The Case Of The Levitating Coyote

Rather than arouse unrealistic expectations, I will admit upfront that I don't actually solve The Case Of The Levitating Coyote.

   A few blogs ago I mentioned that I had started training to ride the STP. -- The Seattle To Portland bike ride. I recently  told a friend at the rock gym, who is six weeks into rehab for a new knee, and who is a younger and fitter (than I am) bicyclist, of my plan to ride the STP. Opining that even with the interruption caused by my upcoming knee surgery I would still have enough time to train for the ride. He didn't even bother to try and conceal his snicker. Telling me, in effect, that while it is possible that pigs will develop wings and fly, the laws of evolution pretty much guarantee that it won't happen in the next five months.
   But I have been repeatedly told by my surgeon, his PA, and not least, by my spousal unit -- dw -- that the stronger and fitter my legs are pre-surgery the quicker and better the re-hab will go.
   (Completely as an aside, the uncapitalized "dw" for dw is her choice. She said that's how she always initials things.)
   Back to the bike riding:  So I have been riding with increasing frequency and distance. Most of my non-errand rides start on the same bike path. It circles around the sewage treatment plant (which generally doesn't smell -- much -- but occasionally could stun a buzzard) and after three miles I choose a long or a short ride. The short ride totals about 10 miles, and the longer one as much as 80. In each case, aside from crossing some streets, I share the way with cars or trucks for only about two miles.

For most of the short ride and the start of the long ride, the bike path is bordered by art installations. This carved limestone clam shell is one of them. There are also similarly sized stone flower buds, snails, dinosaur skulls an American Indian canoe (also stone -- it probably doesn't float) and so on.  The items have a vague connection to the specific area and they make for an entertaining ride. There is also a series of peeled and partially de-limbed trees 15 to 20 feet high set along the path. Some have stylized masks and others pod-like bird houses stuck in the limbs. I wouldn't call any of it significant art but it all provides a distraction from a bicycle-sore ass.

 

And the levitating coyote is in a fenced field that's part of the sewage treatment plant. Perhaps it was put there to discourage geese from hanging around the field  (My solution to the Mystery of the Levitating Coyote) but if that's the case it didn't work. The field is festooned with goose poop. And besides the coyote doesn't look scary, it looks like someone just kicked it in the butt. I concede it's doing its' best, but when you've got no legs and you're levitating -- you're just not very scary -- even to a goose.   DA

Wheels Are In Motion

   A quick note about Valentines Day: this is a picture of  two treats for dw and I from Pix -- a patisserie with pastries to die for. These two hearts (chocolate mousse with ganache, and strawberry mousse in a paper thin cookie shell) are two of their plainer creations. They tasted at least as good as they look.
   (Pix has a lunch menu which is good if not exceptional, and a good array of beers and wines. Notable: a float with chocolate beer and ice cream and a favorite of mine, espresso with a shot of grappa -- both much better than they might sound -- sidebar: vanilla ice cream splashed with a good balsamic vinegar is oddly tasty) (alas, I don't expect Pix will comp me with anything in return for this plug)

   The Valentine tree has been taken down, and dw -- still full of ideas for the unfinished sculpture -- redecorated it as a Spring Tree. (with today's weather, dw is being wildly optimistic) I did point out that, while there's no real hurry, I do want the tree back at some point so I can finish it. "All in good time." she said.

   And the wheels are in motion for my knee replacement. Three weeks ago I put on my leg brace, got out my crutches to go for a walk and decided I was totally sick of it. Sick of the discomfort and the fuss and bother every time I want to move, and the occasional knee collapse where I careen around like a drunken sailor. I went to see the surgeon and: surgery scheduled -- done / pre-op physical, asap -- done / pre-op bill -- done / pre-op surgical nurse to explain the horrors of it all -- scheduled / pre-op hospital visit for blood-work, and to make sure I can cover the co-pay and some money right now would be great -- scheduled.  I have the feeling that it's a slow season so everything moves very quickly. The surgery is slated for the middle of March so I should be recovered by summer.  I'm not looking forward to the process. I had a knee operation many years ago and still recall some unpleasant days but I think the end result will be worth it.

