Saturday, December 24, 2005
Does this suit make me look fat?
Christmas Eve, and the little ones are asleep. We just enjoyed a fun but hectic dinner over at Maureen and Nelson's around the corner, and now it's time to play a bit of Santa. The cookies, milk and carrots are set out for St. Nick and his steeds, the stockings are ready to be stuffed, the pile of presents obscenely spills out from under the tree. Let's hope Ella's sensitive brain doesn't overload tomorrow!
The neighborhood is still humming as cars and pedestrians hit Alameda's Holiday Lane, around the corner from us. We have a few tasteful lights up, but nothing like the pink flamingoes and inflatable Xmas favorites lined up along Thompson Ave. We just get the spillover traffic, which is plenty.
One present opened per person, as tradition dictates. A random service found for the traditional "Silent Night" with open flames -- now that's Christmas to me. And Hanukkah starts tomorrow too -- let's not forget that!
Away with me. Bailey's pig ear ain't getting into that stocking by itself! Happy and enjoyable and peaceful and safe holidays to all.
The neighborhood is still humming as cars and pedestrians hit Alameda's Holiday Lane, around the corner from us. We have a few tasteful lights up, but nothing like the pink flamingoes and inflatable Xmas favorites lined up along Thompson Ave. We just get the spillover traffic, which is plenty.One present opened per person, as tradition dictates. A random service found for the traditional "Silent Night" with open flames -- now that's Christmas to me. And Hanukkah starts tomorrow too -- let's not forget that!
Away with me. Bailey's pig ear ain't getting into that stocking by itself! Happy and enjoyable and peaceful and safe holidays to all.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Be proud
[RANT]
My Tar Heel loyalties play no small part in this...but is it just me, or do fans (particularly college ones) find any excuse to storm the court/field and celebrate a victory? UNC lost to USC tonight, and it wasn't even close. The Tar Heels looked every bit the young, inexperienced team they are, and the loss was nothing to be ashamed of. It was a good win for Tim Floyd in his first year with the Trojans...but enough of an upset for the fans to storm the court? Um, USC fans, your guys just beat a team AT HOME that starts three freshman and lost its top seven scorers from last year...a team that almost lost to Guilford or somebody about a month ago. So, spare me your victory dance. Now I know, in part, why the rest of the Pac-10 is so bugged by you....
Picture of Bailey posted below, finally.
My Tar Heel loyalties play no small part in this...but is it just me, or do fans (particularly college ones) find any excuse to storm the court/field and celebrate a victory? UNC lost to USC tonight, and it wasn't even close. The Tar Heels looked every bit the young, inexperienced team they are, and the loss was nothing to be ashamed of. It was a good win for Tim Floyd in his first year with the Trojans...but enough of an upset for the fans to storm the court? Um, USC fans, your guys just beat a team AT HOME that starts three freshman and lost its top seven scorers from last year...a team that almost lost to Guilford or somebody about a month ago. So, spare me your victory dance. Now I know, in part, why the rest of the Pac-10 is so bugged by you....
Picture of Bailey posted below, finally.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Quiet the critic (that is me)
I think I need to learn some relaxation techniques for occasions like this morning, when my BART train stopped in the trans-bay (translation: under the Bay) tunnel for 15 long minutes...as the billions of gallons of water and tons of earth around us exerted incredible forces on the tunnel. As a public transit rider...heck, as a person living around here...you take some of these things for granted -- the structural integrity of a tunnel or a bridge and the faith it will perservere against the forces of nature...including the unavoidable Big One (earthquake).
So, learn relaxation techniques to slow my brain and heart and sweat rate as I ponder what it would be like to get crushed under the Bay in a train.
Another intention (not resolution) for the New Year: be less critical of myself and others. Nicola sent the following along, and it's been food for my thought:
As Nicola says, this is a bit "woo woo" -- or I would call it New Age-y pabulum, but I do think there is something there. Can I accept the premise that things are neither one thing or another -- they just are? I don't know...but I do want to be more accepting of myself and others. I am very self critical, for example, about this blog -- it's not topical enough, it's not funny enough, it's not interesting enough, who cares what I think about streetcars, who cares what Lindsay did last week. So I talk myself into not writing, when I should just be writing to write, to enjoy the process of finding my voice and finding my own comfort and satisfaction with keeping a blog that is largely for personal consumption and archiving anyway.
