Almost Home

I’m sitting in the trailerhouse on a late afternoon in early October. The sun is slanting through the window. Duke — the black kitten — is basking in the ray, which strikes his forehead, turning the fur almost silvery. A mild wind is blowing, and as it has for thirty-five years, it moans softly around the cracks and crevices of the trailer.

This trailer, which is now the business office, I once called home. Sometimes it still feels like home. At this moment, with the warm sun slanting through the window, with the wind moaning, with the kitten by my side, it’s hard to imagine that it’s not home. It even smells like home.

I slip into a reverie, find a memory from childhood that seems almost real. A Sunday afternoon from just this time of year. Lunch is over. Mom is washing the dishes. Jeff and I are in the living room with Dad, who is sprawled on the couch in the tipout. He has his shirt off, and Jeff is using a felt pen to draw faces on his big belly. I am stretched on the shag carpet (harvest gold), have claimed a rectangle of sunlight, and am reading the paper. I am reading the comics. I am reading the sports section (the Beavers lost again, and so did the Ducks). I am reading the poems in Northwest Magazine. Maybe there’s a cat, or a dog, or a bird in the room. Maybe Tony is here, coloring quietly.

Outside, the wind blows dully, and, if I listen carefully, I can hear the trailer moan. I can smell —

— and then I’m jarred to reality by a fourteen minute conversation with a customer who is woefully confused about an item we made in August, but which he cannot recall…

I’m always amazed at how little things — like sunlight on a kitten’s forehead — can trigger waves of nostalgia.

This morning on the drive to work, the sun was shooting God-rays through the lingering mist. You know the ones: the great shafts of light that slice through the trees, as if they’re something real, something tangible, something that you might be able to touch and hold.

Corked

So I’m trying cork’d, the new web-based wine-tracker. It’s a keen idea, and looks very nice. You enter information about the wines you own, and about the wines you try, and that information is shared with the cork’d community. You can add “drinking buddies” — Rich has already joined me, and maybe Jeremy will someday. (If you want to join, let me know, and I’ll e-mail you so that we automatically buddy up.)

But the thing is, cork’d is frustrating to use. It feels like an application where the designers were able to get it to work for them and the way they work with this information, but failed to test it in the real-world. (I’m not saying that this is what occurred; it just feels that way.) It’s also an application that’s prettier than it is functional. (It’s very pretty.)

Here are some specific things that bug me about cork’d. (And this list comes after only entering half a dozen bottles!)

The idea is that this is a social wine site. That is, after one person has entered the data for a particular bottle of wine, anyone else can use that information without having to re-enter it themselves. For example, here’s a bottle of two-buck chuck. If you go down to Trader Joe’s and pick up a case of this, you don’t have to enter the data because it’s already in the system.

But what if you find the wine you want and the information is incorrect? That is, what if you find this entry for the exact same bottle of two-buck chuck. What do you do? Well, you probably try to create one of your own. So right away, there’s one problem: with a system like that, you’re likely to have multiple instances of the same bottle of wine.

So should the designers limit the information that people can enter? That presents problems, too. Speaking from my own experience, here’s a bottle of Willamette Valley Vineyards 2003 Pinot Noir that I’d like to add to my wine cellar. The information is basically correct, except for two things:

This user paid $23.99 for his bottle — I paid $14.89 the same wine. It does me no good to have this in my cellar with his pricing information. I want my pricing information.
The region listed is wrong. Yes, it might make sense that a bottle from a Salem winery called “Willamette Valley Vineyards” would have an appellation of “Oregon – Willamette Valley”, but in reality the correct appellation for this body is simply “Oregon”. A small thing, but it bugs me. I’m not allowed to edit this information if I want to add the bottle to my cork’d wine cellar.

So what should I do? Create a new entry for this wine? That seems like a poor choice. But I don’t want to use the info as-is, either. It’s a stalemate, which basically means I don’t enter the wine at all, and I write a weblog entry complaining about the website.

There are other problems, too, such as:

