Fish Not Chips

Road Trip

2010-08-03T10:11:00.001-07:00

I'm back in California after driving 4,643.2 miles to import my new roommate.

We spent two weeks driving through: Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah, 17 miles of Arizona without stopping, Nevada, almost California, Nevada again, and then California for real.

We skydived in Las Vegas during our Pi Reunion, toured Chicago by boat, and contemplated the worst places in the country to grow up. Josh bought a year-long National Park pass and already got his money back as we traversed the Badlands, Dinosaur, Rockies, Zion, Mono Lake, and Yosemite. Only the last mile of the 15 mile hike in Zion National Park was uphill in 105 degree heat. We ate very well. And fortunately, we only went stir crazy for a brief period in Utah, but were relieved with V8, Nutrageous, Honest Tea, and Rice Krispies Treats.

Starting in New Hampshire.

Picking blueberries.

Ok, and we're off. The road bacon was already in the car.

The "Cleve."

Josh didn't realize Chicago was a big city. Coastal elitism.

Mars Cheese Castle.

Obligatory Miller Brewing Company stop.

Sparta, Wisconsin - Home of Astronaut Deke Slayton.

Mithcell, SD. Corn Palace and the greatest mascot ever - Cornealious.

There were 800 miles of nothing but grasshoppers.

Wall, SD.

Rapid City is a surprisingly lovely town.

Nixon's back!

Crazy Horse.

Carhenge.

Nebraska.

Dinosaur National Park.

Appropriate.

Josh and I have so many things in common.

Being a badass in the Rockies.

It's a femur!

Antelope Island and its entire herd of buffalo.

Western Nevada.

17.317 Interactions with Riot Police

2010-05-04T15:29:00.000-07:00

I don’t try to be a news blog, but the Internet entire knows about the Arizona immigration bill. Politically, it’s insane on a level that belongs in the first half of a diaster movie. But it got me to finally join the ACLU, which is something I’ve been meaning to do since 2002. Better late than never.

The ACLU’s mailbot convinced me to email my representative and tell them not to enact another instance of the Arizona law. I drafted my email, but then remembered that I live in Berkeley, California. This city might hate public transportation, but we know how those organic, pesticide-free apples get to Andronico’s. Really, drive through the Central Valley. The road is lined with person-shaped billboards of smiling Caucasian farmers holding produce, every one captioned “Today, we’re growing tomatoes!” or the like. Find a radio station that isn’t playing Reggaeton. I dare you.

Fortunately, I feel a loose connection to three sets of elected officials, so I plugged in my pre-voting age address in Georgia and hit send.

Imagine my surprise when I received an auto-reply message from one of the few elected officials who might actually know a) who I am and b) that I definitely don’t live in Georgia any more. I shot off a quick and mildly awkward follow up note. Hey, glad you’re still in office, how’s it going? It was the equivalent of my all time favorite party-leaving excuse: Excuse me, I have to make sure the window still works.

But, like the congenial elected official I campaigned for, Doug Holt (State Senator – R) wrote me back. Before the appropriate niceties, he tossed this tidbit into my inbox, too.

There are some folks here looking at what Arizona has done, but with our session about to end, there is no time for any action until next year. That should give us the perspective of some elapsed time, which will help with weeding out the silly stuff.

I don’t know what I was expecting. I suppose anything this side of “we’re fueling up the trucks for the mass arrests now” should be a pleasant surprise. But I can think of a lot better starting points than Arizona SB 1070 if you want to look for non-“silly stuff.”

I replied on April 30, the day before May Day (International Worker’s Day). After a wonderful evening of Chinese food and board games, I walked with a group of friends towards the 16th Street and Mission BART station. For my handful of non-SF based readers, if I were going to stage an anti-Arizona protest on May Day, I would do it at the 16th Street and Mission BART station. By 11 pm, the embers of populist rage were still glowing on streets that separated me from my train back to the East Bay. I’m always amazed by the unwillingness of riot police to answer questions like “which way to the train station?” but that’s a subject for another post. Fortunately, living in Boston from 2003-2008 prepared me to deal with riot police, even in my later evening state.

Before heading home, I ducked into the last bits of the hoopla to see what it was all about. Unsurprisingly, the people most likely to be affected by anti-immigration laws cleared out long before the police arrived. Maybe a dozen middle class, white kids were raping at the cops by the time I got there, observed by at least a hundred spectators and maybe as many police officers.

Hey, somebody has to fan the flames of freedom. If that someone is some moderately stupid-looking 18-24 year olds shouting at bored riot police, in a city that’s already trying to boycott the State of Arizona, that works for me. I may not have found people that I agree with 100% of the time, but I’d rather spend my time blithely aware of an ongoing and steady march towards progress than trying to induce some Bizzaro version of the 1950’s when everyone got along, was employed, and everyone else’s problems were their own. Or as I told my former State Senator:

I really do my best to represent my home state well among all these Yankees and Left Coast types, and my friends and I are proof that there's more than just hippies out here. But I get frustrated when some of the more stringently theocratic decisions emanating out of Atlanta hit the national news. I know none of my gay friends are going to get married in either of our states in the next few years, but I'm glad my darker skinned friends are still welcomed and treated equally under the law.

Just to make sure I don't end on a serious note, San Francisco at its finest:

Credits

Blogger Rellenos

2010-04-25T19:54:00.001-07:00

Because I haven't left the country in three months, and Lauren has almost completed her teaching stint in Monterrey, Mexico, last weekend I jetted down to explore America's tasty, low-CPI-having neighbor to the South.

First off, I don't know why I haven't been to Mexico before. It's a little dangerous in parts, sure, but I live in Oakland. The food is incredible, abundant, cheap, and Guadalajara airport has endless, free tequila tastings at all the Duty Free shops. Really Mexico, why did it take so long?

Unfortunately, flights from Oakland to Monterrey require layovers, and I had the option of arriving really late in the evening, or really early in the morning. So I met up with Lauren at her school, and got to practice my glare and dry erase boardmanship while her classes took exams.

The weekend went by pretty fast, but it was nice to get to spend time with my best bud before our lives take their dramatic turns. Though she doesn't believe me, I'm excited for her engagement and departure to India/New York. She knows if I have to wear a mauve bridesmaid sari, I'm making her wear a bridesmaid hijab. A great reason to not get married first - retaining counterstrike potential. Lauren, you're on notice.

Anyway, the rest of the weekend involved a lot of city walking and a lot of tacos. Monterrey has some interesting mobility and access issues, and I kept referring to the "informal settlements" as "illegal settlements" out of habit. But I said it before, and it's true: my only regret about Monterrey is that I wasn't hungry enough.

The best tamale, ever. On the best tablecloth, ever.

Room temperature mayonnaise, chili paste, real and fake cheese, corn, lime squeeze, spoon.

How can one piece of equipment make trompo, shawarma, and doner kebabs?

Fixin's. I've undervalued onions my entire life.

"This churro isn't even the same kind of food as the ones in Oakland. It's a different, completely superior food."

Hey Mexicana, thanks for not stranding me in Mexico City overnight and delivering my bags to the wrong house this time. Nice.

Oakland from 1500'

2010-03-12T12:58:00.000-08:00

On March 4, a bunch of students in California protested the tuition hikes. I'm always annoyed when people refuse to accept that budgets are zero-sum games, but you've got to represent your side to protect what funding you can. I get that.

I work on the 16th floor of an office building in Downtown Oakland, a mere two blocks from Frank Ogawa Plaza, and nearly my entire office took a half hour off to watch the riot police stream into the city and break up the protest. This happens a lot. But this one was much earlier in the day than usual and Berkeley students are much more serious about their protesting than the labor unions. We watched a large group run up an 880 freeway ramp and traffic come to a standstill. The riot police blocked off the entrance and some other point upstream, and chased the protesters behind a building. We used this as an excuse to pour into the nicer offices with floor to ceiling windows and ogle. The confrontation ended behind the Alameda County jail, so we went back to work.

Apparently, we missed an epic beatdown.

From webSWAG:

In Oakland, thousands of protesters rallied in Frank Ogawa Plaza. A group of some 200 then broke off and marched through downtown before moving to Interstate 880 and later taking over an Interstate 980 exit ramp. The Oakland riot police swept in and without a call for dispersal started swinging batons and beating people before arresting them. The video [above] shows the beatings 1 minute 47 seconds in.

The standard office-place lunch discussion came up, and while I don't justify impeding traffic, I was surprised so many people came down on the side of: protesters are big and scary, police have the right to exercise as much brutality as they deem necessary.

Image by Reginald James

Sorry hippies, white collar Oakland doesn't have your back on this one. But considering that the freeway incident was all that got picked up in the news, I can't say I blame you. Good luck paying off those B.A.s in English.

El Lugar Que no Puede Ser Nombrado

2010-03-07T17:43:00.000-08:00

I know this happened in 2009, and it's March 2010. But mom and dad were nice enough to talk to me for the hour I spent waiting on Caltrain this morning, so here we go.

Model A?

The part that looks like America. Bollards. Fresh paint. Tourists with fanny packs and beautiful people feeding each other meat on sticks. The beer was probably even more than two dollars. We only spent a few hours here.

This is a representative example of many of the downtown city streets. Josh, I'm sorry I yelled at you to get out of the way for this shot. I didn't want that guy to photobomb it.

This is representative of the streets elsewhere.

I bet the transmission in this cab wouldn't fall out on the way home from the club at 1 AM and force us to hitchhike home.

The world's finest example of art deco.

Everybody loves putting highways between pedestrians and the water. At least these have sidewalks.

Memorabilia from Cienfuegos riots back in the day.

Josh can affirm that I flip over every cup and plate when we travel and make a comment about trading circles. This is the coolest one I've ever found.

With more voice.

Your example, your ideas remain.

Josh is a cowboy. On a steel horse he rides.

That rock on the side of the picture there? That's right. CAVE DISCO.

Teddy Williams knocks one right outta the pahk.

I hope it doesn't actually run better than my 1991 vintage.

Trinidad.

Double hood ornaments.

Haragán.

The black marks in the water are 16 foot tall coral reefs full of fish. Thankfully the exiles didn't stomp all over them in their failed invasion, and the locals are too poor to get close. Whew.

Prensa Libre

2010-01-06T07:25:00.000-08:00

Continuing to follow the logic of “I’ll pay $1500 in airfare if I can sleep for free,” I just returned from a week in Guatemala. Josh’s mom (author of this book) invited us to join her during one of her research/teaching trips, and made the magic offer, so off we Josh, his mom Laurie, his sister Hannah, and I went to Guatemala.

The arrival plan – fly from late Wednesday night to Houston, meet my aunt and uncle during a long layover, and then catch a connection with the Levingers to Guatemala City. In reality, and without a phone, I lost my watch on the way to happy hour and almost missed my flight. Haggard from a brief sleep in a middle seat, I slept through my arranged meet up time with my aunt and uncle, and spent 45 minutes trying to find them in the Houston airport without a phone. After a brief breakfast, they deposited me back at the airport, and I met up shortly with my companions. We made it to Guatemala City in one piece, and on to Antigua in short order.

We set up base in Antigua, the colonial capital of Guatemala. The coalition of the concerned chose architectural preservation over cultural preservation, but considering the town was designed to serve private space over public, and the emphasis on tourism, little is likely to change about that. It even has an Irish pub. But it does have a few great restaurants, plenty of great walking, and the most incredible outdoor/indoor market maze I’ve ever seen.

We spent the remainder of our time around Lake Atitlan. The lake is ringed by volcanoes, some active, and is beautiful to the point of being ridiculous. A handful of small towns ring the lake, and we easily filled our days boating to a small town, shopping, avoiding contaminated water, and retiring to our bungalows for naps and hopes for hot water. Hannah and I spent an afternoon learning back-strap weaving from a woman about my age, and entertaining them with our attempts to make tortillas. Hunched over in an unlit, cement brick room, listening to the rain and distant house music, I gained a new appreciate for literacy and family planning.

Christmas passed during our stay, and though I have mixed feelings about my own holiday traditions (which themselves are pretty eclectic) I resolved to either do my familial diligence next year, or go to a country that isn’t predominantly Catholic or dry. Josh and I spent the afternoon climbing the Pacaya volcano, watching the sun set behind other volcanoes, and hiking down in the dark. Well, I hiked back. Mr. Vermont skipped down the mountain like a goat on tele skis.

Before leaving Guatemala, we spent a day in the capital city, the named creatively Guatemala City. Guatemala City smacks of Hunter S. Thompson’s San Juan from the Rum Diaries. Our stay was brief, but we managed to get out of our electric-fenced residential zone and into the downtown. It’s no San Paolo, but definitely enough to serve as an escapism fantasy for Bizzaro Ruth in her hut in Santa Cruz. I assume that even opposite Ruth is into that sort of thing.

We snorkeled, collectively ate a least a dozen lobsters, and enhanced our appreciation for the dance of international relations. I learned how to splint toes after breaking one of mine in a hotel lobby. And thanks to a compounded series of Mexicana’s mistakes, we spent our last night in the Mexico City Airport Hilton, and though I spent four hours getting home from San Jose Airport, I still beat my luggage by five days and counting.

Though I’ve downgraded my quarter-life crisis to “guarded”, I still don’t know if two wholly kickass vacations a year can sustain me for the remaining 48 weeks of responsibility and gainful employment. So I was surprised how happy I was to get back to Oakland. Home of all places. Even work. Maybe it was the three-layover return flight and being stranded at San Jose. Stranger things have happened, but I don’t remember when.

Si, se puede

2009-12-16T15:42:00.000-08:00

My second big adventure of 2009 kicks off in a little more than an hour. My bag is packed, my time sheet is submitted, and now I'm roaming the Internet before getting on a plane to Guatemala. My only regret before I ship out? Missing this:

Subject: Operation Chokehold
On Friday, December 18, at noon Pacific time, we will attempt to overwhelm the AT&T data network and bring it to its knees. The goal is to have every iPhone user (or as many as we can) turn on a data intensive app and run that app for one solid hour. Send the message to AT&T that we are sick of their substandard network and sick of their abusive comments. THe idea is we’ll create a digital flash mob. We’re calling it in Operation Chokehold. Join us and speak truth to power!

For the 15% of people I know without iPhones, the experience is like this. You buy a phone that costs more than you know you should spend on a phone, and you pay more to turn it on and operate it than you know that you should, but it's an awesome toy and does cool things. So you suck it up. But then the "unlimited" data plan that you signed up for (literally, like in a contract) prohibits you from operating data-intensive applications. You can only run Skype over wifi. The coverage is conspicuously worse than Verizon. You can't use it like a modem. Calls drop in downtown San Francisco. That sort of thing.

Then fluff articles like this come out in the Wall Street Journal - AT&T to New York and San Francisco: We’re Working on It. But buried in the fourth paragraph are jewels like this:

With about 3% of smart-phone customers driving 40% of data traffic, AT&T is considering incentives to keep those subscribers from hampering the experience for everyone else, he said.

Well, duh. That's how it was marketed. See the experience description above. Why sell something you can't deliver? But then you come across brilliant bloggers like Fake Steve Jobs who have the time to pour through AT&T's public records and find actual numbers.

From fakesteve.net:

Last quarter you spent $4 billion on capex, which was $1.6 billion less than you were spending two years ago, at the end of 2007. Meanwhile your data revenues in the most recent quarter were $3.6 billion, up from $2.0 billion at the end of 2007. In other words, you took in $1.6 billion more on data plans.

The entire post is a fantastic editorial on AT&T's lethargic, "you can't see me because my head is buried in my money pile" capital investment strategy.

Please, someone stream this over AT&T's network at noon PST for me.

Fun with Calendars

2009-11-12T14:36:00.000-08:00

As is my Winter tradition, I'm preparing to cement my status in the TSA line as an "experienced traveler.

As this handy table from MS Word shows, I'll be on the road for the next month. This is all for work, or trying to squeeze domestic vacations in and around the pretense of work. I shudder to compare it to the similarly simplified table I made for a more life-consuming project, so I'll leave that as an exercise for the imagination of the reader.

Meanwhile, it occured to me that I don't consider domestic travel to be a vacation, because it's not somehow generally adventurous enough. Road trip planning buddy, consider that a challenge.

Kermanshah

2009-10-27T09:19:00.000-07:00

Did you know: When I have to make up transportation project locations for software prototypes, I refer to the map of Iraq I have displayed in my cube. For names, I almost always use variations of people I know from MIT. My favorite is Mitra Long.

Blog, it's been a while. The downside to blogging every time you fly somewhere is the inevitable span during which you don't set foot into an airport. Woe.

I'm taking a Saturday morning technical communications class with the incomparable Jeffrey, and the attendance policy is keeping me in the Bay Area for eight whole weekends. I still get to fly to Portland, OR every other Wednesday, but something about being in a city for seven hours (and working for six of them) just doesn't get me stoked. Though I do enjoy the bars at PDX and Oregon's lack of a sales tax.

But heart! My favorite holiday is only a few days away. My pumpkin is carved, and I finally saw my full costume assembled and have begun readjusted my expectations accordingly. Josh is flying out, my two favorite houses in San Francisco are throwing parties, and daylight savings time will kick in Halloween night providing an extra hour of party.

This week just has to crawl by first.

Update: I just won third prize in my office building's pumpkin carving contest.

I lost to a great hamburger pumpkin and Michael Jackson. Long live the King of Pop.

Still Unpacking

2009-09-04T20:06:00.001-07:00

I feel bad that I haven't posted the third and final post of my trip recap (Jordan!), but then I found this in the washer today after I pulled out my clothes.

That change jingling around? Shekels. I found $0.52 in Israeli currency that had been in my pants since at least August 8. This probably fell out of the pocket of a pair of now Rose-Red pants. Rose-Red like Petra.

The real moral of the story here is that I've been on extended tours in other parts of the world so long, and washing my clothes in other time zones, that I haven't been to my trusty Berkeley-based laundromat since mid-July. But tomorrow is the first day of my new writing class through the Berkeley Extension Program. These classes meet every Saturday for the next three months, and I already have plans to be in town but absent for my one allowed absence. So I'll effectively grounded for the next 12 weekends. No more fancy currency falling out of my pockets until December.