   Books: The Invention of Air (Steven Johnson) A biography of J.B. Priestley and the Age of Enlightenment with side trips into B. Franklin, T. Jefferson, J. Adams and etc. The book doesn't specifically address the subject, but I find it interesting that contemporary politicians who preach a return to the "founding principles of this country" are the same ones who sneer at science and education, history and philosophy.  And our "founding fathers" were exemplars of science, education, history and philosophy.  Burden of Desire (Robert MacNeil) A surprisingly lusty novel about Halifax by a respected journalist turned novelist. During WWI an ammunition ship blew up in the Halifax harbor. It was, and still is, the largest non-nuclear man-made explosion ever. MacNeil uses the explosion as a base for this entertaining pot-boiler / coming-of-age novel. The coming-of-age refers to  the characters and to Canada itself.  (and how is that for a book cover blurb?) DA

Old Weird Ben

The other day I went on a 21 mile bike ride (I may, or may not, be training to ride the Seattle to Portland Bike Ride -- 100+ miles two days in a row) During the ride I passed through a neighborhood I seldom go to and rode by the once-upon-a-time house of Old Weird Ben (OWB). Ben was my age or perhaps a year or two younger, but "old weird" was a perfect nickname for him.

   He was a friend of sorts, although much of my interest was similar to watching a top as it's spin slows and it starts to wobble. The fascination of wondering when, exactly, it will topple over, jerk around and  fall off the table. During one of our regular sessions of speed chess -- we'd play several games until Ben got too frustrated, then I'd let him win one, he'd gloat,  and we would stop. -- But during that session he told me of a time when he was pulled over by the police in Idaho and he happened to be carrying fifteen tabs of acid (he wasn't a dealer -- they were for his own use). The 60's was a very bad time to be arrested for drug possession in Idaho, so he swallowed all fifteen tabs. "I've never been quite the same since." he said. I imagine that sticking your tongue in a light socket to perform  do-it-yourself electro-shock therapy would produce a similar effect.
    I'm not a very good chess player, and my string of wins came, I imagine, because he couldn't always tell the difference between a pawn and a bishop or the king and queen. He hadn't let the Idaho incident change anything -- he was still a regular, enthusiastic user* and my interest in him was kind of morbid.

    Nearly every time I visited he would come up with something new. Once he told me he made a canoe by folding a sheet of corrugated aluminum, wiring the ends together, smearing on some tar and putting in a spacer. The paddle was a board nailed to a broom handle. He got the mess to the middle of the river before it collapsed and sank. OWB couldn't swim but he had carried a cooler for the beer and he was able to hold on and make his way to shore (he sadly shook his head: "I lost all the beer." -- he wasn't joking)

   (I have to give Ben his due: In the time I knew him, he wasn't a layabout. He always had a job. How he managed to get and keep a job was another of the mysteries surrounding him -- along with why he was still alive)
   

   OWB's piece de resistance also involved the river and a boat. He decided he needed to sail around the world, so he bought a derelict life boat and a derelict Airstream Trailer. He put the one on the other -- cut down an alder tree, trimmed and peeled it for a mast,  bolted them together and -- Presto -- an inexpensive ocean-going yacht. While he was cleaning and putting the finishing touches on his boat (I don't remember if he had named it) he had moved from his house and was living on the boat.
   (Another unexpected attribute: he was always neat and clean)
   On the particular day that marked the end of our acquaintance he was trying to sleep in. (I heard about this from a neighboring "yachtsman") But OWB's sleep was disturbed by an on-going river dredging operation, so he borrowed a row-boat, rowed out to the dredge, clambered on board and politely asked them to stop dredging. The dredge crew picked him up and threw him in the river.
   OWB returned to his yacht, collected a few sticks of dynamite he had laying around, rowed back to the dredge, and started lighting and throwing the dynamite at the dredge -- I don't believe Ben intended to injure anyone, he just wanted some quiet time. -- something we can all sympathize with.
In short order, the river patrol reeled him in and he got an extended period of quiet time. He was eventually released but the dynamite thing was a little too amusing and I never contacted him again.

