It's Different

C took the Jaguar for a solo drive last night. First time.

Now, C loves  her Honda Odyssey. It helps her perform her role as loving family COO, and it's such a safe, comfortable, pleasant, dependable, high-quality vehicle. It handles itself well in town and traffic. It roadtrips five people and a dog to central Utah like nobody's business. And it pulls MPGs in the high 20's for all the space it provides us. I don't think she'd really want anything else for her daily ride. We all love it, frankly. Running a family without one would be much, much more difficult. How we ever got along with the Trooper for so long is hard, now, to imagine.

Having said that, she often confided that having a Mercedes to ride in was a real ego booster sometimes and a nice treat. She noticed that she got a higher level of  respectful treatment when she drove the Mercedes; people were always just a little nicer to her, in subtle and undefinable ways. People would actually notice the car. She could see people trying to connect the car to the owner with their eyes. It was just...different. Special. Worth putting something nicer from the closet.

I had told her it was even more different in the Jaguar, that the conspicuousness goes up a notch, based on what I've seen so far.  She was a bit skeptical (thinking, I'm sure, about the pickup truck driver in southern Oregon who gave us all sorts of attitude just for having a Benz. I mean how could you be more conspicuous than inciting a guy to make gestures and yell out his window while we're on cruise control going down the interstate? Good thing the Benz had double-paned glass...the kids didn't hear the words he used. Neither did we, for that matter, I just read his lips), but then she took the Jaguar out herself and saw what I was talking about.

The gas station attendants immediately called her Ma'am, and used a completely different tone of voice with her -- hushed, deferential. It's more than respect -- awe. People don't just match the car to owner, they stop and admire the car outright. Pedestrians walking past the gas station actually pause and stare. Not at her, but at the car. Then they catch themselves and look for the owner...admiringly. Someone approached her as she waited, just to tell her how nice her car was.

She picked up on that difference once she experienced it for herself. I mean, how could you NOT? She did a good job capturing the feeling when she put it this way:

"In my Honda Odyssey, I'm just another soccer mom. In a Mercedes, I'm respectable. But In the Jaguar, I am a GODDESS!"

I love that line!

 

Driving to work,this morning, I watched a Geo Metro -- paint all beat up, with two young twenty-somethings, man and woman -- pull up behind me at the light. They were both really clean cut, well groomed and dressed like you'd expect a college graduate to dress for their first jobs. I could easily imagine them as a young couple in love, starting their careers after graduating from college last spring, making do with what they've got as they get started. Full of big dreams and ambitions. There was a happiness in their faces. But that changed as he sat behind me, impatient that I didn't make the right turn on the red light quite yet. His body language got a bit angry, as he spoke animatedly and gestured at my car. He wasn't gesturing toward me, I noticed, but toward the car itself. In the rearview mirror, I could see he was staring at the spot on the trunk where the badge is. It was about the car. He'd have been looking at the back of my headrest if he was angry at me. I could see her expression shift from engaged to withdrawn. She had been turned toward him, smiling, as they approached. She turned her head away and stared blankly out the window after that. I got the sense that he was frustrated that he wasn't driving a car like the Jaguar. I made the turn, as did they. For the next two or three miles, he followed me in traffic. They never went back to to their happiness. They were withdrawn.

The whole experience took me right back to my first couple years, driving a beat up Honda Civic. Happy as I was to have a car at all, there was still a hunger. I'd park in the lot at the software company, next to the Maserati, the BMWs, the Porches, and the CEO's Ferrari... in my stupid littl 1200cc Honda pillb0x. "One of these days," I'd tell myself, "one of these days." On a rainy day when the Ferrari wouldn't start again, and the tow truck would come to take it to the shop for an electrical harness dry-out, I'd count the dollars and realize that the CEO was spending more per month on towing than my car actually cost. At least my car would start in the rain, and a set of four tires cost me $60. I counted those things as blessings and told myself, once again, "One of these days..."