Syrian Adventures

2009-08-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

The much talked about, but little blogged, portion of my Middle Eastern experience was in Syria. Which is a shame, because I don't think I can convince everyone I know to visit by just repeatedly telling them how nice everyone was, how beautiful everything was, and how delicious and cheap the food is.

Seriously, if you go, and only interact with shawarma cart operators, it'll be worth it.

But anyway, here's the much delayed photographic evidence that I was in Damascus.

We departed Israel via an absurdly short flight to Amman (for the sake of passport entry stamps). First off, Israeli security is ridiculous. I was flagged for having a Syrian visa in my passport, and they asked a bunch of questions to suss out the exact nature of Josh and my relationship, as well as exactly how Jewish each of us were. Racial profiling much? The Syrians at least treated us like generically white people.

From Amman we took a small car (with five people) to Damascus. At the border, our burly Arabic-speaking driver kept close watch on us, directing us and the border agents as needed until we cleared with record time. Anyone getting into Syria needs their own burly Arabic-speaking driver.

We drove through lots of desert and agriculture before getting to Damascus itself. When I go back, I'll want to check out the suburbs, and see more than just the core of the city. But from our vantage point, the rest of the city looked like any other city (with some old building scattered throughout, of course), and the old city in the center was the real attraction.

The old city part of Damascus is just this enormously dense maze of alleys and small buildings. There are clearly more residential and more commercial parts, but they blend intensely. You think you're in a residential portion, and then there's a spice shop, etc. The entrance we regularly took was covered, except for the tiny sunlight illuminated pockmarks. Josh explained those were delivered by the French upon their final exit from the city. Good job, French.

The souq survived and is flourishing. And after a short walk through one of the busiest markets you'll ever see, you arrive in a courtyard. Ummayad Mosque!

I threw a fit because they let Josh in, but insisted I rent a cloak to cover myself from head to toe. Poor Josh suffered through fits like this at least twice a day.

Josh bore this nuisance well, and in the kind of act that will only reward him by raising my expectations, we had dinner on a rooftop near the mosque. The call to prayer came somewhere while we were gorging on hummus.

The next day we just wandered through architectural and historical wonders. And more hummus.

A painting at the old train station.

"President" Bashir was everywhere. Even watching over the Internets.

A fresco outside a bathhouse:

Overall, we essentially just looked at stuff, ate, and tried to stay cool. It was fabulous. And the people were so incredibly friendly. A couple at a restaurant invited us over to talk for hours. A shopkeeper gave me a piece of candy for being American. Another man proudly rattled off every American state he knew, and when I told him I lived in California, responded "your governor is the Terminator!". Another man responded "very bad police, LAPD."

But the best interaction with a local was this guy, Charlie:

Charlie is Lebanese. He was a translator for the US Navy back in the day. As a result, his English is that of a US sailor in the 50's. Charlie is hilarious. If you're ever hailing a car to Amman from Damascus, look for the one-legged, 68-year-old, Lebanese man cursing "Jesus Christ" all the time.

Next up - Jordan!

Celadon City

2009-08-23T16:52:00.000-07:00

I haven't written about pottery in months, because, well, I haven't thrown pottery in months. It totally sucks. But my basic requirements of a pottery studio are:

1) no bodies dumped in the parking lot; and
2) don't leave the kiln inoperable for three months and lose my stuff in the down time.

I feel this is reasonable. So enjoy the survivors of my experience at the Studio One Arts Center.

These all have similar glaze, and not too heavy for the size. I made one more small cup, but it's at work, so it has escaped photography for now. These two are part of a set - the third was lost/stolen from the kiln room over the summer.

"So imagine you're throwing a dinner party. You could put the beef entree on this, so everyone would know what it was."

PIG PLATE

"This one is for pork. I couldn't find a stencil of a plant for the veggie plate, so I figured I'd just use some random herbivore."

Now I just have a random cow plate and a triceratops plate. Whatever. If you see my pig plate, let me know?

Oakland Transportation Fails

2009-08-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's 2009, or Oakland, or what, but it's shaping up to be an interesting year to live in the East Bay. It's especially interesting to work in transportation. Two particular bits of water cooler discussion:

BART Strike

BART staff are set to strike tomorrow. I'm sad to be in Boston this week, because I've never seen a transit strike (I missed the 2005 New York transit strike by a few weeks).

You know your cause is off to a bad start when pro-union San Francisco Bay Area doesn't support your strike. But a city with a 10.3% unemployment rate apparently doesn't want to support a bunch train operators and station agents (with a $63,000 base salary). Funny. I've had my longer union discussion with Josh, but in this case at least, I hope BART hires scabs. I like the idea of hiring staff with graduate degrees in English.

The Oakland Airport Connector.

Connecting Oakland Airport BART stop and the Oakland Airport, BART voted in May to pursue construction of a fixed guideway rail line to replace the existing bus service. I've complained about having to take the $3 bus to the airport, but an $11 train is not the solution. Other facts that are shocking for the fact that they're real and still being pursued:

Project cost: $552 million (4 times more than voters were told)
New daily ridership: 500-1200 new riders
Costs per rider: $500-700 (roundtrip, more than a flight to NYC)
Slower than the roadway it travels above.
No stops serving Oakland residents
More expensive to ride than the SFO connection

Link

Poor Oakland Airport. They already have free wifi. They advertise on BART. The security lines are a tenth as bad as SFO. I fly for work and personal reasons all the time. You know what would make me pick OAK over SFO? Cheap flights! Duh, its the fares, stupid.

Food.

2009-08-07T05:58:00.000-07:00

Because I know dad is primarily concerned with how well I'm eating, this post is for him.

Beverages
The Middle East is not big on beer. Maybe because of all the Muslims. Probably not a bad idea though, because after being constantly dehydrated for weeks at a time, you really only need one. Anyway, Taybeh (Arabic for delicious) is the local Palestinian beer, and it's decent. Barata is Syrian, and Almaza is Lebanese, and both are about as exciting as Italian beer. Instead, we drank a lot of water and mint lemonade. A lot.

Also, this brand of kiwi lemon juice is amazing. The kiwis here are much bigger than the ones at Berkeley Bowl (feigned shock).

Dessert
There was good dessert to be had as well. A shop keeper asked if I as American and gave me a piece of candy. It felt like a reverse of some American WW2 propaganda, but it was tasty. Various pastries and whatnot were had, as well as pistachio-coated vanilla ice cream, as shown below:

Kebabs
Avaailable most frequently in chicken and lamb. In Syria, lamb kebabs traditionally come with a spicy tomato sauce (second picture below). Also popular, the thin bread with spicy tomato sauce and oregano that resembles pizza in appearance.

Seeded pastries

The most necessary thing that I recreate back home. Take a bread-like substance. Smother with olive oil. Distribute sesame and other seeds. Eat. Taybeh.

Also, cucumbers are really common and appear to be good with almost everything.

Hummus
Creamy as butter. Often served with olive oil, paprika, garlic, lemon, or whole chick peas. Ridiculously better than hummus back home, and for no obvious reason. I've eaten at least a half pound of this a day for two weeks.

Israeli McDonald's

McNaggats and McKebabs. Big Macs without cheese.

Bedouin food

Defined by its simplicity and minimal seasoning - it's basically how I cook already. Put things in a pot, heat, then consume. Except that this was made in the desert by our Bedouin tour guide and his wife. It was so good I even ate the tomatoes.

Israel and Palestine

2009-08-07T04:50:00.000-07:00

My two week crusade is almost over, but it's better late than never that I start recapitulating from the beginning. One place at a time, we begin in Israel/Palestine.

After a painless first encounter with the famous Israeli airport security, and a non-trivial wait in the Tel Aviv arrivals lounge, Josh and I were off to Ramallah. My 18 hours or whatever in transit effectively ended the first day's events, and we headed straight back to his summer research base of operations in the administrative capital of the West Bank.

I committed my first cultural faux pas almost immediately. It's a little confusing to a jet lagged foreigner that the language changes at the airport and again at the Palestinian border. But most frustrating, is the immediate shift in attitudes towards women (more on this later). I don't know who of Josh and I usually shoulders the burden of flagging down bartenders, but at this particular Palestinian rooftop bar, they were having none of Josh, so I shouted "shalom" to surprise and consternation of the server. Whatever. This is not to be the first time slow service and an avoidance of eye contact frustrates me on this trip.

More rested, we embark to visit major sites of the world's three main religions. In short order:

Judaism - The Western Wall.

Islam - The Dome of the Rock.

Christianity - The Church of the Nativity.

I'm still full of religion from the Vatican last year, so after tipping my hat to the three neighboring faiths, we headed off to Josh's high school friend Jared's apartment in Bethlehem. Where you ask?

More specifically:

That's right. I've drunk on a porch overlooking Ruth and Boaz's fields from the Old Testament. That alone was pretty moving in the proper way, I think. In classic style, we spent the next day touring the home of Taybeh (Arabic for delicious), both the only microbrewery in the Middle East and the only Palestinian-produced beer. I like supporting my causes by buying locally.

Seven Pillars of Wisdom

2009-07-23T09:59:00.000-07:00

I know that sometimes my post titles are refrences to cultural happenings so obscure that they serve only my own amusement. To let everyone in on the joke, the title of this post is shared by the autobiography of T.E. Lawrence (aka Lawrence of Arabia).

Hence, this is the post where I acknowledge my parents and family for so dutifully following this blog, and answer all of their likely questions about my upcoming summer vacation. The rest of you can just be amused by the fact that I'm an only child of two public school teachers, and this trip still doesn't make me the wildest person in my immediate family.

Likely Pondered Questions:

Where are you going?

I'm flying in and out of Tel Aviv, Israel. During the course of the trip, I'll also see the West Bank; Amman, Petra, and Wadi Rum, Jordan; and Damascus, and Allepo, Syria. The rough path looks like this:

This assumes Syria doesn't mind that my tourist visa will be two-weeks expired, and that Israel doesn't mind stamping something other than my passport. If those turn out to be problems (Syria doesn't allow people into their country that have been to "occupied Palestinian territories"), we'll improvise a three-day trip to Cairo.

How long will you be there?

I leave this Saturday at 10:50 AM and will be gone for two weeks. Why just two weeks? Because work is none too generous with vacation time, and I need to save up for Guatemala this winter.

Who will you be there with?

I'll be there with the incomparable Josh, who has successfully kept me alive everywhere from the snowy mountains of New Hampshire on tele-skis to the grassy lawn of the Florence train station in the cold. It's Josh's third summer in the Middle East and he listens to NPR, so he's an expert on the region.

Will Josh be with you every single moment that you're outside the U.S.?

No. Not that I don't enjoy his company, but he's already be in the region doing grad student work. I will fly into Tel Aviv alone, and will meet him at the airport. We're on the same connecting flight to Philadelphi, so I'll be generally around him from the time I pass through Israeli customs through our trip across the Atlantic.

Isn't Syria teeming with fundamentalists and extremists? Will you be immediately jihaded upon entry?

Syria is listed by the US as a state sponsor of terror, but the US retains full diplomatic relations with the country. Much like how not every American is in the Klan, not every Syrian seeks opportunities to do violence to tourists. Read this article for reference. Plus, because it's an authoritarian military republic with strong social mores, crime is incredibly low. Compare this to where I currently live - Oakland. It could be my safest two weeks of the year.

I'm incredibly worried/interested. Will you be calling home every single day?

Nope. But I will be mooching off Josh's Twitter account. Follow it to see if he survives until I get there, and after I get there to read about our fabulous adventures in Arabia without iPhones (roughing it!).

What will you eat? (I assume dad is thinking this)

From what I've heard: falafel, shawarma and kebabs. There's also a German-style Palestinian beer called "Taybeh" that I'm excited to sample. I look forward to trying at least one animal deemed too cute to eat by American standards, in addition to camel. As in Italy, I'll attempt to photograph anything particularly scrumptious.

Bike to Work Day

2009-07-22T09:21:00.001-07:00

It makes more sense to post this here than to individually email everyone I know.

After an unsuccessful attempt Monday to back out of my driveway; and being too worried about dropping it Tuesday; today, Wednesday, I rode my brand new used Suzuki Katana 600 to work. This machine was clearly designed for the higher gears.

Her name is GoGo.

Monday's incident threw me a little, but now that I've jumped back on the horses, I'm fearless and unabashedly excited about leaving for the Middle East on Saturday. If only work would oblige.

Food

2009-07-13T21:34:00.000-07:00

In my ongoing efforts to learn how to feed myself without a Visa card, I realized that my favorite food of 2008 - fish tacos - can be assembled at home. Yes, I have a $125k degree from MIT, and it took me until today to figure that out. Sorry to the kid whose spot I took.

I was particularly motivated by my new favorite fish tacos at Pacific Catch in San Francisco. Mitra suggested it because it appears on the screen of an iPhone in a commercial. The glorious avocado/tomatillo/Mahi Mahi tacos were the best I've ever had. So I tried my own version at home:

And as much as fried meats are my favorites (frying being my favorite method of cooking, and meat being meat), the fried fish was almost as good as the fried egg. I had lots of egg and bread crumbs left over from the frying exercise, so I threw those in the pan, too. Damn tasty. It's hard to go wrong with cheap, plain bread crumbs from Berkeley Bowl and a ton of cajun seasoning. That much salt will make anything taste good.

The backyard is doing its thing. That bee is pollinating our blackberries, which are just starting to come in. The second plum tree is in full swing, and the neighbor's pears (the ones hanging within reach of our fence) are oh so close. Fortunately (maybe), my okra is lagging behind Sam's everything. I hope I don't miss it whenever it starts putting out. But having pickled okra when I come back wouldn't be the end of the world.

I've wanted to blog this forever. It's the light over our stove. It means "light," but I always think "turning up the Hope" when I switch it on.

Six Puppies and a Funeral

2009-07-09T11:31:00.000-07:00

In the continuing series "Ruth flying all over the country at random times," I spent the last last weekend in New England. After my unfortunate early exposures to the Green Mountain and Granite States (see: bruised kidney, sprain wrist, and class 2.5 ACL tear), I'm amazed how much fun I have when I go to Vermont and New Hampshire now. A brief recap will have to suffice, as my 3.1-year-old computer kicked the bucket just this side of its 3-year warranty.

1) Agri-tourism. Vermont is home to many food industries. MANY. In the course of my time there, Josh, T-Bone and I toured Ben and Jerry's and Cabot factories, as well as the King Arthur Flour factory store. Ben and Jerry sold out to Unilever, but admit it. Our Cabot guide didn't understand why "Maine sells cheese curds, but Vermont doesn't seem to like them." King Arthur Flour was like the world's largest Cracker Barrel. Regardless, Cabot was the best, because of the cheese sampling. Also, the Vermontan hair nets (pictures to come).

2) Puppies. There are lots of things I can handle - bad smells, heights, jet lag. I generally include "cute things" in this list. Babies? Please. Stop taking up the entire sidewalk. Kittens, are pretty powerful, especially with captions. I didn't think puppies would be a problem. And I did pretty well. But by the end of Sunday, I had picked a favorite puppy of the litter, and was resigned to carrying it around at all times. Until it peed on me. Thanks, Jayne.

3) Small towns. Saturday night, Josh and I walked from his house in Vermont to a bar in New Hampshire. The bar was alright (we both ended up seeing people we knew - strange), but on the walk back across the river, Josh pointed out a stairwell and bench under the bridge. My response: "It's a bridge! There are meth addicts under there!" Of course there weren't, and it was nice to see some stars.

Windy and Brief

2009-06-05T19:19:00.000-07:00

Continuing the practice of only blogging about travel and pottery, I was in Chicago this week!

It wasn't the shortest business trip ever, but it probably was the one with the least amount of sight-seeing. Fortunately, my hotel had a fantastic 31st story view:

Flying in at 11:30 pm to O'Hare did not prevent me from spending twenty minutes to take the previous picture. I now fully understand the manual functions of my camera.

My company's Chicago office is in the middle of downtown, right on LaSalle Street, and my hotel was away 15 minutes walking on the Chicago River. I've been to Chicago a few times before, but the awesomeness of proximity wasn't lost on me. I don't know if I still want to live in the middle of a downtown like Chicago, but it's pretty fun to visit.

This is half of my favorite modern building in Chicago.

I did manage to spend some time outside of the office. My gracious corporate hosts took us out for a great happy hour, and lunch the next day in Grant Park.

We might not have as great a subway system, or as wonderfully tall a downtown, but the Bay Area still strikes me as a good metropolis to call home.

The view from our conference room is similar to:

BATMAN.

The other most meaningful part of my week was looking up courses in user interface design at Berkeley. The class I want doesn't seem to be available to non-enrolled students, and for a fleeting moment I considered applying for a Masters Degree in Computer Science and taking the prerequisite programming classes.

Then I remembered my quick nervous breakdown before the Intro. to Programming final freshman year and found something else to ponder immediately. So if anyone knows of a Masters program that lets you hang out with software developers, play with post-it notes, and draw pretty pictures without ever touching a line of code, let me know?

Driving South

2009-06-01T22:31:00.000-07:00

The only upside to a long distance relationship is the excuse to take a fabulous long weekend every four to six weeks. The last two weeks were vaguely reminiscent of undergrad, workload-wise, but I sent off my last report from Oakland Airport, and immediately kicked off a much anticipated adventure south.

First, Maker Fair, which was cool, in theory. Big displays of do-it-yourself wizardry might just be less impressive after MIT. But hey, fire sculpture!

Then Josh and I hit the road south to fabulous Monterey. I'll admit, there was a lot of hype, and the first half day was good but a little underwhelming. But then we hit the road to Big Sur, and holy shit.

As if that wasn't cool enough, then Josh steered us to a beach full of seals. This collection of photos does not accurately convey the proportion of trip pictures that contain seals.

There was camping in Nacimiento, In-and-Out Burger, and a scenic drive through the central valley to a soundtrack of Spanish language radio stations. It was basically the most stereotypical Californian vacation, ever. And then I actually found five dollars.