More pondering to come.
So, learn relaxation techniques to slow my brain and heart and sweat rate as I ponder what it would be like to get crushed under the Bay in a train.
Another intention (not resolution) for the New Year: be less critical of myself and others. Nicola sent the following along, and it's been food for my thought:
Life is the coexistence of all opposite values. Joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, up and down, hot and cold, here and there, light and darkness, birth and death....All experience is by contrast, and one would be meaningless without the other. When there is a quiet reconciliation, an acceptance in our awareness of this lively coexistence of all opposite values, then automatically we become more and more non-judgmental. The victor and the vanquished are seen as two poles of the same being. Nonjudgment leads to quietening of the internal dialogue, and this opens once again the doorway to creativity.
As Nicola says, this is a bit "woo woo" -- or I would call it New Age-y pabulum, but I do think there is something there. Can I accept the premise that things are neither one thing or another -- they just are? I don't know...but I do want to be more accepting of myself and others. I am very self critical, for example, about this blog -- it's not topical enough, it's not funny enough, it's not interesting enough, who cares what I think about streetcars, who cares what Lindsay did last week. So I talk myself into not writing, when I should just be writing to write, to enjoy the process of finding my voice and finding my own comfort and satisfaction with keeping a blog that is largely for personal consumption and archiving anyway.
More pondering to come.
Have I mentioned Bailey?
I was going to write this morning about...what was it? The lady I saw plucking her eyebrows on the BART train yesterday (only topped in grossness by the fingernail clipping I've seen on the train)? Our dreadful slog through Toys R Us on Sunday evening, searching for THE gift for Ella (soon to be 6)? The sad fate of Arrested Development (another strong showing last night), or the unappreciated genius 0f Scrubs (we've just about finished watching the first season DVDs)?
Whatever. I'm moved to write briefly of Bailey, our beloved but often overlooked dog. My acquaintance Ian wrote about his dog today, and many commenters added their perspectives on caring for pets as they age and decline. I've got to go home and give my old girl (10 1/2) some attention tonight...and not the kind of attention that I gave her on Saturday night, when I yelled over and over "What the fuck is your problem?" at her after she tore the kitchen garbage apart and spread trash across several rooms. Our fault for leaving the trash out, but come on!
Anyway, it's sad that I have barely even mentioned Bailey here. She's such a sweet dog and well behaved most of the time -- if it wasn't for the antics, would she get attention at all? Gee, wonder if there's something in that? Dur.
I've had Bailey off and on since she was a puppy. We bought her off a farm in 1995 in Great Falls, Va., outside of D.C. (unsure of our need for our dog...we hesitated...and we fell victim to the "oh, take her home overnight and see what you think" ploy...HOOKED!). And she lived the first three years of her life in and around the Washington area with me and my three roommates and then a succession of their new places, after I moved to Oregon. Come fall 1998, my now-ex-wife and I decided to bring Bailey out to Portland. Just weeks after she arrived, we took her down to the Oregon Coast and she ran around in the surf and had a blast...and blew the ACL in one of her back legs. Surgery followed by a cast followed by rehab (carrying her up and down stairs) and then just about good as new. Three years later...back at the coast...and another ACL tear, this time when her pal Duke (150 pounds of Great Dane/Lab mix) played a bit rough. (Rest in peace to dear, sweet, neurotic Duke, who died last weekend.)
Bailey went in for her second surgery on Sept. 11, 2001 -- I was in the car taking her to the vet when I first heard the news out of NYC. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to the description of the second tower going down.
Four-plus years later, here we are: Bailey is now a California dog, with clean teeth (finally sprung for that) and a lot of energy and pretty good manners and a shortage of attention. With two kids and jobs and housework and what-have-you...she's just a ways down the priority list. Sad but true. I take her for granted, but just the thought of her being around moves me close to tears...I need to reconcile that a bit, don't I?
I'll post some pictures later...right after I give Bailey some love and take her for a walk.
Whatever. I'm moved to write briefly of Bailey, our beloved but often overlooked dog. My acquaintance Ian wrote about his dog today, and many commenters added their perspectives on caring for pets as they age and decline. I've got to go home and give my old girl (10 1/2) some attention tonight...and not the kind of attention that I gave her on Saturday night, when I yelled over and over "What the fuck is your problem?" at her after she tore the kitchen garbage apart and spread trash across several rooms. Our fault for leaving the trash out, but come on!