Well, young man behind me in traffic this morning: if you're reading this, don't make it miserable for you and your girlfriend. One of these days, you'll have a Jaguar too. Just keep working hard for it, wait for the right opportunity, and don't rush. I feel much closer to you, young man, in your Geo Metro, to this day, than I do to the other Jaguar owners around town. I may be one myself now, but they still intimidate me. I'm sure I'll keep talking to them in hushed, reverent tones -- calling them 'Sir' and "Ma'am" --  even as I drive a Jaguar myself.

Night time with the Jaguar

They are  nocturnal animals, afterall!

We spent the day doing some maintenance around the house. Just some winter-prep work. C painted the areas needing final paint. I mortared some sections of the outside basement wall to prevent any moisture seepage around the windows we replaced a year ago. We made it through last winter withour moisture, but the window still could benefit from some extra coverage. That, plus a  little lawn mowing and that pretty much covers the house work.

Prior to that, we had M's two(!!) ballet classes, and R's private gymnastics session. Both M's classes and R's class time turned out to be good investments. The children are getting SO dialed in to their respective pursuits - the progress is measurable week to week, almost session to session. If that weren't enough, toss into the mix a trip to the bank to finance a car, and it was a busy day!

So, to treat ourselves, we all piled in to the Jaguar for a night-time tour. It's hard to beat a warmish, clear/dry late-summer evening in Portland. Conditions just do NOT get any better than that. The kids each brought a book to read. R - bless his heart - is now reading Dune. M, that precocious eight year old, is reading the Legend of Despereaux. They snuggled up in the back seat, each in their pajamas, and read while we listened to music in KINK-FM,  'cruised' downtown (really! We cruised SW Broadway!)  and then drove around in the West Hills, enjoying some of the prettiest night-time scenery you can hope to find in Portland...before it's gone and winter sets in.

Back in the mid-70's, during the emergence of FM radio, KINK-FM ran a TV ad that showed a young, professional-looking  upwardly mobile couple driving around Portland in the evening, in a Porsche, listening to the unique blend of music on KINK. I may be the only person who still remembers that commercial. It was a low-key, lifestyle-based, cop-this-image proposition they put forth in that spot. Somehow that proposition has stuck in my head. Turns out that our drive was a replay of the drive they took in the commercial.  Imagine that. I didn't intend it, but there it is.

Bought the Jaguar XJ8

It's a great car. Oh my GOSH it's a great car. C test-drove it tonight and fell in love.  Just as I did a couple nights ago.

Then she drove a 1995 Mercedes S-class with a big-boy V12. It felt so familiar and 'normal', except that it had twice as much power as the S320 had. A very nice car, at half the price...and half the MPGs.

Her reaction? Same as mine. The Jaguar is just a much better direction to go; the cost is minimal. Maintenance will be less (for a while).

So we agreed on the Jaguar. We put some money down to hold it (it would otherwise sell over this coming weekend, doubtlessly). I'll process the financing/settlement/payments. The Jaguar is a good deal; blue book is at least $5,000 higher than we're paying for this car.

We're pretty pleased.

Swiss man flies over Channel on jet wing

 

Excerpted from the San Francisco Chronicle article, linked below:

"He had nothing above him but four tanks of kerosene and nothing below him but the cold waters of the English Channel. But Yves Rossy leapt from a plane and into the record books on Friday, crossing the channel on a homemade jet-propelled wing."

"Rossy's wing was made from carbon composite. It weighs about 121 pounds when loaded with fuel and carried four kerosene-burning jet turbines. The contraption has no steering devices. Rossy, a commercial airline pilot by training, wiggled his body back and forth to control the wing's movements."

Swiss man flies over Channel on jet wing

Maybe This?

 

A four year old Jaguar XJ8. Believe it or not, they get about 30MPG on the highway. Power - thanks to the V-8 - when you need it, a big back seat for the kids, and lots of pampering details up front for me, whilst I drive that 50-mile roundtrip commute.

I test drove one last night. My first impression as I slid behind the wheel was that I was getting into an airplane cockpit, not a automobile driver's seat. I felt enveloped, and yet not cramped in the least.

