Time Machine

I've finally started archiving my photos. I'm scanning them and storing them on DVDs and plan to put the "best of the best" on Flickr. I'll have the link on this blog so stay tuned; it should be up soon.

In the meantime, I'm posting some of my favorites. These are mostly Fehrenbach photos that I received when Gramma-Grampa-Down-The-Street died. I would love to record some photos from The Lady's family as well. If you have any, send them to me to archive and I'll return them.

"If I were a rich man..."

This is the oldest "photo" I have. Gramma-Down-The-Street told me it was 1860's and is of her Grandfather- one of the guys in the center. I'll find out from Dad's sister The Matriarch which one he is.

Kind of a cross between 'Fiddler on the Roof' and Ken Burns' 'Civil War'.








Where's Ludwig?
Grampa was born in Triberg, Germany in the Schwarzwald (Black Forest). Many fairy tales that featured the "...deep, dark woods..." originated here, such as Goldilocks, Hansel & Gretel, etc. During the pre-Lenten festivities, the pagan psyche comes alive in Triberg. Here, in a post card from 1910, is a parade float depicting Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Can you pick out 10 year old Ludwig?

Miss Helen Glass & Company

I love the fact that Gramma had a rich social life- before and during her life as a married woman. You can just tell from pictures how much fun she had with her friends and sisters.

Here they are dressed in lovely gauzy dresses and wide brimmed hats:

There they are sleeves-rolled-up and hair a-mess:

Here's to you, Trimet!

TGIFF! No, that extra 'F' is not a typo. It's been a hard week but I don't really know why. Maybe work is more demanding than I will admit. As I look back upon the many, many jobs I've had, I do see a pattern- I tend to deny when I'm under extreme pressure and attribute my stress, anxiety and feelings of inadequacy to my being, um, well...inadequate.

But maybe I'm not inadequate! Maybe my job is difficult and challenging! Nah, that can't be it...

So yesterday I got very frustrated with one of the people that reports to me. He and I have been really good friends almost since the day I started. He has been with my division for something like 8 years. He doesn't have any burning desire to climb the corporate ladder as he finds his current position gratifying. Frankly, it's refreshing to work with someone who isn't ambitious, as my place of employment is teeming with Type-A overachievers that are compensating for their feelings of inadequacy. Oh, there's that 'I'-word again...

Anyway, "Sandy" can't accept when he does something wrong. If you point out an error, he counters with an argument about how the rule that he broke is wrong, or that since he does something right most of the time this instance shouldn't matter, or the person that is accusing him of an error has issues...blah, blah, blah.

Sandy is the result of parenting of this type: "My baby is perfect" "The teacher is wrong" "The other kids are mean" "How dare the other parent criticize my baby?" "Don't worry baby, I know YOU DIDN'T DO IT" "IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT, BABY!" Please, do the world a favor and call your kid out when they screw up. You'll be doing them, and the world, a favor. Look at George W. if you don't believe me!

Luckily, Sandy "Baby" is a really nice guy. Smart, funny, definitely a stoner, but a kinder heart you could never find and I genuinely value our friendship.

But we are so different. To me, work is work, friends are friends, and when dealing with work- especially when I'm your boss- I'm going to call it straight. So, Sandy drops by my cubicle just because he was in the neighborhood and we start chatting. The conversation topic ends up being about a deadline our group recently had to meet. Sandy confesses that he knowingly completed a task after the deadline because he had left work early and then took a PTO day. I was pissed, as I was in the midst of crafting an email defending our team against another that seemed to feel that our group wasn't taking this deadline seriously. My point to was that I was putting my neck out on behalf of our team yet apparently the accusations from this other organization weren't far off, considering what Sandy just admitted.

Sandy couldn't handle my abrupt shift from "friends chatting" to "manager calling it like it is" and predictaby set about arguing how he really didn't do anything wrong because he does it right most of the time and why is he being persecuted for ruining the whole process and generally martyring himself for sympathy and to deflect criticism, etc.

Me? - "I'm too busy for this argument. A deadline is a deadline is a deadline. End of story. If you do 99% on time and deliberately do 1% late and expect me to sanction that, then you will be disappointed- you don't get a cookie for doing "most" of it right. You are supposed to do 100% right. NO COOKIE. I'm done. Conversation over." OK, maybe a little agro...

