On The Rocks

  Monday Bob D., John G. and I drove to Smith Rocks (central Oregon) for a day of climbing.  We don't get out to climb on real rock very often so the day was a pleasant outing.  We only did 3.4 climbs -- three climbs (Bob and John lead) and .4 that I lead and failed on.  On my lead, I climbed half-way up, got to the crux and couldn't go any further.  A strictly muscle move that found me wanting.                Although I enjoyed the day and the outing, as at Catherine Creek a couple of days ago, I was generally enervated, etiolated, weary and worn.  I tried to play the heart-trouble card but neither Bob nor John would carry my stuff so I labored away the day carrying 15 or 50 pounds of rope.  The weather was generally sunny and warm but tolerable until the last climb when it was just bloody hot. 
   When we got back to the car -- eager, I might say, for a burger and beer -- we were welcomed with a flat tire.  A totally unnecessary complication.  On went the absurd skinny spare and we drove to Redmond to get the tire fixed.  (driving 160 miles to Portland using the spare was out of the question).  With some luck we got to a tire store (Les Schwab) with 20 minutes to spare, got the tire fixed (it had a nail) then returned to Terrebone for dinner.  We ate at a new restaurant (don't remember the name) that replaced the late and lamented La Siesta -- La Siesta was a mediocre tex-mex place -- mediocre but a "historic" restaurant for Smith Rocks climbers:  An institution for 30 years or so. 
   Today, after wasting the morning, I took a walk along Lief Erickson drive.  The Drive is a packed gravel road, closed to cars, that runs for 12 miles through Forest Park.  It's a great place to walk -- after a quarter mile the sounds of traffic die away and the rest of the distance is quite like being in the country.   I walked for four miles and on the drive home, stopped at the grocery store for dinner stuff.

   Arriving home (dw reminded me that cell phones are only useful when they're turned on) I started refilling the fruit bowl when I saw a duck? (no) an erotic device? (no) it was a Nana Saver (patent pending probably) -- A new kitchen device dw saw and bought. Alright, it's a joke but it has definite potential for a variety of uses.
   (clip on your nose for a funny elephant skit.  clip in your hair for a funny jaundiced unicorn skit. ) And I'll bet you were thinking of other things.  Tsk, Tsk. 
   Books:  "The Quiet American" (Graham Green)  I read it thirty or forty years ago.  Still a good read and it was like deja vu all over again.  I would remember having read passages but wouldn't remember what came next.  DA 
  
  

How Does Our Garden Grow?

No silver bells or cockle shells

And but one pretty maid to hoe ---
   Our vege garden grows apace!  The snow peas are taking off, although they don't provide much shade to the (background) seating area.  Perhaps later -- and the jury is still out regarding the size of the upcoming harvest.  The corn (on the left) isn't going to make the "knee high by the Fourth of July" mantra -- unless you're measuring against a short ankle biter.  But we still have hopes.  Once, about thirty-five years ago, I also planted some corn in a small garden.  I harvested three or four ears, each with a dozen or so kernels.  Mother Nature has had it in for my garden adventures ever since (at the age of four) I gagged on some lima beans and pronounced them unfit for man or beast. 
   On the Internet I recently saw that Burger King is planning to bring out a SPAM BURGER.  They'll introduce it first in Japan and then, depending on the reception it gets, spread it around the world. 
I'm certainly not joking about the Japanese disaster -- the earthquake, tsunami, nuclear meltdown -- But haven't they suffered enough?  A Burger King Spam Burger? 
  ( dw and I, being occasional early adopters, have already had a Spam Burger.  We each had one at the actual font of all things Spam:   Austin, Minn.  --  And to tell the truth, it wasn't too bad, although I don't need to eat another one.)
   Books:  Just one.  "Memories of My Melancholy Whores" (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)  It's about a 90 year old who falls in love (for the first time) with a 14 year old virginal prostitute.  (They don't consummate)  --  This would be a good introduction for anyone who hasn't read Marquez (in my opinion one of the greatest of contemporary authors).  The magical realism only hovers in the background and the writing is easier than some of his works -- he uses more than one sentence in this book :-) --  And it's a short and quick read.  DA
   P.S. Earlier today I got, secondhand, a flattering review (from Teri G. -- a longtime friend of dw) of this blog.  More! More!

Catherine Creek Redux

   (see Saturday 5/21)  After my previous excursion at Catherine Creek, I felt a need to return and complete the hike to the top, envisioning a grassy hilltop with a view extending for miles in every direction.  As it turned out, the grassy hilltop led to another hilltop and then another and so on with no end in sight particularly since the last hilltop was covered with oak trees.

    Previously I had told Bob D.  about hiking the park and he said he would be interested in hiking there should I return, so yesterday morning I called him and we took off for the area.   An uneventful drive then the hike.  We covered 7+ miles and gained 1900 feet -- a good day's work for us.   And once again the hike was delightful. 

