I touched upon our impending trip below but now must elaborate.
LEG 1: Kerry’s Dad drives his truck down from Syracuse, NY, to leave it with his son at Emory then drives with my wife and kids in the minivan back up.
LEG2: After a few days at the in-laws, everyone piles into the Odyssey and heads to Boston.
LEG 3: I fly out on a 7am Saturday flight and meet up with the crew in Beantown where we promptly head on up to Bah Hahbah, Maine, home of the lobster roll… or, at least, that’s where I first tried one on my last expedition this way. We’ll check out Acadia then head up through New Brunswick to the northeastern tip of Nova Scotia.
LEG 4: There we will hop on to a ferry at 7am and on da sea we will be… and without a room FOR FOURTEEN HOURS!!! This, to get to Newfoundland… home of “chips and gravy” which is French fries with “stuffing” (kind of like turkey stuffing bot looser and drier) and gravy… it’s awesome. The way to say “ok” or “hello” or a lot of things I guess is “yes by” which originally was probably “yes, boy” but it doesn’t matter who you’re saying it to. I suppose Newfoundland is kind of the Alabama of Canada but all Canadian’s are friendly and a lot of fun to hang around with and Newfs even more so.
Then we’ll traipse around the Argentia peninsula for a week visiting family (I'm 1/2 Newf!), lounging at my aunt’s cabin, and seeing a few sites in St. John’s… the oldest city in North America that’s still around… including Cabot Tower and a whale watching cruise where I’m sure I’ll down a shot of Screech and kiss a cod.
I get back before the rest of the family and just like my last trip, my flight comes in the night before a run… the Peachtree. For some reason, I have yet to get my number so, although I planned to stay intown, I’ll have to make the trek up to the homestead.
Oh well… should be a blast. It’s past midnight now and I’ve got to get up in a little over 3 hours to catch my flight. See you around, yes by.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Featured in a park-like setting
I can’t even remember exactly how I started mountain biking. In 1996, I moved into an awesome apartment right at the corner of 14th and Piedmont… and I mean right at the corner. We had two patios overlooking the park and other than the miniscule kitchen, the place was huge and very cool. I still miss it. And it was cheap to boot… the big drawback was that, save for what you could scrounge on the street, there was no parking. And with the park across the street and POW right around the corner, the scraps were few. Actually, given all the pluses, I never minded the parking situation. I commuted from Duluth in the evening so I didn’t mind a little walk. Keith, my roommate hated it. He had this boat of car… a 65 Impala that we all loved to cruise in but was a bitch for Keith to find a spot for. Sometimes we’d both get home around the same time and find each other orbiting the apartment in ever-widening circles then the race would be on to get the closest place. A race I always won because my Nissan SE-R was a helluva lot more nimble than his yacht. Fun for me, teeth-grating rage for Keith.
But that’s another story. Among a few other things (funk music, the Posse, disdain for TV), Keith got me into mountain biking. I’m definitely not one to run out and buy an expensive toy on a whim so I suppose I tried Keith’s bike a few times. I can’t recall but somehow I ended up with a $400 Giant Iguana from Intown Bicycles off the park.
We rode many places around the southeast… Chicopee (the best), Bull Mountain (tough but worth it), Sope Creek (don’t bother), and many others plus a few in North Carolina. But the trail that saw my jackhammering, no front-suspension bike the most was the 6-mile loop immediately next to my office. It was rutty… it was rooty… and there was only two decent downhills (I wish! They’ve been gone for 6 or 7 years… damn those new and gleaming office buildings… except for the one I work in, of course!) but it was oh so convenient. In my prime, I was riding 4 or 5 times a week… oh mother McCree were those the days. In 99, there was even an official race on it. I was a slug next to all these voracious kids but I got a nice jersey and a pair of hundred-dollar Revo’s out of it. Not because of anything I could do but because of the charity money put up by my company.
