Location: Rosa’s Roticeria, Santa Cruz
Miles: 734.1
Thanks for the suggestion, Lee and John!
Lunch
1
Monthly Archives: April 2004
Now Playing
Kind of a slick little thing, if I do say so myself. Useless, but slick. I wrote a script to update the blog with the current song that is playing on my Powerbook.
There may still be some kinks to work out, and if I’m not on the Internet obviously it won’t update. If I remember to shut off the music first, an appropriate message should display.
Right now I’m just playing randomly through the small portion of my music that’s not in a box to be shipped to Prague. What are you listening to?
As long as I’m discussing the sidebar, I added the “Cool Robot of the Week” link over there only to realize that the weeks apparently ended last November. Get a good look at it while you can, I’ll be taking it back off soon.
Hoops
Today John and I were out shooting hoops, neither of us having touched a basketball for two years. (OK, little white lie, there, I touched my basketball when I packed it into the storage container. But you know what I mean.)
We were both soon winded and shooting quite badly. John looked at me and said, “How old of a senior league do you think we’d have to be in to be competitive?”
We decided that we could hold our own in a 70-and-up league. At least we’d do OK if we played rough.
A Big Day, part 3: Charlie O’s
Location: Charlie O’s
Miles: 691.5
Padres Magic Number: 159
I was going to make this part of the previous post, except for three things. Three things would just dilute the other entry.
Thing 1: When I walked in, Jake Peavey of the Padres was dominating the Giants, making them look like weak little sissy-boys. I sat down and made myself comfortable, estranging the rest of the bar by commenting that Peavey was making the Giants batters look stupid. No sooner do I open the Powerbook and start typing when I notice that Jake is not pitching and the Giants have baserunners. They intentionally walked the tying run, Barry Bonds (damn few hitters would get walked in that situation), and paid the price. Barry scored, as well as several other Giants. Padres lose.
Meanwhile, on the television in the middle, between the two showing the game, is a show that must have been called something like “Rodeo’s most horrible injuries”. Bull riding has the unique feature that when someone gets hurt, they keep on getting hurt, over and over, until someone else distracts the bull. In that, it makes perfect television.
Thing 2: A couple came in and sat at the next table, and one of them is so scented up it’s making my eyes water. I think it’s the dude. Someone needs to give him lessons on the difference between cologne and after-shave, and the sparing use of each. His girlfriend is showing no inclination to correct her man’s ways. I just want to smack them both.
Thing 3: I am sitting in a very comfortable bar, and the people seem friendly, but it’s not really a sports bar, even thought it says “Sports Bar” on the partially-obscured sign. The baseball game is over, and there’s been no attempt to find other soprts – like hockey playoffs. Offsetting that is a friendly atmosphere and I just had a nice conversation with the owner, who seems like a good guy. The staff is happy and the service is good. If there’s not some particular sporting event that you just have to see, and you happen to be in Scott’s Valley, then this is a good choice.
Plus, both the waitress and the bartender are cute.
Still here, still writing, and now there is a thing 4.
Thing 4: Stinky and Bride of Stinky just left, and I saw a couple of things that may be interesting only to me. They are more significant because it seemed that this was one of their first dates – everything was funny and everything was new. First, when the (quite attractive) woman got up from the table she did a little stretch that definitely put her best assets on display. I appreciated that as much as her boyfriend, I’m sure. The second and more subtle thing I saw was the tip check. On the way out she looked over her shoulder to see how much dough was lying on the table. Let this be a lesson, lads. don’t be a cheapass when you’re on a date.
A Big Day, part 2: Highway 1
On the way up to the city, the sky was clear and the air was warm most of the way up. I was hoping for the reverse on the way back down, but I didn’t see the sun until I was almost to Santa Cruz. No matter, it was a great drive.
At the top of the route, the road clings to the side of a cliff as it winds its way down from the city. There was some traffic, but not too much and I really felt the connection between me and the machine I was controlling. It’s not that uncommon that I feel the car shift and move as I apply throttle or brake, but today everything was there; I was finding the right path through the curves, and as I pressed the throttle I could feel the push increase in exact proportion. I was shifting without thinking, and everything felt very smooth.
After the winding road, I got stuck in traffic, which was probably a good thing, as there were police everywhere. Just then “It’s Not a Race” by Gwenmars came on the CD player, and that helped me relax and enjoy the ride. South of Half Moon Bay the traffic disappeared, but for the rest of the trip it was I who pulled over to let others pass. I was cruisin’, the scenery was lush, good tunes were playing, and I was alone with my thoughts.
Rolled into Santa Cruz still unfed, grabbed my computer and headed here.
