The Hiatus Is Over (At Least For Now)

Last Saturday's "Pearls Before Swine" comic strip:

    Rat: "Hey Goat ... I was reading your blog at home today, but I got distracted." 

    Goat: "Yeah, that can happen with even the most compelling writing ... What distracted you? A phone call? Person at the door? TV show?"

    Rat: "A beige wall."

I'm not taking it personally.

   A few weeks ago, in a  modest celebration of dw's birthday, we took an overnight trip up the Columbia Gorge.  We drove to Goldendale for lunch at the Glass Onion, which is a surprisingly good restaurant -- for such an out of the way place.  I had a grilled chicken breast sandwich -- on focaccia with a black olive tapenade and goat cheese -- really excellent. And dw had a tilapia with caponata dish -- also excellent. For dessert I had a piece of apple pie and dw had chocolate cake with a berry sauce. The deserts were good but not up to the standard of the meal.

   After eating, we drove back roads west of Goldendale to find the end of a rail-to-trail bike ride we have been thinking about doing. After finding it we have reconsidered the ride. The trail is 35 miles long (packed gravel) and it ends 15 miles from Goldendale. We had considered riding it from Lyle to Goldendale, spending the night and then riding back to Lyle but neither one of us is in good enough shape to ride, back to back, two 50 mile days, particularly on gravel. We might do a two car relay and ride it one way.

   After that, we returned to The Dalles where we spent the night. The next day we returned to the Washington side and took a short hike at The Dalles Ranch State Park (An old working farm/ranch that was deeded to the state and turned into a park -- Farm house, barn, out-buildings, assorted horse or tractor powered farm machinery scattered around)

One site was very happy with California Poppys.
  
   Further east, we stopped at Wishram to look at a locomotive that is sitting there. (I didn't get a decent picture) The thing is HUGE. (If there's a steam engine fan reading this, it's a Baldwin 4-8-2 P-2 Mountain class.) The engine, plus tender (which is designed so it looks like one unit) is 90 feet long and 17 or 18 feet tall. The eight driver wheels are each over 6 feet in diameter. A modern diesel might be more powerful, I wouldn't know, but the Baldwin looks like the sumo wrestler of train engines. Strictly by appearance that big boy could kick sand in the face of any modern diesel around. (It also weights 260,000 pounds)
   After staring slack-jawed at the behemoth we stopped at the local tavern (The Pastime) for a burger and a beer. The burger was good and since we were sitting at the bar with the locals, we had a Bud so we would fit in. The Bud was a Bud. The Pastime has a bar cat who sleeps on it's own bar stool. With any provocation the cat will walk the length of the bar -- lap to lap -- stopping wherever it gets the most attention. When everyone shoos it away it returns to it's stool and goes back to sleep. The tavern has all the classic small town elements: A pull tab game (not for gambling purposes) Seemingly designated stools -- Local elementary school booster stuff -- Classic tavern signs:  Our credit manager is Helen Waite. If you want credit, go to Helen Waite. and: If you need credit, you don't need a drink, you need a job. We loved it -- and the burger really was good (the fries, not so much)

   After that we stopped at Maryhill, looked at the new addition and wandered around the grounds.
  
      Back at The Dalles we found that you can't get a flat tire fixed on Sunday afternoon. I finally got a can of fix-a-flat which was good enough for the rest of the day.

     Another night at The Dalles and then we came home via Dufur and a back road that led to Hood River. We got an ice cream cone at the Dufur ice-cream emporium and listened to the young woman complain about how dead Dufur is and The Dalles isn't much better. Which seemed to fit with what we'd seen, and finally we stopped at the Dufur Grocery Store. It's an amazingly well stocked grocery / deli with really cool ceiling fans.

   The nearest (top of photo) thing is the electric motor, and all of the fans are belt driven. The store has three banks of fans. After a good Thai lunch in Hood River, we came home. The mountains were in splendid view all weekend (Mts. Adams and Rainier)

   Books: I've read a bunch, but I'll just mention a couple:  Packing For Mars (Mary Roach) Which is basically about the nitty-gritty of long and short term space travel. Pee, poop, no bathing or change of underwear -- things get pretty foul. Anyway, a really entertaining book.
   Just My Type (Simon Garfield) -- "a book about fonts" -- about the history and design of various type styles. A lot more entertaining and interesting than might be imagined.

