And On The Third Day...
Hamsty has been found...by me. Last night we heard a noise in a corner but couldn't find him. Today I pulled everything out of the last closet downstairs, and, there behind a crack in the drywall, two little eyes looked at me. His little head popped out for a second, then went back in. He was probably getting thirsty, but was not going hungry, since the boys had thrown all manner of snacks in there for him. (I found candy, popcorn and dessicated carrots.) I put his open cage in the closet and closed the door. I went back in an hour to check and he was up in his climbing tube, asleep. Happy ending. Gabe says, "He's a cute little fella."

Strum!
This post is for my brother, who told me his plan for Christmastime, when his plant is shut down, is to learn some more guitar. He plays notes. I play about seven chords. Unfortunately, since we are both so lacking in skills, I don’t think either of us qualifies for the Youth & Beauty Brigade. Calling all bed-wetters and ambulance chasers!

Missing Hamster Report, Day Two
Hamsty is still missing. When does one give up looking for a lost hamster? We left some food out for him. We even put a little ramp up to his cage door so he could go right in. Perhaps he is sleeping in some cozy corner.

Charming Fun
I'm chatting with Gabe right now. He's in the other room on the iMac. I'm in my little cell at the other end of the house with my iBook. We're also doing an audio chat so I can tell him how to spell things. "D as in dog." "Next to the T." This is in preparation for a trip to Florida I have to make. The hotel has WiFi. Woo-hoo! I will need to get a cheapo mini-plug mic from Radio Shack. Or maybe I could use my cell phone headset with one of the fifty adapters that came with it. Nope. That doesn't work for some reason. No phantom power switch. USB should power it, right? Because it's plugged into an iMic. It'll be fun to chat with Lauran and the boys. No phone bills, no roaming charges. Just pure broadband from Florida to Ohio.

Creepy Fun
I'm starting to get some regular lurkers (you know who you are), which is at once fascinating and confusing. I expect my brother to check in from time to time, but I'm not sure why anyone else would want to. Someone from NBC (as in TV) came by once. Maybe I'll be on TV. Maybe they were looking for something else. Like "Wild Teen Sex Orgy Party." Sorry, that's not here. Googlers: made you look!

No One Is Safe
As if a missing Xacto knife wasn't bad enough, the boys lost our hamster somewhere in the house today. Fortunately, the cat will not be a problem for the little rodent, since he could care less about him. (The cat only likes fish, when he likes other species.) We were cleaning his cage and letting him run around in his ball. I went out to work on a painting, Lauran was lying ill (still has the Xmas flu), and the boys went to watch a Pokemon movie on TV. Fast forward an hour or so... "Where's the hamster, boys?" "Isn't he in his ball?" And, you can imagine the rest of the conversation. Let's pray it doesn't all end in tears. Amen.

Why Certain People Should Probably Be Forcibly Sterilized
People who feel a sudden inspiration to draw, while leaving two small children to play with a pile of popcorn. (This is what I drew.)

I'm far too lazy to go out and ride today, even though it is almost 50 degrees F here. It really is a very nice bike, it even has those fancy wheels with what looks like too few spokes to be prudent.
(This is what happened while I was lost in my artistic reverie. Popcorn, everywhere, and, inexplicably, Easter grass.)

Ooops!
I seem to have misplaced my Xacto knife. Has anyone seen it? I only mention this because a six and three year old here like to pick up my tools and play with them. I was opening the excessive packaging of a toy and must have set it down in the "wrong" place. Given the choice between my children slicing their soft skin to bloody ribbons and it having been accidentally thrown away in the Xmas mess, I would prefer the latter. Although, I have had that knife since I was in high school. Perhaps a less painful compromise can be reached.
PS I have now located AN Xacto knife, but I'm not sure if that was the one that was missing. I left the missing one on the kitchen counter yesterday and my kleptomaniac mother-in-law may have absconded with it. She may have put it in the garage in the tool cabinet where I found it, or, perhaps I did, absent-mindedly. Unless that one was already there? See, I usually keep two Xacto knives at home and one in my office. So, even if yesterday's missing knife has been found there is still another one out there. Now do you understand my dilemma?

Apple Update
I got an email early this morning that my new battery is on its way! Merry third day of Christmas! It's coming all the way from Taiwan.

Year-End List
Since 2004 is right around the corner, I might as well answer another unasked question: What were my favorite albums this year? (Even if they weren’t really all from 2003.)


