January 2006 Archives

Because it's the Year of the Dog and Blog Sweeps Week (where anything goes (including absurdity, stupidity and embedded parentheses) for the sake of hits), I thought I'd take the time to share three special traditions specific to this year's animal that are guaranteed to bring you prosperity, good fortune, good luck and happiness. The fact that they're completely fabricated shouldn't be cause for concern, unless you fail to follow them, in which case, I'm almost certain that you'll be hounded by misery and misfortune all year long. On that positive note, here they are:

1. Sharing a long piece of red licorice with your dog will bring you prosperity, the longer the piece, the greater the prosperity. The catch (and there's always a catch) is that you both must eat the licorice at the same time, a la Lady and the Tramp. Tip: Giving your dog a breath mint beforehand is cheating, but recommended.
2. This year, picking up after your dog will bring you bad luck (especially if it's after eating the licorice). By doing so, you'll be scooping away your good fortune. As luck would have it, by picking up after somebody else's dog, you can scoop up their good fortune and add it to your own. Tip: I suggest wearing gloves when handling other people's fortune.
3. Dressing your dog in traditional Chinese garb, having his or her portrait taken by a professional pet photographer, framing the 24" × 36" portrait and hanging it on your front door will triple your luck and double your happiness. Tip: Pay no mind to the looks your neighbors give you. Remember, they're not judging, they're just jealous.

Happy Lunar New Year! Oh, and Happy Belated Birthday, Mozart (if you're reading this)!

I had been checking weather.com daily for two weeks, keeping an eye on the forecast for Yosemite over the Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend. It felt like I was playing she-loves-me-she-loves-me-not, each day plucking a petal from a flower. One day it would say partly sunny and the next it would say snow showers. Partly sunny. Snow showers. By Friday, it had settled on rain that night, followed by snow showers and rain on Saturday. I had been apparently plucking the wrong flower.

The original plan had been to leave early on Saturday to give us enough time to negotiate any poor road conditions and heavy traffic due to the storm. But with the rain coming overnight, the original plan went out the window¹. Friday evening, I called the park, moved our arrival date up by a day and then hurriedly packed so we could get on the road as soon as possible.

We didn't encounter any rain or snow along the way, so we didn't have to stop and put on the tire chains. We arrived at Curry Village around 1:30 in the morning. The rain and snow came only after we were safely tucked away in our tent cabin. By the way, heated tent cabins are pricier, but worth it if wearing nine layers of clothing or freezing to death isn't something you enjoy.

By Saturday morning, everything was covered in snow. Clumps of it weighed on every tree branch and sheets of it adorned every rooftop and field. We spent the day wandering around the valley, visiting familiar places to see how different they looked. It was incredible to see the majestic granite walls of Glacier Point and North Dome and Half Dome dusted and streaked with snow.

Everything seemed so magical. Walking along the trail to Lower Yosemite Fall was like walking through a black and white photo. The sheer amount of snow made any hint of color - where one could find it - stand out with brilliance.

This was especially true when we reached the little red chapel. In the photos, the church almost looks unreal, as though it's set against a green screen. I think the sharp rooflines contrasting with the blurred trees in the background enhance the effect.

Later in the afternoon, after we had satisfied our curiosity and were soaked and chilly, we returned to the Curry lounge to warm up, dry off and recharge for Sunday's big snowshoe adventure to Dewey Point above Badger Pass.

¹ And landed softly on the grass, where a patrolling neighborhood crow promptly swooped down and ate it.

Because I was asked and because it didn't take too long to recall (or track down through this journal) all of the books I read last year, I have compiled a list of my Top 5 favorite books of 2005. Four of them are by men. Three of them are by British authors. Only one of them is by someone who is now dead. Three of them fall into the category of fantasy. I'm still of the belief that good fantasy novels have the ability to reveal greater truths about real life and our world than other works of fiction and some nonfiction. All of them contain violence in one form or another, although war seems to be the predominant form. Most importantly, though, all of them brought me hours of enjoyment and reinforced my love of reading. And with that, here's the list:

1. 1776 by David McCullough. It's the captivating telling of one of the most important years in American history. It's a work of nonfiction that reads more like an exciting novel than a tedious piece of research.
2. Post Captain by Patrick O'Brian. It's the second book in O'Brian's well-written series of naval adventures featuring Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin. (Master and Commander was the first.)
3. Thud! by Terry Pratchett. Breaking away from history and historical novels, here was a book that made me laugh out loud. Pratchett balances between the critical and the comical.
4. The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman. This was the first book of His Dark Materials trilogy. It's a fascinating tale that stays in the realm of young adult reading without really touching on the darker, more religious topics the subsequent books explore.
5. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling. Like the other books on this list, I was unable to put this book down. There was a lot of hype around the sixth book, but unlike other hyped books, this one didn't disappoint.