I invested in my current bike… a $600 Kona Lava Dome, a nice zippy little bike from REI… back when I actually BOUGHT outdoor equipment. Can you imagine?!
But that was then. Over the years, development edged in… snipping away bits and chunks of the trail. Also, it was declared off-limits… for liability reasons I presume. We always found ways around the missing sections and new parts evolved. To much glee, we even discovered a huge 2-3 mile spur which included an extremely steep climb dubbed Mt. Bitch that over weeks and weeks we managed to get closer and closer to its peak without coming off our bikes…you see it was so steep that you had to lean way back to keep any traction but then you’d tend to lose control as your front tire lost its grip… and all this on a precarious knife-edge of red earth. And then just as we were within a few days of finally one of us making it, this gigantic tree… likely one of the biggest in the entire area… fell smack-damn onto it the middle of it. And then a few months later, fences were put up cordoning off this entire part of the trail so we stopped going on it.
REAL-TIME: Since the wife and kids have started leg one of Campaign Canuck without me (I’m meeting up with them in Boston for leg three), I’m free to listen to my old CD’s… Mudhoney’s “Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge” takin’ me back to those grunge day of the Beach Club in downtown Orlando…Gish is up next!
Also competing with sprawl in the destruction of the trail was its diminishing users. We did a little maintenance here and there but the ruts got ruttier and rockier and the stream crossings worsened. Every fall only instinct guided us along the leaf-blanketed route and ever summer, tangles of thorns choked the way and bloodied our limbs.
So even before its ultimate death… the trail had fallen into disuse. And so wenteth my bike. Since I took up running, I only ride about a half-dozen times a year and that’s including anything… not just trail. I did take to running it though. Trail running is much more interactive than road. You can’t zone out, can’t get bored dodging rocks and roots, hoofin’ it up steep hills and ever mindful of running into an invisible web and getting a faceful of garden spider.
Now I must eschew the winding tree-lined paths and take to the powerline alleys which are either a mud-soaked monster trucker’s dream or a dry and dusty gasping run through a sunbaked Mojave for now the trail is under piles of piles of shredded trees, the cloying smell of massive amounts of exposed pine sap and diesel fumes from heavy equipment suffocating the now-barren area.
But all is not lost.
Coming soon an exclusive gated neighborhood centered in the heart of a prestigious business area! Extensive shopping and dining are nearby! Distinct townhome and single-family floorplans are featured in a park-like setting!
Beautifully Landscaped. Cabana. Close to Dining. Close to Shopping. Community Pool. Lighted Sidewalks. Tennis Courts.
Coming Soon! Call agent for details!
But that’s another story. Among a few other things (funk music, the Posse, disdain for TV), Keith got me into mountain biking. I’m definitely not one to run out and buy an expensive toy on a whim so I suppose I tried Keith’s bike a few times. I can’t recall but somehow I ended up with a $400 Giant Iguana from Intown Bicycles off the park.
We rode many places around the southeast… Chicopee (the best), Bull Mountain (tough but worth it), Sope Creek (don’t bother), and many others plus a few in North Carolina. But the trail that saw my jackhammering, no front-suspension bike the most was the 6-mile loop immediately next to my office. It was rutty… it was rooty… and there was only two decent downhills (I wish! They’ve been gone for 6 or 7 years… damn those new and gleaming office buildings… except for the one I work in, of course!) but it was oh so convenient. In my prime, I was riding 4 or 5 times a week… oh mother McCree were those the days. In 99, there was even an official race on it. I was a slug next to all these voracious kids but I got a nice jersey and a pair of hundred-dollar Revo’s out of it. Not because of anything I could do but because of the charity money put up by my company.
I invested in my current bike… a $600 Kona Lava Dome, a nice zippy little bike from REI… back when I actually BOUGHT outdoor equipment. Can you imagine?!
