October 2006

There were 14 posts published in October 2006 (this is page 1 of 2).

The One-Hundred Mittens Project

Amy Jo has a knitting sewing project, and she’s recruiting help.

Hello everyone! I have a favor to ask. Would you mind digging through your closet(s) to see if you have any 100-percent wool sweaters that you are willing to donate to a good cause? I hope to make 100 pairs of felted wool mittens by Christmas to donate to local senior, women’s, and homeless organizations.

One medium-sized woman’s sweater will make one pair of adult mittens and at least one pair of child-size mittens. It doesn’t matter if the sweater is tatty or has holes in it, or if you’ve washed and shrunk it somewhere along the line (that would actually help me save the step of “felting” the sweaters before making the mittens). And, if you are feeling ambitious and would like to join me in the sewing of mittens, I’ll gladly send you the template and instructions. They are very easy to make — only one seam!

If you’d like to contribute to Amy Jo’s mitten extravaganza, leave a comment here or drop me a line. Also: I’ll happily ferry old sweaters, if needed.

Found on Road, Dead

Ah, my lovely Ford Focus. For years I drove it begrudgingly. Then I performed a little revitalization on it, and found it to be acceptable. I also discovered the overdrive switch, which would bump its power from gutless to “a little more than gutless”. I could live with a little more than gutless.

I’ve driven it for the past year with only a few complaints.

But this morning I walked out to the car, put my bag in the back seat, and tried to start the ignition. It wouldn’t start. The key wouldn’t even turn. I jiggled the wheel. Nothing. I pumped the brake. Nothing. I shifted through all the gears. Nothing. I got out the manual — no sign of any such problem.

After fifteen minutes, I came inside and google the problem. Lo and behold! People all over the place have experienced the same thing, but Ford insists it’s not an issue. Shocking.

Here are just a handful of sits where people have discussed this “non-issue”:

Once my insurance agent and car dealership opened, I began to call around to determine the best course of action. The dealership actually didn’t want to have anything to do with it, if at all possible, so I called a locksmith.

“I checked on the internet,” I told the young man who came to work on the vehicle. “This seems to be a common problem with Focuses.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a common problem with all newer Fords. It happens all the time.”

The fellow spent twenty minutes working on the ignition. I brewed myself some hot chocolate and ate some toast. When he was finished, he had me try inserting the key. It was still fairly stiff. He told me to be sure I was inserting the key straight. He also recommended I get a new set of keys.

“You’ve got 90,000 miles on this, which is pretty good,” he said. “Usually I see these fail before 60,000 miles. I do about ten of these a week.”

Ten a week. And yet Ford doesn’t seem to think this is worthy of a recall.

How I Spent My Weekend

I had a great weekend, despite being sick as a dog.

On Friday night, Tiff and I went to hear The Revenge Business play at the Dublin Pub. The Revenge Business is Josh and Paul’s new band. They’ve merged with three other musicians, and the results are impressive. Carli, the lead singer, has a fine set of pipes. The group plays a lot of covers, but plays them well. Even their original songs are catchy. (Josh’s performance of “Anarchy in the U.K.” was AWESOME. Seriously, Josh — this is the stuff you’re voice is suited for — you rocked!)

I had a little trouble with the whole “pub experience”. I’m not a bar and pub kind of guy. I don’t understand the etiquette. For example, apparently most drinks are actually ordered by walking up to the bar. I’m used to table service. I ordered hot wings — my standard pub food — and waited 45 minutes for them to arrive. Despite the slow service, I left a hefty tip, but when I checked my bank statement, I was charged for only the food and drinks, not the tip. I don’t get it.

At the end of the evening, I felt like crap. I was sick as a dog.

On Saturday, Kris and I worked in the yard. We raked leaves and tore out tomato plants. I even got to prune the mimosa.