*I didn't share his drug affections. My drugs of choice were -- and are -- in order: (1) Caffeine -- although I no longer measure my consumption in quarts per day -- (2) Nicotine -- I quit 10+ years ago but would happily start again -- and (3) alcohol -- infrequent nowadays.  DA

Books: Parisians (Graham Robb) "A creative montage of how history, individuals, and geography intersected at key moments in Paris" -- a fair description. Also a "stylish and stylized tale" -- a bit too stylish and stylized writing-wise for my taste but I did finish it. And The Nothing That Is -- a natural history of zero (Robert Kaplan) The title and sub-title pretty well describe the book. Of interest: Unlike many math historians, Robb maintains that the concept and symbol of zero came from Greece rather than India. I fear that my skill at Sanskrit and Attic Greek (let along linear B) is too limited to weigh in on the subject.  DA
  

  

Hood River

   This photo is completely irrelevant. I just find it curious that such a thing is available. dw saw a package of them in a craft store, and while she usually doesn't clutter her life with stuff like this, found them irresistible. (she actually used a few of them to make the Valentine's Tree -- last blog)

  Last week dw took a mini working vacation. She took all the tax stuff, financial files and a shredder to Hood River -- got a motel room and organized and shredded. I stayed behind, puttered around, took phone messages: Lora T. (a long-time friend with an acerbic sense of humor -- after I told her that dw was away for a few days): "Well, she finally got sick of you, did she?"  I protested that such a thing was utterly impossible. Lora said: "I just tell it like it is."
   And another message from someone who was a fast talker. Now I do have a bit of a western drawl and my speech is a medium tempo but it was way too slow for this caller. She said something about an email and hung up. "Easy, there gal" I thought "Time to rein in yur hoss there." -- I had been reading The Virginian  -- 
   After dw had been in Hood River for a couple of days I joined her for one night. She had a view room at The Vagabond, a nice locally-owned motel. There were only a few sail/kite boarders out (probably too cold) and only one barge passed but we did have two golden eagles and two bald eagles coming and going between us and the river. It was very nice with clear sunny weather. At one point we drove to the upper part of town where there was a splendid view of both Mt Hood and Mt Adams (sorry, I didn't have my camera). Saturday, before coming home, we crossed the river to White Salmon and wandered in and out of a couple of galleries and a junque store. A pleasant little outing.

   After our trip to Wisconsin I took another step towards joining the 21st century and bought an ereader (a Nook). I took four books to Wisconsin and after stopping at a couple of book stores, came back with seven. The Nook should really lighten my load when we travel, but it will only ever be a supplement to my library. I really like books. Today dw and I went to the library for a tutorial on using the thing and afterwards scheduled another tutorial for next week. Much to her surprise, dw has decided she likes the reader (like me, as a traveling tool) and will probably get one of her own. 

Books: The Virginian (Owen Wister) it's really sort of boring, but it is the source of the famous western line: "When you call me that, SMILE." -- Talking About Detective Fiction (P.D. James) No revelations, but she discusses some of her favorite authors and writes about the craft of crime novels. Interesting reading from one of the few crime writers that I really enjoy. -- An Architectural Guidebook To Portland (Bart King) I don't know enough about the subject to critique his critiques, but I like the book and plan on buying a copy (The one I read is from the library) -- Blood River (Tim Butcher) The author re-traced H. M. Stanley's trek across Africa and down the Congo River. The country is in a state of violent anarchy. It seems to be in a worse state than it was under the vile rule of Belgium. -- and Decided On The Battlefield: Grant, Sherman, Lincoln and the election of 1864 (David Alan Johnson) Briefly: if Grant and Sherman hadn't won the 1864 battles that they did, Lincoln might not have been re-elected. It's well written if not revelatory. (Johnson does hint at the perception of Grant as a mediocre general -- Grant's record actually shows that he was, by far, the best general in the war -- Much better than Lee, for example) If anyone reads the book, I would suggest skipping the fatuous epilogue where Johnson prattles on about what could have happened had Lincoln not been re-elected)