Birthday!

2009-05-23T08:55:00.000-07:00

Did you know: Kyle Reese is Chekov?

It was my birthday this week! After my 22nd birthday, I accepted that I'd had the best birthday possible (there was a band, cake batter flavored ice cream cake, full bar, light organ, and a diploma). I decided that being taken out to lunch at work and some weekend trip somewhere would be an acceptable birthday celebration for my adult life.

In short, I underestimated my East Bay friends. How did I meet these fantastic people so quickly?

1) A surprise party at my favorite bar, the Graduate! I was totally, completely surprised. The most amazing part was how comprehensive my friends were while self-assembling. Work friends, female friends, gay male friends - all the primary demographics were covered. I spilled my first drink on someone, and she immediately bought me a new one. A second person lent me a helmet, and a third escorted me via motorcycle to...

2) A sneak preview of UP at Pixar! I laughed, I cried, I self-examined. This movie is amazing. Go see it when it comes out. But our tour of the Pixar compound was cut short so I could get up early and fly to...

3) A Grateful Dead concert in George, Washington! Puns! Flying across the country for random concerts is the only way I see anyone from home anymore. In a true display of my divergence from Georgia, the highlights of this excursion to the Pacific Northwest were New England chowder, the Seattle Cheese Festival, and a guy singing Li'l Red Riding Hood on the street. I am such a proud yuppie.

Logos at their best.

It was a great birthday weekend. But the actual day wasn't until Monday. Work was worked, things were good, and I was on the fence about going to pottery or trying to find someone to grab dinner with. Of course, my brilliant co-workers had something planned all along. Together, we discovered my recipe for an excellent birthday -

4) Barbeque, pool, and singing Journey at karaoke. How did these people get to know me so well?

That's enough text. Here are some pictures of the canyon in central Washington where the Dead played:

The Allman Brothers.
See that guy in the bottom right with the tie-dyed peace sign shirt? The one with the long hair?
Yeah.

Next stop - pottery.

+37° 51' 47.88", -122° 13' 53.40"

2009-05-14T13:46:00.000-07:00

Did you know: Google Earthquake?

Ok, that might be misleading. But apparently, typing "[location] earthquake" gives you results like these:

This is the third earthquake I experienced but didn't notice. The first, I was standing up outside when Sam came to tell me the fridge shook. The second, I don't even remember. This one, I was standing in my office building (16th floor), and someone asked me if I felt something. My response was something like: "No, I didn't feel anything, so are you coming to Star Trek tonight or not?"

Priorities, I guess. Also, Star Trek is amazing.

So mom and dad, don't worry, I'm still more likely to get bitten by a rapid hippie than die in an earthquake. Next time, check here before you wonder if an event in San Diego is close enough to destroy my house.

I shouldn't make that joke about rapid hippies. This weekend, I will attempt to conquer the Grateful Dead. Or at least see them play with the Allman Brothers in some gorge in Washington State.

Pulling a Julia Child

2009-05-05T10:14:00.000-07:00

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

I never know when it's a good time to blog. "What have I done lately?" The occasionally indistinguishable daily grind of cubicle life mixed and matched with a night of dive bars, pottery class, or a couch/blanket/Hulu don't seem meritous, or differentiated enough, to put on record. But then Sam blogs about drinking coffee and I stop worrying.

It's a blog cliche, but "It's been a good few weeks."

Lauren and I went to a beach in near our house. Ironically, we were wading in the warm water within sight of downtown San Francisco while Josh was backcountry skiing down some death slope in New Hampshire.

I worked a lot. Even over a weekend! *gasp*

And then I took my banked billable hours and a couple days off to go back to New England. As always, it was incredible.

For starters, the incomparable Zach lives here:

Maybe it was the red-eye, but the pull out couch in this apartment sleeps better than my full-time bed. I walked, shopped, and dined at my favorite places south of Houston. Lest we not blend in with the moneyed intellectuals, we even stopped by a forum at the Met. Nobel Prizes in Economics are a dime a dozen at MIT, and Paul Krugman tip-toed around real policy recommendations for any opportunity to pander to the pro-Europe, anti-Bush crowd, so I was more impressed by the sole fiscal conservative on stage. What have I become?

Satisfied with our intellectualism quota, we departed to the fine evening establishments of the Upper East Side. You know, north of our final destination. And on Manhattan. Brooklyn might be a thing White People Like, but I still feel more comfortable on the island. So it was with great grogginess that we awoke on the subway well south of our intended destination. It seemed like we'd taken the 6 all the way to Connecticut.

A long cab ride back and forth across the East River several times put us home at 4 am, and needless to say, I missed the 7 am bus to Boston. Thankfully, the eventual four-hour trip wasn't without entertainment. Our driver was hell-bent on enforcing his breaks, and the hipster to my right spend the entire four hours in an entertainingly heated/crying discussion with her fiance. Imagine my delight when the ever-level-headed Josh picked me up at the bus station, whisked me through a Chinatown bakery, and onwards to see X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Not only would I never hang up on him three times in four hours, but he made hearing "adamantium bullets" onscreen an enjoyable (if not serious) experience.

And now I'm back in disappointingly cold Oakland. I keep overpacking warmer clothes for Boston, only to come back to Oakland realize this is the city that's cold all the time. I feel like Charlton Heston at the End of Planet of the Apes sometimes. For the meantime, my "upcoming flights" folder is running thin. Next weekend I'm setting off to Washington State for what will turn out to be either a defining life experience, or an embarrassingly half-hearted attempt at one. I'm waiting on pins and needles to book my big summer vacation, and while waiting for circumstances beyond my control to align, planning the next four other vacations.

A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream

2009-04-15T21:07:00.000-07:00

Sunday was Sam/Lauren/my first annual Easter Beer Hunt. The idea was given to me by a very pregnant co-worker, which only made it more awesome. As if that and Sam's awesome carnitas tacos weren't awesome enough, Sam suggested decorating beer cans. Because having a robust craft drawer is one of my primary measures of living-situation-happiness, and I'm pretty happy with my living situation, this turned out well. Except the two cans we didn't find. But those will be fun once the spring planting is underway.

A wild Tecate Hare in its natural environment.

Monday at about 10 AM, a co-worker from New York asked if I was interested in seeing a Red Sox game that night. Actually, he asked if I knew they were in town. I responded that:

a) I knew, and

b) was only not going because I couldn't find someone to go with.

So we bought tickets off the A's website and were in the fifth row behind home plate a mere nine hours and $55 later. Good job A's Nation, not being insane for your team. Maybe that's why they're moving to Fremont. The Sox lost, of course, but I got to see "Nomah" and chant "drugs" at Jason "steroid-swollen neck" Giambi. I call that a win. Thankfully, the Sox prevented a sweep by winning yesterday, so I can continue my casual fandom with pride.

Tuesday I spent the day getting to and from Las Vegas. All I had to do was attend a meeting in North Las Vegas of indeterminate length. My flight in was almost an hour late, but fortunately I left myself hours of cushion time. So when the meeting ended after 25 minutes, I was free to be a tourist for the late afternoon.

I've been to Las Vegas three times in the last year, and seen a fair amount of awesome things. But this was my first time with a car, so I just drove up the strip and out past the ~~Thunder Dome~~ Nevada suburbs.

All the way to the Hoover Dam!

The Hoover Dam is amazing. First off, it's all Art Deco, so I love it. Second, they can't build stuff like that any more. People died. It decimated eco-systems. It was crazy expensive. But now we get to inherit it and use all its hydro-electric power without feeling bad about Iraqi babies. Third, crazy nationalism everywhere. Science is only fourth.

Science might have ranked higher if I went on the tour. Sadly, I didn't have enough time for that. But there will probably be a next time now that I know it's only 45 minutes from the Strip. It was a great side-trip, especially getting to see the new bridge in mid-construction. The Dam itself is only open to two lanes of vehicular traffic (trucks and buses take detours), which moves slowly because of all the pedestrians taking pictures everywhere. They're building this new bridge over the Dam, which is a shame, because it totally drawfs the Dam itself. You'd think they could move it down the road a bit and preserve the mystique.

Also, I parked on the far, free-side of the Dam, so now I've technically been to Arizona! It doesn't fit the 'talk to a local/eat a meal' criteria, but it'll have to do for this week.

Indestructable and Everlasting

2009-04-06T07:11:00.000-07:00

Back from a week in Boston, I think being unable to sleep past 6:30 AM is just my internal clock forcing blog-time.

Oh, Boston. What can I say? It was a good week. I assumed it would be freezing and brought a bunch of useless cold weather clothes. I went to all my favorite establishments (Diva, Redbones, Hong Kong), saw less than half the people I wanted to, and got a high five from Garyoke (rhymes with karaoke) for singing Creep. I provided "Pink Floyd" as a correct answer at trivia at the New Thirsty. I filled out a tourist visa application for Syria and got a promotion at work. It was a good week.

But this will be a busy week, too. I'm trying out a new, closer to home and Cactus Taqueria (and probably much safer) pottery class tomorrow. POTTERY! Plus, work will be nuts. Having successfully accumulated enough chargeable work to keep myself busy for months, I will now be busy for months.

As awesome as POTTERY will undoubtedly be, I'm most anxious for Thursday, when I drop in for a practice with the Berkeley All Blues rugby team (an obvious homage to the most excellent All Blacks in New Zealand, for those keeping score at home). There are so many unknowns - am I in decent enough shape to even practice? The All Blues won the televised national championship last month - will I ever make the team? Worst of all, they already have a "Ruth" - am I going to be useful at all? Fortunately, they've already scored more "friendly" points than the MIT team by offering me a ride home, so my future rugby career has that going for it.

Back East

2009-03-31T11:52:00.000-07:00

First, I'm a dork. I gave up playing Settlers of Catan online for Lent. Left with lots of time on my hands, I decided to teach myself how to use Sketchup. On a red-eye flight to Boston last weekend, instead of sleeping, I made this:

Second: I'm in Boston.

Depth Takes a Holiday

2009-03-25T17:34:00.000-07:00

Did you know? X-Men Origins: Magneto. But not until 2011. That's something that makes me feel old. Thinking - "Gosh, 2011. That's a real year. They might even get around to X-Men: Deadpool by 2015 or so. IN 2015 I'LL BE 30!" And that is what makes me feel old. Looking forward to comic book movies that might come out when I'm 30.

Old is a strange feeling, considering how much of my time is spent decrying the biases of the transportation field. So it was without a sense of working backwards that I got bangs.

Let's be honest, bangs are one of the few Things White People Like that I haven't mastered. But I think they make me look younger. And as I learned during a training session in Portland, I look pretty young already. Can I really afford softening my first impressions any further?

Apparently I can. Bored after a whirlwind business tour of Lands Already Seen (Las Vegas and Berkeley), I stopped by Supercuts and got the most drastic $15 haircut ever. I walked home trying to pin the visual association. The verdict - Rachael from Bladerunner. Also disturbing - I think I only know two people under 30 who have seen Bladerunner. There I go acting all old again.

But enough about that - picture time.

San Francisco continues to be beautiful.

Beautiful from every elevation.

I cleaned out my pottery shelf in Richmond. Check out the black mountain clay.

Plus Lauren's sake set.

And next week - Boston. Finally.

Part 2

2009-03-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

Upon review, I have 30 pictures of mountains, a few dozen of me and Adam skiing/making snowmen, and three from the charrette seminar. That says a lot about my professional priorities.

But more than mountains and more than blurs of people in snow; I have a ton of pictures of buffalo (Bison bison).

In my continuing series of city-specific utility covers:

If you've ever wondered what I want to do with my life:

Ruth visits the entire western quarter of the US, part 1

2009-03-09T19:03:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to represent this ongoing month of March other than visually:

The colored boxes represent full days when I'll be out of California. Seattle is done. Salt Lake City is done. Portland is now. Las Vegas is a week from tomorrow. Boston ends the month and goes into April (I'm obviously not complaining about that one).

That big, fully-at-home week looks pretty relaxing, no? Wrong! Almost every day that I'm marked here as being in Oakland, I will have 1-4 house guests.

(Hi ComicJosh/Sol/Adelaide/Rick/Laura/Mason!)

Not to say I'm not excited to keep traveling and hosting, but it makes me feel less bad about skipping out on a potentially awesome evening in Portland to stay in my hotel room and be lame.

Which brings me to the real subject of this post - I've been traveling! I still haven't learned to prepare for mobile picture uploading, so that more interesting post will come later (I say that a lot). But: tales!

Olympia - Seattle, Washington

Impressions - Surprisingly beautiful. I'm not one for appreciating "majesty" and what not, but DAMN if Washington State isn't just entirely gorgeous. At least the stretch between Seattle and Olympia. Olympia itself - and this is coming from someone who lives in Oakland - is sketchy at night. Because it was a business trip, I didn't get to properly get out and explore before having to leave.

What I did - I drove to the Space Needle, which is smaller in person than I was made to believe, and the enormously, huge art installation across the street seemed way cooler. Washingtonians take their outdoors seriously, and I spent a while exploring sporting goods stores.

Souvenir - Two bags of black socks from a Super Wal-Mart. Lame, maybe, but impossible to get in the Bay Area.

Ogden, Utah

Impressions - Mountainous and snowy. Also beautiful, but the view changes less often than in Washington.

What I did - What didn't I do? I downhill and cross country skied, made two snowmen (named Rupert and Josh), drank Polygamy Porter, bought a Mormon girl her first drink in a bar, and emasculated a presumably Mormon fellow by trouncing him in pool.

Souvenir - Mike's mother's 30-year-old bathing suit. It's a bathing suit from the 70s. I don't think I really need to justify how cool this is.

Portland, Oregon

Impressions - I got out of the Portland Airport and thought I was in Sweden. Portland is tiny. The Pearl District certainly aspires to gentrified greatness, and judging by some of the posh brand names available, it's well on its way. I could find Portland to be entirely livable if it were multiplied by about 20 (keeping the same brilliantly comprehensive public transit system, of course).

What I did - I walked almost all of Portland Sunday afternoon. With plenty of time remaining from that totally un-arduous activity, I watched the Watchmen at a very quaint theater (they serve pizza and beer to your seat!). Today and the next two days I'm participating in a charrette training session. Today my role-playing role was "Florida resident who is concerned about her property values." The "high-rise developer" and I clearly had the most fun of anyone in the room.

Souvenir - Oregon doesn't collect sales tax. A lot of Banana Republic, so far.

Coming soon: Las Vegas, Nevada

Acquiescing to Amazon

2009-02-27T14:34:00.000-08:00

Did you know: Acquiesce and Copacetic are two of my favorite words?

I scheduled my nth business trip for the month of March, and decided it was unacceptable to be contemplating so many adventures and not have a camera. As some of you remember, I lost my last camera in Washington, D.C. in January. My previous camera died in a liter of beer in Milwaukee in August. I have an excellent track record.

I bought my last one at a store in Somerville. Now, I love supporting small businesses, so I begrudgingly shelled out the cash to buy this awesome camera that I loved enough to abandon in Washington. But pressed for time, and unsure where to buy a digital camera in the East Bay, I went to Amazon.

Damn. The Internet is cheaper than the real world. I paid $70 less online.

My old one is the one on the far right. My new one is second from the left. The pink one is $50 more. Go figure.

More visually pleasing entries coming soon, via a March-long tour of the western states:

Seattle
Salt Lake City
Portland
Las Vegas
and then finally, back to Boston.

Laissez les bons temps rouler

2009-02-22T15:30:00.000-08:00

It's raining, and I'm inside not doing a damn thing. With this copious time, I've managed to select a Shins cover of the Postal Service's We Will Become Silhouettes as the perfect soundtrack to the day. That's how bored I am.

Blog time!

It's been three weeks since I've been able to throw anything. President's Day isn't even a real holiday. At least not that I ever remember. Maybe Berkeley takes it instead of Columbus Day ("Indigenous People's Day"). Whatever. I finally had some solo time with clay yesterday, and produced absolutely nothing with the first five pounds. Nada. Zilch. It was awful.

Fortunately, my friends have been so kind as to give me a stockpile of good ideas of things to make. Some might call it "their wishlist." Either way, Adam's ambitious two projects have been punted yet again, this time for Lauren's sake cup set.

I made a pitcher, too, but am decidedly not in love with it. Maybe I'll try again in class tomorrow.

The real highlight of the weekend was Friday night. Mardi Gras is the only part of being "Catholic" that I can embrace, so I found a bunch of recipes, invited a bunch of people, and threw a house party. The food all turned out well, but most importantly, it was the first Sam/Ruth house party that didn't involve 99% of Sam's friends. After 8 months, I've finally managed to accumulate my awesome own social circle. Win!

The food didn't hurt though:

Without an actual Mardi Gras baby to bake into the cake, my whole wheat King Cake included a Q of Trader Joe's alphabet pasta. Sadly, no one owned up to having the chosen piece while the entire cake was demolished in a matter of minutes. I guess that makes me the Mardi Gras queen (unless Sam earned the title during Twister).

Actual Data

2009-02-20T15:30:00.000-08:00

Because the weather here is always amazing, and it's spring time, I'm biking to work at least once a week. This is the topgraphy from my office to my house down two different streets (Telegraph and College, for those keeping track at home). Today was a successful day 2 (assuming my bike is still there when I leave).

That got me thinking about spring time. Last year, while the rest of the country enjoyed warmer weather and skirts with the changing of the seasons, the only sign I observed of the "end" of winter in Boston was this.

Good bye, Winter Lager! Hello, White Ale! Same frozen weather, same dowdy winter clothes, still dark all the time, but hey - new beer. Then the mud and the flies strike, and before you know it they're serving Summer Ale already. My, how time passes.

But yeah. It's nice to experience my first spring in six years. And fortunately they still have Sam Adams on sale near my place, even if I have to walk past a bunch of blooming flowers and songbirds to get it.

Like Spinning Plates, II

2009-02-16T01:21:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I first mentioned them, but the plates I threw in December are finally done. The finished product:

It sounds strange, but they're not as plate-y as I'd like. They're very flat, so much so that I worry about things falling off. The clear glaze is much more awesome than the white or whatever I was thinking, so I consider it a failed glaze experiment on this (at the time) new clay. But hey, plates! A few small bowls came out, too, but nothing incredibly memorable.