A Big Day, part 1: Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence
Location: Mission Dolores Park, San Francisco
Miles: 595.1
For those of you who are as little in the know as I am, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence (photo) is a community organization of gays and lesbians. But that’s not the half of it. today was their 25th annual Easter bash, which featured, among other things, the Easter Bonnet contest, the first Hunky Jesus contest, and music by Polkacide. Aside from all that, there was world-class people watching, as the sisters are out to put on a show.
This was truly an “Only in San Francisco” kind of event. I will do my best to get pictures up as soon as possible. Many of the sisters were in flamboyant costume, but as this was outdoors in a public park most of the costumes were not terribly risqué. Just as well for my own comfort.
The Easter Bonnet contest was a lot of fun; I thought the guy with the huge feathered headdress (think Vegas) with the bunny tied to it with leather straps was going to be the winner, but then I realized that the dude with the hat made entirely of chocolate had a basin of melted chocolate in the middle in which he was dunking strawberries. After he won he let the kids in the crowd devour his creation. In the words of the MC’s: “Martha Stewart couldn’t do that!”
The Polkacide gig was very good – a better sound mix than they usually get despite the hasty setup – but short. The crowd was definitely getting into it, there was much twirling of partners and shaking of booties. They had another brief set later, but I left. I was getting hungry, as all I had eaten today up to then was an ice cream sandwich. It was starting to get blustery as well, and I wanted to take a top-down flight down the coast before it got too cold. (Remember the days when there was no such thing as too cold? Those days are over, my friend.)
Right. Back to the Sisters. The drive is the next entry. I spent a lot of time around behind the stage, both because I was hanging out with John and the Polkaciders, and because that is where the most interesting people were. Neil, the clarinet player for Polkacide had a basket filled with the traditional fake grass and the not-so-traditional painted beers. In honor of the event, the band dressed up more than usual, which for some of the members is saying a lot. One guy (I’ll fill in the name later) was in a red sequin body suit. Yikes.
Before I left, one sister, dressed in white, face painted white with absurdly long eyelashes, patted me on the ass and said “Somebody better put that to use.” I think he did it just because I had been around the backstage for a while and obviously was keeping my space. That or he thought I was hot. Nah. I was taken by surprise, and I have no idea what my expression was like when I turned to look at him. Hopefully honestly surprised rather than fearful, or, worse, blank. Of course, now I have thought of several things I could have said, each one better than the last.
Soon thereafter I left, leaving forever the mystery of the White Sister’s intentions, and leaving unsaid all the cool things I could have said. Strangely, I spent the day slightly worried that some man would ask me to dance of just be too familiar, yet if straight women never hit on me, why should I think a gay man would? In point of fact, there were Sisters carrying around buckets for donations for their causes, and I swear they were avoiding me. Finally I had to chase one down and practically tackle him to make my meagre donation. I’m guessing it was my fashion senselessness. Or maybe the sheer power of my personality intimidated them.
It was the fashion sense.
It’s too easy, now.
I’ve been bashing Bush for several reasons lately, which can be summarized as:
1) He’s an idiot.
2) Big business owns him, especially big oil.
3) He pursues policies that seem frighteningly disconnected from reality.
4) He’s an idiot.
But by now we know all that, don’t we? What of the other guy, John Kerry, the man that almost everyone assumes is the only alternative to Bush? Well, one thing we know is that he promises to keep jobs from going overseas. Uh, huh. He’s standing up in front of unions and laborers promising to keep their jobs safe. There are only two problems with that plan. He can’t, and even is he could he shouldn’t.
Starting with can’t, the president of the United States just doesn’t have the power to tell companies how to run their businesses. Businesses are going to find ways to cut costs or they’re going to go out of business. He may try to penalize companies for using offshore labor, but in the end the trend is too big unless he closes the border completely to imports. That would see him sitting out on Pennsylvania Avenue with his suitcases piled around him.
And well it should. Our economy depends on that cheap labor. Everyone is in favor of keeping the jobs here until they see the price of their shoes double. Technology at home and cheap labor abroad are the two things keeping our economy growing virtually inflation-free, and both are bad for unskilled and low-skilled domestic labor.
Another reason to avoid protectionism (and that is what Kerry is proposing, job protectionism) is that the only way to equalize labor markets worldwide is to let the work flow between countries. Creating jobs in those countries where labor is currently extremely cheap (which is synonymous with abusive to the workers) will eventually lead to better work conditions and higher wages, as workers gain power and have more choice. Only where jobs are plentiful can a person earn a decent wage.
As an aside, this does not mean I endorse US companies tolerating inhuman conditions in their supplier’s factories overseas. The amount of money that moves through some of those empires dwarfs the economies of some nations*. Our corporations could do a great deal more to end suffering than they do, and without much effect on the bottom line. However, it is consumer activism, not the government, that has the power to alter the behavior of multinational corporations.