cork’d calls appellations “regions”. I can deal with that, I suppose, but I can’t deal with the fact that you have to choose your region from a drop-down menu of pre-defined choices, a menu that out of seven bottles, was missing two of the regions I wanted. I want a way to add appellations.
I’m attempting to add all of my wines to my cork’d wine cellar at the same time. First, there’s no obvious way to add a wine from the front page at all. I eventually found out how to do so by clicking to a different page where adding a wine was an option. But why not on the front page, too? And after I add each bottle of wine, I’m taken to that bottle’s individual page. That’s fine, but there’s now way to just immediately add my next bottle of wine from this page. I have to click through a bunch of stuff again.
I want a “personal notes” field — something that isn’t a review, but something that isn’t a “description” either. I want to keep track of where I bought a wine, or who gave it to me. I just entered “purchased at Costco on 07 October 2006” for several bottles in the description field, and now that’s part of the permanent record. Oops. But it doesn’t belong in a review, either. It’s a personal note.
The search system seems broken. Searching for “willamette valley vineyards pinot” generates a “can’t find it” message, even though there are several wines that should return matches. But searching for “willamette valley vineyards” works as expected.
When I add a wine to my cellar from search, I’m given a choice of how many bottles to add, but when I add one by entering the data, I’m not. It just enters one bottle. If I actually bought four, I have to go to my cellar, find the bottle, and change the quantity there.
I’d love the ability to add actual images of each bottle instead of the generic graphics that are currently used.
Wines are rated using an Amazon-like star system. My ratings are shown in a sort of brightish pinkish red. If I haven’t rated a wine, its rating is shown in a sort of darkish winish red. This is fine if both colors are on the same page, but when they’re not, I have a hard time remembering whether what I’m seeing is my rating or the system-wide average.

Don’t get me wrong. I like cork’d and think it’s a fun idea. I’m hoping that several friends will join and we can have quite the drinking party. But in its current form, it feels very much like a piece of software in beta.

I like the idea of Cork’d but it still feels very beta to me…

The Crane Wife, Annotated

I’ve been listening to the Decemberists’ new album, The Crane Wife, for weeks now. (A loyal foldedspace reader sent me a copy a month before its release.) I meant to post a preview weeks ago, but time passed, and now the preview is a review of sorts.

First, you may wish to visit my previous entries about this Portland group:

24 Jan 2004 — The Decemberists (Live in Concert)
17 Mar 2005 — The Decemberists (Live in Concert, 2005 Edition)

With one exception, this is a fantastic album, a tapestry of words and music unlike anything I’ve heard before. (Well, actually, it reminds me some of Natalie Merchant’s Ophelia.) It’s like the promise of The Decemberists come to fruition. The more I listen to it — and I’ve heard it about forty times in the past month, according to iTunes — the more I love it. It just gets better and better.

The Decemberists are a hard band to describe. They’re sort of alt-folk-rock with lots of pirates and death and stuff thrown in for good measure. Colin Meloy, the lead singer and primary “face” to the band, is a big fan of The Smith’s Morrisey (and, in fact, has released a solo CD covering five of his songs). Meloy has a penchant for penning witty songs filled with archaic words and vivid images.

Though their last album had a couple of standout tracks, it was actually the group’s weakest effort to date, marred by too much topicality. They’re best at doing quirky, quaint story songs; they’re not so good at political statement.

The Crane Wife, I’m pleased to say, is a return to form. It features many lovely songs, and they lyrics are Meloy’s strongest to date. In fact, I like the album so much that I spent most of my free time today transcribing lyrics and annotating them. (You can see the results at the end of this post.)

This album is built around a theme: the Japanese folk story of the crane wife. Three of the songs (contained in two tracks) are directly related to the story; the others are less so, but still fit thematically, except for the woeful “The Perfect Crime 2”, which is the one track I’ve unchecked in iTunes (so that it never plays unless I specifically select it). (“The Perfect Crime 2” isn’t the worst Decemberists song. That would be “The Sporting Life”, which is simply painful to listen to.)

Here, then, is my attempt at transcribing the lyrics. I made a pass on my own, then googled for other people’s efforts (such as here and here). Some of the other transcriptions make sense; others don’t. What I’ve posted here is my best guess at most of the lyrics. I welcome corrections. I’ve annotate the more obscure lyrics — I welcome corrections on these, too.

Enjoy!

Continue reading →

A Taste of Autumn

Ah, autumn is here. Do you know how I can tell? It’s not because the weather has turned colder; it’s not because the leaves have begun to turn; it’s not because the tomatoes are bursting at their seams. It’s not for any of the reasons.

I can tell that autumn is officially here because Kris and I just made our first Fancy Meal of the season. It was a quickie, and only for ourselves, but it was very, very tasty. We had:

Caprial’s port- and soy-glazed beef tenderloin, using meat from the side of beef we bought last winter
Fresh corn from the garden
Fresh apples from the “orchard”
A salad containing cheese from the farmer’s market and various veggies from our garden
Some bad wine

Aside from the bad wine — a California product, naturally — this was all locally-grown food, much of it from our own yard.

From April to September, our meals are rather simple. But October arrives and suddenly we’re ready for complex flavors and gourmet cooking. That’s how I can tell that autumn is here.

Crocodile Hunter Jokes

I can only justify this entry by reminding you that after Steve Irwin’s death, I was touched and saddened.

Enough of that.

Today we have Crocodile Hunter jokes collected from around the internet. (Inspired by this AskMetafilter thread.) They’re all variations on a theme. If you think you might be offended by these, you should go look at kittens.

