Gen X grows up

Yesterday, two of the iconic personalities of my youth died. First, Farah Fawcett, whose poster formed the image of the All-American girl for millions of fans in the 70's. Then late yesterday afternoon, Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. Admittedly, I wasn't a huge fan of Jackson, the man...Wacko Jacko, but his influence on his generation and on generations to come cannot be ignored or denied. His music is wonderful and fun, his dancing was incredible, the sadness of his strange life, unimaginable. And Farah's last few years fighting a terrible disease were inspiring.

I saw a quote yesterday on MSNBC, attributed to a fan whose name I cannot remember, "these people were on our lunchboxes." It's true. They were part of our everyday lives growing up. And I think their deaths, especially Michael's, will come as a shock to a lot of us. We won't live forever, not even our kings, but they will always live on...

R.I.P. Michael, and Farah.








In related news, the breaking news of Michael's death apparently crippled parts of the Internet...I hope the IT world is paying attention, what would happen in a real emergency?

Overheard at work...

In the break room just now checking my personal e-mail (since I'm blocked at my desk) when a woman, who is much closer to my age than I think she'd admit, came in talking loudly on her cell saying..."just get me some wine coolers. Some wine coolers. No, you won't get arrested. I don't know, peach flavored..."

Seriously, did I just time-warp back to 1984?

Another day, another puncture

Walked out to the garage this morning for my commute to work, opened the door, pulled down the Allez and once again had a flat on the rear tire. I have no f'ing idea what's going on. There tire's rated to 115-120 psi, I had it at about 100. I've felt around in the rim so many times and so thoroughly (I thought) that I feel like we're in high school dating. This is somewhere around the 6th to 8th rear flat I've had on this bike in the past month or two. Seriously ridiculous. Luckily for me, but adding no less to the mystery, I've never had one while actually on the bike. Excuse me while I find some actual wood around my office here to knock on...

Okay, back. I thought that maybe it was over inflation, but I don't think that's it any more. I thought maybe the Hutchinson tires I had on all winter had a flaw, but I've switched back to the Specialized and it's happened again. I put some rim tape in, still punctures. At least the last two or three haven't been complete blow-of-the-rim punctures like I was getting.

This is getting frustrating.

It's time for new wheels, I think. But considering I paid $200 for the bike (it was an absolute steal) I'm loath to now have to spend more than that for wheels. Neuvation has some, I think I can get a set for less than $250. Nothing too fancy, it's not like I'm racing, but I don't want to add a ton of weight to the bike, either.

Maybe I should just try to parlay this into a whole new bike purchase? I could be so lucky.

Oh well. I switched back to the Look pedals on the Miyata (I just two days ago put on the flats with toe clips) since I had on my bike shoes and road it in instead. Speaking of which, the seat's too low, I think it's slipped 1/2 or so...

Looks like bike maintenance will be a part of my weekend.

Hmm, just thought of something. I wonder if maybe Deliah or George is pissed off at me? You know, a poltergeist kind of thing. I mean, the rear wheel of the bike is right up against the wall on the other side of which I found their gravestone... interesting thought.

Allāhu Akbar

You don't have to understand what she is saying to be moved by this video. You don't see much of anything, but listen to her voice. This is from Tehran, where the reform candidate called for people to shout "Allāhu Akbar" from their rooftops.

A rough translation from HuffingtonPost:

She is saying that they can take our phones, our internet, all our communication away, but we are showing that by saying "allaho akbar" we can find each other. She ends it my saying that tonight they are crying out to god for help.

Conflicting emotions

There's nothing quite like out-sprinting the traffic from the stoplight at State St and 3900 South and cranking it up to 30-35 mph in the two blocks before work. It's better than coffee in the morning (well, almost.) Inevitably, someone in a truck or car in the next lane will gun their motor when they see me start to pass them. Quite fun.

On the other hand, a Mo mom cranking Snoop Dogg in her minivan at 6:30 AM is a little disconcerting.

Interesting commute.

Speaking of conflicts. This is interesting. In case the link doesn't work or is no good, as often happens in my experience with the NY Times site, it's their story about the State Dept asking Twitter to delay some scheduled maintenance to keep their service available for Iranians to continue using to communicate. It's fascinating the amount of information still flowing out of the country about the protest and demonstrations even though the Iranian government has, for all intents and purposes, tried to shut down the media. Anyone who says that Facebook and Twitter are only toys or amusements should read this. This "new media" is a potentially powerful tool. There is some amazingly brave people in this world. And Iran is changing before our eyes. Fascinating to watch...