But that was then. Over the years, development edged in… snipping away bits and chunks of the trail. Also, it was declared off-limits… for liability reasons I presume. We always found ways around the missing sections and new parts evolved. To much glee, we even discovered a huge 2-3 mile spur which included an extremely steep climb dubbed Mt. Bitch that over weeks and weeks we managed to get closer and closer to its peak without coming off our bikes…you see it was so steep that you had to lean way back to keep any traction but then you’d tend to lose control as your front tire lost its grip… and all this on a precarious knife-edge of red earth. And then just as we were within a few days of finally one of us making it, this gigantic tree… likely one of the biggest in the entire area… fell smack-damn onto it the middle of it. And then a few months later, fences were put up cordoning off this entire part of the trail so we stopped going on it.
REAL-TIME: Since the wife and kids have started leg one of Campaign Canuck without me (I’m meeting up with them in Boston for leg three), I’m free to listen to my old CD’s… Mudhoney’s “Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge” takin’ me back to those grunge day of the Beach Club in downtown Orlando…Gish is up next!
Also competing with sprawl in the destruction of the trail was its diminishing users. We did a little maintenance here and there but the ruts got ruttier and rockier and the stream crossings worsened. Every fall only instinct guided us along the leaf-blanketed route and ever summer, tangles of thorns choked the way and bloodied our limbs.
So even before its ultimate death… the trail had fallen into disuse. And so wenteth my bike. Since I took up running, I only ride about a half-dozen times a year and that’s including anything… not just trail. I did take to running it though. Trail running is much more interactive than road. You can’t zone out, can’t get bored dodging rocks and roots, hoofin’ it up steep hills and ever mindful of running into an invisible web and getting a faceful of garden spider.
Now I must eschew the winding tree-lined paths and take to the powerline alleys which are either a mud-soaked monster trucker’s dream or a dry and dusty gasping run through a sunbaked Mojave for now the trail is under piles of piles of shredded trees, the cloying smell of massive amounts of exposed pine sap and diesel fumes from heavy equipment suffocating the now-barren area.
But all is not lost.
Coming soon an exclusive gated neighborhood centered in the heart of a prestigious business area! Extensive shopping and dining are nearby! Distinct townhome and single-family floorplans are featured in a park-like setting!
Beautifully Landscaped. Cabana. Close to Dining. Close to Shopping. Community Pool. Lighted Sidewalks. Tennis Courts.
Coming Soon! Call agent for details!
Friday, June 09, 2006
Step 3: Take Kitten Home
Ralph’s lunch bag was one of those flexible box-type affairs that zipped up. It was the perfect size to hold the wily kitten and the insulation would provide padding so it wouldn’t get hurt trying to escape. He felt bad sticking it in the lunch box...it would be a pretty scary half-hour for the kitten but didn’t know what else he could do.
Again, he thought of just leaving the kitten. But it was sitting there in his hand purring and he knew he couldn’t just leave it to fend for itself in an industrial complex. Plus it had a penchant for snuggling up to fan belts!
Lulled by his gentle handling, the kitten plopped easily into the bag and before it realized its predicament, Ralph had zippered it close to shut, leaving a gap for air. The kitten immediately began yowling and soon poked his head out the gap and began pushing back the zipper, widening its avenue of escape. Ralph pushed it’s head back in gingerly to escape being bit and closed the zipper up more. He wasn’t too worried about the kitten getting enough air. It was a fairly short trip and he would open it a little briefly at the stoplights. Also, thought Ralph, zippers are hardly airtight. He was a lot more worried about the kitten getting out while the Jeep was hauling down the freeway at 75 mph.
For the trip home, the kitten kept up a steady series of loud meowing and the bag would shake as the kitten tried to escape. Ralph wasn’t worried about the kitten hurting itself because the bag was soft and padded. At the traffic stops, he would open the bag a little but not enough to let the frantic kitten get out. Ralph was a little worried about the air supply in the bag but figured the kitten would hardly be able to meow so much if it was slowly suffocating.