Dear Catastrophe Waitress, Belle & Sebastian
This is exactly what pop music should be. Having listened to almost all their back catalogue, I am convinced that as they age they get better. Piazza, New York Catcher is simply brilliant. I know that the Sinister kids are having quite a debate about the band's seemingly new direction, but I would argue that DCW is merely the end result of their evolution thus far. Delicious.


Castaways & Cutouts, The Decemberists
This is also everything that pop music should be. These guys (and gals) remind me that there should be more accordions in rock, like They Might Be Giants, only not as goofy. July, July has everything, crooked French-Canadian uncles included. Leslie Anne Levine haunts but doesn’t scare.


Her Majesty the Decemberists, The Decemberists
Their quick follow up album. The Soldiering Life jauntily exposes the “special” relationship soldiers sometimes have. If rock started a hundred and fifty years ago, this is what it would have sounded like.


Yours, Mine & Ours, The Pernice Brothers
OK, one of the cable channels swiped The Weakest Shade of Blue for their promos, but that doesn’t change anything. This is good stuff.


Chutes Too Narrow, The Shins
At times they veer into Jane’s Addiction, but that is forgivable for all the rest that is fantastic. I’ll have to go back and get their first disc.


The Decline of British Sea Power, British Sea Power
These guys sound like the Soft Boys of 1979. Silly, jammy, intelligent underneath it all. I especially like it when they sound like what The Jazz Butcher should have been. No, I don't think these guys are the new saviors of rock (how they're being hyped in the UK music press), but I still enjoy them.


Either/Or, Elliott Smith
Yeah, hipsters, I know I missed him while he was still alive, but it’s not too late to ingest his legacy. He’s growing on me.


Luxor, Robyn Hitchcock
As he’s aged (50, now!) he’s mellowed. His new spare, more direct music is more virtuoso than overlooked cult icon. Hopefully, he’ll strap on his old black Telecaster and get fun again. My fegmaniax friends will soon put out a warrant for my arrest on charges of heresy, but this isn’t my favorite Robyn album, though I was desperately hoping for another Eye or I Often Dream of Trains. Still, it’s better than most of the crap that’s out there, Justin Timberlake, Clay Aiken. There used to be a time when his every fart was a revelation to diehard fans like me. Not anymore, but he’s still amazing.


American IV, Johnny Cash
Even his covers of cheesy songs sound gritty, world-weary, and celebratory at the same time. All his songs mocking death/execution seem to take on extra meaning now. Actually, all his American Recordings are stupendously wonderful. I even got his cover of Redemption Song with Joe Strummer from the iTunes Music Store. Count ‘em, three legends in the space of one song!


Streetcore, Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros
The title might leave something to be desired, but this last bunch of bits by the great gravelly poet is up there with his best work--with anyone’s really. Coma Girl is a bit surreal, like most of John Graham Mellor’s best stuff. Long Shadow strips away all the chainsaw guitars and gives us an insight into his hidden folky mind.


Can’t Stand the Rezillos, The Rezillos
Sci-fi surfer punk from Edinburgh, Scotland. Of course, this is from 1978, but I just got my hands on the disc in the last year or so. Top of the Pops is a classic. My Baby Does Good Sculptures is too—first the sprightly, loping bass line, then the chorus, “Don’t love my baby for her pouting lips/don’t love my baby for her curvy hips/I love my baby cuz she does good sculptures, yeah!” Fay Fife’s angelic squeal is the perfect dream for all the little punk boys.


Various Bootlegs, The Clash
They were everything the Pistols should have been, The Only Band That Matters, as they themselves said. Finding a seemingly endless supply of recordings at a somewhat disguised site was like falling into a gold mine. Plus, I get to pretend I’m 15 again.

The girls at the coffee shop’s year-end list would be very short: John Mayer. Blech. At least it’s not Dashboard Confessional or worse, James Taylor.

Thanks to Amazon for most of the cover art. Control-click! Download image to disk!

Another Bite
Apple sent me another email, on Christmas, that they still don't have any batteries to send me. Expect it sometime in January, they said. Since then I have noticed that the brick has some issues, too. Unless I bang it just right or wiggle the cords in a certain way, it doesn't charge. Bah! Could someone please remind me why I have this slavish devotion to Apple? It's not like it's a religion or something.