How do we keep America employed? The same way we always have, by having the best-educated, most productive workers in the world. Not the cheapest, the best. That means taking all that money we’re flushing down the toilet in Iraq and defending Western Europe and putting it into schools and training programs here in the US. It was not long ago that technology companies simply could not find enough qualified workers. That has returned to a more rational keel lately, but the supply of skilled workers will continue to be an important factor to any company choosing where to open its next plant.
Finally, there is national security. Poverty in the third world, exploding populations, and dwindling resources are the biggest threats our nation faces. We’ll forget all about Iraq if Mexico begins to falter. Prosperity is the worst enemy of tyranny. It is no accident that despots keep their citizens poor and ill-educated. We need to spread prosperity, and that means spreading jobs. That fact that it makes us more prosperous as a whole also is just one of those miracles of free trade.
*If anyone wants to fact-check me on that, I’d like to hear from you. I’m just kind of assuming.
Elevator Ocelot Rutabaga
As of this morning, I am at the top of the Google search for “elevator ocelot rutabaga”. It took somewhere between 3 and 4 days for Google to record that entry.
Just thought you might like to know.
Searching on just the word rutabaga didn’t bring up my blog anywhere near the top, but it did bring up this. Let’s hear it for National Rutabaga Month!
Plans Taking Shape
I’ll be here in beautiful Scott’s Valley and environs for a few more days, maybe ten. Then I’ll head over to Tahoe, and from there down to Yosemite to catch Old Faithful and all that stuff. After that I’ll spin through Death Valley on my way to Vegas, then down to San Diego to take care of all the odds and ends I need to close. Then a drive over to New Mexico, dispose of the car, fly to San Angelo, fly to Durham, then from there to Prague.
Plan your parties accordingly!
Nothing is in stone, and you will notice a distinct lack of dates. If the road is friendly and the sun is shining, A visit to Bob is still very much an option.
Jer’s Novel Writer approaching public beta
However, what I don’t have is the user registration stuff, which will eventually be part of the commerce solution. The commerce thing will be Web-based, and I want to have my final hosting solution in place first.
So any of you out there have good suggestions about the e-commerce angle? I’ve been looking into PayPal, which seems reasonable, but doesn’t address user codes, software timing out, and stuff like that.
The other requirement for a public beta is a place where people can report bugs, comment on other bugs, and I can update users about progress in fixing those bugs. As long as I have all that, I may as well expand the role of the system into a full BBS where writers can hand out and talk about writing. Or whatever it is they talk about.
This blog entry is really just shameless reuse of the status report I’m adding at jerssoftwarehut.com/. Felt like I had to post something here.
The Google Has Landed
Feel free to look around, leave a comment, or whatever. Leave your mark – who knows, it may be worth something someday.
Searches for the last couple of days have included:
“Half Baked Ideas” (came up 10th) was used twice today from two different ip addresses
“build motorcycle contest” (came up 2nd)
“iblog hit meter” (came in first!)
“La Dolce Vida” (came in first in an aol search) has been used more than once
“la dolce vida” (also came in first on Google)
“tomash czech” (came in fifth)
and it goes on. Misspelling vita certainly helped my rankings among similarly impaired searchers. Now, of course, since I have used all the key words again, google will send even more people here that really have no interest in what I have to say. I think variety is the key. If you put in enough unrelated topics, you’ll get some odd matches. And who knows? Maybe out there is someone who is really interested in building a hotel on the moon or a robot race vehicle.
In closing, I would just like to say, “elevator ocelot rutabaga”.
Exciting Addendum!
After talking about google so much, I did a search on the word “Google” and found this. Somebody’s stealing my ideas over there.
A Day in the Life
Miles: 528.7
Location: John and Janice’s house, Scott’s Valley, CA
Just spent the evening talking with John about all the old stuff – music, beer, and ideas. It’s funny that after all this time the conversation still seems fresh. (I reconsidered using ‘fresh’ because I understand that the kids have worn it into a cliché these days, but dammit, it’s the right word. No-good kids.)
I will backfill this entry with the names of the bands that we listened to, but one of those bands was Polkacide – the raw takes from a recent studio session, and I thought it further proof that those boys were born to do a live album. The raw takes demonstrate that they’re better when they just go after it without thinking so hard.
I heard a couple of new stories from old Polkacide gigs, and I heard music by the Polkaholics, which everyone must experience before they die. Which means that before tonight, I did not need to fear death. Had I only known! My life could have been so carefree until now, when the shadow of death has become irrefutably real. Curse you, Polkaholics!
We also drank several beers. I’m going to sleep now.
Big Sur
View JHT – Big Sur in a larger map
Miles: 518.5
Location: Santa Cruz Diner, Santa Cruz, CA.
Number of RV’s I got stuck behind: 0(!)