As he neared his home, Ralph planned where to place the kitten. He knew he couldn’t keep him inside his apartment, he and his fiancé already had a cat and he didn’t want the kitten to pass along any germs to it. But more importantly, his fiancé was very pregnant with their son and Ralph knew there was some crazy disease or something that came from cats and could harm unborn babies so he would insure that the kitten would not come into contact with the inside of his apartment. He would keep it on the balcony with some water and food. Ralph worried a little about the 3-story drop but figured the kitten would have enough instinct not to jump such a height.
Then, just as he pulled his Jeep into the garage, the meowing stopped and when he picked up the bag, did not continue. Ralph ran as fast as he could up the stars to his apartment, ran through it, and out to the porch.
Again, he thought of just leaving the kitten. But it was sitting there in his hand purring and he knew he couldn’t just leave it to fend for itself in an industrial complex. Plus it had a penchant for snuggling up to fan belts!
Lulled by his gentle handling, the kitten plopped easily into the bag and before it realized its predicament, Ralph had zippered it close to shut, leaving a gap for air. The kitten immediately began yowling and soon poked his head out the gap and began pushing back the zipper, widening its avenue of escape. Ralph pushed it’s head back in gingerly to escape being bit and closed the zipper up more. He wasn’t too worried about the kitten getting enough air. It was a fairly short trip and he would open it a little briefly at the stoplights. Also, thought Ralph, zippers are hardly airtight. He was a lot more worried about the kitten getting out while the Jeep was hauling down the freeway at 75 mph.
For the trip home, the kitten kept up a steady series of loud meowing and the bag would shake as the kitten tried to escape. Ralph wasn’t worried about the kitten hurting itself because the bag was soft and padded. At the traffic stops, he would open the bag a little but not enough to let the frantic kitten get out. Ralph was a little worried about the air supply in the bag but figured the kitten would hardly be able to meow so much if it was slowly suffocating.
As he neared his home, Ralph planned where to place the kitten. He knew he couldn’t keep him inside his apartment, he and his fiancé already had a cat and he didn’t want the kitten to pass along any germs to it. But more importantly, his fiancé was very pregnant with their son and Ralph knew there was some crazy disease or something that came from cats and could harm unborn babies so he would insure that the kitten would not come into contact with the inside of his apartment. He would keep it on the balcony with some water and food. Ralph worried a little about the 3-story drop but figured the kitten would have enough instinct not to jump such a height.
Then, just as he pulled his Jeep into the garage, the meowing stopped and when he picked up the bag, did not continue. Ralph ran as fast as he could up the stars to his apartment, ran through it, and out to the porch.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Attention Surplus Disorder
This weekend I took my son up to visit my Dad at his cabin in North Carolina. We sat on the porch looking out over a small lake, played some cards, went fishing, a little hiking, and Liam schooled me at Battleship.
This was the first time fishing for Liam (and only my 2nd, an angler I ain’t) . We could only find 2 worms so mostly we stuck with cheese and needless to say, caught nothing. Even so, Liam loved it and kept wanting to fish. My Dad went in after about 45 min and Liam stuck with it for another hour and we probably would’ve fished longer except we lost all the cheese. I can’t imagine how much he’s gonna freak when he actually hauls one in.
I was impressed with Liam’s patience and how he can keep himself entertained. There was a TV up there but Liam never asked to watch it. As long as he had a pad to draw on (and I set him up with the occasional connect-the-dots), he was happy.
A few months ago, he wanted another GeoTrax piece… more on that later… so I said if he’d pick up all the pinecones in the front yard, we’d go get it. I gave him a time limit that I did have to extend a few times but he ended up amassing 800 pinecones.
Speaking of GeoTrax, trains have been an obsession of Liam since he was 18 months. It started with Thomas the Train… one of the few shows for toddlers I actually like. George Carlin does the voices for many of them and they have a dry English wit to them. Ringo Star and Alec Baldwin also do a lot but Carlin’s the best. Videos progressed to the wooden train set with all the characters. I remember the Christmas when he was two and he got Gordon and he did the sporto fist downpull thing with a “Gordon!” instead of the “Yes!”