   We saw two deer-- a forked horn buck (in velvet) and a doe.  Two loggerhead shrikes (something of a guess and if a birder wants to say bullshit, well, they're probably right).  Lots of violets of some sort, some gentians and monkey flowers and lupines up the ying-yang.  A robin eggshell, a coyote track (fresh), deer tracks (old), horse, bear, and coyote shit as well as cow flop.  And early in the hike a whiff of skunk. 
   If the above description sounds like I was looking at the ground a lot, well, I was.  Comparing the hike to a race, by the time I came into view the audience would have left, had a beer and a bump and finished their burgers.  I was smoked -- Bob was a rocket  (not that I kept track)  But since I had kept the car keys I had nothing to worry about.  I was not strong and fast yesterday.  (I expected to be too stiff to move today, but I rode the bike to the gym and had a good workout -- very surprising).  In spite of how slow I was moving, it was a really nice day even if I forgot my hat and got a bit of a sunburn.
   (dw:  "You forgot your hat?!  How could you do that, you've got ten of them."  DA:  "Oh, I don't have ten hats" and went to the hat rack and counted them.  "I knew it.  I've only got seven hats."  dw:  "What about the study?"  -- So, OK, I have fifteen hats, not counting the knit ones and the fisherman ones. But only two or four would have been appropriate for this hike and so I only forgot one out of two and that's not careless at all.  Anyone might do that.)
   Driving home we passed a semi tanker-truck.  It had a big painted "Coffee" sign on the tanks.  It clearly indicated that the tanks were full of coffee.  -- really weird -- There have been occasions when I would have welcome a tanker full of coffee at my front door, but it just seems unlikely anyone would be shipping brewed coffee by the thousands of gallons.  A mystery wrapped in a conundrum.
   Books:  "Fifty Miles from Tomorrow" (William Hensley) an Alaskan Inupiaq who grew up in a tar-paper shack and became an early and strong advocate for native Alaskans in particular, and northern people in general.  The first part was interesting, the second part less so (to me).  Of course the second part is the important part.  And "What the Dog Saw" (Malcolm Gladwell) a collection of essays from the "New Yorker" -- Covering things from Ron Popeil (can sell space heaters in the Sahara) to FBI criminal profilers (about as useful and accurate as fortune tellers).  An interesting collection.  DA

Ennui, Ennui

    Due to the gout that started off the week, I did next to nothing with the last 168 hours.  I mowed the lawn, taking a two hour break half way through to let my knee settle down.  I practiced welding -- something I can do sitting down.  And I worked on a painting -- also sitting down.  The jury is still out on the painting.  I like the idea but the execution is iffy -- I'm trying something different (for me) -- painting and then over-painting with a semi-transparent layer.
    A nice thing about painting is that it's so easy to make the mistakes disappear.  And if it's really bad a pair of scissors or a sharp knife can make it gone forever.  (I've only done that a few times -- generally I know enough to stop before things get that bad). 
    Yesterday dw returned from Wisconsin.  She said the trip was uneventful except for a tour of the Epic business complex.  Epic writes assorted software for medical purposes (billing, charting, etc.) and dw is in the process of learning the system.  Learning computers isn't dw's favorite thing but she was impressed with the Epic campus.

    The Sultan Hookah Lounge sits on a triangular lot at the east "gateway" to St. Johns.  It's a curious location, with parking on site and easy street parking but nothing seems to last.  I don't remember what the first business was, but for several years it was a BBQ place -- quite good BBQ but they had weird hours -- closing at 4p.m. -- shutting out the last minute dinner crowd.  Then it was a coffee shop.  Also with odd hours.  And now it's a hookah lounge.  A hookah lounge and an oxygen bar.  The theory, I suppose, is that after inhaling a ton of flavored tobacco (as an ex-smoker I consider flavored tobacco to be a deep insult to one of the great -- if fatally flawed -- pleasures of life:  smoking)  -- you can then suck on some sort of scented oxygen and everything will be all better.  I'm guessing the enterprise is aimed at the now-wow-and-today crowd and not an aging geezer.