Anyway, it's sad that I have barely even mentioned Bailey here. She's such a sweet dog and well behaved most of the time -- if it wasn't for the antics, would she get attention at all? Gee, wonder if there's something in that? Dur.
I've had Bailey off and on since she was a puppy. We bought her off a farm in 1995 in Great Falls, Va., outside of D.C. (unsure of our need for our dog...we hesitated...and we fell victim to the "oh, take her home overnight and see what you think" ploy...HOOKED!). And she lived the first three years of her life in and around the Washington area with me and my three roommates and then a succession of their new places, after I moved to Oregon. Come fall 1998, my now-ex-wife and I decided to bring Bailey out to Portland. Just weeks after she arrived, we took her down to the Oregon Coast and she ran around in the surf and had a blast...and blew the ACL in one of her back legs. Surgery followed by a cast followed by rehab (carrying her up and down stairs) and then just about good as new. Three years later...back at the coast...and another ACL tear, this time when her pal Duke (150 pounds of Great Dane/Lab mix) played a bit rough. (Rest in peace to dear, sweet, neurotic Duke, who died last weekend.)Bailey went in for her second surgery on Sept. 11, 2001 -- I was in the car taking her to the vet when I first heard the news out of NYC. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to the description of the second tower going down.
Four-plus years later, here we are: Bailey is now a California dog, with clean teeth (finally sprung for that) and a lot of energy and pretty good manners and a shortage of attention. With two kids and jobs and housework and what-have-you...she's just a ways down the priority list. Sad but true. I take her for granted, but just the thought of her being around moves me close to tears...I need to reconcile that a bit, don't I?
I'll post some pictures later...right after I give Bailey some love and take her for a walk.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Taggart Show
Ever have those surreal moments where you can't quite believe where you are or the thought of how you got to point X, today, right now, is kind of mind boggling...if not unbelievable?
Had one of those last night, riding up Nob Hill on the back platform of a cable car, watching Alcatraz shrink in the distance, trying to remember when I'd done this before and under what circumstances. Hey, didn't my ex-wife's friend live right on this line, near this corner? Hey I rode the cable car back to downtown when I was here for work in 1999 -- yeah, Nicola was with me. This restaurant...this block...wait, my old Chatham pal Nikki used to live on this street. I crashed at her place once...we celebrated birthdays? God, that's fuzzy. But it must be around here -- she used to complain about the bells from Grace Cathedral, and that's right over there.
Sometimes it's like life is on a loop...on the Truman Show (on TV tonight), the woman on the red bike came around the block every 10 minutes. In real life, it's a bit more irregular...and yet I do find myself crossing my own path...weeks, months, years later...and boy, how the circumstances have changed. Once a tourist, a business traveler, a visitor -- now a worker in the city, a commuter, a local.
It was a fun little ride last night, even if they now gouge you for $5. Ridiculous. And I hopped off and strolled down a steep hill, the Transamerica Pyramid looming down the hill like a giant Christmas tree topped by a full moon, lightly shrouded in fog. I'm not feeling the poetic vibe tonight, as you can tell. But at least I'm writing...and that feels good.
My little closing thought to the universe tonight: bring some peace of mind and some rest and some good health to my dear Nicola, who is dragging a bit physically, emotionally and spiritually right now. She's the emotional engine of our little world -- she makes us go, most often for the good (happy, dynamic, challenging, honest) but sometimes for the not so good. There's a bit of fog settled over our house too, and I'm doing my best to burn it off. She shouldn't have to carry all the burden...but she does bear the brunt...she's the creamy filling in the Twinkie, the tootsie roll in the tootsie pop -- she's what makes us good, underneath it all.
Last night's concert was a nice outing -- reminiscent of our pre-parental days. Wonder if it made her miss our...freedom?
We've got busy times ahead -- let us find the enjoyment in the holiday hustle, and let us find the quiet moments in between the chaos to enjoy the season and each other and our two beautiful girls.