In the afternoon, I zipped up to the convention center to briefly attend the Stumptown Comics Fest. My main goal was to find the Fantagraphics booth, which I did. I picked up the latest volume of Complete Peanuts, the first of their marvelous Popeye compilation, and, on Michael’s recommendation, the lovely bound volume of Castle Waiting.

Afterward, I swung down to the Rose and Raindrop — another pub — to attend a Metafilter meetup. Every so often, denizens of Metafilter, the group weblog I frequent, gather to meet each other: to chat, and drink, and laugh. I’ve never been able to make a meetup before. I was pleased to meet croutonsupafreak, j, matlidaben, jessamyn, and turbodog, among others. It was also good to chat with Matt for a few minutes. (Matt has been very supportive of Get Rich Slowly, which I appreciate.)

At the end of the meetup, I felt like crap. I was sick as a dog.

I had intended to head down to Denise and Lynn’s Halloween party, but I opted out. I tried to watch some Sex and the City with Kris, but instead went to bed early.

On Sunday, we took Tiffany to Ken’s Artisan Bakery for a tasty breakfast. Afterward, I played with my camera for the first time in months. I took photos of Kris, Tiff, and the cats. I felt crummy in the afternoon, so I crawled into bed. Meanwhile, Kris fixed Jenn’s famous BBQ Beef Brisket, and invited Paul and Amy Jo to join us for dinner. The meal was great, as always. That brisket recipe is one of my favorites.

At the end of the evening, I felt like crap. I was sick as a dog.

In all, it was an excellent weekend, despite this lingering crud.

More on the Milwaukie-Gladstone Trolley Trail

I’ve written before about the planned trolley trail in our neighborhood. Kris and I attended a community meeting last week to learn more about the project.

A standing-room only crowd gathered in the Oak Grove Elementary gymnasium to hear discussion. The organizers erected a number of exhibits detailing the history of the trolley (which began operation in 1893 and ran until 1958), the status of the project, and the proposed route of the trail from Milwaukie to Gladstone. The highlight was an enormous 30-foot long aerial view of the trail. It was simply amazing to see the six-mile route in so much detail.

Project Status
The plans are done. The design and engineering phase has begun. The design process will go through the winter. Thirty percent of the design should be completed by spring, at which time there will be another community meeting.

“We do have funding for about half of the project,” said one of the organizers. “There’s a grant process going on now with Metro. We’ve applied for a grant to fund the balance of the project.”

The Friends of the Trolley Trail sent seven people to METRO meetings once a week for six months in 2000, asking them to use the money they’d already collected from a 1995 bond measure in order to use it for its intended purpose: to purchase the right-of-way. The trail is now a public right-of-way, whether it’s actually open and passable or not. But it should all now be passable. Said one spokesman, “Six miles between the Gladstone city limits and Park Avenue were opened up four weeks ago…You can now walk six miles.”

The selling point to Metro was that the trail would create a twenty mile loop. The I-205 Trail connects to the Springwater Trail connects to the Trolley Trail, which winds back to Oregon City where you can return to the I-205 trail.

Neighborhood Reaction
I was surprised to learn that not everyone is in favor of the trail. An informal poll of those in the gym showed about 75-80% support. Those who are opposed don’t seem strongly opposed — they simply have some concerns that they want addressed.

Some questions and answers from the meeting:

What about trespassing? Loose dogs? Motorcycles? The designers will do their best to create buffers, including fencing and vegetation. This is something that will be worked on as the project develops.

What about bathrooms? There’s a restroom at the Jefferson street boatramp. There’s a portable restroom at Risley Park. There’s a planned restroom at Naef road, at the family park. It will be easily accessible.

What about garbage? There will be some trash cans. The planners are hoping for people to adopt portions of the trail. There are already volunteers willing to do this.

People are already dumping couches, washing machines, etc. on the trail. Metro is picking the stuff up. What happens later? This problem will go away as the trail takes shape. People dump now because it’s not developed and used. Self-policing will go a long way to solve this, too.

How soon will there be signage? There is no signage planned until the design process is finished.