Off to a great start

Woke up feeling good this morning. Had a nice weekend, got a lot done despite the rain and got to hang out with good friends. But then, Monday happened.

• My bike had yet another rear puncture when I went out to ride to work, forcing me to drive in this morning rather than ride.
• I'm out of good coffee, and am forced to drink the office sewage or risk falling asleep at my desk.
• They've again cut off access to Facebook and my personal e-mail from here at the office. And before you say anything about productivity, I probably got more done happily with access the last two days here than I did in the two weeks previous.
• The headphones that I brought from home, thinking they'd be inconspicuous enough to not be as obvious and therefore wouldn't draw attention to our asinine no headphones at work rule, well, they're too short to reach from my computer to my head.
• The old speakers that I brought from home to listen to music at my desk and possibly annoy everyone I work with. Yup, they don't work either.

Mondays suck.

Loss

The following post is long, and it's probably rambling, and it may not make a lot of sense, and it may not mean much to anyone who never knew my little buddy, Guero...but I don't care, it's cathartic to me. So, indulge me a little. I'll probably write another post later to tell you a little about this cat, but I can't right now...

We lost our cat, Guero, yesterday morning, after a sudden downturn in his health. Well, it was less of a downturn than a cliff dive. He was just about 13 years old, not that old for a cat. His sister, Cherise, died in 2005 after suffering through some pretty bad times caused by, believe it or not, irritable bowel disorder. In her case, we had to make the decision to put her down, which was not a decision that either Robyn or I relished.

Guero, too, was fairly recently (in the last year) diagnosed with IBD, but nowhere near as bad a case as Cherise had, thankfully. We were able to manage his more with diet and meds. And he seemed to be doing well, all things considered.

Until Friday of last week, that is. We’d noticed some loss of appetite and he looked like he was loosing weight, so we made an appointment to see the vet. He was down to 8 lbs 5 oz. For perspective, in November, 2008 he weighed 11 ½ pounds. The vet decided to add one more antibiotic to his regimen and re-start his B-12 shots, since last time he went through a series of B-12 injections, it really seemed to perk him up. He had a shot Friday and I was supposed to give him follow-up injections every four days.

He didn’t seem all that much better, so we decided to try to give him one Monday night, rather than wait until Tuesday. I couldn’t do it. I don’t know if it was because he seemed more wiggly than normal or because when I tried to pull the skin up for the injection, it just felt like there wasn’t enough to do it, or maybe I just chickened out. For whatever reason, though, I decided to take him in Tuesday morning to allow the vet tech to do it. That way I could also get his weight again.

He was down to 7 lbs 13 ½ oz. The tech also had a hard time giving him the shot, there just wasn’t enough tissue to get the fluid to stay in, I guess.

I should say that over the weekend, Robyn had picked up some adult cat milk to see if we could get him to get some more nourishment and he seemed to like it, so he was getting that fairly regularly. Otherwise, he was picking at his food, but not really eating enough.

I should say here that this cat loved to eat. He never had a weight problem, so he was never an overeater but he was not hesitant to let you know when the food bowls were empty and he chowed down with the best. So, Guero not wanting to eat was worrying. Especially since cats, once they’ve stopped eating for a while, generally don’t start up easily again, their bodies just stop wanting it, apparently.

So, the shot seemed to perk him up some and during the day on Tuesday, the vet called Robyn and told her to pick up some junk food (cheap cat food) to see if he’d at least eat that. (He’s normally on a special diet of Venison and Pea food.) and he did seem to eat it some. But Wednesday, when I got home from work, things were not good.

He hadn’t touched any of his food all day. He’d thrown up, so he’d lost what little he’d eaten in the morning. And he was very, very weak.

And I freaked out. I called the vet and told them I needed to bring him in. Our regular vet wasn’t there but one of the other doctors said to bring him in but I’d most likely have to leave him and they’d look at him between appointments (it was 5 PM, they closed at 7 PM) I rushed him over and left a message at Robyn’s office phone that we were going there and for her to call me (she’d left her cell at home…)

They took him in and the tech was also very worried looking, but they were going to start him on fluid and said they’d call when they could tell me something. By this time, Robyn had called and was on her way to meet me at the vet, so I waited outside for her (forever, it felt like) and then we went home to wait.