Asking price?                        $13,900
Odometer?                               64,000
Blue Book?                about $18,000

But 30MPG? Really?? Yeah, really. It drops for stop-and-go city driving, but my commute is mostly highway-style cruising. The Mercedes routinely gave me full highway type mileage. It was the errand-running that dropped the S-class's mileage. So 30MPG seems like a reasonable expectation.  Surprisingly enough, that's about the same mileage that the Chevy Cobalt shoebox rental care gets.  Purchase price on the Cobalt, used? About $18,000. Oh, here's what a Cobalt looks like:

Obviously the Chevy is eliminated as a candidate. Why, after all, would I pay twice as much for the same mileage, half the useful life and none of the safety engineering that saved my skin twice this year already?

The question now is, do I buy a comparable S320 outright and enjoy no car payment but lower MPG, or do I finance a bit and step over to the Jag for a payment and improved MPG?

Let's do an analysis, yeah?

I drive 1,000/month exactly for my commute. The Mercedes got 20MPG. If I get a car that delivers 30MPG, I'll save $60/month on gasoline at today's prices ($75/mo if gas goes back up to $4.50.) And, let's say that I get $10,000 for the S-Class as market replacement value. That means I finance $3, 995 of the purchase price on the Jag, for a payment in the $80/month range. Subtract the gas savings, and the monthly payment for the Jag nets out at $20/month today. If gas creeps back up, my net payment drops down as far as $5/month.

That, and the car would have about 70,000 fewer miles on the odometer, and fewer repair/maintenance/restoration issues.

I dunno... does $5-$20/month for an additional 70,000 on the odometer seem like a fair trade?

What do YOU think?

My Mercedes S320 got Clobbered

I've had a blog post on the 'death' of my S320 in the works for a couple weeks. I've just abandoned that article and will update everyone else with a bit of journalism, not story-telling.

The S320 got rear-ended about two weeks ago. I'm fine. The car's a total. Yes, I know I've only had it since March. The insurance company is being extremely cooperative with me and I'm pleased overall with their performance. For the record, I am currently working directly with the offending driver's insurance company, not my own.

I'm currently driving a rental; will switch over to the parents' Lincoln for a bit, then buy a replacement once the money comes in. My best guess is that the replacement value for my S320 is in the $10K range. $4.50/gallon gas drove the resale value of the six-cylinder S-class right up. It's the highest-value S-class on the used market right now. And that means there aren't that many of them popping up on the used car market. Imagine that!

I need a category for automobiles...

Gennifer Moss aka Earth Friend Gen Rollerblades in the Buff | Bitten and Bound

 

Gen Ross, aka Gennifer Moss Earth Friend Gen, is a nudist in-line skater who hails from California and loves organic food. She also loves to remove her clothing and rollerblade where people congregate. The young woman has turned into an urban legend recently in Portland, Oregon. It seems the California transplant petitioned the local city officials of Ashland, Oregon to skate nude in their July 4th parade. They turned down her request. She has since been unable to contain her enthusiasm for nude rollerblading and recently removed her clothing at Tom McCall Waterfront Park in Portland. She sailed along with a big smile and her face, long brown hair flying behind her.

She also rides her bike past our house on her way to Waterfront Park. I've seen her! We seem to be neighbors.

 

Gennifer Moss aka Earth Friend Gen Rollerblades in the Buff | Bitten and Bound

Back in February...

This image of R on the pommel is not new, but having a still of this image is. I recently pulled this still frame out of a video of R's competition.

Hubble: Hubble Finds Unidentified Object in Space, Scientists Puzzled

The article at Gizmodo says it best. I'll just quote:

"This is exactly why we send astronauts to risk their life to service Hubble: in a paper published last week in the Astrophysical Journal, scientists detail the discovery of a new unidentified object in the middle of nowhere. I don't know about you, but when a research paper conclusion says "We suggest that the transient may be one of a new class" I get a chill of oooh-aaahness down my spine. Especially when after a hundred days of observation, it disappeared from the sky with no explanation. "

Hubble: Hubble Finds Unidentified Object in Space, Scientists Puzzled

Harmonica Hero

So, with the piano getting daily action, and the guitar receiving periodic attention, it was only a matter of time before the harmonica started sneaking its way into the fabric of the family.

C found one of my harmonica books while she was preparing for the garage sale. I was excited because I now have the notes tablature for my harmonica and can transcribe songs into harmonica notation now!