   And finally, in response to the beige wall -- a new blog feature: odd words. These will be words I come across in various places and which I never use and can't imagine anyone else using either.
  
 For starters, I'll just quote from Packing For Mars:  SCURF --- "A.k.a., shed skin. Dorland's Medical Dictionary defines scurf as 'a branny substance of epidermic origin' --- an evocative pairing of dander and breakfast cereal. Try new Kellogg's Dandruff Flakes!"

 And NAUFRAGOUS --- causing shipwreck -- If the Baldwin P-2 Mountain class locomotive is ever found floating unhelmed in the Pacific, it would potentially be:  nafragous.
   And so it goes. DJA
   

Local Color

   Today I rode the bike to the rock gym and back -- fifteen miles round trip. My knee surgeon and the physical therapists have all warned me about over-doing it while I'm recovering from the new knee surgery. But what's the fun in that? By Wednesday I hope to be able to move again.
   However I was reminded of the pleasures of bike riding: In addition to the wonderful aromas wafting about the Williams Avenue restaurant row, today one of the cafes had a quartet (piano, bass, drums and sax) entertaining their breakfast / brunch crowd with some jazz /swing music. I stopped for awhile to listen.

   Later I saw a very odd tandem bike -- the riders were back to back -- a pushmi-pullyu / Janus arrangement. It seems to me that it would be unpleasant for the person moving backwards and I couldn't see any advantage to the arrangement (the bike was nearly as long as an ordinary tandem) It seems like a pointless curiosity.

   Further along on the ride home, I saw this event. It was a neighborhood event, like a block party only they were painting the intersection. A lady involved in the project told me it was part of a week-long event that would see several intersections painted. There's a non-profit organization -- started in Portland -- that helps neighborhoods paint intersections as well as build various sorts of "earth buildings" and establish neighborhood gardens (vbc.cityrepair.org)

   Oddities:  This creation was at a bike shop. I think the rider stands on the pedals and uses the curved silver bar as handlebars. The convoluted pipe bendings seem to have an aesthetic aim. Note the red tail light and the skate-board rear wheels. I didn't see it ridden. The arrangement seems impractical for a cross-country bike tour.

   And the fellow below was sitting on a curb eating a sandwich, drinking his Pepsi and feeding his parrot. It was curious. They were clearly BFF's -- The guy was talking to the parrot and the parrot was chirping, chattering and squawking back in a very conversational manner. The guy was complaining to the bird that it had shat on his shoulder. The bird didn't care but was willing to talk about it. After a bit the guy said: "Let's go." and with a lot of chatter, the parrot walked up to his shoulder (and probably shat again).  And the guy picked up his stuff and left.
   

Bicycling is much more interesting than driving a car, and in a few more weeks I trust a couple of miles on the bike won't be such an epic struggle. DA

Leaving On A Jet Plane

   Ordinarily boarding an airplane is an unexceptional event. I get in line, shuffle along with everyone else, wait with everyone while those ahead try to stuff their steamer trunk into the overhead bin, accept whoever my seat mates are (sometimes with dread) and settle in for a few hours of unpleasantness.  My last few flights, however, have been post knee surgery and as I have been somewhat gimpy and slow I've taken advantage of early boarding. This has made boarding a different experience. I go down the aisle without the crowding and rush, put my bag in the bin, and sit down to enjoy (temporarily) the expanse of vacant seats. And once seated we early boarders assess the rest of the passengers as they come in -- rating them as suitable seat mates.
   It's a complex area of hope and dread. Not to offend anyone, but I certainly don't want to sit next to someone fat. I'm not a small person myself, but I do fit in an airline seat. I fit, but there's no room left over for another person to share -- so when a corn-fed beef comes down the aisle there's  a time of fear and dread followed with a nearly audible sigh of relief when they pass by. A woman on the small size (such as dw) is ideal. Too young and they might be a gum popper who would need to be dealt with but normally a small woman is perfect -- better than a small man since the woman is less likely to have B.O. If I happen to be in the mood for conversation (rarely -- I usually read) an older man or woman is better since they're more likely to have interesting things to talk about.