The morning was cloudy and came an hour too soon, but the smell of bacon finally pulled me out of hibernation, and it was just what my poor stomach needed after I sent so much wine down my gullet yesterday. After breakfast and a quick game of Scrabble, I said my goodbye-but-hopefully-not-forevers and hit the road, heading north up Highway 1.
By the time I passed the Madonna Inn the sky was clearing and the day was looking promising. I passed a cool-looking cemetary in Morro Bay, just to the north of San Louis Obispo, and I turned around to get some pictures. Many of the fancy graves had occupants named Madonna. Coincidence? Unlikely. I’ll put some pictures up at my Web site and link to them here – as soon as I figure out the best way to do that.
The drive up Big Sur was excellent. There were actually times I was not stuck behind slower-moving traffic and could really drive. When I did come up on a line of cars, I would pull over for a few minutes and let them get ahead again. If the line wasn’t too slow, I would just putt along with them and concentrate on sightseeing instead. Eventually most people will pull off the road to let the Mario Andretti wannabes pass.
Got here with a case of Exploding Bladder Syndrome, so rather than go looking for John and Janice’s house, I stopped here for relief and a bite to eat. Some guy just threw some coins at a waitress – apparently he had tried to leave without paying and was mad because she wouldn’t let him. That’s her story, anyway, and he’s not here anymore to tell this reporter his version.
Wine Tasting
Miles: 315.3
Location: Grover Beach, just south of Pismo Beach in Central California.
Went wine tasting. It was good. I didn’t drive. That was good. Sentence, three words. Three words good. Right now the other five people in this house are all packed in the kitchen, making dinner. The ingredients going in are excellent; it remains to be seen they can compensate for having five (argumentative) chefs to make a meal for six people. Oooh, it’s complicated.
By the time I got up this morning (6:30), Mikie was heading out to go fishing with Art, who was already long gone (He gets up at 4:30, and he’s retired. How messed up is that?). When questioned by the distaff about what he would do with any fish he caught, he said, “It’s all catch and release.” Since none of us believed that he would catch anything, we were prepared to take him at his word.
When he showed up 45 minutes later with two fish in his bucket, No one seemed surprised that the “and release” part of his plan went out the window as soon as he managed the “catch” part. It seems Art decided that he would clean and eat the fish rather than buy a lobster for the big seafood dinner we were planning for the evening.
We spent the afternoon in the Templeton area visiting wineries. Had a lot of different wines, some very good, others not. We stopped by the pier to get our seafood but lobster season ended last week. We got a ton (… well, OK, 5 pounds) of shrimp and a load of clams as well. Dinner was good, and the wine drinking continued apace. Fun was had by all. Fell asleep watching Amazon Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death.
Hmm… A relaxing day, but not really the kind of entry that’s going to keep you glued to your set, is it?
Day 1 – Happy Birthday to me
Miles: 315.3
Location: Grover Beach, just south of Pismo Beach in Central California.
I’ll not bore you with the details, but let’s just say moving out of a home you’ve occupied for ten years is like when you’re a kid and the snow is melting, leaving some really good mud to squish way down in, only to discover that you can’t get your boot out. I never knew how many clothes I had, especially since I don’t buy clothes very often at all. Triska’s last legacy.
The problem was exacerbated when I was told that the boxes I had packed to ship to Prague were too large. They didn’t really seem that large to me, but then no one asked me. Suddenly I had even more crap to take care of – I had already taken three large garbage bags of clothes to Goodwill. The break wasn’t as clean as I wanted it to be, then, as I must go back to take care of a few boxes, and some other junk. If I had stayed another day I could have got more of it done, but I was getting antsy to get out of there.
So, finally, on the road, car loaded with new luggage poorly packed, I almost missed the turn to go north on 5, driving on habit. Yesterday I was imagining that the moment I drove away to be one of euphoria or excitement, but instead I felt nostalgia, melancholy and just plain tired. I couldn’t help but think how much I had liked living in that house, and in San Diego in general. I stopped off at the Chevron on Birmingham and I wondered how much two twelve-packs of Sheaffer would cost these days. Certainly more than $9.10. I was not tempted to drive by the Emmadome multi-sport complex; I just jumped back on the freeway and rejoined the stop-and-go traffic.
LA was LA. I regretted moving out of range of KPBS, but then I found other stations. North of LA, when the scenery becomes spectacular, it was dark, but the drive from there on up was pleasant. Got a little lost finding the house (East Grand is west of Grand, which made me think I was going the wrong way, so I turned around and then I was going the wrong way.)
Got here just in time to have a single Birthday Guinness before it wasn’t my birthday anymore. Bushed, I went to sleep.
So the trip did not have that Hollywood “Vegas, baby! Vegas!” opening scene. It started in a contemplative mood, as a sequel might, which is perhaps more appropriate.