Hurt puppy face. Shoulder shrug. "I just came by to say 'Hi'..."

Yeah, see ya. I'm not your Work Mommy.

But as we always do, we reconciled the next day. While emailing about an entirely different subject, I sent the message-

ME: I told my manager that your manager was acting like a real bit@h yesterday

SANDY: LOL! Yeah, well one of your employees was acting like a real pri@k!

ME: I guess we deserve each other!

SANDY: WTF! Why don't we just get married?

(now we have a weekly staff meeting and one of the other managers loves to probe members of our group about personal events such as weddings. Recently she had one of the guys on the ropes about his impending nuptials: "When is it? Where? Where is the honeymoon? What are your colors?" For crying out loud, you don't ask a guy about the freakin' colors!)

So I reply-

ME: It would be totally worth getting married when "Ms. X" asks us about our wedding! Where? San Siro. Colors? Black. And red. Honeymoon? Oh, Sandy is going to Amsterdam. I'm going to be in Paris.

After this email dialog the reality of what just transpired slowly washes over me and I am seized in that feeling of dread when you realize you have just totally fucked up.

I AM THIS GUY'S MANAGER AND I AM ENGAGING IN AN EMAIL ABOUT US GETTING MARRIED!!!!! Yeah, it's just a joke and yes, he instigated the conversation- but I am a manager and I can not even joke about this stuff. If I were a male manager engaged in this very same discussion with a female subordinate it would be considered really, really bad.

At least I described a seperate honeymoon...

Finally it is Friday and I'm going to leave work early so I can get tickets to Live Wire for tomorrow night. I'm so spent. I take the Max train into the city and jump on a bus so I can get the tickets at the theater box office. Yes, I could have just bought the tickets on line through Ticket Master, but after all those gouging "handling fees", 2 $15 tickets would have cost me $46 bucks. Fuck that! I am way too cheap and way too outraged to give them all that money. So, like a good citizen I go way out of my way to get to the Aladdin Theater box office to buy tickets in cash and pay only a $1 handling fee per ticket (which still kind of pisses me off- I mean, it's a freaking "Box Office", and by definition their sole purpose is to "handle" tickets, so now I have to pay you an extra buck to buy a ticket which is the only thing you are supposed to do? Yeah, that's like me asking for a "handling" salary to do what I'm expected to do at my job.) But I give it to them without rant and rave because the theater is cool- a shabby independent venue and hey, if freakin' Ticket Master can gouge huge profits by being a middleman, why shouldn't they hustle a few extra $.

I buy the tickets and now have to catch a bus all the way back across town to get home. It's only about 83 degrees, but on a skanky, urban intersection pounded by unrelenting sun-on-asphalt it has got to be 95 degrees. Luckily, the bus to take me from south to north (a challenge in SE Portland) is due in 5 minutes. Or 10 minutes? 15? 20- maybe 25...

I check the schedule online, call Trimet to see when the bus is due, check the posted schedule: All say the bus is scheduled for 4:15 and it is 4:36 yet there is no bus. I call Customer Servise and leave my usual "...I'm an annual pass holder, this is it- I'm buying a car...blah...blah...blah" The bus finally arrives and there are no seats, of course, but I should just be happy that it came within 40 minutes of the scheduled time, right? Plus, the air-conditioning seems to be working- yipee! But why is there no one sitting in those seats, I wonder...?

Oh, I see.

You might be thinking that by now I am in a full-bore rage, but seeing this mysterious styrofoam box set upon a pile of fluid-soaked paper towels with such a simple and succinct message- DONT SIT- well, it just about made me cry.

Because not ever, EVER, since I've been a Trimet rider- have I seen a warning to a fellow passenger that they should avoid some undesireable fluids. Not once in 7 years.
Things are looking up!

After such a roller-coaster day, I decided upon arrival at Alder Street that I needed a cocktail. My liquor-inspiration follows the same pattern as my food inventiveness: concept>composition>assembly. As I am car-less and usually too lazy to head to the store, my best innovations come from using what is already in "the pantry." Following this pattern of creation, I debut my original cocktail.