Also, for dad:

Would you please enter a line in your blog to Susan, Nancy, and Patty and acknowledge my appreciation for their work. I truly could not do my job without them. Thanks.

A Morbid Anniversary

2009-02-11T16:06:00.000-08:00

On what is now easily the worst Valentine's Day ever, it was a year ago this week that I bought my one-way ticket to SFO.

Curious minds may wonder: why then? What finally pushed me over the edge?

Answer - a black heart full of thrift.

*she's

2009-02-03T11:20:00.000-08:00

The local blogger at Fish Not Chips was lucky enough to attend the inauguration of Barack Obama in our nation's capitol, and he's back with a report: Inauguration Overload.

From the local CBS affiliate's Eye on Blogs.

It always bothered me when people sent letters to The Tech addressed "Sirs." It was like, damn, you couldn't put down your Economist, flip to the masthead, and deduce that Ruth is probably a girl's name? Really?

Regardless, still cool.

Ok stalker world, I'll try to come up with cooler posts next time.

Black Mountain

2009-02-03T10:35:00.000-08:00

Long time, no blog. It's been a tough few weeks. Working all the time, reading the Economist. You know how it goes.

The first pottery class of the quarter was last Monday, and I did pretty horribly. Everything I'd worked on in December was still unfired, and nothing was coming out right. I went in Saturday for open studio, and I literally had to re-glaze a third of my stuff. I didn't get to throw anything new because glazing took so long. I then woke up early Sunday morning, afraid I'd broken some cardinal rule of glazing that would make my plate set explode (I was mistaken, the saying is "Chino first, it's the worst" - celadon is fine). When pottery starts making me anxious, I'm screwed.

Work yesterday was similarly anxiety-inducing. Not because of a particular project or deadline (though four phone interviews and a Toastmasters speech in one day is kind of harrowing). But because a better, more social, more exposed cube has become available. I sit in an abandoned section of the office now, within earshot of a couple people, and with some degree of privacy. Thankfully, someone else was the first to say "it's the right move career-wise" outloud, even if I was thinking it already. I have no choice but to curb my "work, news, work, blagoblag" routine. Now it's a matter of time until I either develop self-control of my attention deficit does me in.

So this was all terrible. Whine, I know. Then, beautiful pottery happened.

Somehow, I got back into the swing of things and made a reasonably-large bowl. Not bad. That was my goal for this quarter - making bigger things. Then, someone else in the class broke out the "Black Mountain." This clay was muddy, rough, and dark, dark brown, as opposed to the gray and off-white silky stuff I'd been using for the last several weeks. Only the instructor seemed to have heard of it, and the rest of the class funneled their usual excitement and encouragement into the collective wonder over this clay.

Yeah, adult education classes. We spend most of the class coming up with things the other peoples' pieces can be.

"Oh, you could make a soup bowl, or a cereal bowl, or a Guinness float bowl."

"It looks like an udon noodle bowl!"

"That part where it falls in, I bet that'll make it easier to pour from either side."

The owner of this mystery clay gave me a huge chunk to play with. Maybe not "huge," per say, but about twice what I'd been dealing with. More always equals harder. I was intimidated. No doubt hamming up the attention of the class, my fellow Black Mountaineer egged on the class on about how "it's magic" clay. "It centers itself." I egged on everyone else a little. "It came from past the magical leoplueradon, it's from under Candy Mountain."

Then, damn, it totally centered itself.

Not actually. It's really just stiffer than beginner clay, and much stiffer than the kind of stuff I've been using. So relatively, it was insanely easy to work with. It looked and felt like it centered itself.

Then I proceeded to make not on, but two enormous bowls. We're talking serving dishes. Two of them. And the clay itself fires to a dark purple. So they might turn out heavy as hell, but will be gorgeous. Too bad they won't be done in time for Mardi Gras - they'd be the perfect corn chip and guacamole bowls.

Early Morning - January Twenty

2009-01-22T09:21:00.000-08:00

It's been a long few weeks, and my lack of photographic evidence to show for it will sadly continue. My camera is probably somewhere in the City of Washington, D.C., and I left my hope all over the mall days ago. Very sad.

So I went to the Inauguration. I arrived in town on the 10th, stayed in a variety of places, and met a variety of folks. But the part you want to hear about is the Inauguration, so first things first.

To be honest, it was a little disappointing. I think I burned out on the whole thing before noon on Tuesday. I was so busy trying to snap a picture that I missed Obama's swearing in flub entirely. Rick Warren is a douchebag, but that was zero percent surprising. I can only hear "historic moment" and "first African-American President" so many times before I want to gag, and I think that moment happened the day before. We were about a half mile from the Capitol, between the MSNBC tent and a large bleacher section of video equipment. The media circus was totally disheartening - journalists prompting people to get hyped as part of their report on hype. Josh and I might be on some ABC affiliate's B roll.

All that said, it was fascinating. I've never been in a 2 million + person crowd before. The people around us were all looking for different things, and it was great to see who wanted what and at what point they got it. As always, listening to Obama talk about anything in person is astounding. I'm glad I can compare Obama the candidate to Obama the President-Elect and to Obama the President. I really dug the whole "Yes We Can" thing, and I'm curious to see how "Now We Will" pans out. I'm glad I could be there. The logistics of the exit were poorly planned, but I'm newly inspired to study pedestrian travel modeling.

But what I absolutely loved was the People's Concert on Sunday. Springsteen sang about 9/11, Garth Brooks sang American Pie, and a bunch of people sang about hope and inspiration. Beyonce rocked America the Beautiful to a level I did not know existed. But my favorite moment of the weekend was, by far, U2. You get the idea that a several hundred thousands person crowd is no big deal for these guys. Which is almost reasonable, given that they are U2 and all.

The exact moment when the whole thing became undoubtedly worth it was when Bono addressed the crowd between songs. He acknowledged the hype of the moment, and how it's easy to get lost in the "hope" and "change." He wasn't the first to point out that the March on Washington converged on this very lawn during our parents' lifetimes, and now here we all are, trampling the same grass, in the next step of some grand social evolution. But he manged to convey that as 1963 wasn't the beginning, 2009 isn't the end. We're just standing around celebrating a step in continuous process. I had this very surreal moment of realization. For the first time, I grasped the international relevance of the weekend, and felt very connected to the whole thing. Yeah, I was standing with some friends listening to a rock concert, but somehow those same musicians can negotiate photo-ops and concerts for debt forgiveness to the third world. Whatever absurdity any one moment might have, it's part of this larger evolution of people just doing what they can. This all dawned on me that without the aide of drugs or alcohol, natch.

Those were the Obama-related parts of the experience. But leading up to the actual Inauguration, the city itself seemed anxious, waiting for all these tourists to come drink all night and spend money. I stayed in Dupont Circle, thanks to a generous principal from my firm who lent me her apartment. I spent enough time going out and around the city before the actual Inauguration to finally grasp a mental map of D.C., which is a hugely valuable thing. It wasn't long before I was turning corners and realizing where I was. Or hearing about establishments, and being able to offer experienced advice. D.C. may not be my favorite town, but after this experience, I could definitely see living there for a while.

Of course, staying in D.C. was the easy part. Getting out was insane. Zach kindly applied his manic caffeine high to driving me and his friend to Philadelphia at 2 AM after the Inauguration. We illegally parked at the Philadelphia Museum of Art so Zach and I could race up the steps (he won), and then found the tastiest, most racist, most neon-lit, cheesesteaks in town at the expense of almost missing our flight home.

My sleep schedule during the entire period was so messed up that I woke up at exactly 6:53 AM for a 7:00 AM alarm today, this first day back on PST in 13 days. Also amazing. If only I had a picture to embody that feeling of victory...

Cheap Covers

2009-01-13T13:33:00.000-08:00

I'm in bed, at the Marriott Courtyard, completely exhausted, and listening to Radiohead in lieu of sleep before heading out again.

Saturday night was karaoke at Cafe Muse in Annondale, VA. It was private-box style. I estimate that someone paid a bunch of high school kids $200 one summer to record fake videos to all 1,000 or however many songs. Some were terrible, and some were nonsensical. Lady in Red really just needs a woman in a red dress. Bad Touch shouldn't have children in it. The end.

But the video these kids put together for Creep was amazing. It starts off with a poorly costumed hunchback stalking a gorgeous woman in antique garb through a castle. He pines. She's lovely. Her skin makes him cry. Then it quickly winds down after Thom's high note, as you see that they were actors all along, and the actor playing the hunchback is in love with the gorgeous actress playing the gorgeous woman. Bam!

With Pictures!

2009-01-06T20:55:00.000-08:00

Bounce

2009-01-06T11:25:00.000-08:00

I have a five-day layover at home in Oakland before jetting back to Washington, D.C. for a week. I lost the USB cord for my camera a month ago, so this will have to suffice for a Christmas break recap until I beg Sam to borrow his cord.

Then I found my cafe.

On The Road Again

2008-12-29T18:28:00.001-08:00

I finally caved and bought an iPhone. Unlike my four year old antique, this one is probably continuously relaying my location to the terminator robots. But I haven't been this excited about a new toy since my Lite Brite, so there you go.

Because I don't understand brief vacations, Josh and I rode from Boston to St. Augustine. My red eye was punctual to Boston, but we still ended up trudging through a foot of snow and hitching a ride to "town." Not quite a running start. With some extra drowsy Drahamine, I slept through the next three days and enjoyed nights in Harrisburg PA, Smithfield NC, and Atlanta GA. Then a fabulous stay in metropolitan Covington. Christmas was just a marathon of food. Then Savannah, which was just a marathon of crawfish and 50 cent oysters. And now Florida, which looks to be more of the same, but with beaches.

Pictures to come. New years resolutions and To Do List amendments to be made up. Home on the 4th.

Posted with LifeCast

5:56/6:00

2008-12-17T09:08:00.000-08:00

Did you know: Regina Spektor's That Time is my favorite song this week?

Maybe I should just make this an art blog. Or maybe that's just all I do.

I'm ok with that.

Yesterday was pretty busy. I gave my first speech at Toastmasters (it was well received, and I got some useful feedback). I trekked up to Richmond to prepare my "set" of plates for firing (the thickness and bottoms aren't very set-like, but the tops are relatively consistent). I doodled some rough sketches for a new children's museum's publicity materials (yeah, random, I know). I even cooked.

Really, this post is just an excuse to share that picture. I drew it on the train, sitting across from a boyfriend/husband/gentleman-friend verbally harrassing his girlfriend/wife/lady-friend.

We'll see if anyone actually wants to bring me on board to make more of these for any committed length of time.

But the train ride... oh, Richmond.

Like Throwing Plates

2008-12-13T18:02:00.000-08:00

I worry sometimes this blog is a bit too diary-ish. I also worry sometimes I blog about things prematurely - either ruining a potential surprise, or reporting on an event or creation before it's completed.

Today, I'm just going to forget about both of those and see how it goes.

Today was my first Oakland-Saturday since Thanksgiving, and my last Oakland-Saturday until MLK Day. Possibly longer. So of course, all I wanted to do all day was pottery in Richmond. But all these other things kept getting in my way. It was epic.

First, I interviewed an MIT applicant. It didn't occur to me until I saw him how long it's been since I've spoken to an actual 18 year-old. (T-Bone, you don't count.) It was weird. To buy us a table in the cafe, I purchased a bottle of Limonata that I, elegantly, and after the interview, tried reopening with a number of objects - teeth, pocket, brass rat, bench - to no avail. Fortunately, the kid was long gone, so I think I managed to maintain the integrity of MIT for a morning (whew). As in any adventure, I held onto this item for an important mission later in the day.

Then I finally got to Richmond! The usual crowd of active retirees was no where to be found, so I worked without the an oldies mix-tape, free cookies, or eavesdropped chat about the good old days. That was unfortunate enough on its own (I enjoy being the oddly misplaced under-50), but the lack of other potters means the kiln won't fill as quickly, so my dream of distributing this piece before the new year is dashed.

You know who you are. It'll see you in February.

Otherwise, today was still an incredibly good clay day. I bought some non-beginner clay ("B-mix," whatever that means, doesn't have grog), and threw four, small, matching on my first try. The first one was alright, the second effortless, the third almost didn't make it (I learned how to make the wheel spin backwards so I could smooth out the snags), and the fourth was so good, I actually had to trim it back, because its big, beautiful, elegant self didn't match the others.

Amazing. The things you learn in three months. While I was waiting for the wheel to dry between plates, I fiddled with my big new bag of clay. Someone I know has new martini glasses, and I worry that if he pours things into those glasses as good as what he poured into mine last night, his poor guests will quickly lose the ability to distinguish between his fine new glassware. I don't know what these are called, but if they're all different colors and attached to each glass, maybe they could help stave off the aforementioned crisis.

Sad to have to leave studio, I came home. It apparently rained while I was in studio, though I didn't notice. Inspired, I took a chance and went into my backyard when I got home. The garden has been on auto-pilot during the rainy season, so I figured I should assess the overgrowth damage while I had some sunlight to work with. I was not prepared for what I saw:

Less than .05% of that was planted. I pulled the clover and grass around the corn and garlic (the only survivors), and just let the rest go. Spring will be more work than I expected. At least now Sam has plant matter to throw into his compost pile.

I also photographed my only finished piece of the day. This was my attempt at porcelain. Too small to really be functional as a cup - it shall hold my quarters.

Remember the Limonata bottle I've been carrying around all day? I was able to open it on the train with the cuff of my jeans, and it was most tasty. And it made the perfect star for my Christmas tree, which I am pre-emptively blogging before Sam gets home:

I wonder what Santa will leave for Sam and me under this? Hopefully something good, since I haven't lied to him yet this year.

First Snows and Last Calls

2008-12-08T13:45:00.001-08:00

I completed another of my life goals this past week: party in three states in two days.

I really should spend some time writing a firm list of these kinds of things. But sometimes you just can't plan for things to turn out as well as they do. Like, when you're in Boston (which, itself, is an aggregation of unlikely beneficial circumstances), and you're invited to brunch in Rhode Island, an office party in Massachusetts, and another office party the next day in California. What do you do?

Ok, so brunch isn't usually a party, unless it's with the group with whom I brunched, in which case it is. Crab cakes 1 and 2 of the day also attended.

But I'm ahead of myself.

I set off for Boston on Thanksgiving Eve. Though I was promised in-bird stuffing and Rocky Horror, instead I was met with the best pecan pie ever (and from me, that means something) and Firefly with the best pecan pie ever and not having to go outside. These things happen. The best part of living some place really cold is staying inside with blankets watching Sci-Fi and NBC comedies. In my opinion. One of the best weekends ever.

Work was surprisingly good. It was weird being in the old office again. Lots of new people. I commandeered the desk of an employee on an undetermined lapse of leave and had fun sprinkling paper and glasses all over the desk when I left to make sure no one took it before I come back. I was generally reminded how competent everyone at work is and how crazy lucky I am to have gotten this job off Craigslist.

The best part of work was the First Annual Softie Awards.

At this prestigious event, I took home the awards for "Most creative way to ask for a summer vacation," "Most likely to say 'ya'll' in a business setting," and tied for "Most random conversation starters." I took home this beautiful shining manifestation of the value to I bring to my employer.

The TSA agent loved it. In this recession, it's encouraging to know you're valued.

But the weekend. Josh and I arrived with four minutes to spare at South Station to catch a train for Providence. Providence is much nicer than I gave it credit for, but its crab cakes Benedict are freaking amazing. Chihuly, the glass artist, apparently did his graduate study and some professional work at the art college in Rhode Island, so the local museum had an unexpectedly vast exhibit on his work. It's only a matter of time now until I'm blowing glass. God, why do I have such expensive hobbies?

Josh and I rushed home to class up and attend my office party in Beacon Hill. It was so fancy the door didn't even have a sign. It's a totally different experience schmoozing with a date. Especially one better behaved than me. Thanks, Josh.

The next day, after my second brunch in as many days, it snowed.

Oh, humble, gentrified Somerville.

I flew back to SFO and headed straight to the Oakland office party. I received a warm round of applause when I showed up with my luggage, and was quickly handed tasty food and drink.

I wore my dinner party dress on the plane with my snow gear. This fabulously terrible picture was taken on the way to the food. I'm not drunk, just sleepy.

What were the lessons here?

Ideally, futureRuth will live in some fabulous combination of these Somerville and Oakland experiences. Something with the sometimes slow pace and pirated movies/television at home of Somerville, but with the occasional rigor of long hours, evening pottery classes, and a gaggle of friends who a) cook for me, b) take my excess crafted goods off my hands, and c) encourage me that I'm not a total jerk mooch for a) and b).

But for now, I'm content just plowing ahead at full throttle in alternating directions for a few weeks at a time. The next eight weeks:

Two weeks in Oakland.

Two weeks between Boston and West Palm Beach.

One week in Oakland.

One week in Washington, D.C.

An undetermined amount of time in Seattle and Dallas/Austin/Lake Charles.

And all of this while my garden languishes in beautiful, but inedible, overgrowth; my greenware lays unfinished in the drying room; and there's so much work to be done. But it's still a good kind of busy.

Coming up - a little more finished pottery, paintball with co-workers, and a redneck Christmas tree.

Quickie

2008-12-04T13:23:00.000-08:00

This is humbling, yet incredibly satisfying.

Pottery in Action

2008-11-23T10:08:00.000-08:00

Friday night was our first annual Thanksgiving Potluck, and everything was delicious. As Lauren put it, there wasn't a single token terrible dish that prevented us from all gushing about how good everything was to keep that one person from feeling bad. No, everything was great.

Of course, this wasn't without cause. I didn't follow Sam's strict kitchen rules, even after all those Apple Bakes, so my maple sweet potatoes were booted. I did contribute the gift of pottery.

Adam sweetly brought this buy so I could photograph and blog it. It's not thrown, but is super useful for someone who cooks a lot. Exhibit B:

Look at that! The counter is totally clean, and Sam has something to put his dirty spoon on!