Top Ten List
A few noteworthy things to come my way this Xmas (in no particular order):
1. The afore-mentioned cycling shoes
2. GameCube & Super Monkey Ball--I had no idea what giggly, screaming fun it was
3. A present from from my brother and Brian--a play by Amy & David Sedaris! (If I can't eat her cupcakes, I'll gladly take her cheeseballs [no, this is not an innuendo, I really do like snack food])
4. A biography of the great church-reformer (and, most likely, manic-depressive), John Wesley
5. A Rough Trade sampler CD, also from Matt & Brian, full of potentially rare 1978 singles by bands from London, mostly
6. [has been deleted, ed.]
7. Finding McSweeney's
8. Some man cologne labeled "very sexy"

Not on the list, the Bertie Bott's Jelly Belly bean Gabe fed me. Grass!
Also not on the list, Sam pooped, finally, after over two weeks. He is, shall we say, a stubbborn child, and told us he didn't want to. But, in the end, even he was amazed at the size and length of the "product."
Also an unwelcome arrival: Lauran got the flu Xmas Eve.

Frantic Preparations
What? That's all there is.

Here's the picture from ROTK. I think it's Frodo. I hit the "enhance" button in iPhoto and this is what happened.

Sneaky Business
I'm planning on telling the rest of the world that I have a three-hour meeting tonight so that I can go see The Return of the King. My inherent geekery desired me to see it on opening night, but the rest of my life prevented this from being possible. Now, it's payback time. So there.
Of course, I might not be awake later (see below). If I survive the day, I'll try and take a surreptitious picture.

Joy to the World
I woke up at 4:00am, about the time Gabriel wandered into our bedroom and then wiggled into our bed, with a song in my head. I didn’t ask for it, it just started playing, like an mp3 of the mind, if you will. Obviously, with the BIG DAY fast approaching now I am reflecting on the whole “true meaning of Christmas” thing. I usually make it a rule never to subject anyone to bad poetry, but consider this my Xmas (or Chanukah or Kwanzaa or Winter Solstice) gift to you.

I’m so excited ‘bout this blank blank coming holiday
That I could punch the shepherd’s eye
I’ll knock fat babies off their pedestals
And then I’ll simply pass the stinky manger by

What child is this who, laid to rest, on Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet, while shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring him laud, the babe, the son of Mary

I have a theory that the holiday is oversold
I’m sick of little girls in ruffled tights
I’ll overturn the tables of the pigeon men
And then I’ll simply pull the plug on all the lights

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie;
Above thy dark and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

I’ve stepped in camel dung the Wise Men left
And my boots need to be tied
I’d steal their frankincense with half the chance
And then I’d go and hock it for a five

break, middle eight, or guitar solo

And Woody in his movies said the Lord would puke
If he came back to earth today
I’d hold the bucket and collect his slop
And then sell his holy vomit on eBay

Joy to the World, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing

Fade to Linus reciting The Gospel of Luke, chapter 2.

Apologies for all the metrical failings in my words. My crude and rudimentary musical skill prevents me from getting this song out of my head. (Proof that the world may yet be safe from my diabolical plans.) Maybe for next Xmas. There is a riff and rhythm to it, but my fat fingers need a big dose of gracefulness before anyone else could hear it. (Not that they would want to.) I imagine the Xmas carols would either be, like, harpsichord and strings instrumentals, or maybe some cheesy Welsh policemen’s choir recording. (No offense meant to any Welsh policemen who might be monitoring this humble blog.) My verses would have simple strumming acoustic guitar with a few electric overdubs. Feel free to comment or offer recording contracts. I could use a good producer. Thank you.

Dreaming of a Narcotics-Free Christmas
Lauran has been especially beset with migraines lately, and has been heavily medicated. In addition to dropping things and bumping into walls (more than usual) she looks like her eyelids are especially weighty. I won't degrade her by posting a very...interesting...picture of her. That wouldn't be right.
It's hard to tell sometimes where the drugs end and my wife begins.

A Better Way
My earlier post today has been deleted. I deleted it. It was a bit uncharitable toward the folks in other parts of the world who get good tech before we do. Why are everyone else's mobile phones so much cooler than ours? Of course, it could just be me. My phone is manifestly unstylish.
Hi-ho! On to much nicer things...
I watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang while I was spinning tonight. (Or should that be span? Spun?) I don't think the innuendos made much sense to me when I was but a wee lad, but it's very enjoyable now, in a subtext-y way. I actually hate my trainer. It's mind-numbing without the iBook and a good DVD. Thank God for Apple, credit cards, and a lot of sweat.