 

 

I'm probably a long way from tackling this particular game:

 

 

But a few minutes each day - as a relaxation mechanism - sitting in the family 'musical corner' ought to do me some emotional good.

If...

"The Art of Manliness" included this Kipling poem in a recent post. I found the poem, which was new to me, to be thought provoking

 

“If”

By: Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

The Complete History of Nintendo

For R -- game geek info!

Gameplayer - The Complete History of Nintendo

Like Sitting On A Block Of Ice With Your Hair On Fire

It's the old adage about 'averaging out' . Being average means nothing really, given that you could have your hair on fire and your butt on a block of ice...that'd average out to room temperature, wouldn't it? An ice chair and a flaming head may be zero-sum game, but they don't average out. 

To celebrate our upcoming tenth wedding anniversary, C and I had made plans to go to a well-regarded boutique hotel downtown. The idea would be to have a romantic evening away from the kids, even if it was just three miles down the road from our home. I floated the idea of a spa room, or one of the hotel's Starlight Rooms, where the ceiling is all glass and you can sleep under the stars above and over the street-life below. C thought it was great.

And then, she said something that made it even better.

You see, there's a young family that has been attending our Cancer Art Therapy class for about a year. He's young. 32 or so. Fighting off metastasized cancer that's settled in his lungs. It's Terminal. He's in hospice. His wife is maybe 28. By my guess, all three children are under ten years old.

C suggested that we make our night available to them instead. "We'll have lots of anniversaries; they won't." she said. I agreed. We called the couple. They said they'd like to, very much. They settled for Sunday, September 7. We made the reservation.

C put together a big basket of cool stuff to make them at home in the room. Snacks and lotions, cider and champagne, and stuff like that. She had two dozen roses to decorate the room. She'd arranged with the hotel to get early access on Sunday. We were all excited about giving someone else a nice experience.

In the meantime, M went to a special ballet class at the Oregon Ballet Theater practice facility this morning. It was, in fact, an audition. Perhaps, M would be able to join their (very prestigious) ballet school. There were about 20 or so auditionees at the class. During the class, the school director ran the parents through the program details, rules and such.

• Parents do NOT talk to the teachers. Ever.
• Inquiries go to the school director, who handles the communication with the teacher.
• Parents are not allowed to watch the class at any time.
• Student attendance is compulsory.
• Students are expected to get themselves ready - without assistance - for their class.
• Spaces are extremely limited.

C asked a number of questions to learn more about the school. I wasn't there, but C said she asked more questions than anyone. She learned that universities give scholarships for Ballet. We didn't know that.

At the end of the class, the children rejoined the parents. M was beaming. As soon as she got to C, she pulled C down and whispered in her ear, "I have a REALLY good feeling about this!"

The school Director, at this moment, made the general announcement that all the classes were full, and that they'd be calling students as spaces came available. In other words, everyone was dismissed. People started filing out through the door. As C and M were working toward the exit, the director discreetly asked them to step aside. In a corner, and at a whisper, the director said "M is exceptional. We'd like to offer her a place in the school."

We all consulted quickly via cell phone. We decided that M should have this chance if she wanted it. She did; so we registered her. And that was that.

Overall, today was a high-spirits day. M now dances at the OBT school. We're doing something cool for another family. We were all so excited it was like our hair was on fire. What could possibly go wrong?

The phone rang, that's what.

It was the young wife of the couple we made the hotel reservation for. She was calling to tell us that her husband had passed last night.

Our present was too late. He was already gone.

We were heartbroken. No, not because of anything to do with the hotel room. All because we feel so much sorrow for the family. Knowing this is coming does absolutely nothing to make it easier to bear.

We all cried at the news. They're all in our prayers.

Things got a bit somber after that. We were even a little edgy with each other for a while as we all processed the news. Even now, at the end of the night, there's an extra chill in the interpersonal interaction. Fear is that chill. Fear that this might happen to us, too. Fear is that block of ice we've parked our butts upon for today.

Cheerfulness and sadness; joy and disappointment; triumph and defeat. Our friend's death balanced against M's new, potentially life-changing, adventure. All zero-sum balances of emotional energy. Certainly not average.