I have to admit, I was very, very worried. And more than a little emotional. I just wasn’t ready (like that has anything to do with it) for Guero to die.

When the vet called and we went back, they were really worried. His temperature was 92 degrees (cats are normally up just over 100.) and he was pretty unresponsive. They had us take him to the 24 hour emergency vet clinic so someone could keep an eye on him overnight. I don’t remember everything that the doctor at the overnight place said, but basically, they did some blood work while we waited and Guero’s blood sugar was highly elevated, off the charts. It appeared that he’d suddenly developed diabetes. Probably brought on by everything else that was going on. His blood pressure was very low, though they were successful at getting his temp to begin to go up.

When we finally left at about 9:30 or so, they planned on continuing to monitor his blood sugar, give IV insulin and other meds and fluids and continue to try to keep his temp normal, and when the critical care doctor arrived in the morning, they planned on doing a sonogram to see what they could see. We left them with instructions to call, of course, if anything major happened.

When I woke up yesterday and realized that no one had called all night, I thought that was a good thing. I figured that I’d call once the critical doc got in and they did there thing, I’d probably go get him and take him back in to see his normal vet and we’d get to bring him home. But when I called to check up on him, they told me that he had been pretty unresponsive to most of what they were doing, though the insulin seemed to be bringing down the blood sugars. He had not responded well to the aggressive fluids, and they were just waiting for the other doctor to get in.

I called and left a message for our regular vet, asking her to call the emergency place first thing and catch up.

She called and spoke to Robyn a little while later. The news wasn’t good at all. While, she said, she would never tell us that we had to, her thoughts were that there was nothing more that could be done and that the time had come for us to make that hard decision again.

As much as I hate it, that’s what we decided to do. Robyn and I got in the car to go. When we were about half way to the vet’s, the doctor called and told me that Guero was dying…that he most likely wouldn’t make it until we got there. And he didn’t.

We got to spend a little time with him after talking to the doctor about what all had happened. I don’t really remember all of it, honestly. Nor, I guess, at this point does it matter.

We decided, since we now owned our home and weren’t planning on moving, that we’d take him home and bury him, instead of cremation. It wasn’t an easy choice, and honestly, I’m still not sure it was the right one, though I’m sure, in time, I’ll be okay with it more. To be honest, it was, at least a little, about the money. The fact that it cost over $200 to have done was part of the decision, especially in light of the probably $1000 + worth of bills we’d racked up already since last Friday. So, we took him home.

And I had to dig a hole. And I had to lay one of my best friends in it. And I had to fill it in with dirt. And it was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

He was always thirsty, too. Did I mention that? And so, before I filled in his grave, I placed in it his favorite coffee cup full of water. It was the cup I bought when we got snowed in in Beaver, Utah when we were driving to Salt Lake during our move. At the Garden of Eatin’ restaurant. I thought it was funny. It said “Garden of Eatin’, Beaver, UT”

I hope he’s not thirsty now.

100 Miles of Nowhere - Ride Report

Well, yesterday, my friend, Jason, and I participated in Fatcyclist.com's 100 miles of nowhere race by riding 100 miles around Sugarhouse Park. The road through Sugarhouse park is 1.4 miles long, meaning we got to ride around the park 72 times. Here's the final map from my Garmin:

When we arrived at the park, we discovered that the entrance gates were closed. Thinking that they must just close the park to cars at night, Jason parked his car next to the park (he drove so we'd have water and a place to have rest stops out of the back of his Impreza.) We saw joggers and such running, strolling and otherwise utilizing the park with no impediment, so we figured, so could we.

We set off at a little after 7 AM. When we got around that big loop at the bottom right of the map (where it turns back to the left after approaching I-80) we saw some kind of sports events people setting up something and I thought, looks like they're going to have some sort of sports event here today. On the second loop, they were setting up what appeared to be a stage to the right of the roadway and I thought, they're going to have some sort of sports event here today. On the third or fourth lap (at this point I'd already grown tired of counting laps and decided to trust the mileage indicator on the Garmin) They were laying down some sort of finish line and setting up cameras and I though, they're going to be having some sort of bicycle race today. It was not long after that that young men on expensive bikes began showing up at the park.