Now that I'm done putting in almost useless miles I'm having a snack. These little green babies in the complementarily orange bowl are not confections.

Most assuredly, dear reader, they are nasty. While they may look innocent, even sweet, the awful truth is that they are WASABI COATED PEANUTS. The first bite is usually the worst. It's like an entire tin of powdered mustard has been sniffled into your every orifice. And then the burning starts. You can drink milk, but even that doesn't really help. Your sinuses will be clear. You throat will feel reamed. And then you can have another and another because after that they don't seem so bad. And that is today's adventure in strange snacks.

Nothing Special
Went to the zoo to see the lights. There were a few animals, but mostly lights. Now it is late so that's all for now.

December, December
As long as we're operating in bah humbug mode, here's another "early" Xmas present. I didn't cheat on this one either, I say again in my own defense. Lauran asked me what cycling gear I wanted for Xmas that wouldn't break the bank. I told her I really needed some shoes that fit properly and that usually the big retailers have sales on last year's models. Like $100 shoes for $30, $150 shoes for $50 or $60. I try never to pay full price for my gear. I either buy stuff on sale or at least use one of those discount codes that are floating around the internet. So I picked a really nice pair of Italian shoes and placed my order, only to be told they were out of stock (even though to this day they're still on their site). I tried again for another similar pair, and...won! (Well, not completely, I also tried to get a good deal on a helmet to replace my commuting/mountain bike lid, but when it arrived it was too small, even though my road helmet is the same size. Different manufacturers measure inches differently, it seems.) So, anyway, the shoes arrived the other day and last night I put an old pair of cleats on them because I HAD TO test them out, for fit, etc. They fit like gloves. Size 44. My old el cheapo shoes were marked as 45s but they were probably more like 48s. My feet have shrunk, so I thought 44 would be good. My mountain bike shoes are 45s, but they must run small. My even older road shoes are 43.5s and they're a tad too small. My feet have shrunk a little lately, from 11 to 10 or so, but they'll probably never go back down to 9 1/2, just like I'll never go back down to a 30 or 32 waist, but 34 is fine with me. As long as I don't go past that again I'll be quite pleased with myself. My last food vice is salty chippy things. Not run of the mill stuff either. You can always keep your Lays and such, but give me small batch gourmet chips any day! More than once, for that matter! I've pretty much eliminated everything else. Except maybe pizza, but once a week pizza is surely OK. As far as the new shoes go, I probably need to fiddle with the cleat positioning on the left shoe, but otherwise they're great! They were made in Bulgaria, the box said.


This morning the snow is falling with more purpose than previous days. No longer idly floating, now ready to decorate the earth for the season--until the salt trucks come by and it all turns into a grey, slushy mess.

Also, on a lighter note, why pets are bad.

Cheater Pants!
I'm reading a book I'm not supposed to have. No, I don't live in Soviet Russia, I just accidentally got my hands on a Xmas present before the big day. The boys ripped through some sutff when I wasn't looking and, after they had their way with the presents, I found one for me. As I was cleaning up, I say in my own defense. It's (the book, that is) right up my alley and I'm ejoying it immensely, but that's all I'm gonna say for fear of incriminating myself further. So, for now no revelation of the book, no links. And no apologies!

Roar!
Upgraded to Panther today. No major hassles. Everything seems to work OK, but it looks a little different. Still have battery issues. Apple still hasn't sent me a new one either. Oh well. Safari finally seems snappy. The new Mail is good, too. I'm not sure what it means when you highlight an email and a couple others nearby sort of half-highlight, though. I could have wiped the whole thing clean and then started fresh, but then I would've had to back up everything important and put it back in. Maybe if I run into trouble...otherwise, a standard upgrade should do me nicely. Today I did bravely step into a UNIX-only world--I got rid of OS9 and all of Apple's history. No tears, though. Who needs that old legacy stuff? What app from 1997 could I not live without? None, I say!

I also moved one of the chairs in my offfice.

Tonight's snack is pretzels dipped in cranberry mustard with no-added-sugar hot chocolate.


