Wednesday


2
Sep 26

What I didn’t do, and what I did

See what had happened was, I was going to ride my bike. Then I didn’t, because I slept a little bit extra. And then I was going to ride my bike, but I didn’t, because there was reading, and then lunch. And then I was going to ride my bike, but I had a nice conversation. And then I was going to ride my bike, but the rain came down in great amounts once again.

So I did not ride my bike. Instead, I spent a few extra minutes getting ready for work.

Then I went to get gas, because that’s a requirement, just like driving right past that big glowing red sign that is our laziest indicator of economic health and foreign adventuring. That number is, as you probably know, too big and going the wrong direction. But, I said, as I saw my next eight meals go into the gas tank, I don’t have to buy gas that often.

Then I went to Lowes. We have a local hardware store. It’s small. The people are helpful. If you need precisely what they have, it’s convenient. We have an even smaller one. The people there are a little standoffish. Odds are they don’t have what you’re after. So, sometimes, you wind up going to a bigger store. My problem here is that the big stores aren’t especially close. They’re near work, but its a few miles off of that, and have you seen gas prices?

I bought a shower curtain rod, because I want to use more of the space in my closet. It’s a small walk-in, which is to say that on one wall there’s a row of clothes hanging. There are two shelves above it. There is also stuff below it. In the back of the closet, which is about three feet long, is where the clothes basket sits. But the ceiling is high, and so in this little space where I can walk in to pick up a shirt, look for a hat or some bit of cycling kit, or drop clothes in the hamper, there’s a lot of wasted space above me. There are also, meanwhile, a bunch of free hangers sitting on one of those two shelves above my clothes. Hangers, of course, just become a tangle and I’m sick of that. I’ve streamlined everything in my closet because nothing matters. I put on whatever is on the right side of the rod. Dress shirts, polos, t-shirts, each sectioned off, each waiting their turn. When the clothes get cleaned and put away, they go on the left side of their section, wait their turn, and move forward. I have done all of this to minimize my time standing in that small space. Now, the time I spend there is in dealing with those empty hangars. My genius solution was to get a high-tension rod, and put everything at about eight-feet. So I had to go to a store.

Then I had to go to campus. This evening we had the first meeting of the organizational communication in sports media class. It’s org comm in a sports context. On its own, org comm is important, but not always interesting as classroom material. This way, because of the sports angle, I can bring in whatever the controversy of the moment is and we can talk about things like imaging, branding, crisis management, internal and external comms, and so on. I like the class. I would. This is the second time I’ve taught it. Last year it was a twice-a-week experience. This time it is once a week.

My goal is to figure out which model is going to be the way we do it in the future, and then begin to change things up so that, hopefully, students will as find it as rewarding as I do. I want to do that because it is a valuable class, even if they’ve not yet realized that themselves. And, if they haven’t, they explain it to me before we’re done. We’re all here to learn, I say a lot.

Happily, the class was quite engaged on this first day. It’s pretty easy when there’s something to talk about, and there’s always something to talk about in sports. Next week I’ll put them into groups.

Anyway, I took no photographs today, but remembered that as I was waiting for the elevator after class. Here’s the building across the street from the building where my office is, and, of course more weather blowing in.

The drought monitor report comes out tomorrow. Surely we’re out of this dry spell by now.

I was eager to put up the shower curtain rod in the closet. (It’s amazing what you can look forward to.) I got greedy and wanted to hang some shirts on it, too, but the thing will only hold so much weight. It took me four failures to realize that. Eventually, I settled on just the hangers. It isn’t pretty. It’s a closet solution in a closet that no one but me is ever going to see. It doesn’t have to be pretty; it only needs to be effective. I’ll let you know. You’ve come along this far, you deserve that at least.

Tomorrow, we return to 1926.


26
Aug 26

Another day closer to being ready for the semester

Another one of my classes was locked down today. I’m sure I’ve said that recently. Probably about that class, but it is official official now. The syllabus has been uploaded. I’m not touching anything else with it, build-wise. Of course I have to work on lectures, but there’s time for that. For now, it is organized and mostly coherent.

The last thing to do was to fix the syllabus. Change the dates. Change the time and date details. Add some standard university boilerplate. Wonder why this was a nine-page document. My afternoon goal was to cut that down. Eventually, I made it five pages. Here’s how you do that.

You press the delete button a lot.

When you add things you have to delete things. Paragraphs and sentences can be made redundant. Then you can move sections around to take advantage of page breaks. Then you can reduce sentences to their Hemingwayesque destiny. Finally, you can just delete a whole two-page section with information that exists elsewhere, anyway. VoilĂ ! Five pages!