   (The exception proves the rule. On a train ride to San Francisco a couple of years ago my seat mate was a 20-something man. Due to two accidents (vehicles on the track -- what the hell is wrong with people that they can't see a damn railroad train coming) the journey took many hours more than I had planned so I ran out of reading material. The young man, it turned out, was a WWII reenactor - something new for me. I knew of Revolutionary War reenactors: Usually on the East Coast where a bunch of (mostly) men don their spiffy red and blue and white uniforms with their tri-corner hats and then march around shooting blanks with their flintlocks. Afterwards they drink corn liquor and lie and sneer at the farbs*.
   And Civil War reenactors -- they're all over the country, even here in Oregon where the nearest Civil War Battle was 2000 miles away. The Civil War reenactors march around in their drab blue and grey uniforms with ill-fitting shoes (there wasn't a distinction between left and right feet, shoe wise) shoot blanks with their percussion rifles, then they drink whiskey or moonshine and lie and sneer at the farbs.
   I've never heard of WWI reenactors. I guess they'd have to dig two facing ditches and fill them with water so they'd be muddy. Then they could crouch in the ditches and each side would take a turn jumping out of the ditch, running to the mid-point and then everybody would fall down and pretend to be dead. To be authentic they'd have to take turns for several days. Then they could drink red wine or schnapps and lie and sneer at the farbs.
   The WWII guys though. They had the guns and the machine guns. The jeeps and the howitzers and they even had REAL TANKS. I could get into that. Charging around in a jeep (or much better) a tank without worrying about bombs or cannons. It would be even better than driving a Cat where I just pushed around a pile of dirt (though that was pretty great). Then everyone would drink beer or red-wine or schnapps and lie and sneer at the farbs. )

   And the young man didn't even stink, so seat-mate assessment is an inexact science. On the last flight from Wisconsin though my luck ran out. I rolled snake-eyes. I drew to an inside straight and missed. I put in my last dollar and the slot machine came up lemons.
   My seat mates were a couple: I'll call them Ken and Kollie. The plane was  medium sized with five seats per row: ABCDE. Seat A was filled with Dollie, a friend of Kollie. B was a woman a few years older than I. She was nicely dressed and looked as if she belonged to a book club and enjoyed an occasional glass of sherry in the evening. During the flight we would exchange glances and figuratively pat each other's hand and murmur "There, there. This too shall pass."
   Then the aisle. C was me. D was Ken and E was Kollie.  (here I must stress: NONE of the following is an exaggeration)
   Ken and Kollie were among the last few to board so there was a fair amount of fussing finding space in the overhead bins and stuffing packs under the seat. No sooner were they seated when Kollie sprang up and shouted: "Fuck, it's Dollie! Hi Dollie!" Ken murmured something and Kollie (with an outside voice -- her normal volume) said "F--- You. You're always tellin' me what to do." Then Kollie got out her cell phone: "It's my f----- sister. I'm not going to hang up, asshole." And then the steward came by and told her to turn off her phone. Ken murmured something. "F--- you a--h---" and she punched him.
   (At this point I should mention that Ken seemed to be a decent sort. He was clearly a laborer and pretty big -- bigger and sturdier than I am -- and throughout the flight he tried to keep a lid on Kollie. Kollie was 5 feet or so, over weight with a very modest bust line and straggly hair )
   Then Kollie draped her legs over Ken's leg. "F--- you. I can put my F------ seat belt on." and she punched him (Pow! right in the kisser!) Then she grabbed his hair and pulled him in for some mouth to mouth tongue action. They both sat back, then she reached over and fondled his crotch. Then she punched him again. Then she frantically waved at Dollie who frantically waved back. "Hi, Dollie." "F--- you, a--h---. Dollie's my friend." (Pow! right in the kisser!) And she grabbed Ken's hand and rubbed it against her boob -- moaning with faux sexual excitement and (Pow! right in the kisser!) and grabbed his crotch again. Ken murmured something. "F--- you. I want something to drink. When do we f------ get something to drink?-- ( she ended up with four airline bottles) And it went on and on, without letup, throughout the flight.
   I considered speaking up but decided it would doubtless escalate the situation. And besides, while Ken seemed to be a decent sort he might take offence at a stranger telling his wife to shut up and he could have easily pounded me flat. I asked the steward if there was a seat I could move to. There wasn't. I had a credit card, could I upgrade to first class. It was full.
   I tried meditating -- didn't work. Considered getting drunk -- no way would I pay $7 for a tiny airline whiskey drink. Read the airline stuff-for-sale catalogue with (Pow! right in the kisser!) and moaning and crotch grabbing in the background.
    Eventually the flight ended.
   Leaving the terminal I saw Dollie leaving -- she was supported by a man and woman as she was too drunk to walk without assistance. I saw Kollie leaving -- marching out like a hog going to war (as my father used to say) followed -- with seeming reluctance -- by her husband Ken. And my ride (Bob D.), picked me up and drove me home. Earning my eternal gratitude because the ride (Bob is civilized) ended my journey in the twilight zone.    DA