Had one of those last night, riding up Nob Hill on the back platform of a cable car, watching Alcatraz shrink in the distance, trying to remember when I'd done this before and under what circumstances. Hey, didn't my ex-wife's friend live right on this line, near this corner? Hey I rode the cable car back to downtown when I was here for work in 1999 -- yeah, Nicola was with me. This restaurant...this block...wait, my old Chatham pal Nikki used to live on this street. I crashed at her place once...we celebrated birthdays? God, that's fuzzy. But it must be around here -- she used to complain about the bells from Grace Cathedral, and that's right over there.
Sometimes it's like life is on a loop...on the Truman Show (on TV tonight), the woman on the red bike came around the block every 10 minutes. In real life, it's a bit more irregular...and yet I do find myself crossing my own path...weeks, months, years later...and boy, how the circumstances have changed. Once a tourist, a business traveler, a visitor -- now a worker in the city, a commuter, a local.
It was a fun little ride last night, even if they now gouge you for $5. Ridiculous. And I hopped off and strolled down a steep hill, the Transamerica Pyramid looming down the hill like a giant Christmas tree topped by a full moon, lightly shrouded in fog. I'm not feeling the poetic vibe tonight, as you can tell. But at least I'm writing...and that feels good.
My little closing thought to the universe tonight: bring some peace of mind and some rest and some good health to my dear Nicola, who is dragging a bit physically, emotionally and spiritually right now. She's the emotional engine of our little world -- she makes us go, most often for the good (happy, dynamic, challenging, honest) but sometimes for the not so good. There's a bit of fog settled over our house too, and I'm doing my best to burn it off. She shouldn't have to carry all the burden...but she does bear the brunt...she's the creamy filling in the Twinkie, the tootsie roll in the tootsie pop -- she's what makes us good, underneath it all. Last night's concert was a nice outing -- reminiscent of our pre-parental days. Wonder if it made her miss our...freedom?
We've got busy times ahead -- let us find the enjoyment in the holiday hustle, and let us find the quiet moments in between the chaos to enjoy the season and each other and our two beautiful girls.
Naked
Ennui? Holiday lull? How can I explain two weeks without posting other than to blame the season. Actually, it probably has nothing to do with it -- pointing the finger at Xmas/Hanukkah (we do both) is unfair. I'm just not inspired to write right now...that's the whole of my excuse, lame as it is.
More to come later. Just wanted people to know that I'm still alive and still OK, family is good, work is work, Tar Heels are improving, the Billy Goats (my fantasy football team) went down in flames this year so now I'll have more time to surf porn instead of injury wires.
Bright spot of the week: going to the Barenaked Ladies concert last night at the very intimate Nob Hill Masonic Center. Those guys really seem to enjoy putting on a show...and if it's fake, I don't want to know. I don't care to hear the backstory (if there is one) of how they don't actually get along and one slept with the other's girlfriend and another accused another of hogging the spotlight blah blah blah. I'm going to let it be what it was: a highly entertaining, funny, engaging, well-performed show, sprinkled with holiday tunes.
Another note: check out the opening act -- The Leevees. A very engaging little set they put on. I suppose it helps that I'm raising a Jewish daughter, which makes me familiar with the trappings around Hanukkah and Judaism in general. I've got to look into the Zambonis next....
Back to grind. Millions of healthy eyeballs to preserve.
More to come later. Just wanted people to know that I'm still alive and still OK, family is good, work is work, Tar Heels are improving, the Billy Goats (my fantasy football team) went down in flames this year so now I'll have more time to surf porn instead of injury wires.
Bright spot of the week: going to the Barenaked Ladies concert last night at the very intimate Nob Hill Masonic Center. Those guys really seem to enjoy putting on a show...and if it's fake, I don't want to know. I don't care to hear the backstory (if there is one) of how they don't actually get along and one slept with the other's girlfriend and another accused another of hogging the spotlight blah blah blah. I'm going to let it be what it was: a highly entertaining, funny, engaging, well-performed show, sprinkled with holiday tunes.
Another note: check out the opening act -- The Leevees. A very engaging little set they put on. I suppose it helps that I'm raising a Jewish daughter, which makes me familiar with the trappings around Hanukkah and Judaism in general. I've got to look into the Zambonis next....
