I can go there. If I can just get away.

I can't. In my youth, I was stuck here too. I dreamed of tigers and safaris and ostriches, and places far away, rain forests. I wrote read National Geographic on the remote wilderness and the world adventure. I was their staff ornithologist. I dreamed. I dream now, too. I dream of orchids in Madagascar and Brazilian women (just one actually). I dream of the world without. I dream in the dentist's office as I read where people have circumnavigated the globe under human power. I could be one of those people.

And where am I? They survive a hurricane at sea in a boat and I am at my desk. Did you know that Ernest Hemingway finished "As the Bell Tolls" in Havana, Cuba. I can't even go there, as far as I know. I am really just here, in the place of my youth. My friends are here, and I make new friends easily, because I know the rules, the local code. I grew up here, in a marsh, in a barrio, I lived through glass in the street and neighbors that we called "the stealers" for seemingly obvious reasons (they were replaced by a Portuguese family that -- guess what -- got robbed) and several floods.

I feel V.S Naipaul's neighborhood in Trinidad in the way I can still feel my own. The babysitter of teaching my children Erdu is here, my neighbor of the perpetual sushi is here. My best wiffle ball playing childhood friend. Islander Markets and taquerias, the taquerias of my youth. Seafood, tacos and cioppino. I am a tidepool of cross-cultural driftwood. So be it.

So, where am I now? On a journey in my head -- an adventure within. It's a place where we draw the birds in our yard and read all the bird books at our library. We draw the birds of the Arctic, the puffins, and barnacle geese, and dream of the future when we can travel. Shoot arrows into a bale of straw at the back fence until we manage to send one out to the freeway. We get poison oak at the local rope swing while smoking (my political career is a disaster anyway -- honest -- I did inhale) and dive off the dam at swim in the water shed. It's the place where we had our first kiss and got the truck stuck in the mud; the first time we got laid, and then I met that young Asian woman who will remain nameless. We rode our bikes to shoot at rabbits with wrist rockets, and later learned to hunt with guns. A rock concert -- a love-in, and ... a fifth of tequila. Birds on the edge of the bay in the morning. Canoe trips and costume parties. And we should never forget beer drinking bonfire parties to be broken up by the cops on the beach out at the ocean in the wee morning. It's the place where we met ... almost every one we know.

It's the place where I learned to work and ride a bike; learned to navigate an uncertain future. I learned to make art, got married, raised a family, and was a strong part of this community. My community is here. My friends, family and mentors are all here, too; some to live and die here. I sure wish I could strike out on a ten mile hike with the camera into the sun and the scorpions ... there's a wilderness within, I know it; I just have to find it. I must find it.