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

- Abraham Lincoln

The quote has nothing to do with the topic I intend to write about, at least I don't think it will, since I was going to write about grocery shopping. Actually, it would be quite a feat if I could somehow connect achieving a just and lasting peace with buying avocados, but I don't see that happening. Avocados are wonderful in a good many things, but I doubt that they're a key ingredient for bringing an end to war. At least not yet.

Over the weekend, I managed to recuperate despite some running around. There was the unavoidable dentist appointment on Saturday, but that went by painlessly. There was also the brief visit to the Capitola Mall with the family. While we were wandering, we came across Lex, one of the contestants from the third season of Survivor, coming out of Mervyn's with his wife. He's from Santa Cruz and a very laid back guy in real life. On Sunday, there was another visit to the mall, this time Oakridge in San Jose, but it was also a short stop.

The nose is still troublesome in the mornings, but I'm keeping up with non-coffee liquids (along with coffee) in the hopes that it will clear out the last of the current germs and stave off any new ones seeking residence.

Yesterday, I discovered how pleasant evening grocery shopping could be. I began by buying a latte from the in-store coffee shop and placing it in the handy cup holder that now comes standard in every shopping cart. I'm fully expecting shopping carts of the future to also come with power steering and a flat screen television providing easy-to-follow navigation and highlights from the Martha Stewart show. I then strolled up and down the aisles, discovering sales and placing loads of items into the cart that weren't on my initial shopping list (milk, yogurt and avocados).

Because it was early evening, hardly anybody else around, which meant I sometimes had entire aisles to myself. There may have been an instance when I whispered Mush, mush! to an imaginary pack of huskies pulling my shopping sled through the tundra of frozen dinners and ice cream. Of course, as soon as an all-too-serious mother came around the corner with her child in tow, the dogs disappeared and I had to quickly dismount and pretend to be a responsible adult selectively shopping for Tater Tots.

All that is to say that with fewer shoppers around, finding what I needed became a lot more fun and a lot less stressful. It also meant that the checkout lines were extremely short. I only had to wait for the woman in front of me to finish flirting with the clerk before I was able to pay and find out how much I saved using my club card (27%).

In all, it was one of the most pleasant grocery experiences I've had in a while. I would even go so far as to say it was peaceful, not Abraham-Lincoln-lasting-peace peaceful, but pretty darn close.

I had two tasks I wanted to accomplish today at lunch.

1. Borrow Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie from the library.
2. View the Visual Politics exhibit at the San Jose Museum of Art.

You would think that eating might be one of the tasks, but when heavy snacking happens during the morning, it isn't much of an option by the time lunch rolls around.

On the first task, I was entirely successful. I walked briskly to the library, searched through the rack of CDs and quickly found the one I wanted despite the fact that it lacked an insert because somebody stole, lost or ate last September. I was just on my way to the self checkout stand when I caught sight of Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell, one of the five books Mark listed as those he most enjoyed last year. Because of his recommendation and because I like her style of storytelling when I've heard her on This American Life, I decided to borrow Vowell's book even though it's about her rather peculiar road trip/pilgrimage inspired by three assassinated presidents (Lincoln, Garfield and McKinley).

The first task took all of five minutes. It then took me another five minutes to hustle over to the museum to complete the second task. I hustled because I wanted as much time as possible to stroll leisurely through the exhibit. But when I reached the front steps, I stumbled upon a sign that told me the museum was closed on Mondays, something I conveniently keep forgetting whenever I get excited about visiting. I ended up sitting at one of the museum's patio tables and reading the preface to Assassination.

I failed at the second task, but I won't be daunted. Tomorrow, after a quick bite, I fully intend on running over to the museum at lunch to view that exhibit.

Song on my mind... "Recycled Air" by The Postal Service

I take a breath
Pull the air until there's nothing left...

I watch the patchwork farms
Slow fade to the ocean's arms
Calm down, release your cares
The stale taste of recycled air

Since Saturday, I've been enjoying the company of a cold. It isn't a bad cold. I can manage to make it through a workday just fine, but I can feel the symptoms coming on as the day winds down. By the time the sun is setting, all I want to do is go home, drink soup and tea, camp out under a blanket in front of the television and periodically medicate myself.

I mention this mainly as an excuse as to why I didn't show up for Wednesday's blogger gathering at The Coffee Society. I had wanted to attend for a round of laughs and lattes (especially the latte eustachio Elkit mentioned), but I was already in cafe-incompatible pajamas and planted comfortably on the couch before I remembered. I'll be making a concerted effort to be there in February.