Who picks up the garbage in the wetlands down by Boardman? What’s being done to protect the wetlands? It’s part of the process. The garbage will go away, like the dumping will go away. “When you get more bikers, runners, etc. on the trail all the time, there’s actually less garbage because the users force out the indigents. The users also have greater ownership.” The wetlands are being considered. There will be a bridge over them, which should help some.

What about the motorcycles that are going up and down the trail between Naef and Vineyard? There will need to be barriers erected to keep motorized vehicles out. In the beginning, there was a real problem with motorcycles on the Springwater Trail. But the volunteers formed a network who would call each other, and any rider would find himself faced with five angry residents.

Will there be any sort of security? “Patrol is definitely an issue we have to address.”

What about lighting? There are pros and cons to lighting. Lighting can provide some degree of safety, but it also is a nuisance to neighbors, and can be an advertisement that “hey, there’s a trail here!” when you really don’t want people on it.

Where’s the money for annual upkeep going to come from? A combination of volunteers and North Clackamas Park District.

Will the trail ever connect to Springwater? There are discussions to extend the Springwater Trail down 17th, which would bring it to the north end of Milwaukie. (The Trolley Trail starts at the south end of Milwaukie.)

Conclusion
I was amazed to see so many people at the meeting. It’s clear that the trail has wide support, but there are still some concerns that need to be addressed. Personally, I can’t wait to be able to zip up and down the thing on my bike!

By Your Request…

A friend once complained to me, “I don’t understand it. My boss is a jerk. How come every single boss I’ve ever had has been a jerk. What have I done to work at so many jobs where the boss is a jerk?” He’d worked at a lot of jobs.

I’d met some of his bosses. They weren’t jerks. The trouble wasn’t with my friend’s bosses — the trouble was with my friend.

You see, I have this theory: if you find that people are saying the same thing about you over and over again, there’s probably a grain of truth to it. If your friends all think you’re bossy, maybe you’re bossy. If your family thinks you’re too competitive, maybe you’re too competitive. Or — to take an example from my own life — if people complain that you only see things in black-and-white, maybe you’re not doing a good job of conveying your ability to see shades of grey.

All this is just a long and drawn-out way to say: I hear you. When all of my readers are saying the same thing, how can I not?

The truth is, I like this layout, too. It feels like home. I’m not fond of the architecture behind the scenes, but I just spent the past eight hours performing renovations. I upgraded Moveable Type to the latest version. I installed new spam protection. (I haven’t received a single piece of spam since doing so. More precisely, I’ve received 55 pieces of spam in the past 9 hours and 21 minutes, but the spamfilter has caught them all, even the goddamn Tramadol ads!) I took the time to funnel every single feed through Feedburner. (I think. If you read via feed and you’re not being routed to Feedburner, please let me know. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just ignore this.)

I even spent a couple hours creating a new front page. I think it’s pretty nifty. (I haven’t tested it on Windows yet. If you see anything obviously broken, please let me know ASAP.)

Thank you all for sharing your thoughts. I appreciate it. It helped me see the clear direction I needed to take.

Now I’ll see what I can do about adding more content to the site! (Starting with the flotch. It’s back!) One thing you’re going to see, though, are parallel postings. That is, I may post something at both Get Rich Slowly and foldedspace. Or at both Animal Intelligence and foldedspace. The stuff I parallel post will be “best of entries” of which I am particularly proud. It’ll save me a little effort and give you more to read!

Peking Duck

Important reader poll at the end of this entry. Seriously.

Kris and Tiffany’s Aunt Jenefer and Uncle Bob were in Portland last night (with Bob’s mother Irene), so the six of us gathered at Sungari for a Chinese feast. Dinner was awesome.