I felt bad using an undelivered gift to serve cranberry chutney (that's salad dressing on the left), but we literally did not have any more bowls. Several of us ate with chopsticks.

But it all worked out, everything was delicious, and we all got to go around and say what we were thankful for (winner - pumpkin cupcakes) before crashing into a food coma puddle with our new pillows on the floor.

Art and Craft Round up

2008-11-21T09:07:00.000-08:00

This week was stressful. I earned another Pope sticker and counted several thousand cars in Sacramento. I rented a fire red Mitsubishi Eclipse and drove it several hundred miles. I did some other stuff that I can barely remember now. But after all this, the thing that cheered me up and calmed me down - picking up pottery!

My eight-week class is over, but the school is graciously allowing me to keep using the studio until the next class. I've only used this to glaze some old piece so far, but am planning an epic clay-a-thon over the weekend.

From the class: First we have this lovely green number. I was always hesitant to use this glaze, and it ended up being more of a matte than I'd wanted. But it has a pretty decent amount of space on the inside, and the lid is kind of cute.

Verdict - Christmas present.

Next we have my final piece from the class. It's not quite "Brandeis Blue," but will have to do. I'm very proud of this construction. Not perfect, but highly functional.

Verdict - Thanksgiving present.

Finally, a second jar. I love this one more than I have convey. It's too small to be hugely functional, but I will find a way.

Verdict - Added to my permanent collection.

One thing I always regretted about MIT, and moving around in general, is that it prevents me from accumulating a good junk drawer. Sometimes you just need certain things, but they're not valuable enough to consciously procure. It was in this spirit that I bothered people about my need for craft supplies long enough that someone had the brilliant idea to just schedule a Craft Night. Again, I was bothering people about being too busy, so Dan and Lauren found the single most amazing t-shirt ever, and I pillow-ized it.

Verdict - Oakland wins.

Paying More Attention

2008-11-16T12:05:00.000-08:00

It looks like some people have been coming here and not finding what they're looking for, so to answer all of your questions, a quick redux.

To the person from Boston who searched through google.uk for "WHERE CAN I EAT FISH AND CHIPS FROM THE KENT COAST IN NOVEMBER," I'm sorry if my blog title confused your search engine. But I'd like to ask for clarification: are you looking to eat them in Kent or do you want fish from Kent to enjoy somewhere else?

Kent has been occupied by humans since the Paleolithic Era. I've only ever met one person from Kent. He and his dentist friend were in South London and on the prowl. His quest ended early when my travel companion, after 48 hours in transit, fell asleep in the bathroom and ditched him on the dance floor. Poor Matt from Kent. And now, a bunch of travel websites for his town are nonfunctioning. Shame.

My only recommendation is Wheeler's Oyster Bar, and then only on the basis that it is the closest to a chippery in Kent I know to exist from the Internet (watch out - it's classy and cash only). But if you're looking for fish and chips in Boston, I recommend the Phoenix Landing on Mass Ave, especially during rugby season.

The several search redirects are related to my Halloween post:

From Fresno, CA - fish & chips costume
From Tokyo - paling in spandex
From London - yellow spandex men
From Woonsocket, RI - rogue x men spandex costume

I would appreciate if someone could explain the meaning of the second item.

It took me a while to understand how someone from Big Rapids, MI got here while looking for "drive a car through a tree," but it's on my big to-do list of the west coast. Random Googler, I promise to accomplish this goal, and tag a bunch of pictures so you can fulfill this quest.

To the person from Newburyport, MA: I could tell you several things to answer your "what not to do with fish and chips" query. You and the person from Fresno should probably discuss this.

This got me thinking. I Googled "fish and chips costume," and apparently this website ranks first in the entire Internet. Success! But Googling "fish and chips costume" in the Image search returns no hilarious full body fried cod costumes. It looks like I owe the Internet a hilarious costume. Next Halloween? Or am I already comitted to go as Miley Cyrus?

Like Spinning Plates

2008-11-15T15:20:00.000-08:00

It's been a busy few weeks, world. I counted cars in Sacramento, was soundly beat by a hunched old lady in pool, learned about the horrors of technology through song, and ran on more cylinders than I thought my play or work engines had.

Play first. Last weekend, after taking in some museum, Lauren and I salsa-ed, shot pool, and made a bunch of new friends (as she is always inclined to do, and I appreciate sharing) with whom I sang Red Sox memes to my little heart's content.

Plus, I saw this billboard:

San Francisco is a big international city, but this only strikes me when I stumble upon things I read about on the tubes earlier in the day. A poignant, timely, and well executed hack, in the MIT spirit, but right here next to my new favorite salsa club. Who knew? The world is a tiny place after all.

Work-wise, my week thereafter was busy. Consecutive 14-hour days busy (the horror!), but fun. Josh and his Internet security class have reminded me to watch what I put on the tubes, but it suffices to say that I'm very much enjoying my new office, and am surprised at how many new, awesome, and responsibility-ladden tasks I'm being given (and later praised for, which is just as important). It does wear me out, but I can still see myself wanting and becoming addicted to a Blackberry in the not-so-distant future. It's just another evil the UA prepared me for.

Back to Play. Repo: The Genetic Opera was every bit as over the top and gorey as I could have imagined (and moreso than the older couple who thought they were watching The Secret Life of Bees). But speaking of things past due, here's a pottery update:

These guys are ready for their final go in the kiln. They were the last things I made in the class (porcelain experiment notwithstanding), and the increase in skill level shows. Look at that lid! They'll be part of the humongo wave of finished pieces that I'll be able to bring home after Wednesday. Logistics to be determined. But meanwhile, my first finished wares made it home:

This was the very first bowl I ever made on a wheel. The lip is a little uneven, but it's a good size, not too thick, and I friggin made it so I love it.

The one on the right glazed a little wonky. It's smaller than I'd really use for most things, but that's probably just a good deterrent for portion control. No, actually, I've been using it as an orange juice vessel. But it's wonky in that lovably flawed but still functional kind of way.

Pictures from round two next weekend.

Do you have any idea what Prop 2 would do to arugula prices?

2008-11-04T13:01:00.000-08:00

Ok, technically I live in Oakland, I know. But the Iron Curtain runs down my block, and even if I fall on the disenfranchised, less affluent side, I still go to vote with the Reds.

Democracy Recap.

8:06 am - I get in line. My polling place is the lobby of the Catholic Church/school at the end of my block. I probably had the shortest walk of anyone there. I can't see the building, but at least we're not backing out across the street.

8:07 - I see Sam! Sam's rocking some sweet Moria pants and hoodie, amidst several dozen moms, small children and business-folk, so it's nice to see him and his chops keeping it real. It's also nice when he lets me take his spot 10-20 people ahead in line. Sadly, Sam now makes his exit.

8:10 - It's jarring when life imitates art. Moreso when life imitates the Internet. But it's every freaking day in Rockridge that life blatantly infringes on the intellectual property of StuffWhitePeopleLike.com. It's not even sporting to reference the quantity of yuppie stereotypes waiting to vote this morning. But this is when the children begin running up and down the line counting. I start off as 69 of 86.

8:15 - The people on either side of me know each other. Sam, did you cut one of them off running into line?

8:17 - The people on either side of me are actually the mothers of the girl waving the finger-painted "VOTE" sign as she and her friends launch a recount.

8:19 - We find out that our intrepid line counters are the first voting irregularities for the day. I'm 50th and 57th within a few seconds. I'm going to depend on the kid that looks old enough to tie his shoes. I think this is how real polling works.

8:23 - One of the mothers of the VOTE girl recounts how the girl had nightmares about McCain winning, asked her about Prop 4 (the girl is under five, and Prop 4 is about abortion), and that she woke up at 6 this morning because she was so excited about voting. Seriously? I wonder where she picked all that up? This is truly the insane liberal equivalent of insane conservative Georgia.

8:27 - People are honking their horns at the line and giving thumbs up. Like, "yeah, way to vote!" This should be an emotionally touching moment, but I know they're really saying "yeah, way to vote for Obama! Cancel out those M"

8:29 - One of my co-workers exits the lobby and walks over. He said it should take me another hour and wishes me luck. Way to make me look like a truant, Mr. I Got in Line When the Polls Opened.

8:34 - One of the mothers used to live in New Hampshire. My world is so small now. I'm afraid to ask if she knows certain people, for fear of both a "yes" or a "not all gay people know each other." Even if Sam has consistently led me to believe the latter.

8:37 - Either 34, 31, or 37 out of too many to count. The shoe-lace-tying-able kid gave the 37.

8:41 - The younger children decide to just walk with the older kid and count together. Our media outlets have consolidated. Are they worth trusting? The consensus - 34.

8:49 - VOTE girl's mother speaks with her in French. The little girl asks for a banana. The mother talks about how much more important waiting in line for over an hour is than journals, calendar, and sharing time at school.

8:50 - The clump of people around me starts talking about Obama's poor dead grandmother and how brave he is to keep campaigning in front of the media sharks. I remember mom being discreet about her choices. I thought she was just staying classy. Apparently it's because any majority feels oppressive.

8:55 - VOTE girl is all tuckered out. She gave her moms her jacket and sign a long time ago. Now she's sitting on the steps, head in heads, and is pouting that she wants to quit the line. One mom tells her that if they leave now, they lose their vote. Other mom tells her if they leave now, then McCain might win.

8:58 - The open McCain bashing picks up steam.

9:01 - I'm inside. They apparently use a different colored pencil to cross off everyone's name each hour. I'm there to witness the changing of the colored pencils.

9:08 - Why don't they ask for my ID?

9:12 - Apparently, I'm a registered Democrat. Good to know. The rest of my page is overwhelming Democrat. Rough guesstimate of the page - Democrats, Independents, Libertarians, Peace and Freedoms, Republicans, Socialists.

9:15 - I'm voting. Having read my Alameda County Voter's Guide cover to cover twice (it's in the bathroom), and checked my ACLU guide on the refrigerator before I left, I felt relatively informed.

9:19 - Outta there. I catch the bus to work and read all about Dutch infrastructure on the way. Fun and relevant fact: Amsterdam has been a tolerant and effectively Socialist city for a millennium. Apparently, if their rich people stop supporting the poor folk through redistributive taxes, their entire country will fall into the North Sea. It kind of makes you think.

9:35 - My "I voted" sticker seems to immunize me against the hordes of people campaigning around Oakland City Center. Just three miles away from the epicenter of the "No on 8" movement, these people are campaigning for school and police funding. I'd like to quote my favorite Detriot resident - "I don't care who can marry who, I just want a job, man."

I admit that it's never overtly classy to judge people, especially not how they raise their children(or at least that's why I was ejected from a basketball game, oh so long ago), but dang if this wasn't an hour in Bizzaro Georgia. Now, I'm sitting in my cube behind the printer and listening to the unending Obama cheering.

It reminds me why I moved out of Georgia - not because I hated conservatives, but because I couldn't stand the oppressive majority. Now, I cannot wait for this day to end. And maybe tomorrow, when I wake up, VOTE girl will be somewhere learning that not everyone is like her and how that's ok.

Better than yellow spandex

2008-11-03T08:58:00.000-08:00

Sorry Little Red Riding Hood, but I was waiting for Wolverine's entry on the subject of Halloween. I guess I can still say a little something about the event.

I haven't had a good Halloween costume since I was a stegosaurs in elementary school. It covered everything but my tiny, five-year-old face, and was completely anatomically correct because I cried until the spikes were properly rearranged. That's the level of perfection I demand of my costumes, and haven't been able to reach it since.

Until last week.

There are several other things I've always wanted to be (forensic pathologist, an A+ MIT student, bilingual), and flying mutant superhero is top among them. Close high school and college friends have pointed out several of my narrative parallels to Rogue of the X-Men, but I've always worried that she wasn't known well enough to merit a Halloween costume.

Solution - Rogue as arm candy.

Maybe I'm a dork, which is true, and maybe I like the X-Men a little too much, which is also true, but I've thought Josh resembled Wolverine since 2004. I see a thick beard and a full head 0f hair, and I think cage fight in the Canadian wilderness. This is who I am. So it was only a matter of time before the best Halloween Wolverine/Rogue ever was brought into being.

I'll let Wolverine himself expand on the construction of his claws and chops, but suffice it to say we pulled our weight in this group of awesomeness.

My hesitations about Rogue's popularity weren't unfounded, and I was confused for Jubiliee and Jean Grey. But getting to hang out with 1974 David Bowie from the album Aladdin Sane, Quailman, Clark Kent, and Wolverine - it kind of made my year.

As spectacular as the party was - attended by the entire cast of Super Troopers and the Flintstones, among many others - it paled in comparison to the day that followed. Wolverine was kind enough to escort me to Safeway the next morning so I could make french toast and bacon for the morning-after-Wii party unfolding in my house. We all watched Pinky and the Brain until going bowling, a last minute run to Berkeley Bowl, and then played Apples to Apples over homemade paella and sangria at Dan's house. It was the pefect day.

Discerning fun from a whisp of concrete

2008-10-19T12:23:00.000-07:00

After a weekend spent primarily in or east of the East Bay, this weekend has shaped up to be pretty SF-centric. Adam and I spent a lovely afternoon wandering the Chinatown, North Beach, and Fisherman's Wharf areas, and I rode a trolley! For free!

Basically, San Francisco is starting to feel like more of a cultural, epicurious, and cosmopolitan city than just a place to go clubbing. Which is fine, too, of course.

Saturday, a bunch of us wandered over to the Red Bull Soapbox Derby. Basically, I hate Red Bull, (Sam: it's like kool-aid but makes you feel bad), but I do love absurdity, and there was some of that. Mostly, it was just a freaking huge crowd of people drinking beer in public, picnicking with their small children, or both. Sam played Saint Francis of Assisi with an ant, and Dan, Adam, and I began plotting our soapbox for next year's race.

I don't know if they won, but it will probably be the guys that raced a giant Rubix Cube. One that they proceeded to solve mid-race. And their skit involved a reference to Revenge of the Nerds. Awesome, right? We spotted the team on our way out of the park, and excitedly rushed over to offer our congratulations. They were total jerks about it! Something tells me they weren't true nerds, just geeks or something. Shame. I'll feel less bad about crushing them next year.

Then Sam took us to a giant, hidden, concrete death slide.

My elbows are a little scuffed, and the hair will grow back on Sam's arm, but at least I didn't back down from the super scary concrete slide. It made children cry. But seriously, concrete playground equipment? Not so smart. I'm generally pro "bumps and scrapes are ok," but if I can't imagine doing it intoxicated, it's probably not safe for children.

Then we had some delicious Vietnamese before hitting the best gay bar ever - Truck. All in all, I probably walked eight miles through SF over the weekend, and I look forward to hundreds more. Even if I'm writing that from a sleeping bag on Sam's couch at 1:20 in the afternoon. Lazy Sunday, indeed.

Sense

2008-10-15T09:36:00.000-07:00

"It's not like al Qaeda is waiting in their caves for us to have a sippy-cup rule."

BART doesn't allow drinks on trains. They spill and people will get confrontational about almost anything. That's fair. That's the kind of argument you use when someone is suggesting removing the food/drink ban on trains.

Not "terrorists could use the beverage containers to sneak flammable liquids aboard the trains."

"Directing his comments to BART administrators, [Director Tom Radulovich] said, 'You know, it's just fearmongering and you should be ashamed'."

Between this, and the season premiere of the Office, we might as a country finally be moving towards sanity again.

"I was in my mid-twenties, and I was going through a lot of stuff. I think I never processed 9/11. I want you to know I’ve changed."

What will Rudy Guliani do when 9/11 fearmongering goes out of style?

Objects of my Affection

2008-10-13T15:06:00.000-07:00

Did you know: if you Google the phrase "greatest to do list of all time," the only return is a Guardian article on a list Madeline Albright scribbled 1998:

1. Call Senator Helms
2. Call King Hussein
3. Call Foreign Minister Moussa
4. Congressional calls
5. Prepare for China meeting
6. Buy non-fat yoghurt

I think it's time for the first draft of my California To Do List:

Sake tasting - I've never been a fan of sake, but two recent positive experiences move me to give it another try. Plus, lychee sake? Takara Sake, here I come.

Wine tasting in Napa - Same as the sake. I'd still probably choose PBR over wine if offered, but am less opposed to it than this time last year. Maybe learning more about it would help.

Sketching - I haven't drawn anything in a while. This needs to change. My major complaint in Boston was that it was too cold for so much of the year to sit outside without gloves for an extended period of time (granted, I started in November and left in June). This needs to be remedied.

Glass Blowing Lesson - I love pottery, and will definitely continue wheel throwing after my current class, but glass blowing just looks incredibly cool. And prohibitively expensive to pursue for the long term. But if I can seriously consider a $400 weekend trip to Boston, suddenly a $75 three-hour lesson in glass blowing doesn't seem so unreasonable. But then the $500 five-week course looks like the logical extension. But for that much, I could almost buy my own pottery wheel and just set up shop in the shed. But having such a large piece of infrastructure would give me nightsweats the next time I have to stage a long distance move. Or, I just give the mouse the damn cookie and see what the short lesson is like.

Architecture Tour of Oakland - For all its seediness, I'm enamored with Downtown Oakland's architecture. There are free architecture tours. This is obvious.

Learn Bhangra - Berkeley YWCA. Basically, too shy to do it alone.

Learn to Lawn Bowl - I passed a sign for free Saturday afternoon lessons around Berkeley. I don't even know what this is, but it's on the list.

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art - I learned long ago that Modern Art Museums are a decent measure for how much I love a city, so it's time that I see how the SFMoMA compares to my favorites (London, New York) and my less than favorites (Boston, Paris).

Camera Obscura - I'm not really sure what this is, but Yelp gives it five stars and recommends going at sunset.

Ski on the West Coast - Conditional. Josh has to be on hand to keep me from dying.

Bike to Stanford - I sincerely need to get my brakes checked before attempting this feat, and just waiting on getting my brakes fixed has reduced my biking stamina, but this is a goal nonetheless.

Get an Oakland Library card. Use it. Read Fear and Loathing and On the Road.