The Death of YAHRSU

As you read The Eye Of The Storm, You may have noticed the deluge of comments from my thousands of dedicated readers asking why I haven't given any updates on the progress of the cottage remodel.

Okay, well... me 'neither. My readership is just not that comment-driven, I've learned. But I'm sure hundreds of you have all been silently checking in, dying to ask me about the cottage progress, right? Right?

No, probably not. In my heart, I know that. Really, I do.

Truth is, the dozens of readers I have are probably damned glad that I'm no longer constantly pinging their RSS aggregator with YAHRSU - Yet Another House Remodel Status Update. Privately, they're all celebrating but still fearful. Afraid to mention the lack of YAHRSU for fear that either 1) their comment will lack sufficient tact and hurt my feelings, or 2) worse yet, I'll miss the point and start posting YAHRSU once again under the guise of 'back by popular demand!' It's like that irritating dripping faucet that finally, inexplicably stops dripping. On the one hand, be glad; on the other hand, DON'T DARE touch it - it might start dripping again!

No, no. It's okay. I can see the difficulty of the situation. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if my entire readership (all seven of you!) have started a private blog somewhere in a remote corner, safe from my prying eyes, where you all laugh at my posts and blow off your frustration by complaining in safety.

Well, you know what? That's the story itself! There is no YAHRSU.

 

I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO THE HOUSE WORTHY OF A REPORT!

That's where we're at! We're effectively done. We're just enjoying the weather, getting the school year schedule in place, sleeping a little more, turning on the TV here and there, messing around with Mindstorms and piano, and putting off the remaining interior finish work until the winter rains chase us back inside.

 

DON'T EXPECT MANY HOUSE REPORTS IN THE FUTURE, EITHER!

Mainly because there won't be much to write about. I've posted a couple new views to the Before/After portfolion, and I'll post a few more, but that's about it.

Come see it at Christmas time, while the lights on Peacock Lane are blazing (Dec 15-31).

• Drop in.
• Say Hi.
• Sing a Carol with us.
• Bring your own musical instrument.
• Have a snack.
• BRING a snack, if you feel like it!
• Watch all the people.
• Marvel at the lack of paint on our hair, clothes and cuticles.
• Comment on how rested we look this year!

WHEW!

Like my readers, I'm rather glad I'm done. Except for one burning question...what will I blog about now?

I'm sure I'll find stuff....

MiceAge.com - Expedition Everest Ride Update

So, back in 2006, when we went to Disney World (link to photos), we got the opportunity to ride Expedition Everest at Disney's Animal Kingdom during it's soft opening. Furthermore, we got the opportunity to sit RIGHT UP FRONT! Only THEN did we go have our character breakfast!

Well, here's a snip from Kevin Yee's post at Miceage.com about an apparent problem with the Expedition Everest 'big moment'.

 

Disney's Animal Kingdom Yeti stuck in permanent "B" mode.

The enormous Audio-Animatronic yeti at the end of Expedition Everest was deemed so important to the ride that a provision was made for when the robot broke; the creature would freeze in its spot, but strobe lights would create the illusion of movement, and the ride would not have to be shut down. Is the lunge a thing of the past? Reportedly, the yeti has been in B-mode for weeks and months on end now, supposedly because the concrete fountain on which he is mounted has become irrevocably cracked. Designers or construction laborers somehow didn't account for the repetition of such incredible forces, and now the figure cannot be used as designed. No word yet on what the permanent solution may be.

MiceAge.com - A different look at Disney...

MiceAge.com - Expedition Everest Ride Update

So, back in 2006, when we went to Disney World (link to photos), we got the opportunity to ride Expedition Everest at Disney's Animal Kingdom during it's soft opening. Furthermore, we got the opportunity to sit RIGHT UP FRONT! Only THEN did we go have our character breakfast!

Well, here's a snip from Kevin Yee's post at Miceage.com about an apparent problem with the Expedition Everest 'big moment'.

 

Disney's Animal Kingdom Yeti stuck in permanent "B" mode.