As luck would have it, this bug arrived at the beginning of this past weekend's trip to Yosemite. We spent Saturday through Monday exploring the park in all of its winter glory. Yosemite under a blanket of white is a remarkable sight. All of my running around probably doubled my recovery time.

The dangerous thing about a cold that doesn't seem so bad is that a person may believe he or she can push through it, do everything as usual and still get well. With that attitude, a minor cold soon blows up into something major. I'm sensing that I haven't been taking this one very seriously because I can feel it coming close to becoming worse.

Ideally, the plan for this weekend would be to stay home and rest as much as possible. Unfortunately, I have a routine dentist check-up tomorrow morning in Santa Cruz. I would reschedule, but I'd rather get it done than put it off for however long. It will hopefully be short and painless so that I can race back home and spend the remainder of the day (and the day following) recuperating.

Last week was a good television week. I caught a new-to-me repeat of Bones on Tuesday. Like Medium and Ghost Whisperer, it's a show based on the life of a real woman, but unlike those shows, it's neither annoying nor unintentionally funny. The only bad thing about it is its new time slot. Fox is moving it to Wednesdays at nine, opposite of ABC's Lost. Considering the number of shows I watch regularly (six at last count), you would think the chances of two shows I like falling on the same night at the same time would be slim, but I'm lucky like that. Tuesday also featured hilarious back-to-back episodes of Scrubs.

Wednesday was all about Lost (which won a Golden Globe for Best Television Drama last night). First, there was the Lost special called Lost: Revelation, an obvious misnomer. A more accurate (but less marketable) title would have been Lost: Recap. With the last fresh episode shown five weeks ago, the network sought to refresh the audience's memories. It was a good idea, but I dutifully skipped it. Instead, I tuned in later for the newest installment, "The 23rd Psalm", an episode centered on Mr. Eko, the mysterious and deadly Nigerian who carves bits of Scripture into the big stick he carries.

I then spent the next hour playing the episode again in my head, trying to find any additional clues, references or symbols in a futile attempt to gain deeper understanding and crack the mystery of the island. The fact that the hour-long effort looked very similar to sleeping is purely coincidental. Informally, I like to refer to it as Lost: Nap.

On Thursday, I watched Dancing With the Stars, one of those programs I find somewhat amusing and strangely addictive. It ran for ninety minutes, twice as long as it needed to be. If they had cut the interviews and celebrity comments, it would have been a much better show. Less ramble, more rumba!

Afterwards, I watched another comical episode of The Office. My favorite scene had to be the one in the minivan as Jim tried to make Michael and Dwight behave by squirting them with water while he drove them to the hospital for Dwight's concussion. It was ludicrous, but had me laughing out loud.

On a tangent, Steve Carell's acceptance speech during the Golden Globes was the most creative of the night. As he unfolded a piece of paper, he claimed that he hadn't prepared a speech, but his wife had. He ended up thanking the usual people as usual and thanking his wife four times. It was classic.

With the return of American Idol and new episodes of my other favorite shows, this appears to be another good television week. With it being winter and the weather not so hot, good television should never be taken for granted.

By the way, yesterday, our nation observed Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, recognizing the great civil rights leader's birthday. It was strange, but every news reporter I heard made a special effort to note that if King were alive, he would be 77. Today, our nation isn't officially observing Benjamin Franklin's birthday, but he was born on this day in 1706. I just wanted make a special effort to note that f he were alive, he would be 300 years old, very, very wrinkled and possibly not human. He is one of America's greatest Founders and one of my heroes, so Happy Benjamin Franklin Day!

What gives a city its identity? For example, what makes San Francisco, you know, San Francisco? Is there any one thing? Is it the geography, the architecture, the demography or the weather? Is it its history, culture, landmarks or crime rate? If one of those aspects were to change, would San Francisco still be San Francisco?

This question has been in the back of my head for a while. It first came to mind as I sat in a park in downtown San Jose and tried my hardest to trick myself into believing I was sitting somewhere else, like San Francisco or Boston or Vienna, but it was impossible. I've been around this city too long. It's difficult not too associate certain buildings with it or attribute a personality to it.

The question came about when I saw a news report about New Orleans and other towns still devastated from the floods caused by Hurricane Katrina. During the piece, the reporter and the people he interviewed emphasized the connection between jazz and the city, saying something to the effect that as long as they played jazz there, the spirit of New Orleans would survive.

At first, I thought they were oversimplifying, but then I realized that these people were attempting to hold on to the last shred of their city's identity. The rest had been washed away with the floodwaters. It made me wonder what aspects of a city could change without it losing its identity.