Weekend Trip to Mexico - Who speaks limited Spanish, flies Virgin America, and is taking a juant to Mexico? Esta yo y Adam B.

Monterey Aquarium - If only to prove its inferiority to the Chattanooga Aquarium, but I do really like aquairums.

Camping in a Giant Redwood Forest/Drive a car through a tree-tunnel.

Make paella out of things I've grown.

Internet, hold me to it. Friends, let me know if you want to join in.

936 points?!

2008-10-13T08:56:00.000-07:00

Did you know: According to Wikipedia, the city of Berkeley celebrates Indigenous People's Day instead of Columbus Day every year with a pow wow and Native American market. Compare this to Boston, with its large Italian population, which has a parade on the Sunday before Columbus Day.

Some readers might be aware of my general approach to life:

Come up with something that sounds like it might make for a good story.
Do it.

That was how I wound up in a corn maze. Not just any corn maze, but the World's Largest Corn Maze. All 42.9 acres of it.

It wasn't quite what I expected.

To be fair, it was far too big to navigate entirely blind. But with such a detailed map, you know the most neurotically driven person is going to set the pace. Oddly enough, this wasn't me. At some point, I must have learned how to let go and just take pretty pictures. Go me.

I ended up buying the strangest looking squash I could find. It was so much uglier than all the other squash that I had to give it a home. Well, temporarily a home. Next I'm going to eat it.

In other weekend news, I HAVE ZUCCHINI! It took several tries to take this picture, but gardening has taught me so much about macromode. It just looks so fragile. I can't wait to eat its fruit.

And now, cooking an early dinner before pottery class. I forgot how much I liked not working.

Don't know about luck but I know the lack of it

2008-10-11T15:46:00.000-07:00

Did you know: the Spanish word for garlic cloves (dientes de ajo) literally translates to English as teeth of garlic?

Garden watch!

Corn. All twelve seeds in the back-most row (of three) have sprouted. Win.

The garlic is doing really well, too. This is by far the most successful plant so far. I bought a second bulb with the intent of planting it. My original exuberance is beginning to slacken, so hopefully I can overcome this sloth before its too late.

As mentioned earlier - freaking okra! Only two have sprouted, and I couldn't find the other one this morning...

This was a welcomed surprise. I decided to stop watering the unsprouted things (sunflowers, zucchini, carrots) once nothing new had sprouted for a week. Today was supposed to be day one of non-watering. But lo! The tiniest of sunflower seedlings peaked out. Hope remains for the others. At least for this week.

As much as I like seeing the fruits (and vegetables) of my labor develop, I like making wild plans even more. Sure, adventure planning is fun. Christmas vacation is right around the corner, and then summer adventure planning kicks up. But as for things around the Bay? It might be time to start making a formal to do list.

Funny New Holidays

2008-10-08T19:42:00.000-07:00

My first explanation of Yom Kippur came from the Daily Show. Forty days without meat? Lent is for losers. One annual day of fasting for a clean moral slate? Mazel tov!

The Daily Show continues to be my prime source not only for political news, but now religion, as well.

In other news, how about that Dow Jones? I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person obsessively clicking refresh all day (or until 1 pm PDT). How low can it go? How much longer until I can afford to buy property? Or fly back to Europe? Then Iceland collapses. Then the Canadian Dollar goes back down where it belongs. Then the Euro. What next, the Pound?

Actually, yes. The graph above shows the value of the English currency against the US Dollar. The axis spans from the day I told the British Consulate to tear up my visa application to today. The tuition and living expenses for a Masters of Urbanisation and Development at the LSE today are now a mere $41,000. A savings of almost $5,000!

Strangely enough, the LSE seems to have consolidated their UK and EU residency statuses, so the savings continue through the sham marraige discount to only $33,000. That's almost reasonable!

Okra!

2008-10-01T18:45:00.000-07:00

No time for pictures! Must tell the Internet!

Two sprigs of blueish-green were just spotted erupting from my okra patch. The corn and garlic or whatever are fine, but okra! My favorite of the favorites!

And now when my landlord leaves, I'll give them the water they've probably been wanting for the last two days.

I won $35 on 31, twice.

2008-09-29T22:13:00.000-07:00

For future reference, I'm willing to brave the mean streets of Richmond to learn how to make these:

I threw two bowls today. They even look like bowls. They're a little on the heavier side, but you know what? For my fourth hour at the wheel, producing these was pretty damned sweet.

In other news, the economy exploded today. Everything but Campbell's Soup is down and falling. Awesomely, tomorrow marks the first day of my 401K contributions, and my measly 8% will probably buy a controlling share of GM. Win.

Old No. 7

2008-09-28T23:02:00.000-07:00

GardenWatch '08 continues.

I moved all the young potted plants into the ground and continued my sparing and drought-considerate watering routine.

After ten days of waiting for my newly planted rows to sprout, watching the replanted seedlings wither and die, and seeing the fig tree shed all of its leaves, I tossed aside my watering can (a liberated Kickball tournament pitcher) and broke out the hose. After two days of drenching the area with life-giving water, I stooped a little lower, and this is what I saw:

Corn! Thankfully, I made the impromptu decision to plant three rows of corn, and for some reason, it's actually growing. What I'll do with this much corn next year, I have no idea. I assumed I'd give it away or trade it for other produce, in the Covington spirit, but the suggestion of homemade bourbon or mash whiskey is enticing. I do know an inordinate amount about the Tennessean Whiskey distillation process.

After the initial buzz of not killing everything I touch wore off, I noticed these little guys sprouting up in the way-back:

Garlic! I did not plant nearly enough of this stuff (I basically grabbed the old, free ConAgra bulbs from the Gilroy Gar lic Festival and stuck whatever wasn't rotten into the ground). It might be time this week to plant some more things before it's too late.

Also, the fig tree isn't totally dead. Sure, it turned a little brown and lost all of its leaves, but it started growing new, green, twig-sized branches. All hope is not lost.

Outside of the backyard, it was still a good weekend. I discovered a wonderful beer garden on Telegraph, earned a liter-sized glass (keeping my camera pocketed the whole time), and took in a local sporting match.

That's UC-Berkeley kicking for their second of seven field goals against Colorado State. It was a shut out. Strangely, the entire stadium seemed unified in their cheering for the score updates on the UGA-Alabama game. The Crimson Tide (the only algae mascot I know of) rolled all over Athens, and somehow this made both Berkeley and Colorado fans very happy. I think they just hate the South. Either way, it was cute seeing how non-SEC schools worship at the holy alter of the field goal. Even if their transit-minded lack of parking spaces makes it impossible to properly tailgate. Points for effort.

Then I went to the world's largest Banana Republic. And ate paellas on the most European street I've ever seen (possibly including Europe). I always saw Boston as a major city, but the City of San Francisco often feels like three or four Bostons put together. It continues in its tolerability.

Gotta get back to defending this country

2008-09-23T10:46:00.000-07:00

Did you know: After the 1924 Olympic Games, members of the Italian and Hungarian fencing teams settled a scoring controversy with a real duel.

Today's entry is all about transportation. While the mirrored transportation corridor in the hall is still my favorite, getting around the rest of the Bay Area still requires some juggling.

For one, I share Sam's fear of taking a bicycle on an AC Transit bus. You see people do it all the time, but if your bike isn't locked in correclty, it gets run over by a bus. Immediately. And before having to retreive the mangled mess of my beautiful bicycle from a traffic snarl, I can also imagine the sassy bus driver growing frustrated as I try to figure out how to lock in my bicycle in the first place.

No, really, it's just that I'm already growing to loathe the small town nosiness of my Berkeley neighbors, and am really just averse to take a bicycle on the bus because of the ensuing crowd of unemployed hippies that will politely inform me from their Priores of all the things I could have done differently, to wear a helmet and to use paper instead of plastic, while I weep over the wreckage of my bicycle.

But seriously, the next bag lady with a rat dog to tell me to wear a helmet is getting a less than congenial response. If I can bike commute through Kenmore during baseball season, I think I'll be fine. Go help some kid in Oakland graduate from high school if you're so smart.

Anyway, in the more useful spirits of the Internet and responding to questions actually asked, AC Transit comes through in spades:

So at least there's hope.

Also, yesterday was my first pottery class! Rose makes this stuff look easy, but I definitely made progress in the two hours I spent trying. Sadly, the class is really far away, and unlikely to gather enough students to make. Damn. At least I've learned to look into it, and surely someone else in this 6.9 million person metropolitan area is offering a wheel throwing class.

But as for the transportation to the class - I know my parents read this, so I'll water it down. I sat next to a friendly talkative young man on the train who offered to walk me home, walked through nine blocks of a lovely commercial district past an officer responding to a neighborly disagreement, and was given a ride back to Berkeley by a classmate because of the class's mandatory team-building system. But I don't care, because I really want to take this stupid class. So mom and dad, if you would rather me stay home, you know what I want for Christmas.

Finally, I had lunch with a couple colleagues, and it was pure shop talk. But I love transportation shop talk. I learned why BART uses non-standardly wide rails. Why do you think?

a) Wider rails keep trains from blowing over.
b) To keep freight trains off the public transportation grid.
c) The commission had a favorite bidder. None of the other competing firms could construct a system to the wider gauge, so by making it a requirement, only that firm was able to win the plum contract.

Who knows! BART claims only the first two. Either way, it now costs $2 million per train car to retrofit upgrades. Way to go BART!

Tally for the week thus far: AC Transit 1, BART -2. It might just be time to commit to that monthly bus pass.

Trying to Look Busy

2008-09-21T18:00:00.000-07:00

Thus begins: Agriculture Watch 2008.

I potted a bunch of plants a few weeks ago, and then a few rows of the successes in my freshley soiled backyard. Plus a few things that are actually in season. The result:

It's a little dark, yes, but in the spirit of water conservation I do most of the watering at night. Starting from behind the tree, and working left to right along the fence: garlic, okra, corn, corn, corn, carrots, lettuce, zucchini and sunflowers.

The zucchini are determined, but so are the birds. I'll discuss potential solutions later in this entry.

I bought a small fig tree on Craigslist a few months ago, and damn near killed it by neglect. It's happily in the ground now - or at least not shedding leaves as quickly.

Not content with agriculture alone, and inspired by the UC Berkeley archery team I once passed on Telegraph, I turned to the Internet to find another new hobby. Turns out, there's a free archery field near a rental shop on the far side of San Francisco. Quelle chance!

This place was further away than I imagined. An hour on public transit doesn't seem so bad when it's in a new area, or on a lazy Saturday. But this place was so far away, this is what I saw on the walk:

The freaking Pacific Ocean. That's when it hit me how far from Boston I'd actually come. I can't see the Atlantic Ocean from my house, but I can see buildings that can see it. And can walk to it from some of my favorite eateries, so that's close enough. But yeah, I am a long freaking way from home.

Anyway, archery. I took some excellent PE classes at MIT. All of them were designed to learn how to kill or maim - pistol, advanced pistol, archery and tae kwon doe. I've taken plenty of martial arts in my life, and the uniforms always felt awkward with my high leg/torso ratio. Learning to shoot a gun in Oakland seems cliched. But archery - I only have positive memories of that.

Aside from some exciting and unusual bruises, this was my greatest accomplishment on the range: 10 points on the line, but not a bullseye. Not bad for no lesson or refresher. Sadly, this place was too far away and too poorly managed to be worth an immediate return trip. Fortunately, there's a place in the Oakland Hills. Assuming I can bike there, it might be worth a follow up excursion.

Gardening and shooting reach far below my level of excitement towards my new class that starts tomorrow. Because it'll be late October until I've produced something worth posting, I'll spoil the surprise now. Wheel thrown pottery! It's like there's a god of happiness, and he/she showed up at the Solano Stroll just to hand me a bunch of "buy one, get one" free drink coupons and a flyer for the Richmond Art Center. I haven't touched clay since high school, but my pottery class at Georgia Perimeter was all that kept me from swapping my poor car for a one-way ticket to anywhere.

Me, circa 2003. This one is actually two pieces, it's a heart, get it? No? Whatever. If you're reading this, you're probably an engineer or former science teacher anyway.

So a week into the SF area adulthood scene, I stood overlooking this view, contemplating whether or not moving to California was a good idea or not.

My conclusion - I need to eat more Mexican food and Chinese pastries before I decide. But for now, it's entirely tolerable.

Back in the Trenches

2008-09-19T09:58:00.000-07:00

Did you know: The only album ranked in the "Top 25 Greatest Albums of All Time" lists of Rolling Stone, the Guardian, and Out.com is The Velvet Underground by the Velvet Underground and Neko. See the full Venn diagram here.

Now seems like an appropriate time for a "back to work" update. So fine, the quick version, in FAQ and stock answer form:

How's work? It's great so far.

How does the office environment compare to Cambridge? The mean age is probably 15 years younger. The office as a whole is more outgoing and fun than the Cambridge office, but there doesn't seem to be a small, tight-knit, fun-loving group as excellent as the software group back in Cambridge. So it's up to me to make my own, but there's potential to work with.

How does downtown Oakland compare to Alewife? Downtown Oakland is to Alewife as New York is to Covington. Allow a visualization:

My building is the one furthest on the left. In the day-light, it looks like this:

Apparently, Ask.com started losing money and decided to rent out this fabulous building at a loss. So we work out of a river-fronting corner of the 16th floor. The elevators are grouped by floors served, and I'm in the top set. My ears pop on the way up if we skip 11-15. This will never get old. Also, 12th Street City Center is a bustling commercial district, marketed directly at me. So there's a Jamba Juice, a hot dog place, a Panda Express, and about 30 other restaurants that I'll probably never get around to trying.

How's the commute? I have 30-40 minute commute, depending on the path I choose. The 1R express bus seems to be my likely standard, though the 51 local and BART offer valid alternatives. Also, the 18 goes directly from my office to Hung, Adam, the Ivy Room and Hotsy Totsy, so I'd say that I'm sufficiently plugged into the transportation network.

How's the actual work? More different than I expected. I'm still in the software marketing position I had before. Turns out I still don't love marketing, but the software part isn't terrible on its own. It also looks like the parts of marketing that I like the least for their soul-sucking coldness are none too popular among the west coast staff. So my objectives are the same, but I might have more enjoyable ways to accomplish them. Plus, there are excellent planning projects in the works, and nothing gets my heart puttering quite like developing transportation-oriented land use.

But enough about work. A major goal of this whole "move to California" thing was to motivate myself to cut ties from a generally sloth-like, though enjoyable, lifestyle and try new things. Look for Sunday entry #2.

Adulthood Eve

2008-09-09T17:30:00.000-07:00

I started a list of numeric accomplishments from the summer, but only gave it a half-hearted effort. Now, it's the day before my first full day, and I need to iron and coordinate outfits for the week.

How I spent my summer vacation:

Three months
Four countries
$73 dollars won at roulette
Three lobsters in a sitting
35 mph across a lake on a tube
14 miles in a day across Yosemite
Five pints of Guinness within a mile of the Liffey
12 new transit systems
0 base hits
30 minutes spent learning how to drive a standard
Four new pairs of shoes
4.5 cubic yards of dirt hauled
Two missed flights

Only a few items remain on my back to ~~school~~ work to do list. I'm skipping "prepare a lunch" and hoping that someone will want to eat out with me on my first day. Tomorrow I'll stop by the store and make a proper dinner, thus creating leftovers for use thereafter. I need to iron a week's worth of clothes while there's an ironing board in the house, or coordinate outfits that don't look like they've been in a suitcase for three months. I've identified what I will take to put up in my cubicle that most efficiently displays both my similarities to my colleagues (it's a map...) as well as my differences (... of Iraq). I know my bus schedule.

Actual responsibilities aside, I achieved a major summer accomplishment by putting real seeds in the neatly prepared beds of fertile dirt in my cleared backyard: carrots, sunflowers, round zucchini (a food I actually don't really love, now that I think about it), and lettuce. Some of the potted seedlings began to emerge on Saturday, after less than a week in the dirt, and today a full three species of vegetation were puttering towards daylight.

Passing the 12 hours remaining mark, I remain cautiously optimistic. Most importantly, I'm confident that I've made progress towards finding "varied social/productive ways to spend my evenings and weekends," which was a crucial goal.

And if all else fails, I've already begun crafting an extreme exit strategy.

New Camera!

2008-09-05T14:31:00.000-07:00

Consistent with the hodgepodge style of blogging that I've been developing, here are some random pictures to support the Las Vegas Kickball Championship entry.

First, the view from our hotel room:

Secondly, the view from the top of the Rio Casino and Hotel:

As much as I love Boston, I've got to hand it to every other city in the world for having better clubs. Anybody that mashes Another Brick in the Wall Part 2 with anything wins automatic approval.

This club otherwise was kinda mediocre. Except the random stripper pole. Now, you might ask yourself, why have a random stripper pole in a dance floor? Because it'll get used.

Other than people watching, it was an exercise in urban planning. Take this instance:

After arriving in Oakland after an overnight bus ride, I spent the day sleeping, unpacking, eating sushi, and watching Gossip Girls from Mitra's fabulous Russian Hill apartment. And as if the entire week wasn't cool enough, I finally got to see the Golden Gate Bridge.

Last but not least, this entry was made possible through the generous support of readers like Josh. Josh, who selflessly found all the stuff that I was about to leave behind in Boston, except the camera peripherals that he mailed to me later. Peripherals that allow me to upload pictures from my awesome new camera, a camera that takes macromode pictures of cupcakes like this. Cupcakes that you also bought me. And cupcakes that were delicious.

This cupcake is for you.

Fear and Loathing

2008-09-01T10:19:00.000-07:00

Given the friends I know and the summer I've had, I really need to read Fear and Loathing before heading back to work.

My weekend in Las Vegas was probably one of the least probable and most surreal of my young adult life. In keeping with my general tidiness of lifestyle, it didn't involve any of the actual rule-breaking or substance abuse one might expect for such a summary, but was still quite revolutionary in its own way.