From Sketchbook 9, 1993

Tis the Season
It's a funny thing to say, I know, but in the last couple of weeks I've been listening a lot to The Decemberists. I can't take credit for discovering them on my own--my oh-so-informed brother (king of all things indie) sent me some of their stuff. Now I'll gush: it's just fantastic! I read on some blog or review site that their sound is like the real secret history of rock n roll, like they could have been doing this 200 years ago. The sea-shanty accordian, the Victorian imagery, the literary references, and that unique voice. I've got their two albums now and, after repeated listenings, I am still struck by how it feels like I've heard them before, like I used to listen to them years ago and have rediscovered why and how much I liked them, even though the records are from this year. I'd love to see them live. I wonder what they'd be like? Loud? Maybe not. I'd expect them to be wearing period costumes or something (like the pix on their site), but they probably just wear normal clothes. I like them as much as I like James. I like them for the same reasons. Their brand new music has a historicity to it and that appeals to the bookish scholar in me.
PS I'm also enjoying Love & Rockets, a band I really did listen to years ago and am just now rediscovering, in all their glammy, gothy glory.

Wife on Drugs
The doctor gave Lauran some high-powered drug, which shall remain nameless, to reduce the swelling in her head so she won't get more migraines for a while. The thing is, it made her crazy! She was talking a hundred miles an hour and did a week's worth of chores before lunch. She was so funny I made her talk to everyone in the office while she was still speeding. I laughed and laughed until I stopped.

Me, with a lot of lost artwork behind me, from a long time ago

Gourmet Treats from Meijer (title by Lauran)
Yesterday I tried to post a picture of the kids' Christmas Pageant. Blogger never let me. Blah.
Anyway, I got a replacement for my Palm, and it only cost 69¢ (the little date book).

I also indulged in one of my favorite snacks, Meijer brand Salt & Vinegar Pork Rinds. They're crunchy, salty, SMOKY, and they really do have far less fat and calories than my other favorite snacks, Doritos (unless I'm reading the nutrition label wrong). However, Gabe and Sam will not allow me to eat them in their presence. Not because it's deep-fried pig skin (honestly, is it really? it seems more like a corn chip to me), but because they think they smell like farts. Sam covers his nose and mouth, and runs away screaming, "I can't take it anymore! Poppa! You're making me sick!" Nice kid. Gabe just tells me they smell like "bad popcorn," whatever that is. My other favorite snacks include grapefruit, toast and just about any kind of breakfast cereal. I'm telling you (not that I need to) that my life is really not very wild.

Sam Fecit
A little Latin for you. (But probably not correct. I don't speak it, do you?)
Sam made this decoration for our tree at his Preschool, ARK.

PS
Also, of no importance to anyone, I found myself in a Google search today for the first time. I am no longer in a cul de sac on the Information Superhighway. (Has anyone used the term "Information Superhighway" since, like, 1998 or so?) So, I guess here come the great unwashed masses to my formerly private little site. Ho hum.

?
Gabriel told me I'm fatter than Santa Claus. In that context I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not.


Not exactly Xmas-y, I know, but one present I already got this year is a registration to a semi-secret Clash bootleg site. This is a video from 1977, a gig in Manchester.

Bad Magnetic Field Maybe?
Me and expensive electronics aren't doing well today.
* My iBook battery has been officially pronounced dead since I was duped by Apple's evil OSX 10.2.8 update debacle. "Here, update your system for free, except for the fact that you'll have to buy a new battery or be content with 20 minutes of battery power even though right before the update you got at least 2 hours."
* My Palm m130 had a little mishap with a three year old. It now flashes a dark blue screen on and off. It can't keep my calendar anymore, but it can be a rescue beacon in case I ever get lost in the woods.
The outcome?
* Apple is shipping me a new battery, for free. Not because they like me, though, but because standard shipping is free. (The battery, of course, is not.) Strangely, the battery was cheaper and more available at the AppleStore than at the big reseller's sites.
* There will probably be no new Palm to replace the dying one. I'll try and see what life is like post-Palm. I was mainly using it for an electronic notepad. Which was fine with geeky me, but probably not necessary, right?


(1991) Missionary Shirt 2002

Kewl Rawk Songs
These are the songs I'm currently working on. If I can ever get all six strings to do what I want, when I want them to, this will be quite an *interesting* (to say the least) repetoire.