In a recent interview Steve Irwin was asked what his favorite TV program was. “Thunderbirds“, he replied, “But Stingray will always have a special place in my heart.”

Guess who’s singing at Steve Irwin’s funeral? Sting.

Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo is now serving stingray. It’s Expensive, but Steve reckons “It’s to die for!”

Q: How many croc hunters does it take to capture a sting-ray?
A: Apparently more than one.

What were Steve Irwin’s favorite sunglasses? Ray Bans.

Did you hear that steve irwin died like he lived? With animals in his heart.

After Steve Irwin’s death we discovered Terri Irwin is pregnant. If it’s a boy, she’ll name him Ray — if it’s a girl, she’ll name her Barb!

How many respected biologists have been killed by stingrays? None.

Did you hear about Steve Irwin’s tombstone? It reads ‘Ray Sting Peace’.

What’s the difference between the Croc Hunter and Princess Di?
He brought his own camera crew.

And for the grand finale: Norm McDonald on The Daily Show.

Who knew Norm was so funny?

Okay, we can go back to being respectful now…

Sungari

Most Chinese food — or what passes for Chinese food in Oregon — isn’t very good. There are some truly lousy Chinese restaurants in Portland. (As opposed to, say, Mexican restaurants, where you can almost always find good, cheap tacos.)

In Salem, Kris and I were fond of Tong King Garden, a little hole-in-the-wall with spotty service, cheap prices, and good food. Compared to other Chinese places, it was delicious. (It probably helped that it was the first Chinese restaurant I ever tried.)

Here in Oak Grove, I’m a fan of Imperial Garden, which sits on the Superhighway, next to G.I. Joes. Imperial Garden has the best service I have ever encountered in any restaurant. Their lunch specials are awesome: $4.50 gets you tea, hot-and-sour soup, steamed rice, two pork wontons, a spring roll, and an entree of your choice. The food is good — it’s the only other good Chinese restaurant I know besides Tong King Garden.

Except for Sungari, that is.

Sungari is in a class of its own. Using a bell-curve scale, if Canby’s Gold Dragon is a 2, most Chinese places rate a 4, and the two places I mentioned above rate a 7, then Sungari rates a solid 9. Maybe higher.

What makes Sungari worth raving about? The food is just so damn good. Dave introduced me to the place (as he’s done with so many other good restaurants — Nicholas Lebanese springs immediately to mind) a couple years ago. I was only mildly impressed. I was in a foul mood, and wasn’t focused on the food.

Last year, Kris and Tiffany and I stopped there before our tour of the Portland Underground. Though we were rushed, our dinners were good. So good, in fact, that Tiffany has been back a couple times since. And when it came time to choose a restaurant for her birthday dinner, she requested Sungari.

Last Sunday we went back — our meal was fantastic.

To start, we shared an appetizer plate of prawns, spring rolls, and five-spice beef. (The latter of which was the only dud of the evening.) For dinner:

Tiffany ordered the Chicken with Honeyed Almonds
Kris ordered the Sesame Beef
I ordered the Salt and Pepper Pork Loin

All of these were delicious. I know many people eat family-style in Chinese restaurants. Kris and I never have. But we did on Sunday. We each tried all three dishes, and were delighted. The Sesame Beef was the stand-out: lightly breaded and fried, the meat has a crisp texture, and the sauce is sweet and savory all at once. The pork was not as crispy as the beef, though lightly coated. It had a distinct buttery first note, followed by a taste of spices, and finishing with a bit of a peppery kick.

Really, though, I could have eaten the Sesame Beef all night.

It’s also fun that Sungari is located on first, along the MAX line. In fact, the train takes a corner around the restaurant, so that one can watch it pass during the meal. It’s entertaining. It’s also entertaining to watch the heavy foot traffic nearby.

The real drawback to Sungari is that it’s expensive (for Chinse food). Whereas I could feed three people for $16 at Imperial Garden, it costs $72 to do so at Sungari. But what a meal!

In Transition

Though this site hasn’t officially moved yet, you’ll find fresher content at http://www.foldedspace.org/ (new RSS feed).

The main entries will continue to be posted here, but all other content — including the flotch — is being routed to the new address. Note that the layout there is not final; I’m just using an out-of-the-box template.

Billions and Billions

The gang got together in Stayton yesterday for Craig and Lisa‘s annual harvest fest. There was a lot of good food. Too much good food.

After the sun set, the stars came out. Stayton is fairly rural, and so even the dimmest stars are visible. Jeremy, Hank, and I spent a few minutes down by the pasture, listening to the Beavers, picking out constellations from the sky. I used to be good at this, but I’m getting rusty.

“Look at that, Harrison,” Jeremy said, sweeping his arm in an arc over our heads. “You see that white, milky glow? That’s our galaxy. We’re just one planet and one star on the edge of a bunch of other stars.”