Well, it turns out that Saturday was the Sugarhouse Crit.

This race as it all! Hills, Flats, Turns, and the entire road to work it all
out!!We have the whole park... Bring a picnic, play on the slides, lay on the
grass,this is a great race for the whole family.It is a great event... come out
any have a good time!!

Little did they know that they most certainly did not have the whole park, it was home to the 100 Miles to Nowhere! Well, we decided not to say anything and just keep riding (when I say that we "decided" I don't recall a specific discussion of anything, but we kept riding, so I'm assuming that a decision was made, albeit, possibly at the subconscious level.)

Well, when the Juniors lined up to race and the race officials began yelling at us to not cross the line, we rode over and explained what we were doing and how much more important what we were doing was than some silly bike races. Well, actually, Jason was ahead of me at this time so he did the explaining. Since we didn't have timing chips on our forks (and it's apparently very important to have the chip on you fork and NOT in your pocket - they announced this repeatedly, as if this was some kind of pie eating contest or something. I never got to ask what would happen if I kept my fork - with timing chip - in my pocket...) we wouldn't interfere with the race timing, we were admonished to stay to the left and try not to get in the racers way on the course, but since they didn't actually "have" the park and it was still open to use, they couldn't stop us from riding. We win!

So, for the next 60 some odd laps, we had an unofficial cheering section each time we passed the finish line. When we first went through, they actually announced that we were riding a century in the park and that's why we were allowed to go on. Only once did we have any of the riders yell at us (well, at Jason). I think it was the Cat 3 men, one of whom yelled at us to clear the course. I think they were very confused. I believe that they looked at us on our old bikes and with our hairy legs and with our obvious race hardened physiques and assumed that we must have been Cat 1 racers warming up. We didn't concern ourselves with this too much. Cat 3 racers are known to be temperamental, being the "middle children" of the race category system.

We stayed off the course completely for the Cat 5 race as everyone knows Cat 5's can be unpredictable and often crash. Sure enough, there was a crash right at the finish. No one seemed hurt, though I did see what I believe was a rather twisted up mass of carbon fiber being dragged from the course. Ouch.

The race officials would occasionally announce how we were doing, and toward the end, one woman spectator seemed to really get in to ringing her cowbell as we passed. (She was not wearing said cowbell, it seems to be how spectators show support at one of these events.)

Overall, the ride went really well. Only a little pain from the repetitive stress on the knees on the two short climbs:

It was a great day of racing, and guess what? We won!

That's right, Jason one the lugged carbon category for riding his Specialized Epic Allez lugged carbon bike (which began creaking ominously, btw.) and I won the Best home-made ride snacks category for my version of Allen Lim's Sushi Rice Bars! (Yes, I know that maybe winning a cooking contest during a bike race may not be as glorious as winning the bike race but screw that, I won!)

Here are the rest of the ride stats...

And now for something completely different...

A few weeks ago, I moved some old fencing and a large gate from behind my garage. I used the gate as part of my tomato bed (we're going to try to train the tomatoes to climb and grow them vertically this year.)



This past weekend, I was doing some additional yard work, pulling up a path of grass and weeds, or truthfully, weeds and some grass, from the front yard to create a path to lay some slate stepping stones (came out really nice so far, btw.) I didn't know what to do with the sod I'd cut out so I decided to dump it behind the garage, where I'll eventually either spread the pile out or move it to the street when we have bulk pick-up this summer. After dumping the second wheelbarrow full, I reached down and pulled a big clump of weeks from in front of and the top of what looked like a big rock that was up against the back wall of the garage. (the gate had been resting on top of it for who knows how long...at least the past four years, since we've been in the house that long.)



Well, it wasn't just any ol' rock, it turns out.





That looks a lot like a grave marker to me, right? So I leaned in a little more...

Mother an Baby. Um, this was getting a little interesting.

There are no other inscriptions on the stone. Just "Mother and Baby." Needless to say (and yet I'm doing it anyway) I was a little freaked out, but after taking these pictures and showing the stone to Robyn and a couple of friends who came over for diner that night, I came up with a few theories.