   * Farb: a reenactor who is insufficiently authentic.

In Memoriam

                                                   Robert (Bob) Wessel  1928-April 21, 2012

   He was a good man, and he will be missed. Requiescat in pace.        DA

Whan That Aprill, With His Shoures Soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour --

   So March wasn't what many people would call dry, what with a near record for rainfall -- more than double the normal average. And this April has had more sweet showers than the flowers really need, but Spring is a great season in the Pacific NW.  When else can you mow your lawn because it needs it, and have the lawn covered with snow the next day? Crocus come up and get hammered by hail. Fruit trees bloom and new leaves sprout -- so green they seem to glow. Until a wind storm comes through, blows a few trees over and wipes out a few cars. 70 degrees and sunshine one day, 38 degrees and rain the next. Spring weather is exciting.

   Exciting in pointed contrast with my life. I'm still in recovery from the knee replacement. The physical therapy and the surgery itself hasn't been nearly as painful as I expected. It's been pretty easy and according to the therapist my recovery is going exceptionally well. Still, I'm largely house-bound. I can walk only a couple of blocks, driving is really iffy and the bicycle is out of the question. So here I sit. I could re-arrange things to accommodate my lack of mobility, but I should be largely functional in just a few more weeks, so it doesn't seem worth while. Besides, this way I can indulge in a small bit of self-pity whining.

   The pony is a curious story. One of our neighbors is, lets be honest, a low-rent sort of family   -- details aren't necessary, but they have five vehicles (two drivers) and they're filling their back yard with tarped piles of stuff. Including the pony -- which isn't tarped, but lives in a small horse trailer that helps fill their back yard. I don't know why they have the pony, they don't seem to do anything with it. They don't have a pony cart and their children don't ride it. They don't seem to pay much attention to it at all. It seems healthy and apparently does what ponys do -- eat and poop -- but I'll probably report them to the ASPCA -- the poor animal gets no attention and spends most of it's time alone in the trailer. I can't imagine that's good for it's mental health.

Books: I've had a good run of books lately. Sex At Dawn (C. Ryan and C. Jetha) -- "the Prehistoric origins of modern sexuality"  The authors explore the origins and nature of human sexuality, rejecting both the brutal chimpanzee social model and the group hug model of the bonobos (although the bonobos come closer to the probable human prehistorical model) The book is well written and entertaining.
   Isaac's Storm (Erik Larson) A chronicle of the 1900 hurricane that wiped out Galveston, Texas killing 6000 people in the process.  The book follows the storm largely through the history of the Weather Bureau meteorologist Isaac Cline -- it's well documented and well written, with a small personal connection: some of my immigrant ancestors entered the U.S. through Galveston and their records were lost during the hurricane.
   The Pirates Of Somalia (Jay Bahadur)  The author went to Somalia and interviewed pirates and government officials (often much the same people). A fascinating book I'd highly recommend for anyone interested in the region or subject. It has a lot of things I didn't know. Somalia looks like a chevron pointing east. The southwest part, Somalia, is where Al-Shabaab (Al-Qaeda) is most active.  The eastern point is Puntland and between Puntland and Somalia is Galmudug. The north arm of the chevron is Somaliland. Puntland, Galmudug and Somaliland consider themselves semi-autonomous regions of Somalia proper, and all three are heading towards declaring themselves independent countries.  In brief, it's more of a mess than I had imagined.
   Pearl Buck In China (Hilary Spurling) I haven't read Pearl Buck since high-school, but I might re-visit her after reading this book. P.B. had an amazing and difficult early life and this biography is really well done. This is another book I'd strongly recommend. I wasn't familiar with Spurling, but after reading this book I'll read her biography of Matisse.   DA

R.U.R.