As much as I love to travel, studying city design as science leads to finding a general predictability where ever you go. Getting off a plane or out of a train, at least in the parts of the world I've seen (North America and Europe), you can find a business district, a residential district, some history of architecture, signs of decay and growth, and, if you look hard enough, that place-specific human element that lives in the bars and in the streets after dark.

Las Vegas has none of this.

Obviously, I could go somewhere that isn't a huge city in the western industrialized world, and that would have mixed things up a little. But difference by poverty isn't as cool as difference by design, and my kickball team was invited to play in Las Vegas, so that settled the destination of my sabbatical arc.

Las Vegas successfully took control of the situation from my well planned clutches (as I planned for it to do) and put me at the mercy of 13 people I barely or sort of knew that were all older than me and had presumably mellowed out from their upbringings and colleges. We spent three unpredictable nights and days entertaining ourselves in a fake city for an absurd purpose.

It wouldn't be right to attempt the tale with chronological perfection, and of course, photographic documentation is awaiting a USB cable, so hopefully these three single-serving portions of narrative can do the journey justice.

At 4 pm Sunday, I was sitting on the floor of the Las Vegas bus station waiting for a Greyhound to Los Angeles. Sensing the end of my three martini-lunch, I put down my New York Times to buy a bottle of water. I awkwardly fumbled past a won $100 to find smaller change. I then used this water to sedate myself through the full 13 hour bus ride. (Dramamine's "marked drowsiness" warning is a nifty trick I learned from my parents 20 years ago)
Friday night, and leaving a dinner for a rooftop club, there was a moment of hesitation in the group on how to acquire three taxis (there are enforced rules about no-pickup zones). Three months of living on the periphery of New York has given me enough ego to effortlessly hail cabs for the rest of my life, and in quick order I had two waiting while the group was still debating. As soon as the yellow cabs were out of sight, I flagged down a limousine, and the remainder of our group was off.
At 10 pm Saturday, I was celebrating the end of the first round of the kickball tournament with my fellow Boston delegates. Most of the other teams were from California, Louisiana, New York and Florida, and we were all having a great time; Boston perhaps more so. I ran into the sole representative of Gainesville, Florida - a rude fellow who crashed the tournament after his team declined their invitation. (Lesson learned: some stereotypes are based on fact)

And if anyone is interested, the actual tournament played out as follows -

We lost the first round of pool play to Dumpster Fire - a congenial team from Manhattan, captained by an even more congenial kid with a cannon for an arm. The final score: 0-4.
We won the second round to the Bootleggers from Boston. We'd played some of their players in the spring (they won our league in the fall), and it was a hoot. Three Dropkick Murphy's songs came on, and it was a good time. Incidentally, we won by some healthy margin that I don't even remember.
Our final game was against the defending champion. They beat the Bootleggers 0-17 in the first round, but were stomped by Dumpster Fire, so they knew they had to put up a good run differential against us to get one of the few wildcard spots for the finals. As if 17 wasn't good enough. One of their more rouge-necked players shouldered and laid out two of our outfielders in an attempt to steal. As the classier act, our captain didn't return the favor when their first baseman stood in the baseline to block his path and end the game. I can't say I would have done the same. Regardless, they did not win the tournament, but Boston's representatives succeeded in solidifying our reputation as the party town, possibly risking our invitation to next year's tournament.

While not an intentional goal of my sabbatical, I did manage to come out of it with an expanded comfort zone and a greater sense of adult-ness. Some people manage this by trying to get arrested in Syria, I do it by playing kickball in Las Vegas. To each his own.

Augustine Adventures, 1.5

2008-08-28T21:02:00.000-07:00

Did you know: Las Vegas's McCarran airport has free wifi?

After a sleep- and Olympics-filled two-day layover on a couch at home, I headed back to SFO Airport for the second half of my August adventures. As I sit in the surreality that is a Vegas airport, realizing that I really don't have a "find the people who booked my hotel room" strategy, I figure this is prime time for a quick blog post. You know, while scouring archived emails and a bunch of social networking sites.

It's finally time for me to pick a new arch nemeses, now that New Hampshire, Vermont and I are finally at peace. For those that don't remember, I still blame the "spooning states" for a torn ACL, bruised kidney, and f'ed up wrist. But under more careful supervision, I went alpine skiing, teleskiing and hiking in New Hampshire this spring. This past weekend, I threw in swimming, blueberry picking and learning to drive a standard. On top of that - tubing, swimming and three lobsters in a sitting, and I think we're finally at full diplomatic relations

Yeah, basically New Hampshire was ridiculous. Back in warm, yuppie Somerville, Josh and I basically just ate hot dogs and oysters for four days. It was kind of the perfect vacation, ever. In fact, judging by the number of times I ran out of creative descriptive terms and had to roll with "best ___, ever", it probably was.

With the weeks winding down before the end of my summer vacation, I'm sitting in McCarran airport hoping I have a place to sleep tonight. Traveling and seeing friends was a great way to spend the bulk of a sabbatical, but playing in the world kickball championship is the ultimate deus ex machina. I rewatched Dodgeball for maximum quotability. After this, putting together a chicken coop will be kinda boring.

Also, I managed to replace my old camera (the one that was dropped in beer) with one that's even better, and then I left the peripherals in Boston. Hence, no pictures now, and here's hoping I'll still have some juice for the tournament Saturday evening.

Midwest Wedding Explosion

2008-08-19T03:00:00.000-07:00

I'm back from the titular Midwest Wedding Explosion, and awake and blogging at 2:00 am. It's not even jetlag. I just don't think I'll be on real adult hours until I'm back at work next month. I give up trying.

The recap - Sam and I flew out to Detroit last week. We stayed pretty far from civilization, but I was set on seeing Detroit as a lover of urban places. Basically, Detroit is as awful as everyone says it is, and it's almost entirely GM's fault.

Exhibit A:

The city to the left is Detroit. The city to it's right is GM's headquarters.

A little more "Metropolis" than I think they intended.

The famous "People Mover" (the mono-rail) was down the whole time we were there for repairs, so we, and the 10% of residents that were unemployed, took the bus. When I asked the lady at our hotel's reception (we stayed about an hour from the city by the airport) about the transit system, she seriously looked at me like I was trying to hitchhike into Syria alone or something. I thought this was just a case of the old "they're going to steal your television," but everyone I talked to at the wedding rehearsal shared similar advice against venturing out of the hotel.

Obviously, Sam and I took the first bus into Detroit the next morning, and it was uneventful. Less interested in seeing Detroit than having a good story, we took the shuttle into Canada. This was such a standard adventure, the attractive customs agent refused to stamp our passports. Then we played giant chess and nearly missed the wedding due to Windsor, Ontario's highly unreliable bus system.

The Coffee-Dong wedding was beautiful. And nerdy. Really, really nerdy. The ringbearer:

The cake:

I did my best to restrain myself from striking up a conversation about politics with the bride's Chinese family, but couldn't help but display some patriotism and Michael Phelps-ed the bouquet. I don't think my feet even left the ground.

The only wedding I attended prior to this one was dry and apparently unusually tame. Andrew threw a boutonniere, and then all the 20-somethings came to my pool to drink away our astonishment at his marriage. This wedding was apparently a bit more mainstream, and I was truly shocked to learn what happened to the girl that catches the bouquet.

I'm having the best luck with rocket scientists this year.

The next day we were up and off to Chicago, where we stayed with a friend of mine from the Department of Urban Planning. Kate was well known within DUSP for getting really mad at people who were narrow-sighted or otherwise stupid, and I decided on the first day of lecture that semester that I needed to sit next to her in class and hear all of her private rants. Eventually, she started bringing me Lara Bars so I could stay awake throughout class (another witness to the brutality of the UA). Anyway, this hospitality was nothing compared to the swank digs she provided in Wilmette, IL. It might have been 30 minutes from the city, but was one of the cutest and most transit-oriented older suburbs I've ever seen. If I ever am forced to settle down and get a front yard, I'd want it to be there.

But Chicago, obviously, was beautiful.

Sam was kind enough to allow me to play tour guide the first two days, and I pretty much just played off what I saw the last time and what the Internet suggested. But when Sam left for Cedar Point, I took Kate's advice and took the Architecture Institute's Historical Downtown tour. It was a little strange being in a big, obvious tourist mob, but dang, that was the coolest tour ever. I've got to look up San Francisco's analog when I get back, buy a family membership, and drag everyone I know along for free.

All set on Chicago, we rode Amtrak up to Milwaukee. Now, so far, Chicago seemed like it should have been the cool, urban town. We ran into a bunch of Red Sox fans, saw a cool Planetarium, and ate a bunch of hot dogs. Successes, all. But in Milwaukee, Sam had the foresight to find some new Internet friends and arrange to surf their couch. This turned out to be the coolest plan ever. Not only did we have a well located and free place to sleep, omelettes and kegerator inclusive, but our new friends had other awesome friends, and we basically tore up the Milwaukee scene.

It was non-stop cheese and beer action. Milwaukee is easily one of my favorite cities in the world.

After a great first night in Milwaukee, we rented a car and drove deep into the midwest. One of my strongest impressions was of renting a car from Enterprise. It's a common meme that the only milestone between 21 and 65 is getting cheaper rental cars at 25, but really, our car was pretty inexpensive, the gas was really cheap compared to California, and they picked us up for free. They would have dropped us off, but that's coming up.

Venturing into Madison, we stopped by a Honey Museum in the middle of nowhere. It was surprisingly educational (Sir Edmund Hillary was a bee keeper), full of free samples, and the gift shop was surprisingly cheap.

My highlight of this road trip, however, was the dead squirrel museum. We got a little turned around in Madison, and eventually found the address to be a funeral home. I vaguely remembered reading about this detail online, but like a good friend, I hid in the bathroom while I let Sam wander the basement looking for someone to show us to the exhibit.

It was all I could have asked for and more.

Madison seemed really cool, too.

We hit up the mustard museum, and then drove through tons of corn and across the Mississippi until finally reaching Iowa.

Too exhausted to tear up Mason City, IA as planned, we slept a surprisingly good sleep in the rental car somewhere near the Minnesota border. Aside from waking up to turn on the heat for a while, it was the longest sleep of the trip.

Then, off again.

The only point in going to Minnesota (and effectively the entire road trip) was the Spam Museum in Austin, MN. Really, Spam isn't so bad. But I'm impressed by anyone that can turn a budget-rate meat product into a marketing phenomenon. Props to that.

The trip back to Milwaukee included a brief stop in Spart, WI. Apparently, the entire town is unaware of the movie 300 because they seemed gratuitously quaint. And, apparently, they're the Bicycle Capital of America or something. Which brought this to being:

Whatever. We made it back to drop off the car early, and caught a ride with new friend Nichole to Lakefront Brewery. I've been on a rather high number of brewery tours, but this was the most fun. I actually learned something about the process (again: see experienced brewery tourist), and our guide was hilarious. He was visibly drunk when the tour started, threw back two more during the tour, and afterwards we were met with a fish fry and polka.

Our hostess had some friends from out of town with her, including a guy from Sam's high school (who's father Sam's likens to Bishop Jim Earl Swiley of the Church in the Now) who I spent the better part of the night debating theology and the social order. The last 47 pictures my camera will have ever taken were of us all having a great time, until it was dropped into a liter of Hofbrau. It only hurts because I love Hofbrau. And because someone else broke my camera. Lesson learned - trust no one.

The trip continued without photographic evidence. We slept in and hit up wedding #2. This time Sam caught the garter, but I decided to let someone else have some fun with the bouquet, even though Sam can attest that I could have had it from my position had I chosen. We met up with some excellent MIT alums again, and ended up taking two of them to a gay cage club downtown. It was Madonna night, and my feet were thoroughly blistered from earlier in the day, so it was thankfully that we left before close.

Sunday morning we had brunch with a bunch of fellow couch surfers, and hit up the Milwaukee Art Institute with one of their employee IDs. This is when a camera would have been nice (as opposed to cage clubbing). The building is incredible. The old stuff was fine, and the explanations of each period were surprisingly thorough. They had some nice German political drawings from the 40s. But the post-modern mind-screwery was the best. They're big on rooms that disorient you. My favorite was the overturned chair on a doll with a projector giving the impression of disturbing speech and facial movement. I almost walked past it, not realizing it was meant to be examined, but after starring glassy-eyed on the floor, I didn't want to leave. Much like Wisconsin itself.

Polka-rific.

Too busy to live?

2008-08-18T00:12:00.000-07:00

Did you know: Sam and I are no longer in the market for Oprah studio audience tickets, but he's still on Oprah's mailing list?

I'm back in Oakland for a breathless 55 hours, and then starting Augustan adventure #2 on Wednesday. But rather than the usual photo dump, I'm in the market for a new camera. Thursday I woke up inside a Nissan in Iowa, and by the end of the night my camera was dropped into a liter of Hofbrau in Milwaukee (but not by me). So the pictures are going to be a while. Suck.

Eternally Jetlagged

2008-08-06T07:01:00.000-07:00

5:00 am - Sometimes I just can't help myself. Like when I can't sleep, undoubtedly in anticipation of returning to Eastern Daylight Time, and inevitably start prowling JohnMcCain.com.

But seriously, I love this game. I love it because some poor college intern was given the task of politicizing a game I played in my orthodontist's office during the last Iraq war. Even then it was retro. It's like their youngest person on staff is still old enough to remember 1978. Or they're the fun-hating, fist-shaking, geriatric Republicans I always suspected.

6:15 am - I finally have something to respect Paris Hilton for: her energy policy.

Sam had the same reaction I did - that's what her voice sounds like! Surprisingly competent (and in this case well-written).

7:35 am - I found the U.S. Military's Torture Playlist.

I'd heard about this being tried on Noreaga (Sam tells me it was the Clash and Van Halen), but I'm pleased to see that we're broadening our survey of aggressively American music. Looks like... annoying commercialism, folksy Americana, stuff I blasted from my stereo in Church traffic and... Raspberry Beret? I'd like to see this incorporated into Lost somehow next season.

7:55 am - Sam, also on EDT apparently, calls me into his room for a dance party.

9:15 am - The new James Bond trailer is up.

In other news, my team has been seeded 21 of 60 in the imminent Founders Cup XI World Kickball Championship. I don't know where they pulled that number from, but whatever! Submissions for T-shirt nicknames welcomed.

Now that it's actually a decent hour of the day, I'm off to finish packing. I'll be bringing the standard single bookbag, of course. In addition, I'll be knitting an additional smaller bag en route, thus eliminating the need for a couple books and abruptly reducing my packed volume near the end of the trip when I'll need it for cheese curds - eat your heart out Josh. Less fun-ly, I'm boxing up a large portion of my room for Sam's friend the subletting grad student, and simultaneously raising "stop having to pack everything I own into boxes and luggage" to #4 on my list of life goals.

Midwest Wedding Explosion

2008-08-05T12:01:00.000-07:00

As my summer vacation enters its third month, I bid beautiful California adieu for my next adventure.

The premise - Sam and I have four mutual friends getting married this summer. The two weddings occur within a week and 375 miles of each other in Detroit and Milwaukee. The resulting week of road tripping defines a "midwest wedding explosion."

The itinerary -

After a debaucherous evening of revelry with Hung and Adam, Sam and I red-eye to Detroit.

Detroit, at the height of its influence, in 1880

A) Detroit. The Dong-Coffee wedding. We have two days to see all there is in Motown without getting shot. Given that all I know about the Motor City is its airport, 8 Mile, and its sputtering public transportation system that GM basically sat on, visiting the country's 11th largest city will surely improve my knowledge of the area and be an adventure in car-choked urban planning. Then I never have to go back, ever.

Chicago: more than just a United hub

B) Just a brief Amtrak ride away is Chicago. I've been, but only long enough to make a more complete list of things to see. Sam has not, so I will inflict my urban planning babble upon him mercilessly. At least he knows to be prepared.

Milwaukee: Romance Capital of the Future

C) Wedding number 2 is in Milwaukee, but we arrive three days early. During this time, Sam and I intend to tour the Miller Brewing Company, sober ourselves, and rent a car to blaze through two days of roadside Americana.

The schedule:

D) The Honey Museum of Ashippun, WI

E) Dead Pals of Sam Sanfillippo (a.k.a. the "dead squirrel museum") of Madison, WI

F) The Mustard Museum of Mount Hebron, WI. Founded by a disgruntled Red Sox fan, driven to mustard collecting madness by the 1986 World Series, the Mustard Museum unveiled it's mustard vending machine and 5,000th variety of mustard on National Mustard Day - August 2.

G) House on the Rock, Spring Green, WI. I'm honestly not sure what this one is all about, but Sam's endorsement is all I need.

H) Last but not least, the Spam Museum at Austin, MN. Miller and Spam - our tasty, white trash namesakes that neither of us consumes with any regularity.

We shuffle back to Milwaukee for the Andrews-Zakszewski wedding and to see the sights of the country's 22nd largest city. Then it's back to Oakland.

In proper Levinger style, we'll be packing as little as possible (and to make room for mustard, honey, and Spam souvenirs). Internet access may be spotty in this part of the less civilized US, but if anyone has any tips, send them anyway.

And it's off.

Success?

2008-07-31T19:00:00.000-07:00

While de-weeding the backyard, I've found a fair amount of crap. Some useful, some not. Stuff like a brick or broken hummingbird feeder - you expect things like that. The sprinkler was a bit surprising. I found a hand shovel yesterday. Sam suggested that a frustrated gardener might have thrown down in a moment of exasperation, but I had my doubts. It was near the stairs - it might have fallen into the abyss on accident. All of these things could be justified.

Then today, I found a rake.

It's long been one of my hobbies to imagine the backstory of found objects. For instance: everything at Garment District comes from vengeful breakups (not desperate poverty), and my Iraq map came from someone who just registered Democrat after giving up on John McCain as commander in chief. This is a particularly fun hobby for someone so excited to rummage through street trash.

It's a rental property, so maybe they didn't need a rake at their new place?

But a rake. An entire, functioning rake, square in the middle of the space behind the shed. It wasn't close enough to a fence or tree to have fallen down after being propped up. It must have broken someone's spirit and been cast out into the briar patch.