   My book for the week:  "Fifty Miles from Tomorrow" (Hensley) -- an autobiography.  The author started his life as a traditional Alaskan Inupiaq and became (among other things) a lobbyist for native America rights.  It's an interesting read.  DA

The Agony And The Ecstasy (not so much ecstasy)

   I wasn't going to blog again so soon, but what's the point of blogging if you're not going to use it to publicly whine.  My knee has erupted in a full-blown gout attack.  I can only bend it to 45 degrees, hurts to walk, etc.  I considered posting a picture but I decided that would be way too close (in every way) to Weinergate and if I ever run for office I wouldn't want a puffy knee (which close-up looks like Herbert Hoover) to come back and haunt me.  I've spent the day holding down the couch. 
   A few days ago I opened a Twitter account.  Several people promptly signed up to follow me, which was surprising and interesting.  I looked at their accounts and found they were really eager to sell me porn.  Sigh.  Today a friend signed on and I'm confident she's not a porn merchant.  I shouldn't have been surprised with the first followers -- such is life in the Internet world -- I banned the first group.  I find this on-line presence to be interesting and sort of time-consuming.  One of my nieces has said she is going to blog during her up-coming vacation (with her family).  I'm looking forward to that and will post a link (if I can't figure out how to do that I'll put in the address) 
   (The "follower"  on my twitter page, R.D., is co-owner of Broadway Books -- I'll put in a small plug -- a really nice independent book store)
   Finally, last week Josh A.  (fourth in line to be the titular Big Kahuna of this clan) stopped by and picked up a free 10-speed bike.  I acquired it from a friend who was clearing out a rental he owns.  Josh and I did a little work on it before he left -- it needs some more -- but the price was definitely right.  If it turns out to be unfixable, I'll take it back, cut it up and use it to make another water-powered sculptural piece.  And so it goes.  (in agony) DA
  P.S.  After several years, today I just noticed:  I have a "Genuine DESERT WASH" t-shirt.  I bought it in Coldfoot Alaska (100 miles N. of the Arctic Circle) as a momento.  "Desert Wash" -- north of the Arctic Circle in Alaska -- it doesn't easily compute. 

I'll Fly Away

   Or rather dw flew away for a week in Wisconsin.  A week of family and friends and way better weather than the Midwest had last week (90's and humidity = suicidal thoughts for dw).  So starting at 12:30 a.m. today I'm on my own for 168 hrs -- I plan to do pretty much what I did last week and the week before that:  A few visits to the gym, messing about in the garage, perhaps a hike and this being the season for grass explosions, mowing the lawn. 
   I've been practicing welding.  I finished cleaning the steel sculpture I've been working on -- it was all ready for painting but I decided to add a few pieces.  Rather than just slap them on and then clean up the sloppy welds (my usual practice) I'm upping my welding technique so the clean-up -- filing and grinding -- should go a lot quicker.  The practice piece is an 18 inch maquette that I might keep for future reference, or just as likely, toss  into the re-cycle bin. 
   A moment of green smugness:  Last Monday was garbage collection day.  We had less than one 35 gallon can for the month.  We are so good. 
   "Travels In Siberia" (Ian Frazier) is my book of the week.  It's quite a good read,  history and a chronicle of his  travels across Russia.  A tidbit:  apparently Rasputin smelled like a goat.  That might explain his adult behavior.  Think of his poor mother who might have done her best, but imagine trying to sing a lullaby to a baby named Rasputin who smells like a goat.   Last week I didn't make it all the way through Beckett.  I read those books 35 or 40 years ago but in some ways my tastes have changed and today I'm just not interested enough in his style to read three (short) novels in a row.  So it goes.  DA  

  

Spring Has Sprung

   Or at least we're pretending it has.  We put the ceiling fans on the summer setting, took down the storm windows from the two garden windows and put away the two draft-blocking door snakes.  Just a couple of days ago I was wearing my hoodie and waiting out a hail storm.  We're probably optimistic but so it goes. 
   I noted that Disney dropped it's attempt to copyright "seal team 6".  While we decided to stay away from current events in this blog, I must say I'm disappointed with Disney.  I was looking forward to:  "Seal Team 6!!! -- The Movie".   With a raccoon, tiger cub and obese panda singing Kabumba Ciabatta, and dancing through a desert on their way to rescue a nubile (but virginal!!) young girl, trapped in the clutches of a bearded beturbaned villain.    At the last moment a group of seals (Navy Seals -- get it?) would flop in -- honking horns and balancing balls on their noses -- and with the help of a squeaking rodent -- rescue the maiden.  Disney fails it's audience.
   I'm reading "Bobby Fischer Goes To War" (Edmonds and Eidinow) -- a very interesting book except this copy (from the library) has been heavily marked up with a yellow hi-lite pen.  I'm skipping about half of the book since I can't stand to read the marked parts.  I'd like to find the person who did it and give him the book.  Put it where the moon don't shine.  I have "Molloy, Malone Dies, and The Unnamable"  (all three by Beckett) waiting in the wings. 
   Finally, we watched "Trailer Park Boys", a CBC sit-com that is, in it's own way, a profoundly weird show.  And "Schultze Gets The Blues" a different but entertaining German film about an accordion player.  DA
   P.S.  dw just asked me what "seal team 6" referred to.  It's the name of the group that took out Osama bin Laden.  With typical taste, Disney wanted the exclusive right to market "team 6" burgers and bobble-head dolls.  DA