Wednesday, April 25, 2012
We call it a Bike Lane. Now that there is light for my morning and evening bike commutes, I would like to offer some alternative options:
Flat Cat Lane
Broken Glass Lane
Unpatched pothole zone
Vanishing Bike Lane
Jettisoned Car Part Storage
Stray Garment Lane
Non Recycled Bottle and Can Zone
Trash Can Overflow Parking Zone
Illegal Parking Lane
Cigarette Butt Ashtray Lane
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
I was on a business trip when I read the above description of airplane travel in BSNYC's irreverent blog. So appropriate was the phrase I felt compelled to adopt it.
Montreal was painless, except for the alarm going off at three thirty in the morning for the second time in three days. With solider-like instinct I reached for my travel alarm (which is my alarm at home as well) picked it up and slid the alarm switch to the off position with my thumb and closed the alarm as if shutting a switchblade after dispatching an adversary. It then was placed in the outside zippered pocket of my travel roller where it lives whilst Evo is in transit.
After looking at my face in the mirror and struggling to recognize the old man with puffy eyes looking back at me, I stepped into the shower. The warm water soothed my stiff muscles, but the shuttle to the airport was departing in fifteen minutes leaving little time to pause. I expected little company at three fifty in the morning, but I was sorely wrong. An extended family with more luggage than I could fathom was grouped like a pile of dirty laundry near the front door of the hotel. A knot of children whose energy at this wicked hour was contrasted by the grandparents who looked as if their path to feeling better included imminent death. Another business traveller met my gaze with a look of condemnation for the family that would share our brief ride to the airport.
I recalled the first rule of travel, "Be flexible." I rolled with it.
Soon I was in line to clear American immigration (yes, in Canada... Don't ask my why, that is just how they do it in America's attic). After exiting the Violation in the name of security zone and passing through immigration and customs I was spilled out into the duty free store. The olfactory attack of international perfumes assailed my nostrils and briefly woke me up. Finding my gate I crashed and waited for the ranking.
I changed planes in Chicago. I have passed through the Chicago airport so many times this year it is depressing. Though they call it O'Hare, there is nothing Irish about the place. I bought a bagel and cream cheese and buried it deep in my messenger bag for consumption during my pending flight.
I have used my bright orange and gold Timbuk2 bag for five years and to the casual observer it still looks new. A keen eye would spot the pilling on the straps where the Velcro has irritated it. There are a couple of stitches that are missing, but the fabric remains bright. I have commuted with this and used it a my work briefcase every day since getting it from Hottie as a valentine's day gift years ago. When I see messenger bags that are worn and frayed, I wonder what the heck it takes to make them look so bettered. As I drag it around the globe on business trips I know it puzzles those I interface with. I am sure it reveals a playful side beneath my button down exterior. We are all more complex than our appearance might otherwise indicate, and I take a selfish pleasure in making people's minds work when they see the bag.
The sky is a brilliant blue here above the clouds. It is raining in Seattle. Seattle is home. I will take it.
Hottie, Tux and Star (whom Hottie wants to rename Noodle) await my arrival. I am ready to be home. I have almost two weeks before I again return to Montreal for an afternoon meeting. I shall savor my time at home.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Empty seat next to me, all looking good. Great sandwich thing at O'Hare airport, which Rik turned me on to.
As I came to the hotel I spotted this sign:
Friday, April 13, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
First oddity. Wichita is a ghost town. As you drive down the street there is nobody walking around. The parking lots are huge and empty. When you pass homes at eight at night they are dark. Apartment buildings have lights on in one window and eight other units are dark. I checked Wikipedia and the population in 2010 was greater than 2000, so I don't have an easy answer. I feel like the protagonist in The Truman Show, and everyone is pretending this is a real town.
Second oddity there is nothing to do in Wichita
Q: Why do people work late in Wichita ?
A: Because when they get off work they are in Wichita and there is nothing to do.
Third (and most significant) oddity. People here hate it here. When we ask people what to do for fun they sound like convicts without a choice. "Yeah, there is nothing to do here.... I hate it here." Really ! I didn't see a fence so I don't know what is keeping them here but they seem to be serving some kind of sentence. "I used to live in ______, it was wonderful. Wichita is terrible." I have heard that a lot this miserable week. You know it is real when you can see the longing in their eyes as they ask where we are from. "Seattle; oh that must be nice..."
I had occasion to have coffee and a scone at a coffee shop. The coffee was COLD, the scone soft like a doughnut. I looked around and it reminded me of the Emperors clothing. All these people trying to look cool and pretending the coffee and food were good. They weren't.
Lots of famous people were born and raised in Wichita. NONE of them are here now. Nobody famous has decided to settle here. Like a lot of places, Wichita is a great place to be FROM.
On the bright side, they have good steaks and I am leaving soon.
Star your foster pop is on his way !!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Here I am in Wichita. The weather is front page news. In my honor they are welcoming rain to the area.
On page A2 was the above breaking news.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Hottie volunteered at the Greyhound halfway house in Woodinville and had an interesting experience. She helped with a bunch of Greyhounds in transition from track to homes. Some pups had been returned for various reasons such as owners illness, owners relocation and some dogs didn't fit into their new surroundings.
As she told me of her eventful day, she kept mentioning a scared female named Star. Star wasn't doing well and was terrified of everything. Since Tux the wonder dog is perfect in every way (except for his crooked face which just makes him more lovable) I felt emboldened to ask Hottie if we should foster Star to try and socialize her. When we first got Tux he was scared of cars and bikes and almost everything so maybe we could help this little female..
After some emails we loaded Tux in the wagon and went to see if they might get along. Nobody bit anybody, so we decided to give it a try. We brought home Star and she was scared to death of everything. She cowered in a corner with her tail between her legs.
Evo trying to share a treat.
She is making progress, but it isn't all happening at once. Hottie is doing nearly all of the hard work, and there is hope. We realized that if we can't get her to socialize, she may never get a home. Stay tuned..
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Kyson offering a Fish Kiss