If they rebuilt New Orleans exactly as it was before, but replaced the jazz musicians with grunge bands, would it still be the same place? Would its identity remain if they rebuilt every street and structure exactly as it was, relocated every resident and played jazz every night in the new French Quarter, but did it all in Oregon instead of Louisiana? Or could they rebuild the city, but repopulate it with folks from New York City without minimal effect? Would it slowly become another New York City or would it become some blend of the two (New Yorkleans)?

All of this is more aimless rambling than an attempt to answer the question. Once I finish the stack of books I'm reading, I'll delve more into it either online or at the library. Until then, I just wanted to write down a few thoughts here, figuring this will be easier to retrieve than a scrap from the paper piles that regularly erupt around the house.

Last year, I was crazy about of Starbucks' Chantico. This year, I'm all gaga over their Cinnamon Dolce Latte. It's a latte with the added flavoring of cinnamon (obviously) and dolce brown sugar.

I remember seeing the word dolce in certain classical pieces I played when I was younger. If I recall correctly, it meant sweetly, which I took to mean my fingers should tiptoe across the keys while I wore a somber, slightly pained expression on my face.

I suppose they chose the word to fancy up the name and make it sound sophisticated. That's all good and fine, but what they didn't consider was how it would sound as it stumbled and staggered across my tongue. It comes out as gracefully as a ballerina dancing aboard a trawler caught in a storm.

I've ordered the drink four times in the last week and have had two baristas correct me and one asks me to repeat myself. I'm thinking about grabbing a whole stack of sleeves, writing my order ("V CDL") and simply handing it to them at the register so there's no confusion in the matter.

Of course, my pronunciation problems won't prevent me from getting my Cinnamon Do-hrmph Latte. The drink is tasty and my newest favorite.

I suppose the best way to start my Mau'i recap is to get the bad part over with before getting to the good parts. By bad part, I mean the actual travel portion of our travels. Here is just a brief list of what went wrong reaching our destination:

• When we checked in, ATA, the carrier included in the vacation package, told us that our confirmed seats weren't so confirmed. They had overbooked the flight. We received our seats only a few minutes before the plane left the gate.
• Since I had brought my hiking backpack, sans work-related items, there were hiking items in my bag, including a Swiss Army knife I had forgotten about. The knife and I parted ways at the security gate.
• Due to heavy winds, our 11:00 flight didn't leave until 12:15.
• Due to trade winds, instead of arriving in Honolulu by 2:30 as scheduled, we arrived at 5:00 and missed our 5:00 connecting flight. Aloha Airlines, our inter-island carrier, placed us on standby for the 6:00 flight.
• The 6:00 flight was full, so we had to wait on standby for the 7:00 flight, the last flight to Mau'i.
• By a miracle, we caught that flight, but our luggage didn't. ATA had supposedly sent it all the way through to Mau'i, but we couldn't find it anywhere in the baggage claim area. Our lost luggage wouldn't arrive at the hotel for another 36 hours.

On this trip, I made dumb mistakes only a novice traveler would make. Here are a few lessons I need to remember:

• Never, under any circumstances, check in baggage. Carry-on can be a hassle, but the hassle is limited to the airport and the plane. Lost luggage will haunt you until it's found, if it's found.
• In my attempt to save money, I had filled my backpack with food, leaving no room for the toiletries and spare set of clothing every smart traveler knows to pack when flying. Forget the food; pack the clothing and toiletries, even if you intend to carry on your bags (you never know if they'll require you to check your bags in anyway).
• In package deals, pay special attention to the carrier. If you have the option, choose the one you like. If it isn't the cheapest, consider the benefits of paying more. Also, check to see how much you really save by booking it as a package.
• If possible, fly direct. Making connections may save money, but paying extra to avoid the stress and headaches is worth it. I might end up changing my mind on this one, but my recent string of bad luck with connecting flights has me convinced that direct flights are better.

The good news is that once we were done with the traveling, the trip took a marked turn for the better.

After being away for more than two weeks, it was a struggle getting back to work. Literally.

It all started well enough. I was actually surprised that I got off the train at the right station and remembered where the building was once I reached the street. Since I missed the bus it was the first workday of the new year, I decided to walk to work.

After the first block, I could feel my legs and feet warming up and settling into their old familiar rhythm. I cruised by buildings and people, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the city. Most of downtown looked as it did near the end of September: undecorated, bland and dirty. Holiday decorations in most of the shops and cafes were already gone. It was sad to see everything revert to "normal".