As I prefer everything have a utilitarian purpose, so does my poison. Here are the ingredients and why they were included:

TRIMET ANTIDOTE

• 2 oz. vodka (or 4-6 oz, I don't know...)- because of it alcohol and "forgetting" properties

• 1/2 fresh squeezed lemon juice- to prevent scurvy; also to *reduce acid in the blood. *see, Yogi! I'm being healthy!

• 5 shakes Angostura bitters- to aid in digestive disturbances that riding public transit induces

• 1 teaspoon sugar- to counteract the healthy qualities of the lemon juice

• 5 leaves fresh Moroccan mint- the spicy, aromatic herb helps "cleanse" your spirit from the polluting effects of human piss, sweat, snot and yes, poo, that you knowingly-or unknowingly- came into contact with on Trimet

• 1 sprig fresh lavender- the antiseptic qualities will help keep your immune system healthy and the aroma will aid your imagining that you are actually in an ancient farmhouse in Provence. You are overseeing the building of a limestone patio by some local men. Young, dark, muscular men, lifting stones, glistening with perspiration...mmm...

Oh yes, I digress...

Add all of the above ingredients to a cocktail shaker with lots of ice. shake, shake and shake some more. Pour into a martini glass and garnish with mint or lavender.

Ahhhhhhh. That's much better....

'Robot'- Leo L. Schnipper (2008)

crayon on foamcore

Let the creating begin!

The Yogi did an amazing job cleaning out the shed. The previous owners had left a pile of junk and then I added to it when I moved in. Well, after a day & 1/2, the Yogi has it completely reorganized.

This allowed me to build a 12' long "art" shelf for the living room this past weekend. I used a 12' piece of wood 'L' and I bought thinking we would use it for the deck. I made the brackets from scrap wood left in the shed and only had to buy a piece of molding to make a lip to keep items on the shelf. I'm no carpenter, but this came out exactly like I wanted:

Roasted Beet & Smoked Duck Salad

...with Goat Cheese, Toasted Hazelnuts and a Dijon Vinaigrette. I had this on my deck at twilight, my favorite time of day.

Yep, another Thursday at the salt mine

Today was such an eventful day I could barely squeeze any work in between all the activities. First there was a high-school football (pointy-ball, not the "real" football) series which consisted of 7 against 7, no protective equipment. Then, later was the Farmer's Market where I purchased fresh beets, blueberries and raspberries. There were stands for things like freshly made kettle corn and a Full Sail beer tent and a bakery. But I was good, as I had to be in a meeting and only had 10 minutes.

I grabbed lunch at the special outdoor Thai barbecue. The cafeteria had set out charcoal grills and offered a selections of starches (rice, noodles, Thai fried rice), protein (lemongrass barbecued chicken or Thai pork ribs), and salad (I got a spicy pineapple and hot pepper thing).

And if that weren't enough...there was the Thirst Thursday event which was Lebron James being challenged by various employees to a game of P-I-G. This is just a short version of H-O-R-S-E. There were 5 challengers first and LeBron soundly beat them. But then there was a lovely woman in a yellow sundress and heels who decisively beat Mr. James.

Oregon Coast- a dangerous walk

If there is one thing I've learned about my brother the 'Yogi', it's that he likes to walk on dangerous things. Here he is walking along a stone wall- a stone wall atop a cliff.

On the right you can see him slack-rope walking. He has a slack-rope. I do, too, I call it by its real name: "clothes-line."

And then, of course, he just does the plain-old-fashioned "cliff walking." In flip-flops. Because nothing has better traction or is as slip-resistant as a rubber flip-flop...

Yogi tours campus

The Yogi rode his bike out to work where 'L' and I gave him a tour. Things were pretty quiet, but it was a beautiful day and it was fun to get out of my building for a change. We looked at the display of mannequins in uniforms for the Beijing Olympics. The Yogi seemed partial to the beach volleyball figure. Big surprise...

Just another day at the office...

During the summer we have "Thirst Thursdays" that are sponsored by various departments at work. Here are some pictures of yesterday's event. Lots of beer and dangerous activities- just the way we like things around here!