Piazza, New York Catcher, Belle & Sebastian
Garageland, The Clash
Nothing, Robyn Hitchcock
All We Ever Wanted Was Everything, Bauhaus
Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band, The Beatles
His Cheeseburger, VeggieTales
A New England, Billy Bragg
This Land Is Your Land, Woody Guthrie
That’s Entertainment, The Jam
Pretty Vacant, The Sex Pistols
The Devil’s Eye, The Go Betweens
One, U2
Dear God, XTC

Because a Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Waste (especially when it's smeared across the pavement)
Recently I was pulled back from the brink of an empty street. Out here in the midwestern hinterlands people only cross the street when the signal says to. I grew up on the East Coast and went to college in a city, so I always assume it's normal to cross where- and whenever you can, not just when the little sign lights up. So, there I am about to step out into the totally empty street when someone tugs at my jacket and says, "Careful! You almost went out, there!" to which I replied, "That's what I was trying to do!" Perhaps a speeding pickup truck might have come flying at me out of the middle of nowhere, but I DID look before I tried to step. Isn't it nice, though, that a stranger would care?


The Contemplative Life 1994

S-A-M
Some of Sam's great joys in life, besides antagonizing his brother in various ways, are to count and find the letters of his name. He received an Advent Calendar as a gift and he likes to find a favorite number and open it up for the little chocolate each day. Details are not his concern--he is not interested in proceeding in numerical order, but he did write his own name.

You're My Guitar Hero!
So intoned the late great Joe Strummer in his trademark nasal howl to little Mick Jones in Complete Control, back before my brother was born and also before I knew there was music outside of church.

Lauran taught me how to play Taps on the guitar.

Bad News Morning
Earlier than I would have liked, Sam made me put in a Thomas the Tank Engine video. As soon as it started he insisted that it was the wrong one. I offered him a few other choices, but they were also unaccaptable to the boy. I told him that he needed to watch the one that I put in for him, and walked away. When I got over to the trainer I saw a strange thing on the floor that looked like the earbud of my iPod, only cut off. That's a funny trick of the light, I thought, so I picked it up. It was! I asked Sam in an unhappy voice if he knew anything about it. He said no, but burst into tears. I showed it to Gabe, home sick, and he said it must have been Mo, the cat. Sure I could replace it with some $5.99 Koss earbuds from the checkout line at the megastore, but they wouldn't be the same rare-earth element cool-Apple-look white thingies (even though the grey had discolored to a pale yellow).

The End of a Long Hard...Day
OK, so, it started at 3 AM when Gabe woke up screaming that his nose hurt. Whenever he doesn't feel well he just sort of wanders around the house yelling at whoever will listen. It's especially unpleasant in the middle of the night. Anyway, I referred him to his mother and tried to go back to sleep. It was hard. I heard him throw up, and cry, and throw up again. I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn't have to get up. Eventually I really did fall back asleep, but had to get up at 6 AM. After about twelve hours of work, I am done. Gabe is done throwing up so he'll probably go to school tomorrow. I have at least part of the day off, so it should be better than today. Again, before you can say anything, I will reiterate that I am a bad father.


Onions and Rope in the Dark 1989

Sweet Like Me
Today, among other things, I'm making my holiday classic. Candied orange peels. Very classy. I even dip mine in dark chocolate for an extra indulgence. If you're nice I'll send you some.
I don't go crazy over a lot of candy-type stuff, but these I like. They're the candy equivalent of my personality--at first it seems sweet but once you chew for a few seconds you realize that it's pretty sour.

Lauran finally had a chance to peruse my blog. She said it was very charming, like Oscar Wilde. Maybe, but I won't go to jail like him, though I may write a famous novel.

I Know It's Not Much, But...
We're decorating for Xmas today. It's been snowing a big sloppy mix of goopy slush. There's a guy down the street who has, like, millions of lights and all kinds of life-size plywood cutouts of characters from all the Xmas specials. Why compete with that?

[This is not the original blurry decorating photo. For some reason the iPod earbud photo above had the same name as the old Xmas tree picture and it got replaced by the truncated headphone. I think the el cheapo digital camera assigned the same gobbledegook name to them. This current photo was substituted by the editor. Thank you for your cooperation.]

Snog Blog
While I was waiting to get my food at the Fazoli's drive-thru I could see a very happy couple inside. They leaned over their twice-baked lasagna and kissed. A tender moment! How sweet. Then, as I was stilll waiting (apparently it takes a very long time to make a smoked-turkey panini) they did it again. OK, guys, calm down, I thought, people are trying to eat here. I listened to A Century of Fakers on my iPod (I still haven't solved my dilemma) and then I looked up and, you guessed it, they were kissing again. By now I was disgusted. Think of the garlic! Think of the sebacious bits of melted cheese wedged in their teeth! Why did they have to choose here, now, for their tryst? Then my food finally arrived and I drove home for lunch. The End.