When I was about two blocks from the office, I passed a few of my officemates walking to work. Now, I know it isn't a race, especially when everybody is going to work (leaving is a different story), but some days I can't help but get a little rush when I speed by them. Sadly, yesterday was one of those days. When I reached the main doors, I was already taking a victory lap around the imaginary track in my head, a premature victory lap as I was about to find out.

I caught the elevator up to my floor, walked briskly to the door and reached into my backpack for my security badge to open it. My overactive imagination was already picturing how I would be sitting in my cube, feet on my desk, computer on, jacket hung up and steaming cup of coffee in my hand just as my coworkers were entering the office. That's when I discovered I didn't have my badge.

I searched frantically through my backpack - twice - and came up empty both times. While on vacation, I had removed everything to take my pack on the trip with me. Earlier yesterday morning, I had returned everything to the pack, everything except my badge, apparently.

Without it, I couldn't get into the office. The receptionist wouldn't be in for at least thirty minutes and surveying the office through the glass door, I couldn't see a single soul to wave down. I knocked anyway, but nobody answered. I finally gave up and sat in the lobby, feeling dumb and anticipating the humiliation to come when the overtaken officemates showed up and saw me locked out of the office.

Five minutes later, I was still sitting there. My officemates hadn't arrived. I knew they were behind, but not that behind. I concluded they had entered through the back way. Now a little desperate, I banged on the door again, hoping one of them would hear, but still nobody answered.

That's when I remembered the receptionist's telephone. I scanned the office directory for one of the other office early birds and dialed their extension. Their phone rang four times and I was about to hang up when they suddenly answered. In my most matter-of-fact voice, I explained my predicament. A few seconds later, they opened the door and greeted me with a minimal amount of teasing.

With the exception of a small errand and sandwich run at lunch, I spent the rest of the day in the office. As soon as I got home, I tracked down my badge and made sure it was in my backpack. I've never had such a struggle getting back to work. The next time I take my pack on a trip, even if I'm traveling to Antarctica, I'm keeping my badge with me.

Hobbes: How are you doing on your New Year's resolutions?
Calvin: I didn't make any. See, in order to improve oneself, one must have some idea of what's "good". That implies certain values. But as we all know, values are relative. Every system of belief is equally valid and we need to tolerate diversity. Virtue isn't "better" than vice. It's just different.
Hobbes: I don't know if I can tolerate that much tolerance.
Calvin: I refuse to be victimized by notions of virtuous behavior.

Like Calvin, I haven't made any resolutions this year. Of course, my excuse isn't as creative as his. Mine mostly falls into the category of things-I-don't-feel-like-doing-this-very-moment¹. I'm suffering from a nasty case of apathy, but I'm hoping I can rid myself of it with a little writing right now.

I blame most of my apathy on the awful weather we've been experiencing, especially this past week. I love the rain, but the heavy downpour, high winds, flooded roads and power outages sapped my enthusiasm and dampened my usual affection for precipitation. It didn't help that I felt the greatest urge to be outside last week, but couldn't (except on Wednesday) due to the wet weather.

I'm sure that a few sunny days will lift my spirits. If the sun stays out for more than two days, giving the trails a few hours to dry, I hope to venture out to one of the local parks and just hike through the mud to my heart's content. Books and DVDs are wonderful when one is satisfied or inclined to stay indoors, but they are hardly sufficient when one feels cooped up and desires cold fresh air and wide open spaces.

Perhaps one of my resolutions this year will be to explore and learn more about the local county and state parks. Another resolution might be to volunteer at nearby park. Henry Coe State Park is a possibility. Those two resolutions, if I were officially to make them resolutions, would be relatively easy to accomplish.

Potential resolutions that would be more difficult to achieve would include being more organized, establishing a healthier weekly routine and following through. As an (alleged) adult, I shouldn't have to make such resolutions, but also as an "adult", I can't ignore the fact that those are areas that need improvement.

Of course, one of my other possible resolutions would be to maintain a good sense of humor. This would require (amongst other activities) watching plenty of television comedies. I think watching a full hour of Scrubs tonight would be an excellent start.

Hypothetically, I could tie that resolution in with the more difficult resolutions. To be more organized, I could pencil in my daily planner what shows I'll be watching every week. A scheduled hour of laughs on Tuesday and Thursday nights would be a solid step towards a healthier weekly routine. And to help me follow through, I could reward myself with a cup of hot chocolate on the condition that I sit through the entire hour.

What do you know? I just made myself smile and I have a nifty draft list of resolutions. To top it off, I think the apathy is lifting. Now, if only the gray clouds would lift, today might just have a chance to be a great day.

¹ Other items in this category include eating stir-fried worms, hitting my thumb with a ball peen hammer and waxing my eyebrows.