   And I finally started arranging and editing the photos I took when we drove to Vermont and Quebec two years ago. It's a problem with digital cameras -- it's really easy to take hundreds or thousands of photos but then they need to be sorted and purged. Anyway, here's one I like:  It's the tip of the Gaspe' Peninsula. DA
  
  

Valentine's Day Approaches

 We don't ordinarily do much for Valentines day. I'll get dw some flowers, a card and a small selection of good chocolate (which I get a share of), and occasionally we'll go out for dinner. And that's about it. But this year, the Christmas Tree skeleton was still in place, so dw took advantage of it and did a Valentines Day decorative installation. -- A first for this house (as best as I can recall) and there's a good chance it'll be the last -- for the present though, it's a festive bit of color in the living room.

   When the piece returns to the studio it will have been setting in the house for over two months -- it has worked out very nicely -- I've been looking at daily for all that time and I've figured out what I don't like about it and how I can fix it. When I get it finished, I'll post a photo of it.

  

Last week dw had another of her regular classes/tests for a particular job certification (she's a CCRN)* 

She spent the week studying, fretting about studying, worrying about failure, worrying about being embarrassed with failure and etc. I pointed out that this test seemed similar to all of the previous tests and that so far disaster had not struck and wasn't likely to this time.  "But it might. It could." she said -- mostly joking. I'm glad I don't have to do that, either the studying or the tests.

Lately I've had a mild case of the punies so I've done little and accomplished less.

Books: Tangled Webs (James B Stewart) A book about perjury (Martha Stewart, Scooter Libby, Barry Bonds and Bernard Madoff) There were no great surprises -- all four lied repeatedly and under oath. Although R. Armitage, and K Rove were the ones who actually outed a covert C.I.A. agent (in fact treason, although too difficult to prove and prosecute "I didn't know she was a secret agent.") Libby was the only convicted because he was the only who repeatedly lied -- Probably to protect V.P. Cheney -- As I said, no real surprises. -- And Memoirs (Kinsley Amis) it's as much a "Famous people I have known" book as it is a book about Amis himself. He's sometimes a bit smug for my taste and I don't always agree with his literary criticisms but in all it's consistently entertaining and (of course) well written.   DA

   *dw tells me she's not actually a CCRN -- which is a specific designation -- "You can write out: 'She's a Critical Care RN', or just put in: 'She's a Hot Nurse!' "  -- works for me. DA

P.S. When I put a photo in the blog, the program starts doing odd things to the spacing and margins. If I ever figure out how to fix it, the weird sentence and paragraph breaks should improve. DA

Duck!

  A couple of days ago, during a walk, I saw three bald eagles in a tree by the river below the University of Portland bluff. I think they were dad, mom, and teen aged kid, and I was surprised to see them in such an urban setting. -- Very impressive birds. The sight of them reminded me of how the U.S. came to have the bald eagle as our national bird:

   (At this point I  launched into a story about Ben Franklin -- in honor of his birthday -- an eagle, a turkey and a duck. After dw read it, I asked: "Is that as sophomoric as I think it is?" dw took a delicate pause and said: "Yes." -- So I saved myself some embarrassment and erased the  story.) 