If you’re not leaving the bulk of your work on the cutting room floor, you’re not doing your best work.

I also locked up my online presentations class with a new thumbnail image: owls staring at a computer. Tomorrow, I’ll go through my org comm class once more to make sure that it’s ready. Monday, I’ll put the finishing touches on the first week’s slide decks. Tuesday, I’ll hit the ground stumbling.

If you wanted to see the new sunglasses shelf in its natural location, and I’m sure no one did, here it is. One piece of scrap plywood for the back, two bits of leftover pine for the sides, one of the rip cut to match the other. Two other pieces of extra wood crosscut into shelves. Glue on the sides, brad nails on the shelves. Wood screws for the cleat, which was was also leftover. Six shelves, lots of sunglasses.

It does what I wanted it to do.

I hate it already.

I do not know why my lovely bride has two helmets in the garage. She can only wear one at a time. (She has at least three active helmets right now.)

The sunset looked promising from the backyard.

Over at the north corner there was a nice mixture of colors amidst the tangle of plants. The roses and the hydrangea are having a fine time of it. I think we might have developed a second hydrangea in there, somehow. Just there on the right the famous honeysuckle is sneaking into the shot.

Looking to the west, the sunset got serious quickly.

That’s a good argument to knock off work at key times. You can only catch that by chance unless you make the actual effort. Make the actual effort. You don’t want to miss views like that.


19
Aug 26

Pudding would have been a just reward

Much work was done. Much progress was made. My second class of the semester is now squared away. I hope I did everything right. The proof is in the pudding, and instead of a tasty after-dinner treat I mean in how the class reacts to it over the course of the semester. It’s a good class. I’ve taught it several times, online, but this will be the first time I am offering it in person. I will have the class again next spring. It will be online once again. So the last four or five days of intense scrutiny will suffice through December. If I’ve done everything right.

But now I want pudding.

I need to revisit the first class to make sure it is also set. I have an extra day for that because of the way the schedule falls. I’ll do it next week. Tomorrow I’ll start diving into my third class, which was a last minute surprise. It will all be fine when it’s all underway.

Anyway, the whole of the day was spent on that class, until about 6 p.m., when I decided I’d had enough of that. Feeling powerful in my sense of agency, liberated in my ability to tear myself away from the work computer I closed it with a satisfying click and watched the monitor dim and fade. This, I thought, is not worth the spectacle you put on it later. Don’t write too much about it.

Sometimes we give ourselves good advice.

Outside, I stopped to admire the awesome power of this one plant and its perfect spot in the yard with respect to nutrients, sun, and shade. And also this thorny vine, with which I am engaged in a duel to its death.

It has one trick, and I have one trick. It wants to see my blood and I want to see its roots. Both things may happen, but I can also wear gloves.

After dinner this evening, a tasty little shrimp and edamame dish my lovely bride whipped up, I decided to finish off the fortune cookies from last week. These fortunes still apply.

I’m not running for office, but it is otherwise not clear what I will win in November. My determination could make me victorious in a battle of wills. I could win a fight. I could determinedly emerge victorious over a mortal enemy. (I don’t have one of those, because I am a polite person in a society, but there’s still time to develop one, I suppose.) I could win the lottery, the respect of my colleagues, I could emerge victorious over a particularly sticky jar lid. Maybe a verbal debate. Maybe it’s about those little plastic wrappers that are difficult to open. Maybe a long lost person will finally give in and reply to a message because of my determination. Who really knows? The fortune cookies know, but they’re not saying. My neighbors might know, but I am told to respect their privacy, which I am quite mindful of anyway. So that was more of a reinforcement cookie, but whatever; it did its job.

Here’s the latest update in household minutiae. I have emptied and cleaned this little guy. What might I put in this delightful 12-ounce plastic bear. What is good enough to bother with, but sufficient at that volume?

So far the best answer is a homemade dry rub. But I don’t have a homemade dry rub. This could be, though, the reason to start. For beverages, I’d just use the original container, or a mug or some such. Maybe I could do something with that bottle and put it in a jersey pocket for bike rides. How fast would I go if I slammed 12-ounces of 5-hour Energy or the like? The internet tells me there are people that use these for crafts, and that’s great, but that will not be this plastic bear’s fate. No one hear needs plastic crafts. These are the dilemma of reuse.