(R.U.R. or Rossum's Universal Robots -- a 1920 play by the Czech playwright, Karel Capek. I read it in college but I don't remember it, good or bad. It did, however introduce the word "robot" into the English language)

   And if I'm not feeling robot-like (what with a new total of seven pieces of metal and plastic installed in my interior), I am beginning to resemble the $6,000,000 Man (It's not that bad, but thank god for insurance)  -- It's too bad there isn't some sort of  installable window for the knee -- I could put the kids with their  silly little "piercings" in their proper place.  Or I could emulate grandson Josh who got a ankle to knee tat that illustrates his broken-leg surgery.

   The recovery and rehab are proceeding with not much to say about them. It hasn't been as painful as I heard it would be (it's very tolerable -- I'm voting to award a Nobel prize to everyone who has invented an analgesic). I'm walking about -- with crutches for balance only -- and am getting flexibility back. The staples came out Wednesday, and the Doctor's PA said I'm making excellent progress -- It might even be good to slow down on the stretching so I don't rip open the incision.

  In other news, there isn't any. Very little of interest happens when your day consists of moving from the couch with leg propped up, to some exercises and back to the couch -- with ice this time.
 
  A special commendation for my private home-care nurse, dw, who has been doing a stellar job. It's really nice having your needs taken care of before you really need them.

Books:  Quantum Man (Lawrence M. Krauss)  a biography of Richard Feynman life in science. With clear explanations of electromagnetism and quantum mechanics. The author does an excellent job with his discussions of physics, and Feynman is an intriguing subject.
   Unfamiliar Fishes (Sarah Vowell) A brief history of Hawaii. Up to her usual form, Vowell is not a humor writer but she is frequently humorous. In this book, the missionaries weren't as bad as they could have been, the Yankee whalers, soldiers, businessmen, et al, were consistently foul.  But when you're part of Manifest Destiny it's to be expected and forgiven (or at least ignored)  DA
  

dw here, dja on the sofa

Good Sunday morning to everyone. As you may remember dja has had a knee replacement as of Monday March 19 and a stellar experience it's been. Being the GudWif I channeled all of his anxiety so that dja was the epitome of calm. Really, it was almost unnatural (from my perspective anyway) but not unexpected. In spite of being warned from a well meaning friend about post op grumpiness in The Man, I've not seen it except once when waking up and perhaps too many people saying "how are you?"

He is doing exceptionally well and pretty much self care. Twice a day he does the prescribed exercises and I help with the lifting parts and can tell he's improved with each day. So have I as it's been a long time since I've done an arm curl and more than once in the beginning we've slowed for me. Now he's pretty much on his own. This is much less trauma than I was expecting as so far (knock on wood) all is going routinely. There was the temp scare the first night when he hit 101 and we diligently called the doc to report (as instructed on the handout) who said "nah, not to worry until it hits 102-103, do the incentive spirometer and call me in the morning". No aspirin, though, he was already taking it. Dja topped out at 102.4 during the night and came down to 99 during the day. Reported that all was well to the drs. office. Deja-vu the next night as he went over 101 - guess he's just a hot-toddy at night. The night temp spikes have apparently stopped.  Sooooooo, the cell phone is readily available for safety and social interaction. Hmmmmm - works too as I just called him.

That's my update and I'm sticking to it. For those interested, dja has finished Bossy Pants by Tina Fey and found it okay, so-so, not stunning. I listened to half of the audiobook read by Tina Fey while in WI. and enjoyed hearing it, then didn't finish the book. Currently on the top of the pile is Quantum Man by Lawrence M. Krauss about Richard Feynman's life in science. (Can you hear me snoring? My current book is Detective Inspector Huss by Helene Tursten (Sweden's Prime Suspect) and full of mouth tangling place names and action! Will turn this over to dja for a proofing and editing and then post. Later, dw