   I haven't thought of anything to replace the story, so I'll just leave in the ink and crayon sketches of the eagle and the duck. (Sorry, no turkey)
   



  

  

Books: Grants Final Victory (Charles B. Flood) About the last two years of U.S. Grants life when he was dieing of cancer and struggling to finish writing his memoirs. It's an excellent book and it reminded me of the memoirs themselves -- One of the best memoirs ever written by anyone, I'd strongly recommend them;  Dickens (Peter Ackroyd) This book has a modest word count and few biographical surprises but it's heavily illustrated and well written. I always enjoy seeing pictures of people and places mentioned in a non-fiction book and this one delivers;   Rats (Robert Sullivan) a natural history of rats with no great surprises but well written and consistently interesting;  and Pushkin's Button (Serena Vitale) Which is about the duel that killed Alexander Pushkin -- not as interesting as I'd hoped -- I'm half done with it and I just might be all done with it.  DA
  

Home Again

   "There's nothing half so pleasant as returning home again." (M. E. Sangster) -- except starting out in the first place. In any case, we're back in Portland after our family visit to Wisconsin. It was a nice visit, and was the first time in over twenty years all of dw's immediate family has been together for a holiday. The weather was unusually benevolent: a couple of nights the temperature fell to 5 degrees F, but except for a couple of days in the twenty's, daytime temperatures were usually above freezing and one day saw a record high of 51 degrees. Some fog, two days of light snow (less than an inch) and mostly sunny days were a welcome change from Portland's grey drizzle. 

   We went to Milwaukee twice, once with John and Jan (dw's bro and his wife) to see the zoo -- It was nice enough -- a good monkey/ape exhibit and an exceptional aviary -- but we didn't have enough time to shiver through dw's bete noire, the snake and reptile house.

   The second Milwaukee visit was to MAM -- Milwaukee Art Museum -- which I briefly wrote of on 9/21/2010. This time I have pictures: The pedestrian suspension bridge crosses five lanes of traffic, a fountain area and a wide two lane driveway. Rather than being anchored in the ground, the mast's base is a three foot trunnion, and while it doesn't, it probably could waggle back and forth like a car's windshield wiper.

The wings or sails open and close in the morning at noon and at night (depending on the weather).  After viewing an exhibit of works on paper (by a bunch of artists not commonly associated with drawing -- even the sketches showed the differences between great artists and the rest of us) -- After viewing the exhibit we were wandering around in the atrium when we noticed everyone was staring at the ceiling. -- We were oblivious so we didn't see the sails opening. 

dw teasing a Chihuly (the Liberace of glass blowers -- in my opinion -- as much showman as substance --) that's near the entrance. and dw not taking art too seriously (and isn't the building amazing? -- this hallway is part of what is essentially the entrance to the museum). And the collection itself is well worth a visit. Part of the collection is examples of Outsider Art -- pieces of art done by artists without formal training. Included is a series showing the Garden of Eden, The Temptation, and the fall -- carved by Edgar Tolson. This carving is Aden and Eve getting it on -- aka -- The Fall (dw denies any responsibility for this picture)

After the museum, we returned to Oconomowoc for one day before going on to Madison for the flight home.  At Madison we again stayed at Kay and Steve's (SO and brother) house.  Their house is a large normal 1951 ranch with hardwood floors and varnished maple woodwork. The interior is low-key moderne atomic style. It's a quietly beautiful house, with what might be a unique room in the basement: an honest to god chained and locked dungeon. Steve and Kay haven't told us what they use the dungeon for, but the possibilities are vast and Steve is a retired Postal Worker. He also has read Edgar Allen Poe.

Our last night there, Steve and Kay hosted an evening three mile run for a running group they belong to. dw and I waited at the finish line.  We didn't run because we didn't have our running shoes -- or it was too dark -- or it was too cold -- or it was several other good reasons, but we didn't run. While we waited dw decided to sprint across the finish line so I could practice taking pictures, but the sprint ended in a tumble.  (I assure everyone, dw was quite sober). Her injuries were minor but a large goose-egg on her knee was painful. But the photo is amusing -- I can use it for many occasions:  dw sleeping it off -- dw, street person napping -- dw 0, gravity 1 -- dw, listening for approaching buffalo herds -- dw, listening for an approaching train, but missing the actual track. And so it goes DA