12
Aug 26

I can see mulch and top soil again

What a fine day. Productive and rewarding in several senses, but not in all of them. One can’t be productive in every sense. We weren’t designed for that. How else would we have developed imagination, hope, and ambition? How else would we have ever learned to fly, go to space, develop life saving vaccines, study the planet and what we’re doing to it? If we could do everything all at once, how would we have internalized concepts like dreams, lists, and ways to judge our neighbors against our efforts? Someone had to have the idea of emulating the birds, and s/he and their ilk were scorned for generations, until one day it wasn’t a flight of fancy, it was a flight. And you couldn’t do that or go to space or any of our other marvels, really, without the ability to create and pursue lists. We’re talking about human pursuit here! You can’t pursue everything at once. The neighbors would stare and talk.

I hope not too many people are doing that around here, because we’ve given them something to judge of late. There’s a lot of weeding to be done, but it’s been so deliriously hot. The temperatures settled into the low 90s today, however, and I went outside in the morning and pulled things out of the ground for a while.

My first job was a summertime thing working for one of my teachers. She was a horticulturist, and she had a summer side hustle landscaping one of the big houses on the mountain. The husband was a surgeon. A plastic surgeon, I think. Or a heart surgeon. Something that set him up well enough to marry a woman who descended from old money. (People knew the family name.) It was a gorgeous house, made to look ancient by the stone work that didn’t come from our red clay hills. It had a commanding view of the city in the valley below, the city her family had left a few generations before. The city where her family name was on one of the skyscrapers downtown, which you could see standing at their sink, or at their pool, or in any part of the house that looked to the northwest. They had a Rolls Royce Phantom 2 in the garage, giant oil paintings of themselves in the foyer that was, itself, bigger than any house I’d ever seen. And they had landscaping needs that meant after we’d worked our way across the whole of the yard it was time to go back to the other side and start again. I was in the 8th grade and it was incredibly hot and that job taught me a lot, namely that I didn’t want to do that kind of work. My teacher also taught me about Tracy Chapman that summer. Everyone knew Fast Car, but she talked about that debut album and the followup, Crossroads and how somehow that had inspired her to go into the Peace Corps. That didn’t make sense at the time, but I guess I can see it now.

Anyway, I was thinking about that today, pulling weeds in my own flowerbeds, stuffing lawn bags and sweating and listening to Tracy Chapman. I was also hoping none of the neighbors would walk by, notice me doing all that and giving me the nod of disapproval.

“About time he got around to that.”

“The last owners would have never.”

“No they would not.

Yeah, well, they had kids and I’m guessing the children got sent out to do their share of the work. Or they hired someone. We’ve done that. It’s been … spotty. Sometimes great. Sometimes aggressive. Sometimes questionable.

Anyway, one man did walk by and, even across the yard, you could hear that he was on the phone. I paused to listen, wondering if he’d say “He’s actually doing it. I know. I know! No really, he is!”

I didn’t get it all today. I don’t know that I can, or want to get it all. Pretty much the entire Tracy Chapman catalog is great, much of it peerless, but it would need to be much larger for me to get of this weeding finished. Plus, there’s other work to be done. But there are things on the southern side of the house that I didn’t want to get choked out by undesirables, so I did that for a while, until it was time to come in and cool off. Because while it was only 88 degrees, I still managed to do a credible sweat test this morning. But two hours, noon, 88 degrees, and three comically large bags of now dead green things are ready to be disposed of. The bulk of the work on the south side of the house is done. I could still probably pull weeds for another hour there, plus a good 20 minute weed-eating session. But enough is enough.

Also, we had afternoon plans.

A while back we met a man at a conference who runs this development program for kids where soccer is the entryway, but they’re ultimately working to create scenarios where preschool through high school kids and beyond can build healthy bodies and minds. They have an indoor park, outdoor fields and people show up for the soccer, but find a full slate of programming and services for their community. It sounds amazing and so today we went to see the operation.

There was some high school pick-up soccer underway on their indoor pitch. No one invited me to play, thank goodness. We saw the rest of their facilities, which are lovely and growing. It’s not a community center, it’s more than that. We talked with the people that run the place for about 90 minutes. They’re six years in and still growing and doing some great work. It’s not just sport. Sport gets kids in the door, but then there is programming that helps the children learn about things like nutrition, interpersonal skills, money management, confidence building, and so on. They aren’t trying to build soccer players, the goal is to help kids in ways that matter on a real and human level. It’s quite charming, they’re very passionate about it, and it’s easy to see why.

Sport, as we talk about in classes a lot, means a lot more than just what happens on the field. In one class I teach a section on the real values of youth sport — fair play, collaboration, health, socialization, discipline, rules, respect, etc… — and that’s what this organization is after, too. What’s really interesting, to me, when I talk about those life lessons with other people that played youth sports, even college students who aren’t that far removed from it themselves, they quickly see how it helped them. We don’t always realize it at the time, but it is apparent in retrospective. It is obvious the value we can offer people. It is a mystery there aren’t more deliberate programs just like that.