Tiffany and I had pre-ordered the Peking Duck. I had never eaten Peking Duck before. The preparation process is so elaborate that the dish must be ordered 48 hours in advance. According to the wikipedia:

Peking Duck requires a duck with its head still attached. First, it is inflated with a pump or other object, separating the skin from the body (this was done by blowing through a straw by someone with a strong lung in ancient times). Then the skin is scalded with boiling water to make it drier and tauter and brushed with molasses so that it acquires a dark, rich color with the slight aroma of caramel during the subsequent cooking process. After drying for half a day, the duck is hung by its neck in a hot oven where it is roasted for an hour or more, during which time the copious fat of the duck melts off and the skin becomes crispy. Because a large oven is required, as well as other complicated preparation techniques, Peking Duck is not usually prepared at home.

Serving is a production, too. At Sungari, the duck is served table-side. The waiter brings two dishes of flaming hoisin sauce (as in, the sauce is on fire), the duck, some scallions, and some mu-shi (flour pancakes) which look like nothing more than homemade Mexican tortillas. The waiter then spreads hoisin sauce on a pancake, fills it with duck and shallots, and then puts them on a platter. A single duck makes about a dozen wraps.

Because I had ordered the most expensive dish on the menu, I decided to order the most expensive drink too: the monkey-picked tea.

“I don’t like it,” Tiffany said, after taking a sip.

“It tastes like grass,” I agreed. But after a few more sips, and after a few bites of Peking Duck and Sesame Beef, I was hooked. I drank a pot-and-a-half. (I’m not ever going to get to sleep.)

It was fun to see Bob, Jenefer, and Irene. Special thanks to Bob for picking up the check. It was a generous gesture, especially after I’d ordered the most expensive stuff in the restaurant!

Dinner was especially fine because:

  • It had been a Day From Hell at work, and
  • I was just beginning to get sick. (I’m very sick now.)

As we were saying our good-byes, Bob and Jenefer voiced their distaste for the new weblog front page. “I hate it,” Jenefer said.

“Well, it’s only temporary,” I said. “I’m moving to new blogging software. In a couple weeks, the new site will look mostly like the old site.”

“What do you mean mostly?” she said. “It had better have the calendar, and it had better have the comments on the main page. I hate all the clicking around I have to do now. It’s terrible.

“And you should write more. I don’t care about comic books or personal finance. I hate all those links you put up. I want more stories.”

Kris smiled. She’s been telling me for weeks that I shouldn’t make my proposed changes. She’s been telling me for weeks that people like foldedspace just the way it is. She’s been telling me for weeks that I spend too much time writing for Get Rich Slowly, and not enough time writing here.

So, dear readers, I put it to you: what are your feelings? What do you like about this site? What do you think needs to change? Should I simply go back to the way things were? I can ratchet up the spam protection to see if it does anything. If I can make the new front page look and operate the same way as the old page, will that keep you happy?

The ball is in your court. Let me know how you feel.

Situation Comedy

I don’t watch much television.

But I’ve found that I love to watch television shows on DVD (or via download). Kris and I have watched The Office, Arrested Development, Homicide: Life on the Streets, and more.

Recently Sabino loaned me some Seinfeld DVDs. I loved the show during its first few seasons. It gave me some big laughs. But I haven’t actually seen the show since it went off the air.

Over the weekend, instead of doing the writing I had planned, I watched the first nineteen episodes of Seinfeld. The early episodes aren’t as funny as those from the middle of the run. The writers and cast are still finding their way. But there are glimmers of the hilarity to come.

I especially like the DVD’s included “notes about nothing”, captions used to annotate each episode as it progresses. These “notes about nothing” include information on guest stars, behind-the-scenes info, trivia, and — best-of-all — explanations of some of the jokes. I’m surprised at just how smart this show is. Head writer Larry David — the inspiration for the character of George, and the force behind the current HBO series Curb Your Enthusiasm — was a history major. There are many literary and historical jokes in the show, and the “notes about nothing” explain them. (Which is nice, because about half of them make no sense to me otherwise.)