Behind all the thumb-width thorny vines, I also found some flowers. Orange flowers are the only situation in which my immediate inclination is Jager.

Month in Review

2008-07-28T18:29:00.000-07:00

Today marks the end of my fourth week in California, and I feel a proper recapitulation of the month is in order. The results so far:

Throwing a spectacular house party. Granted, parties were completely ruined forever for me by the end of college. Short of hosting a Bootie bash in the backyard (Sam - 24th birthday party?), I don't think anything could ever top my 22nd birthday party. But Sam's entire Berkeley department and their housemates came over for our housewarming party, and they got us pretty damned close.

The bacon-fried hotdogs sure didn't hurt.

Meeting new people. About 95% of the people I've met so far are chemical engineers, but they're still lovely people. My next month should focus on finding people with interests similar to my own, but until then, I've got the more important bases covered - "political debate" friend, "fun banter" friend, a couple of "breakfast in the city" friends, "lives a block away" friend, "can operate a grill" friend, and a wide spectrum of potential "up for anything" friends. Plus Sam, who feeds me, entertains me, and gets the other dish that I wanted to order and shares it with me. The later of those is arguably the most important quality in a roommate/friend.

Finding favorite hangouts. I finally got a handle on the whole north/south thing. With Sam's help, I've located a new favorite Southern restaurant. Dive bars are plentiful in Oakland (go figure), and there seems to be no shortage of foreign food. Given the complete newness of even the big box stores, it took me a while to find simple things, such as christmas lights. But an assembled bike, Yelp and AC Transit's free maps are helping expand my local knowledge at a respectable clip. I've successfully given accurate directions to pedestrians over 75% of the time when asked.

Picking up new, awesome hobbies. This one is still a work in progress. Seeing the city and all it has to offer just doesn't feel complete enough. Gardening and agriculture is coming along though. Our downstairs neighbor/landlord's daughter supports the chicken plan, and even suggested bees, but weeding the backyard is prooving to be an obstacle. The actual labor isn't so bad given the temperate climate, but the sheer volume of thorns, ivy, and other viney matter is likely on the order of 12 times our weekly yard waste allotment from the City of Oakland. My goal is to have enough cleared by the time we leave for Detroit that while I'm in Boston and Las Vegas, Sam can make headway with the actual planting. I want the coop up and operational before I go back to work.

Fantastic adventures. Check. See: Stanford and the Garlic Festival in Gilroy.

Garlic kangaroo on a stick

Oh, the Bay Area

Awesome t-shirt day in Gilroy

The Burghers of Calais at Stanford

A sweet, but non-functional water fountain at Stanford

Also Stanford

Oakland

"The city," "San Francisco," "SF," but not "San Fran." That's for tourists.

Otherwise, I'm just waiting for Sam to perfect his donut recipe. Month two is looking up.

How many SWPL items can I mention in a single blog entry?

2008-07-20T14:05:00.000-07:00

A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Why the long face?" Barack Obama replies, "His jockey just lost his health insurance, which should be the right of all Americans."

Yesterday was another beautiful Saturday in the Bay Area. It was foggy and cold - seeing people wear down jackets in the Northern Hemisphere in JULY will take getting used to - and probably the yuppiest day of my young yuppie life. Josh, take that as a challenge (the yuppie, not the cold).

After a delightful dinner party with a couple of Sam's friends and a great night's sleep (there's still a novelty to my new IKEA bed), Sam and I set out to the city. There are a number of cafes and bakeries between our house and the nearest BART stop, but only one serves free samples with their artisan breads. So properly breakfasted, it was off to Golden Gate Park.

I've been enjoying the variety of transit agencies in SF thus far, because I'm a nerd, but the Muni is nothing but frustrating. My dollar wasn't good enough, so I had to walk ten feet to exchange it for quarters. As a society, we can support all kinds of freeloaders and La Rouche supporters, but we can't get around to accepting dollar bills at the Muni station? They work on the cars outside the station, but not in the big building with all the passengers and staff? Really? Seriously, no more wars until we get this stuff working. I mean it.

Anyway, we made it to the Tour de Fat (sponsored by Fat Tire beer and Critical Mass) just in time to see some strange Dancetroupe-esqe dancers, a ton of bikes and Mucca Pazza. Mucca Pazza is a self-described "circus punk marching band" and I can't really come up with a better description.

I feel like that still shot conveys their presence better than any video, because their performance is so powerful as to force any cameraman to groove, and you can't groove and make a quality video simultaneously. But skip ahead to 2:30 if you demand more circus punk:

Also, the entire music festival was zero-waste and solar powered. They composted our wrist bands. You know, because it's in San Francisco.

Afterwards, Mitra applied her awesome family membership to produce tickets to the Chihuly exhibit at the art museum in the park. It was both beautiful and warm.

After a tour of vintage clothing stores (and a group effort to reassure me after I had no chance of fitting into a $20 Air Force cheerleader uniform), Sam and I had tongue burritos and chicken tamales in the Mission. I barely understand where these areas are, and doubt I could find most of them on a map, but I do know north/south, and now I just need to generally learn "we're in this area, so this is the thing to eat." Then I'll be fine.

Also, today three people asked me for directions or help with the bus.

In summary - SF is starting to feel a lot more comfortable. Especially after unpacking my sweaters.

I am so smart.

2008-07-15T16:19:00.001-07:00

The settling down process continues. Registering to vote was easy enough (California will even pick up the printing and postage fees, because otherwise those would equate to poll tax). Our recycling bins get here in a week. I trimmed back the vines around the gate to the backyard so that it can actually be opened with one hand. I assembled my bicycle in under an hour. All in all, a good day.

All that remains is the concluding step in the ongoing saga of "My Swollen Foot and the Free Health Care System of Alameda County" - establishment of residency. This can most easily be done through the acquisition of a California driver's license.

But for some reason, I have a strong attachment to my Georgia license. There is no logical reason to keep it. The only economic incentive I had ran out when Brother Jimmy's (and their "Southern appreciation" discount) boarded up years ago. No one else has been so stupid as to explicitly lure hungry, card-carrying Southerners with cheap barbecue and crappy beer, and I doubt anyone else ever will.

Plus, it's a bit of a hassle to provide supplemental identification alongside my out-of-state license in Massachusetts. Not like anybody but Johnny D's checks, or like I live in Massachusetts. I don't know if this is also a requirement in California, but if the bars here check as frequently as the ones in Massachusetts, it could be years before I find out.

But it's a good, recent-ish picture of me. I renewed it in January 2007 when I was in town making 22,000 copies of my thesis survey. My left eye is as squinty as usual, and my signature looks like my first name is "Rillr." The weight is six years off, which is probably enough to qualify as perjury. But there's some charm in whipping out a Georgia ID when I know it'll be the only one the bouncer sees all night. Or the surly bartender. It's a good conversation starter. I enjoyed the diversity of IDs at MIT ("Oh, wow, that's what they look like there? Do you want to see mine?"), and already find the California licenses visually boring. Other than carrying around Schwarzenegger's autograph, what's the advantage?

Alas - keeping two driver's licenses is illegal. I need one from California with my new address, but don't want to hand over the one from Georgia. What is a belle to do?

Then it hit me - MOTORCYCLE LICENSE!

Different license, no conflict. Will it work? Only time will tell.

And now, pictures from Yosemite.

No, the Rhyming Becktionary!

2008-07-12T16:02:00.000-07:00

After long, long last, Sam and my house is finally in decent enough order that I'm confident posting pictures on the internet.

The outside. Notice the broken window - that's Sam's room. He was swatting a fly. And broke a window. I feel so much safer with this raging violent chef.

The foyer.

Up the stairs to the second floor.

My room. Slightly larger and more squareish than Sam's, and with a slightly less fabulous view. Notice the world's least earthquake-proof glass bookcase on the left, Iraq map in the middle, and corner of an incredibly comfortable IKEA bed to the bottom right. Basically, my needs can be categorized as: a place to put my treasures, a plan to acquire new treasures, and a place to sleep.

Back into the hallway. The hallway with the mirrored wall at one end, thus giving the illusion of space. Also, using the bathroom during the first night, the router was flashing a blue light from the next room, and like a squid, I didn't realize at first that I was seeing my own reflection. I was sure the place was haunted and I was living a Japanese horror movie. Good thing I was already on the way to the bathroom.

Speaking of the bathroom, check out the fabulous stained glass window. The lack of mirror hasn't been as perplexing as I'd first assumed, given the large and well-lit mirror in my bedroom. In fact, not being able to make faces at myself has reduced my morning routine by a non-trivial amount of time.

The living room. The two chairs, end table and frame (foreground) were all found on the street. Sam swears the chairs smell "like the rest of our apartment, I mean, not bad." I'm still suspicious. But otherwise, the place is cozy and grand. I made the curtains my first day. My productivity has tapered greatly since.

The next Apartmentacular will feature more on the backyard. For now, it's a mess of weeds, thorns, and bits of buried trash to gaze upon from the table and chairs on the paved driveway. Sam suspects we'll find a corpse; I'm hoping for buried treasure. Either way, if/when it all gets cleared, we could pay our rent by leasing the space for gardens. Or garden it ourselves. Or... chickens. It's a field of dreams, covered in four feet of vines.

Pope Gets a Sticker

2008-07-12T15:44:00.001-07:00

In my quest to have visited a greater number of countries than years of being alive by 26, I'm having to scrap the geopolitical barrel to get a starting tally. Oh yeah, Barbados - it didn't happen during a spring break, so I almost forgot. And the Vatican is technically a country, right? That puts my total at 13 - halfway there.

Speaking of the Vatican, after much tense waiting, the following photo series is happily complete.

Three weeks later...

After forgetting my then-future address in Oakland, and to put "USA" at the bottom, I still managed to mail a postcard to Sam. And as if he read my mind (or just fully understand my complex message) now it hangs on our refrigerator, blessing all my whiskey and 25¢ cans of Coke.

Seriously though: 12 for $5.99, or 24 for $5.99? Way to go, Safeway.

Stalling

2008-07-04T09:15:00.000-07:00

Just three days into California, I've learned some valuable lessons, and am starting to fall into a swing of things.

The direction that I originally thought was north is in fact not. This is huge. As someone who could (back in the day) exit a subway train in New York and intuit which exit to take for the desired side of the desired street, not having an internal compass is debilitating. So this is a work in progress that still requires effort, but is coming along.
I used BART all by myself! And the unfortunately named Emery-go-Round. Initial thoughts - the train cars remind me of the ones in Washington D.C. and Atlanta, but the seats are amazingly soft and cushy (for public transportation). Also, the entire line is elevated, so from the Rockridge stop, you can see straight into downtown San Francisco towards the west, or into the hills at the west. And top quality people watching - it seems more demographically representative of the area than, oh, Atlanta. But that's not particularly difficult.
West Ashby Street really isn't a nice area. There are likely others. Sitting on a bench yesterday, I reached for a San Francisco Chronicle next to a guy about my age. He seized up, and apologized once he realized I was going for the newspaper. "I thought you were going to pick my pocket. You know, it's Oakland." I don't know where it's good or not that the threatening stereotype is the white girl in the Threadless t-shirt.
IKEA is the most amazing thing ever. After gorging on meatballs and lingonberry sauce, I picked out a new bed, mattress, mattress pad, glass bookcase (thinking "shipping costs be damned, it's beautiful and on sale for $20 from $60"), and some other necessary nesting items. I ponied up to the counter, expecting to fork over an incredible amount of money, and miraculously, they forget to ring up my $200 mattress pad. I know, who spends $200 on a mattress pad? Obviously, not me. Minus some American Express gift cards from Christmas (thanks mom and dad!), the whole thing only set me back $330. Considering I sold my old bed for $220, I consider this a success. But then I had to ship these 200 pounds of furniture back to my apartment. Again, IKEA to the rescue - while shipping from the website would roll in the $400 range, the privately contracted delivery company charges a flat $79 for delivering in-store purchase to Oakland. So I acquired an entire room for all of $634, or $189 including gift cards, coupons and sale of previous IKEA furnishings. Victory!

Now that I'm closer to having a presentable living space, I'm another step closer to posting pictures of my digs. The furniture arrives Sunday, and then I'll be able to move the several piles of books, clothes, chatchkis and general mess off the floor and into drawers or shelves. Oh, and I'll have a real bed.

So until then, and because I'm too lazy to wash dishes or start eradicating the mess that is my floor mid-move, here are some more pictures from Italy! Food porn edition!

Best. Leftovers. Ever.

Rabbit stuffed with vegetables.

Tiramisu.

Blackberry pie. Kevin did one of those leaves.

I forget - maybe turkey wrapped around sausage? Orange glaze.

Everyone was disappointed over not going hot air ballooning, but like a child, I was completely appeased with pastries.

This was when the fabulous food started to just wash over me.
"Oh, sea food medley? That sounds nice."

The server brought out mushrooms for us to choose from.

Like usual, Josh thought I was just being my usual excitable self and exaggerating the difference between Doner Kebabs and regular kebabs.
"Oh, I don't know, I've eaten a lot of shawarma."
Knave.

Speck, prosciutto, mushrooms, and some tasty cheeses.

Just to prove the mind-charing powers of the Doner, it was Josh's eagle eye that spotted this.

Sea fruit pizza.

I don't know how Hannah and Josh are handling the food choosing without me, but this was all Josh's idea. That's tripe in the foreground, tripe to the left, eggplant to the right (which I shy away from), and chicken in the back. You can tell by the way Hannah is griping her fork like an inmate that I wasn't allowed near this sole safe option. By this point, we'd amassed enough metis to order non-Italian beer, but still ended up with more than enough wine for those who were drinking it, and the evening ended up being a hilarious for Hannah, which hopefully made up for all the tripe that she was coerced to consume.

Oh, the possibilities.

2008-07-02T04:59:00.000-07:00

My jet lag continues to slowly drift West-ward, and I think I'm finally on Boston time. Three more time zones to go (I write at 5:27 AM).

In other good news, Sam wins the "found the best apartment ever" award. Allow me to walk you through my experience yesterday. Again, pictures eventually.

2:00 pm - Meet Sam at the airport. He takes the heavier set of bags and narrates the BART ride home. "Did you know: the train runs at over 80 m.p.h. under the East Bay Bridge?"

2:30 - On the walk home, whilst bragging about my love of finding useful items on the street, we simultaneously spot a blue Laz-y-boy recliner. We stand across the street and discuss it loudly until the other person looking at it walks away. I give a preliminary comfort inspection. We vow to return sans luggage.

2:40 - Arriving at the fabulous apartment, Sam gives the tour. Pictures to come. We conclude in the backyard, meet a neighbor, discuss our gardening strategy, and enjoy Pimm's Cups in frosted glasses. I discover our wheelbarrow.

3:10 - We return to the Laz-y-boy with the wheelbarrow. The chair passes the smell test. We triumphantly wheel it back to our living room.

3:30 - Sam makes lunch. Spinach, dried cherry, goat cheese and walnut salad. Avocado and hummus BLT (on bread he baked this morning). Grape jell-o. And 30 Rock.

5:20 - We adjourn to peruse Craigslist for more furniture. I leave a message for a microwave. Sam spots a yard sale not to far. We take the wheelbarrow.

6:20 - I finally call my mom to let her I know I made it. We don't find the yard sale, but do pick up a discarded IKEA bookcase and two milk crates. The microwave owner returns my call, and we return home to stash our finds and set out again. The bookcase completes its descent towards entropy, and I retain the shelf planks.

7:00 - We arrive at the home of our future microwave. The owner is really nice, and moving the next day to Boston. Excitedly, she also sells me an IKEA dresser. And then drives us home.

This is where I start to get sleepy and wuss out of gay clubbing. Sam goes for a run and I start unpacking. The list of "to acquire" blossoms. I develop eccentric ideas for the backyard, and begin to realize an extreme need to lighting.

So again, pictures forthcoming, but basically, it's amazing. We're on the second floor, have a windowed atrium, a high ceiling over the stairwell, and a mirrored end to our hallway. The effect makes the hallway look much longer, but having traversed it early this morning by the flashing light of the router, it's a little more Japanese horror movie than I anticipated. The kitchen is big enough, but is better equipped then most by a wide margin (thank you, Sam). The bathroom has a stained glass window but no mirror (yet), and the backyard will have ample space for a garden once we rip out all the weeds. And it came with a wheelbarrow. The whole place screams of possibilities.

It begs to be filled with street furniture and loved.

Additionally, we've given ourselves the deadline of July 19th for a housewarming party. So if it isn't perfect by then, we'll be publicly shamed (by at least Sam's friends). Motivation, indeed.

"Nunning it up."

2008-06-30T03:59:00.000-07:00

Did you know: Speck is a distinctively juniper-flavored prosciutto originally from the province of Bolzano-Bozen, but unlike regular prosciutto, speck is deboned before curing.

While Josh tried to break into the Vatican (they let us in peacefully a few minutes later), I busied myself taking pictures of nuns. Rome has more than a few. I made it into a creepy hobby for the day.

This nun was in a tour group. Just hanging out with the normal people, like it was no big deal, even if they were all probably thinking impure thoughts the entire time (come on, Caligula's house, seriously).

Part of my thesis project was documenting the horribly racist opinions of rural Georgians about public transit, such as "low values of those that use public transit." You know what, if it's good enough for nuns...

Speaking of scary-looking English teachers - my sixth grade English teacher Ms. Whisenhunt. One day she kept a few of us nerds after class, and it terrified us. Once the rest of the class was gone, she very sincerely asked us about the previous week's episode of the X-Files - the poor lady watched the only episode to ever garner a paternal advisory warning, all in an attempt to get to know us better since she heard us discussing the show outside of class.

Something tells me this scary-looking English teacher would have slapped me with a ruler for my indolence. Maybe it's the jumper.

I wonder what the official process is for seeing the pope when you're a nun. As a bride of Christ, you'd think they'd get better seats than the American tourists hanging around the gate playing Hannah Montana Uno.

"All we are is nuns in the wind" - Hannah

Hannah pointed out the irony of this picture - she probably doesn't get to wear dresses like that. Extra ironically - her shoes were fancier than mine.