Back to grind. Millions of healthy eyeballs to preserve.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Subconscious adjustments
It poured today in the San Francisco area -- steady, drenching rain whipped sideways by blustery gusts of wind, particularly down near the wharf, where my office is. As I stood outside the office trying to hail a cab to go to a business meeting, I was grumbling as my shoes and pant legs got wet and my big golf-style umbrella nearly turned me into Mary Poppins, drifting off diagonally upward into the sky.
Less than three years ago, such weather would have been no big deal. I lived in Portland, see, where rain is as much a part of the lifestyle as...daylight and nighttime. For about nine months of the year, it rains and/or is gray and gloomy. People always ask about the weather in the Pacific Northwest, and it is a drag. Around May, when you really want steady sun and spring conditions, but it continues to be dreary, you get a bit antsy. Still, you adjust. You get used to it, I swear. You have some type of waterproof jacket with a hood, you have waterproof shoes, and you walk around without an umbrella most of the time, and it's fine.
How do you adjust? I don't know, you just do. It's like asking how your body adjusts to the savage sleeplessness of your baby's first three (six? nine? fortunately for us, it was about five) months on earth. I can't tell you how Nicola got up every two hours to nurse and still managed to get through a day without brushing her coffee and drinking her teeth. Subconciously and I suppose physiologically, your body and mind shift into another gear and you just...live, and make it through. You look back and think, "Man, I was exhausted, but what I really remember was that time Lindsay giggled when I made a funny face." You adjust on the fly, and then your brain doesn't let you remember how much it really sucked. The brain can't recreate a realistic feeling of pain, or of exhaustion, I guess.
So, I don't know the point of all this, other than an insignificant observation. I love the mostly sunny and mild weather in Alameda, and I wonder about moving back to Portland and the rain. I talk of missing snow, but I start bitching about the cold when it dips to 45 degrees. Could I really handle the weather extremes again, the ones that seemed like no big deal in New Jersey as a kid? Yeah, I could, 'cause you do. You adjust.
Not that we're going anywhere....Even the thought of leaving Ella sparks an anxious pounding of my heart, and then she drops stuff like this: "Oh Lindsay, you're so lucky your parents aren't divorced," she says to her 9-month-old sister tonight. GULP. I'm proud of her for expressing her emotions...even if they send stabs of guilt and worry right through me. We did our best to talk to her about what she's feeling, but I'm open to suggestions, if anyone's harboring some.
Less than three years ago, such weather would have been no big deal. I lived in Portland, see, where rain is as much a part of the lifestyle as...daylight and nighttime. For about nine months of the year, it rains and/or is gray and gloomy. People always ask about the weather in the Pacific Northwest, and it is a drag. Around May, when you really want steady sun and spring conditions, but it continues to be dreary, you get a bit antsy. Still, you adjust. You get used to it, I swear. You have some type of waterproof jacket with a hood, you have waterproof shoes, and you walk around without an umbrella most of the time, and it's fine.
How do you adjust? I don't know, you just do. It's like asking how your body adjusts to the savage sleeplessness of your baby's first three (six? nine? fortunately for us, it was about five) months on earth. I can't tell you how Nicola got up every two hours to nurse and still managed to get through a day without brushing her coffee and drinking her teeth. Subconciously and I suppose physiologically, your body and mind shift into another gear and you just...live, and make it through. You look back and think, "Man, I was exhausted, but what I really remember was that time Lindsay giggled when I made a funny face." You adjust on the fly, and then your brain doesn't let you remember how much it really sucked. The brain can't recreate a realistic feeling of pain, or of exhaustion, I guess.
So, I don't know the point of all this, other than an insignificant observation. I love the mostly sunny and mild weather in Alameda, and I wonder about moving back to Portland and the rain. I talk of missing snow, but I start bitching about the cold when it dips to 45 degrees. Could I really handle the weather extremes again, the ones that seemed like no big deal in New Jersey as a kid? Yeah, I could, 'cause you do. You adjust.
Not that we're going anywhere....Even the thought of leaving Ella sparks an anxious pounding of my heart, and then she drops stuff like this: "Oh Lindsay, you're so lucky your parents aren't divorced," she says to her 9-month-old sister tonight. GULP. I'm proud of her for expressing her emotions...even if they send stabs of guilt and worry right through me. We did our best to talk to her about what she's feeling, but I'm open to suggestions, if anyone's harboring some.