I’ve also enjoyed the emphasis the special features place on the show’s writing. The bonus interviews and the “notes about nothing” provide glimpses into the writing process, especially how scenes were developed and revised. As a writer, I’m fascinated to see just what gets cut and why.

Meanwhile, Kris has spent the last several months watching every episode of M*A*S*H. She’s almost finished with the tenth season, just in time for the eleventh (and final) season, which will be released on DVD early in November. The show seems strident to me — lots and lots of yelling — but Kris says it’s still funny after all these years.

Meanwhile, we’ve continued to explore films that people recommended to make me laugh. That isn’t going so well. Galaxy Quest? Lame. Just dumb. Makes no sense at all. Bowfinger? It had promise (and I love Mindhead), but ultimately very average and not so funny. Still, I’ll continue to explore the list of potential funniness.

Max and Duke

Earlier this year, Custom Box Service inherited three kittens. Jeff was rummaging in the tool shed when he startled a black cat. The cat bolted and hasn’t been seen since. She left behind three kittens, which were about five weeks old at the time. Paul and Amy Jo considered adopting two of them, and Mom took the third and named her Socks. In the end, Ruby — Paul and Amy Jo’s dog — prevented adoption of the other two. They returned to Custom Box with their new names: Max and Duke.

At first, we tried to pawn Max and Duke on unsuspecting souls. (We did well with shop cats during the mid-nineties, but our recent history is less keen. They tend to get squished in the road, or they simply disappear.) We found no takers, though, and soon we came to bond with our little boys; now we wouldn’t think of giving them away.

Both Max and Duke are sweet — sweet in a way that I haven’t seen in a cat since Tintin died.

Duke is black. He looks like a miniature Toto, only he’s not so fat, and he’s not so grouchy. In fact, he’s a little overbearing. He has a squeaky meow, which he uses often. He loves to sit on laps, or to sit on my desk while I’m working. He has a hand fetish — he nibbles and gnaws on fingers, and if you let him, he’ll lick lick lick until your hands are clean. Duke’s specialty is sleeping. He’s been practicing hard, and soon will be ready to enter the sleeping event in the cat olympics.

Max, on the other hand, is training for the bottle cap competition. Even at this moment, he’s out in the hall, delivering a succession of stunning blows to an unfortunate cap. Max is grey with a bit of white on his bib and his paws. He’s sweet, too, but not as willing as Duke to sacrifice his inherent cat dignity. He’s actually quite catlike in demeanor already. Max is fond of play. His favorite trick is to crouch in the grass along the sidewalk and then to spring on passers-by. He’s deadly.

As I say, I worry about their longevity. Cats generally aren’t prone to roaming, despite notable exceptions. They like to have a set territory. Because of this, I’ve tried to convince Max and Duke that their base of operations is the shed in which we first found them. I feed them in the shed. I water them in the shed. (Max likes to drink from the stream of water as I’m pouring it into the bowl.) I encourage them to sleep in the shed. It would be more convenient to have them on the porch, the porch is much closer to the road. It’s my hope that with the distance, and with the trailer as a barrier, the kittens will have no reason to go near the road.

The truth is that if Kris would let me, I would bring these home. If only Toto would croak, maybe I could justify it. They’re a fantastic pair of cats, as fine as any I’ve seen in a long time.

p.s. Yes, the chicken is still around.

God Hates Blogs

The Restored Church of God has revealed a secret hitherto unknown: God hates blogs. Why?

First, there are the obvious dangers: on-line pedophiles, filthy language, risqué pictures, bullying, and addiction. But these are just the tip of the iceberg. A greater danger is that blogging gives a person a “voice”.

Whether or not it is effective, as soon as something is posted the person has a larger voice. It often makes the blogger feel good or makes him feel as if his opinion counts—when it is mostly mindless blather!

The horror! There are other evils, too. Bloggers are too open. They’re vain. They write too many idle words. What’s The Restored Church of God’s official position on blogging?