Although I’m constantly battling the deluge of toys from the loving and generous relatives, we didn’t mind slowly but surely turning our living room into a Thomas the Train showroom. Liam would play with them for hours… constantly re-organizing them into different routes and making stories with the trains.
Then, Thomas faded and we wondered what would be next. Then, Christmas of 2004, Uncle Mike got him a little train with a few pieces of track. With a little remote, you could make the train go around the track. Well, that and the batteries that I had to run down to the Kwikie-Mart on Christmas morning to get. I actually didn’t think he’d get into it… but he did and in a big way.
All the trains and pieces of GeoTrax can barely fit into a 37 and a 16 gallon bin. When it’s out, our living room floor becomes a vision of Gwinnetian sprawl in miniature. And he knows every detail of every piece… every building, every support, every switch. I’ve lied with him in bed as he goes over the brochures that come with the sets talking about which piece goes with what set… and by “piece” I don’t just mean a bridge or tunnel but even a tiny road sign. He even points out the tiny manufacturing differences between the toys in the photos and what version he’s got. Freak!!!
Days and days would go by with Liam constantly rearranging the various sets into different configurations. And the funny thing is, only a small percentage of the time does he actually mess with the now four remotely-controlled trains… it’s all track, track, TRACK!!!!
And though once again, the sun seems to be setting on the empire of GeoTrax, I’ll still come home probably once every two weeks to find the whole shebang spread out in some new arrangement. Transformers are a big thing right now but his next big next passion will likely be something else… Legos have always been there but only time will tell.
This was the first time fishing for Liam (and only my 2nd, an angler I ain’t) . We could only find 2 worms so mostly we stuck with cheese and needless to say, caught nothing. Even so, Liam loved it and kept wanting to fish. My Dad went in after about 45 min and Liam stuck with it for another hour and we probably would’ve fished longer except we lost all the cheese. I can’t imagine how much he’s gonna freak when he actually hauls one in.
I was impressed with Liam’s patience and how he can keep himself entertained. There was a TV up there but Liam never asked to watch it. As long as he had a pad to draw on (and I set him up with the occasional connect-the-dots), he was happy.
A few months ago, he wanted another GeoTrax piece… more on that later… so I said if he’d pick up all the pinecones in the front yard, we’d go get it. I gave him a time limit that I did have to extend a few times but he ended up amassing 800 pinecones.
Speaking of GeoTrax, trains have been an obsession of Liam since he was 18 months. It started with Thomas the Train… one of the few shows for toddlers I actually like. George Carlin does the voices for many of them and they have a dry English wit to them. Ringo Star and Alec Baldwin also do a lot but Carlin’s the best. Videos progressed to the wooden train set with all the characters. I remember the Christmas when he was two and he got Gordon and he did the sporto fist downpull thing with a “Gordon!” instead of the “Yes!”
Although I’m constantly battling the deluge of toys from the loving and generous relatives, we didn’t mind slowly but surely turning our living room into a Thomas the Train showroom. Liam would play with them for hours… constantly re-organizing them into different routes and making stories with the trains.
Then, Thomas faded and we wondered what would be next. Then, Christmas of 2004, Uncle Mike got him a little train with a few pieces of track. With a little remote, you could make the train go around the track. Well, that and the batteries that I had to run down to the Kwikie-Mart on Christmas morning to get. I actually didn’t think he’d get into it… but he did and in a big way.
All the trains and pieces of GeoTrax can barely fit into a 37 and a 16 gallon bin. When it’s out, our living room floor becomes a vision of Gwinnetian sprawl in miniature. And he knows every detail of every piece… every building, every support, every switch. I’ve lied with him in bed as he goes over the brochures that come with the sets talking about which piece goes with what set… and by “piece” I don’t just mean a bridge or tunnel but even a tiny road sign. He even points out the tiny manufacturing differences between the toys in the photos and what version he’s got. Freak!!!