1. There were two people buried in my back yard.


2. My house (or one nearby) used to be occupied by a stone cutter, who left this scrap laying around.


3. Someone, at some point, stole this from somewhere (possibly, I admit, the least formed theory.)

The fact that it only said Mother and Baby for some reason made me less likely to believe theory number one and lean more toward some version of number two, that this was, at least, a left over stone that had never been used. I mean, don't people generally put names on markers? I suppose that it could be for a Jane Doe or something, but still. I'd prefer to think that there's no one buried there, and the position of the stone, conveniently moved against the back wall of the garage, indicates strongly that it had been moved. So, not knowing where it had originally been, I decided not to take a shovel to the whole yard looking for skeletons (yet.)

But, being the slightly morbid person that I am (did you not know that about me?) I couldn't stop thinking about the stone, and what a cool conversation piece it would be displayed somewhere prominently in my yard. Perhaps at the head of a mound of dirt or something. You know, with some tasteful flowers? No?

So, anyway. On Wednesday, I decided to move the stone around the garage and into my back yard.

Stones are heavy. I just thought I'd get that said. I had to really work to get it into the wheelbarrow so I could wheel it around to the front of the garage. And when I did get it in, and I had to flip it over to do so, I saw this...

Those are inscriptions. Look closer...

Well, now I was intrigued. I mean, it's not every day that you find an old grave marker just laying about your back yard, right? Unless, of course, you live next to (or in) a cemetery, in which case it probably is every day that you find grave markers in your yard; or if, perhaps, you live in a Wes Craven movie or Stephen King novel, in which case, now would have been the time to run. Fast.

Since I live in neither a cemetery (that I know of) nor a horror movie or novel (that I know of) I was surprised.

I tried to brush as much of that dirt off as I could to read the stone. The engravings were faded to say the least, and more so toward the bottom. So, I decided to try to "rub" the stone (get your mind out of the gutter.) Unfortunately, not being a gravestone rubbing hobbyist (there are such things), I didn't have the proper equipment. I found a large post it note presentation pad in the basement, and a couple of pencils and got this...

[I have to tell you, something about seeing the words "George W" on a gravestone sent a nice little wave of pleasure, or anticipation through me, though I'm not sure why (in case the Secret Service sees this...)]

From what I can read, this is what's written:

DELIAH L

[?]

J A SMITH

Born

July 2, 1861

Died

Oct 23, 1899

GEORGE W

[?]

[?]

Born [?] 22, [?]

Died

Ju[?]

I plan on getting some proper materials and trying a rubbing again this weekend. I really think that I should be able to read more if I do it right.

My guess so far? Deliah L was the wife of a J A Smith and they had a son, George W. I'm pretty sure that both Deliah and George died in 1899, I assume at nearly the same time since there is the one marker.

Our house was built in 1902, three years after Deliah (and I think George) died. It's possible that the grave was on the property somewhere that was subdivided out to build our house and the stone was found at some later point.

It's also possible, I guess, that it was never used at all. Maybe something is misspelled and they cast this aside for a correct stone. But I have the feeling not.

Who they were, I hope to find out. How their stone ended up holding up an old gate in my back yard, I don't know.I think some research is in order. If you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to leave a comment or two. I'll keep you posted.

Some not so random quotes from a random day...

When man invented the bicycle he reached the peak of his attainments. Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man. And (unlike subsequent inventions for man’s convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became. Here, for once, was a product of man’s brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it, and of no harm or irritation to others. Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle. — Elizabeth West

Little by little, one travels far. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Not all who wander are lost. - J.R.R. Tolkien

The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets. — Christopher Morley

Here’s what I think the truth is: We are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of denial, about to face cold turkey. And like so many addicts about to face cold turkey, our leaders are now committing violent crimes to get what little is left of what we’re hooked on. — Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

To attack the pedals may be strenuous over the short run, but is an expression of trust in one’s own powers, for with the bicycle everything depends on the self. Those who wish to control their own lives and move beyond existence as mere clients and consumers - those people ride a bike. — Wolfgang Sachs

A bicycle ride is a flight from sadness. — James E. Starrs

When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race. — H.G. Wells

Ride as much or as little, or as long or as short, as you feel. But ride. — Eddy Merckx

I especially like the quotes from Merchx and Sachs. Happy riding.