…No one — including adults — should have a blog or personal website (unless it is for legitimate business purposes). When this policy, now being instituted, was discussed with Mr. Pack and other Headquarters ministers, there was not a shadow of doubt in anyone’s mind that blogs are something youth should not be doing in any way. As has been said before, Jesus Christ and His Church have standards. Those who desire fewer standards should go to the splinters or to the world.

I would comment on this, but it would just get me into trouble. Suffice it to say that I believe you should simply go forth and blog!

[From the Restored Church of God’s own blog, and via waxy.]

The Carrion Drive

Near home it’s squirrels. Even on the rough-pocketed side streets, it’s squirrels, and often with the crows pecking at the corpse. “I have a theory,” I tell Kris. “I think the crows raise the squirrels. They nurture them. They bring them to fatness. Then, when they’re good and ready, they herd the squirrels into traffic. Squirrel is a delicacy for crows. That’s my theory.”

Sometimes it’s cats, too, but not very often. Cats are generally smarter than that. They don’t freeze in the face of oncoming traffic the way a squirrel does. Cats get it when they’re making some mad dash across traffic. They’re too cocky about their speed and agility, and they don’t quite make it.

There aren’t many cats around our place, but once you get toward Canby, it’s the cats for sure. Just on the bluff, near the fruit stand and the trailer park, that’s where you start to see them. And then down toward the Foursquare Church, and certainly after driving through town, heading out into the country again. The cats hit me in the gut. “That was somebody’s pet,” I think. “That was Toto or Simon or Nemo.”

But once you get through town, it’s more than the cats. Mostly it’s skunks and coons, depending on the time of year. It used to be the possums, but frankly I don’t see them much anymore. But I see the skunks and the coons. The coons make me sad — though not like the cats — because I think of them as smart. It makes me sadder still when it’s not one coon, but two, as it sometimes is. Sometimes it’s one coon in the middle of the road and one coon at the side. “Husband and wife?” I wonder. “Do coons mate for life?”

Today, at the bottom of Good’s Bridge, it was a deer, lumped in the middle of the road. I came upon it fast in the melting light, and at first I thought it was a body. A human body. But it was a deer, a small doe, slumped and bleeding from the head. It was in the center of the road, which is a good thing, because otherwise maybe it would have been human bodies, too, and twisted metal and shattered glass.

It was a deer at almost the precise spot where a week ago it had been a horse. I didn’t know it was a horse. I drove past in the morning, and it was a mound on the side of the road, like a pile of barkdust maybe, or a pile of dirt. It was covered in some crazy-quilt blanket, and I thought, “That’s odd.” But I didn’t know it was a horse until Nick got to work and said, “Did you see the horse?” “What horse?” I said. “The one at the bottom of Good’s Bridge,” he said, and then I knew it wasn’t a pile of barkdust or a pile of dirt.

But you know what it never is? It’s never dogs. I don’t get that. It must be dogs sometimes — I hit a dog once. But why isn’t it ever dogs on the road? Do people pull them off? Maybe they’re just not let loose outside like they used to be.

About a month ago, I drove from Custom Box to Sandy, by way of Estacada. Turning off the highway, heading up the hill toward Sandy, traffic had slowed to a crawl. “What gives?” I wondered, but then I saw: up ahead two dogs — a silky Golden Retriever and some little mixed mutt — were strolling down the middle of the road, following the striped line. It was like they were out for a pleasant walk after lunch. The Golden Retriever walked evenly, following the striped line; the little mixed mutt orbited around it. Traffic in my lane crawled along behind. Oncoming traffic came barreling around a blind corner to halt abruptly and then creep past the pair. That’s how it went: a car came barreling around the blind corner, and I held my breath because I was sure one of the dogs would get it, but the car would brake hard, stop, and then creep past. The dogs didn’t care. Traffic followed the dogs for a quarter mile before the pair found a side street they preferred and ambled off to find whatever it is they were looking for.

I wonder why it’s never dogs.