My friend's 4 year old daughter was screaming above the thumping, gangster rap, "Mommy, that's dangerous! You should never take your feet off the pedals!" That's right, Madison, don't try this at home. Well, not until you are at least six...

Raoul Love

Raoul loves visitors. Whenever I have a guest, I hardly see the guy. Here he is, Mr. McLovin' and his Uncle Yogi-

USA! USA! USA!

My brother the Yogi/Ski Master is in town visiting for a while and since I did not go to Vermont for the July 4th as I usually do, we had an impromptu Independence Day gathering here at Alder Street. As usual, the menu to a turn for France (or, a "Tour de France"): Ratatouille, Potato-Green Bean Salad w/Dijon Vinaigrette, Baguette, grilled Mushrooms and Harissa spiced Shrimp, Olive Tapenade, Spiced Hazelnuts. Christo-pee brought Salad Caprese and Beef Tenderloin for the grill. 'A' brought her signature- and only- dish, Sesame Noodles. Melissa brought delicious mini-profiteroles. Appropriately, Blandit brought Maple Bars and Chocolate-Frosted Doughnuts- the only bonafide American offerings to be seen. Kevin brought a delicious Syrah, 'L' brought lots of beer.

In addition to all of us gluttonous, alcohol guzzling adults there was a hyperactive Jack Russel Terrier and an equally mischievous 14 month old, so we were all "on our toes."

If you have a body you are...

Tired? A bag of foie gras and bacon grease? No, silly- *an athlete!

*Bill Bowerman quote and Nike Maxim

As some of you know, I had a Physical Fitness Assessment done several weeks ago at work. I wanted to have the actual data describing my physical condition. Of course, I already knew that I weigh more than I'd ever dreamed I would, and that I feel winded every day when I climb the stairs to my 3rd floor cubicle. But what I wanted- and needed- were the hard facts. I liken it to getting your finances in order: you have to write down every single penny you owe in order to know exactly where you stand and what you have to do about it.

My current method of maintaining physical fitness is lot like the way I balance a checkbook- I go by instict. I tell myself stories ("that broccoli spear has negated the entire wheel of Epoisse cheese) and ride on intuition. But all of a sudden (or gradually over the past 8 years) I now find my body is weak and fat and getting weaker and fatter. Apparently the intuitive approach works just as well on physical fitness as it does on finances. Who knew?

My "physical assessment" consisted of:

• caliper body fat test (it's called the Jackson-Pollack caliper test! Really!)
  
• RHR (resting heart rate)
  
• EKG
  
• maximum heart rate
  
• Vo2 measurement (oxygen-use efficiency)
• upper body strength
• core body strength
• flexibility

I got my results back today. They rate you by where you fall compared to others of the same age and gender group. These tend to be people that have an interest in their physical well-being- so keep that in mind when you look see my numbers. My overall rating is that I am below average physically. Like, around the 30th percentile. Wow, if this were the SATs, I'd really be bumming. Or retarded.

I do have 2 scores that were relatively high, though! I was in the 70% for flexibility and scored 90% for RHR (resting heart rate). That's because I'm really good at resting my heart. I do it all the time and practically all day.

This is not to say that I'm sickly, as we all know I am pretty hearty. Considering my gluttonous tendencies, I'm surprised that I'm not the wreck that I would be if I hadn't inherited the metabolism of my mother's family and the strength and fortitude of my father's. But I now know exactly what I have to do to improve, and in 3 months I'm going back for another assessment. I am definitely going to bring some smaller numbers (fat, weight) and some bigger numbers (strength, breathing).

Then today I found out another thing that kind of relates to this whole theme of age, health, challenge and statistics. There is a group of work friends and associates and that I occasionally get together with for happy hour. They are,of course, all much younger than me but that's just the way I roll. Anyway, one of these women has also recently experienced an athletic achievement. Now, I don't know her well- but we do have several significant things in common: she is 25 years/I am 45 years; she works with Running Footwear/I used to work with Running Footwear; she graduated from Princeton=I went to art school for 5 months (I know, I know- this is CRAZY, right?); I get a physical fitness ranking/she qualifies for Thursday's finals for a spot on the Women's US Olympic Track & Field team, Steeplechase event.

Yeah, it's been one of those days.