Harrison is of an age that this can almost impress him. He had lots of questions about galaxies. I remembered that Nick and I found this video last week, and I promised to post it so that Hank could learn more:

Astronomy is fascinating. Nothing makes me feel smaller or more insignificant. And yet nothing makes me feel more awed by the wonders of life.

Stories My Barber Tells

Barbers are natural-born storytellers. I love getting my hair cut because it’s guaranteed entertainment. Today my barber told me all about The Nam.

The conversation began as a discussion of teaching foreign languages in high school. The other barbers, and one of the customers, think it’s a shame that foreign languages aren’t required anymore. I commented that even when I was in school, they weren’t required, and that their presence has faded even more in the last twenty years.

This prompted my barber to mention that all he knows are some phrases in Vietnamese. (Warning: foul language ahead.)

“But my Vietnamese isn’t very good,” he said. “Once over there I found this gook on the side of the road and I pointed my gun at him” — my barber leveled his clippers at his own reflection in the mirror — “and I told him in Vietnamese to put his hands up. But he didn’t understand me. I said it again, and he still didn’t understand me, so I started shouting at him in English. I was scared. ‘You goddman flathead, if you don’t put your fucking hands up, I’m going to kill you.’ Well, apparently the gook’s English was better than my Vietnamese because he flipped me off and shouted back, ‘You fucking pig. I don’t do nothing. You fucking Marine.’ And I would’ve shot him, too.”

“They hated us over there, and they had every right. We Marines were trained to shoot anything that moved. And we did. We didn’t have a choice. I mean I went over there and told myself I wasn’t killing nothing, but all it takes is for those first few bullets to come flying at you, and you change your mind real quick. You kill your first man and it makes you sick. You throw up.” — here he pretended he was vomiting — “You feel terrible. But then after you kill a few more, you get used to it, you even get to kind of like it. You feel powerful. It’s a terrible thing, but it happens. That’s war. It’s how it works. You kill or be killed.”

“The thing is, though, it really fucks you up. When I became a civilian again — this would have been 1970 — I was really messed up. I went to a shrink at the VA and I told him that I was having dreams. I said, ‘Doc, I dream that a bunch of gooks are chasing me. They chase me to the edge of a cliff, and I don’t want them to kill me, so I jump off and fall to the rocks below. But I don’t break up. I bounce. I bounce off the rocks back up to the cliff where the gooks are and I flip them off. And then I jump again, but I bounce right back up. What’s wrong, Doc? I have this dream all the time.’ The shrink just laughed at me. ‘Son, you know what the matter is? You think you’re Superman.’ And you know what? He was right. I did think I was Superman. I had an attitude. I was always getting in fights. I loved it. I lived to mix it up. A good Friday night ended up with a fight at a bar.”

“This one time, when I first set up shop on my own, I pissed some guy off, and he got out of his chair and he was bouncing around with his fists in the air — you know, like in the cartoons — and he said, ‘I’m going to kick your ass.’ ‘We’re going to be here a while then,’ I said. And that just made him madder. ‘I’m going to hit you in the face,’ he said. ‘You’d better do it,’ I told him. ‘You look pretty goddamn silly bouncing around like that. You look like a kid.’ He never did hit me, which was lucky for him.”

“You get some crazy customers sometimes. In barber college, we used to give free cuts to the drunks. I remember one time this drunk came in and I took him in back to give him a shampoo. I’d never given a shampoo before — this was only my second or third haircut — but how hard could it be? I took him in back and lathered him up and began to give him a shampoo but his hair started falling out in clumps. ‘Jesus Christ,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with your hair?’ The drunk freaked out. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he said, and he jumped up from the chair — soap still in his hair — and he ran out of the barber college. We had to chase him down and apologize. He came back, but he wouldn’t let me touch his hair.”

I gave the man a $3 tip on a $12 haircut.

Help Me Name a Blog

I need your help.

Sometime in the future — though not for several months at the outside — I’m going to start a weblog about early American popular music. (Surprised? You shouldn’t be.)

I know that I want to call this weblog Happy Feet. It’s the name of an old song (mp3), and describes perfectly the vibe I’m hoping to achieve. However, all of the domains with any variation on “happy feet” or “happy foot” are already taken. What am I to do? Come to you for help!

Assuming that I still want to call this hypothetical site Happy Feet, then what domain ought I to register. Some possibilities include:

happyfeets.org — I would probably then call the site “Happy Feets”, which would make my inner grammar Nazi wince
happyfeetblog.org — an imperfect solution, but certainly viable
or something completely different, such as oldtimemusic.org or publicdomainhits.org

Please, devoted readers, help me to choose the best option. No idea is too dumb! Let me hear your toughts! (But not the “oh good lord why is J.D. starting another weblog?” thoughts.)