St Jerome 2001

Best Impression
Not to brag or toot my own horn...but I have ridden over 2700 miles on my bikes this year. Most of it was on my main road bike, a 2003 KHS 500. A lot was on my old Raleigh Technium that I have pretty much permanently mounted on my trainer. I also rode to and from the office on my old mountain bike whenever it was possible. (I don't get out much now in the cold weather because I can't be arsed to get all bundled up just to get sweaty, so a couple times a week I clip into the pedals of the old Raleigh on the trainer. The last time I rode outside was a blustery day in early November.) Training for two centuries and a lot of club rides made up most of the miles--it takes about a thousand miles to train up to and ride a century. I've got my eye on some trick new gear, but it's no fun to get until you can use it. So, by March of next year I'll be itching to ride outside and figuring out what new things I must have to make my riding experience complete.
PS Riding 2700 miles is also a great way to lose 35 pounds. Winter's holiday overindulgence is a great way to put some back on, though. I must return to the Stalinist eating habits I employed during my months of training. That means no dairy except a little cream in coffee, no extaneous calories, especially from bloat-inducing alcohol, eat big early in the day, carb load before the weekly club ride (race), 1 fast food meal and 1 pizza feast once a week. OK, so I won't be doing the club ride again until Spring. But I'll stilll enjoy the occasional mound of pasta. I came in second once, after a lot of pasta, a PowerBar, and half a gallon of Gatorade. Oh, wait, I do eat a lot of cereal with milk, so I don't forgo all dairy, but I do try and stay away from any cheese that's not on pizza, and sour cream and crap like that.
PPS I know, it's really a little bit nuts and obsessive. There's that Belle & Sebastian song about riding your bike through the town until your legs are black and blue. It's not as if they're paying you.
PPSS Yeah, but it's a pretty healthy habit. You won't catch any diseases that you can spread to your loved ones in various ways and you certainly won't spend eternity in the fires of hell just because you made your thighs sore.


This spiffy little thing is 19 pounds of pure adultery. Oh yes, I love it.

Monomoy Island, MA Last summer's vacation

Dilemma of the Day
My iPod is full. I've been using it to store all my music, and the family's too, so that whenever we go anywhere we all have whatever we might possibly want to listen to right there with us. But lately I've gotten my hands on a lot of new music from my brother--he is so very hip and I am so middle-aged--as well as a whole load of U2 and Clash bootlegs, and all those tunes simply will not fit on my iPod anymore. Now I have to make choices about what's actually going to be carried with us from now on. Do I get rid of a few VeggieTales albums or do I forgo one more scratchy Clash bootleg from 1978? Should I allow any more of Lauran's music? Meat Loaf is still not on the thing, though Prince, Air Supply and Phil Collins are (and they are not comfortable iPod-mates with Robyn Hitchcock or Billy Bragg or Bauhaus, et al, I might add). Yes, I could manually manage my library, but I have always operated with the principle that my iTunes library and iPod should mirror each other. It was comforting to know that I had a backup, should anything happen to either. (Never mind that I have it all on CD in the first place.) But that was before I was initiated into the have-too-many-CDs club. I could look into purchasing a bigger iPod, but then I would have no room on my laptop for anything but music. I thought about keeping all the music on Lauran's iMac, but we tend to use that one for video editing and it doesn't have the room either. I suppose one other solution would be to get a new iPod and an external hard drive to keep all the music together, although I wouldn't have a backup on my computer then. Perhaps I should get a new iPod, a new hard drive for my iBook, an external hard drive (just in case), and a new iMac too because it would be a lot easier to edit video on one of those new 20" screen SuperDrive models. Or, I could not spend the $3,000 and simply make it a sort of game to put stuff on and then take it off the old 10GB iPod. Of course, the new iPods can record and play solitaire...

What He Said
Sam sings the Pokemon song, "Gotta ketchup ball!" instead of "Gotta catch 'em all!" Gabe says that the Pokemon on his GameBoy "devolve." And both boys sing the Jigglypuff lullaby when we're driving in the van.


Studio (Night) 1994