Days and days would go by with Liam constantly rearranging the various sets into different configurations. And the funny thing is, only a small percentage of the time does he actually mess with the now four remotely-controlled trains… it’s all track, track, TRACK!!!!
And though once again, the sun seems to be setting on the empire of GeoTrax, I’ll still come home probably once every two weeks to find the whole shebang spread out in some new arrangement. Transformers are a big thing right now but his next big next passion will likely be something else… Legos have always been there but only time will tell.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Step 2: Try to Find Kitten’s Owner
Ralph looked at the kitten in his hand. What was he supposed to do now? He wanted to do the easy thing and let the kitten go in the parking lot. He put the kitten down and it immediately ran and tried to get back up into the Jeep. He collected it again and thought. He had initially assumed the kitten was some stray who had wandered into the lot but maybe it had been IN the Jeep and had gotten out...the windows were open...and then had crawled up into it. Ralph decided to find the owner of the Jeep and question him about the kitten.
He carried the kitten to the front of the building and left it in the small vestibule that separated the two entrance doors. It would be fine in there and couldn’t run away. Ralph went to his desk. He knew the name of the Jeep’s owner and called him...not there. He paged him over the building’s intercom... nothing.
He returned to the vestibule and found the kitten and the Jeep gone. The owner must have left while Ralph had been at his desk! Ralph’s lunch bag was by the curb... it had been in front of the Jeep where he had left it while crawling all over the place after the kitten.
Ralph exited the vestibule and immediately heard meowing issuing from the spiny bushes flanking the building’s entrance. That asshole had let the kitten out and had run off! Ralph had been away only 3 or 4 minutes.
The kitten was screaming bloody murder from the bushes and when Ralph tried to get it, it ran off and again tried to get up into the underside of a car. As Ralph grabbed it, he decided to take the cat to an animal shelter...otherwise it would die in some car or at the very least, starve in the godforsaken industrial complex his company was located in.
Ralph knew of a shelter that tried to find homes for the animals but he would have to take it home first... it was late and the shelter would be closed. Taking it home would not be easy. Ralph owned a Jeep as well and, right now, its top was down. He could easily imagine the kitten hurtling from the Jeep as it sped down the highway. Even with the top up, the manic kitten would likely be a menace under the gas and brake pedals.
His eyes fell upon the lunch bag.
He carried the kitten to the front of the building and left it in the small vestibule that separated the two entrance doors. It would be fine in there and couldn’t run away. Ralph went to his desk. He knew the name of the Jeep’s owner and called him...not there. He paged him over the building’s intercom... nothing.
He returned to the vestibule and found the kitten and the Jeep gone. The owner must have left while Ralph had been at his desk! Ralph’s lunch bag was by the curb... it had been in front of the Jeep where he had left it while crawling all over the place after the kitten.
Ralph exited the vestibule and immediately heard meowing issuing from the spiny bushes flanking the building’s entrance. That asshole had let the kitten out and had run off! Ralph had been away only 3 or 4 minutes.
The kitten was screaming bloody murder from the bushes and when Ralph tried to get it, it ran off and again tried to get up into the underside of a car. As Ralph grabbed it, he decided to take the cat to an animal shelter...otherwise it would die in some car or at the very least, starve in the godforsaken industrial complex his company was located in.
Ralph knew of a shelter that tried to find homes for the animals but he would have to take it home first... it was late and the shelter would be closed. Taking it home would not be easy. Ralph owned a Jeep as well and, right now, its top was down. He could easily imagine the kitten hurtling from the Jeep as it sped down the highway. Even with the top up, the manic kitten would likely be a menace under the gas and brake pedals.
His eyes fell upon the lunch bag.
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