The enormous Audio-Animatronic yeti at the end of Expedition Everest was deemed so important to the ride that a provision was made for when the robot broke; the creature would freeze in its spot, but strobe lights would create the illusion of movement, and the ride would not have to be shut down. Is the lunge a thing of the past? Reportedly, the yeti has been in B-mode for weeks and months on end now, supposedly because the concrete fountain on which he is mounted has become irrevocably cracked. Designers or construction laborers somehow didn't account for the repetition of such incredible forces, and now the figure cannot be used as designed. No word yet on what the permanent solution may be.

MiceAge.com - A different look at Disney...

M's New Game

Last night, C suggested I go into the living room to check out M's new game. They'd been on the piano for a while, so I suspected (correctly) that the game had something to do with music.

M has been learning to play from a very simple beginner's book full of easily recognizable traditional children's songs. She has been learning quite a bit about reading music from these books.

Her new game is to open up the book to a song she hasn't played before, place her right hand on the keys - thumb on C, I noticed - and then try to touch play the notes she reads off the page. And she did darned well! She'd almost always get the notes right, but she couldn't get the flow of the melody unless she already knew the song.

Why is this a game? Well, M thinks she's being tricky by having figured out the music reading thing. And I'm not about to spoil her sense of excitement. Afterall, she's well on her way into the basics just by way of self-teaching. For her, it HAS been a process of self-discovery.

So, I got in on her little secret too. Mom had been guidinig her on hand placement and note reading; I explained the rythym part of the notes. You know, how to count time for quarter notes, half notes, dotted half notes, etc.

You should have seen the look on her face after I demonstrated this to her. You'd have thought I gave her the keys to the candy store.

I expect that, over the next couple days, she'll integrate both the note and the meter, and be off and running.

I should point out explicitly that M's first official music lesson is tomorrow afternoon... all this so far has been driven by her own personal desire to play.

So, later that evening, as M was doing her usual litany of bedtime-delaying requests, the exchange went something like this:

"Time for bed, sweetheart."

"Can I play on the webkinz website?"

"No."

"Can I cuddle in your bed and watch TV with you."

"It's the convention tonight. No."

"Can I work on my homework?"

"No. You're already done. I know."

"Can I read my email to see if grandma sent anything?"

"No. You have school tomorrow. Time for bed."

"Can I play the piano?"

"Nnnnnn.... <pause> ... Yes. Five minutes. That's all. Then off to your bed, okay?"

M squeals and skitters off. The plinking of melodies ensues. C turns to me and says, conspiratorially, "She'll use that one again, you know."

"Yes, I know." I whisper back to her, "If I'm going to have a chink in my armor, why not have it be piano? Homework and piano."

"I was going to give her exactly the same answer." she whispered back.

M may have been playing melodies, but the chord of harmony and unity, clear and sweet, reverberated in the kitchen at that moment.

Mindstorms Update

A while back, I blogged about the Tilted Twister [blog post here].

Well, we've been steadily building away at this project. We've got the mechanical assembly completed as of Labor Day weekend. With luck, in the next couple days, we'll be able to download the solver program and run the thing using a Rubik's Cube.

Stand by for photos and progress updates!

Happy Noisy

I keep thinking about this moment from last week.

When I came home from work, I could hear loud voices all the way from the back alley. The voices were clearly recognizable as the other three members of the Johnson family. They were all talking, passionately, at the same time. I didn't feel good about that; my radar went up.

You see, loud, passionate, simultaneous talking is often an argument or a dispute in process. That usually means I have to be some form of mediator. So I approached the house with a growing sense of dread.

But... as I made my way across the back yard, closer to the house, I could start making out details of the interaction. It was passionate, and loud, and excited, sure. But boisterous. Happy. Laughing. They were having fun. I was buoyed immediately.

As I came through the door, I was pounced upon:

• M hugged me and gave me a piece of paper. As I looked at the paper, I slowly realized that M had written a page of original sheet music for the piano. There was a melody, with note symbols. There were lyrics. It was a complete - if somewhat inaccurate - representation of sheet music
• R was in the middle of a goofy outburst. He stopped mid-sentence, whirled around like the Tazmanian Devil and proclaimed "Neither Mom nor I have had our meds today! So whoo whooo whooo beware!" and laughed (almost) maniacally for theatrical effect.
• C, standing at the kitchen, mid-laugh herself, looked at me sweetly, and said "he's right. No meds today."