And when you compare that to the infamous travel ball experience … no contest.

Stuff on the site I’d like to do, since I mentioned it … There are two or three of the old running projects I’d like to return to, and I will. I have to wrap up the local markers project. Easy enough, and that’s the one I combine with bike rides anyway. When the weather turns. I want to return to the happy habit of scanning photos from old books. It’s time intensive, and that’s the problem, but ultimately it entertains me and makes this place look, determined to follow ancient thing.

Another thing I’d like to do more is diving into old newspaper clippings. It’s a great way to learn about a place, or remember about a place. But it seems odd to do that about places where I no longer live. And the place where I do live doesn’t have a wealth of digitized newsprint online. This could devolve into a “where do you belong?” paragraph, but this is Wednesday and while all of my projects on the site ideally would have a day of the week, roughly, the old existential issue is not a Wednesday item. (Wednesdays are for markers, if you’ll recall, and they will be so once again.

These projects one need only invest the time and I say the thing I always say to myself, “After so and so … then you can do that.” And that never changes, but it at least has the added advantage of being frustrating.

Tomorrow, back to the classwork. If I can bend my fingers to the keyboard.


5
Aug 26

Happy Birthday to the website

Two things started within 367 days of one another. On August 4, 2003, while reading a lot of Salam Pax (who may work for UNICEF now?) and Raywat Deonandan (who is definitely at the University of Toronto) and a local guy named Terry Oglesby and a few of the newfangled political blogs, I started a blog myself. It was going to be bad, I knew it was going to be bad. I thought it might get better. (And 23 years later the jury is still out.) But you know what? I had free time and no money and I needed a cheap hobby.

On August 6, 2004, some friends at work, most notably Brian McAlister, (now at Advance Local) convinced me to drop a few bucks on an actual URL because I had free time and just a few bucks.

Spending money is always tough, but I was sick of temporary sites and pop-ups and losing control of what my three visitors saw when they remembered to visit. I knew what I wanted, somewhere I could put some things from time to time, and some place I could play with coding from time to time, some place without ads.

But we must back up. A college buddy of mine, Stephen Kiser (now an economist and professor), sold me a line about how if I learned some HTML I’d add $10,000 to my salary. I was in undergrad and believed him because he was a bit older than me and seemed like he knew what he was talking about. So I spent a summer in college teaching myself how to code, and found that there was something about the process that was satisfying. I never got great at it, but I never wanted to be a computer scientist or a backend developer anyway. I was this other thing. I was the person who could write both HTML and AP Style. There was exactly no one else like that around when I graduated college. In everything else in his life, Kiser might have been right, but I’m still waiting on that extra cash. Though, writing in, or dabbling in, code figured into every job I had in those early years.

Here’s a screen grab of what the site looked like in 2006 (just the second or third version of the site).

I like sharp, clean design. I was trying to write that with as little code as possible, just for the challenge of it. I was editing the photos by hand, and in probably the hardest way possible in 2006. Because I always got bored with images — that hasn’t changed — I would regularly update them.

The general way I display the site has changed. I have the front page, of course, with all of the buttons, and most everything else I put through here, or just store on a hidden page deep within the recesses. The traffic has changed, a little. That first August I had 3,670 visits. Now I get about 200,000 a month, for some reason. Some of that is bots and various bits of code, sure, but there are a lot of people in there. May of this year was the biggest month of the site’s history, and what people saw the most that month was one of the cats being silly. Perhaps later this year the 10 millionth visitor will swing through. I wonder what will bring them in. There’s only 22 years of the things that interest me that might catch their eye.

This has been, and remains, a hobby — a place to ramble on about whatever has caught my interest, a place to memorialize photographs and other files, and the occasional thing I am fortunate enough to post elsewhere. While websites have taken a hit in popularity because of the dopamine that sits inside the walled gardens of social media, I didn’t start this to try to attract crowds. Still, it amuses me that, so far this month, folks from Belgium, Great Britain, Japan, and Canada have been on the site. Germany, Brazil, India, and other nations, too. One person, each, from Andorra, Anguilla, Bahamas, Iceland, Maldives, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe have been here. And you, wherever you are at. I’m glad you’re visiting what is, ultimately, a semi-casual, personal site.

I don’t know why you’ve come here, but I am grateful that you came back. I hope you’ll come back again.

Tomorrow, we’ll be checking in on the kitties, I’ll ramble on about school work, fret over this and that, and more.

Thanks for being a part of this.