"Thanks for the warning. I'm glad to know. I can adapt to that!" I said as I kissed each person in turn.

And adapt we did. R got some extra room to be out-of-control, but he was still held to a behavioral standard. C got love and respect even as she processed information at a much reduced rate from normal.

We're not perfect. We're, all four of us, works in progress. We work to figure it all out and to create harmony amongst ourselves. Some days, we do it gracefully. Some days, we fail to achieve harmony at all. And in between are days where we achieve harmony in that clumsy or fleeting way that reminds me of the sports phrase "winning ugly."

On this particular day, it was "winning ugly." But we won. That's the ultimate goal.

Wienermobile Visits the Neighborhood!

The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile was in the neighborhood last week. I discovered it as I drove home from work, parked just outside Coopers Coffee on Stark, near SE 61st.

So as I coasted down the hill toward home, I phoned C and asked that the kids be waiting outside in the alley as I pulled up -- we were going to chase down the Wienermobile!

As luck would have it, the Wienermobile was still parked at Cooper's by the time we got there. So we got our pictures taken, looked the thing all over, and had a good laugh before heading home.

As we drove home, I shared with the kids how the people running the Wienermobile get the job, and what it's like. Essentially, Wienermobile staffers are recruited to the job by other Wienermobile staffers from people they meet doing the job. Once hired, you sign on to drive the Wienermobile around the US, from event to event, for one year.

M's reaction? "That's cool. I want to drive the Wienermobile when I grow up."

And you know what? That would be just like her to actually do it, wouldn't it?

Went Fishing!!

It was about 7 o'clock in the morning on Labor Day Monday. I was all snuggled up next to the lump in the bed that I knew contained my wife somewhere, when the door to our room opened and my Mom's voice quietly said, "Nolan? They're going out on the ocean this morning. Do you want to go fishing?" I was up and moving even before she finished the sentence. All I needed to know was that somebody in the neighborhood was hitting the beach with their dory and I had the chance to go.

It was a great morning. The surf was relatively calm and the weather was great. Dad and I were going out with JJ on his boat. JJ is a neighbor at Pacific City, and one of my high school PE teachers. We were planning to fish for bottom fish. Me? I didn't care. I was going !

JJ still launches his boat old-school style. He drops it on the beach, but he rows out through the surf, rather than using his outboard motor to power through the surf. It was a great way to get out onto the ocean. Skillful. Elegant. Finesse.

We didn't go too far before we dropped in the lines to see if anything was biting. JJ worked the fish finder pretty actively. A few minutes near the rock turned up no fish moving, so we moved north.

Eventually, we got into some fish off Tiera Del Mar. It was a quiet day overall, with a lot of our compatriots fishing a half-day for three or four. By the time we headed in, after about four hours of fishing, we had eight in the boat and had put four or five back (the ones we put back were out of season)

As for me, I made a couple of really klutzy casts at first (to the embarrassment of my Dad, I'm sure!) and hooked rocks on the bottom much more often than I hooked fish. But it was fun.

We were motoring back in, all three of us standing abreast at the console. JJ turned to me and said, "how do you like the boat?"

I felt the delight rise up from my heart and said back, "this is a nice boat. What a great day." I guess there must have been a gleem in my eye or something, because he took me by the shoulder and scooted me over to the center.

"Take the wheel," he said. Aim us for between the Cape and the rock. I use that green meadow on the hill as my target. Squeeze the throttle lever to get it to move. You'll want to adjust the speed as you feel it. Go as fast as you can without slamming the bow on the swells."

I'd helmed a dory before, but this was the first time I'd ever been tall enough to see over the console! Of course, that meant it was the first time I'd ever run one; all the rest of my experience was trolling-speed but a little technical. This time I was running it in!

Once we got into the shelter of the Rock, JJ took over, and set up for hitting the beach. He radioed in to see if someone could do a surfer-check on the beach. Nobody answered back. So we worked to spot heads and blasted the horn to let people in the surf and on the beach know we were heading in.

Then, match your speed to sit on top of, or just behind, the top of a swell and follow the water right up the beach as far as possible. The wave rolls back, and the dory is landed.