Paul made these lovely tarts on July Fourth:
 |
| From 2009 |
They were made from fresh fruit (some from the garden), and were beautiful, and tasty, and, umm... tart.
Is there anything he *can't* do???
Showing posts with label The Hottness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Hottness. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Tart Hotness
I almost forgot the tarts!
Paul made these lovely tarts on July Fourth:
They were made from fresh fruit (some from the garden), and were beautiful, and tasty, and, umm... tart.
Is there anything he *can't* do???
Paul made these lovely tarts on July Fourth:
They were made from fresh fruit (some from the garden), and were beautiful, and tasty, and, umm... tart.
Is there anything he *can't* do???
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Want no silver threads among the go-o-old(a song that we love, recorded by the Mills Brothers in 1951)
Want no silver threads among the go-o-old
Want no silver threads, want some action instead
Want no silver threads among the go-o-old
Be my life's companion and you'll never grow old
I'll love you so much that you'll never grow old
When there's joy in living you just never grow old
You've got to stay young 'cause you'll never grow old
People who are lonely can be old at thirty-three
Don't let it happen to you, and don't let it happen to me
Be my life's companion and you'll never grow old
You'll never grow old, no, you'll never grow old
Love and youth and ha-appiness are yours to have and hold
Be my life's companion and you'll never grow old
I-I-I know a man who's lonely and he's old at thirty-three
No one wants to be - old at thirty-three
Your-our-our disposition sours like a lemon on a tree
Don't let it happen to you and don't let it happen to me
Be my life's companion and you'll never grow old
Yes I'll love you so much that you'll never grow old
Love and youth and ha-appiness are yours to have and hold
Be my life's companion, be my life's companion
And you'll never grow old
When you are a teenager and you start to get acne, you are told that it's a teenager thing. No one ever told me I'd have acne and wrinkles at the same time!
In the past few years, and particularly the past year, I've noticed the fine lines becoming deeper in my face. yes, I am getting OLD!
I take comfort in the fact that the lines appearing in my face and in Paul's, were worn there together. Like a chain and sprocket, our wear lines come from each other, fitting together perfectly as we age into something made only to fit one another. Will the way he looks at me become permanently marked on his face? I see lines now where I raised my eyebrow at his jokes and knitted my brows in mock disapproval.
The stress lines of our trials and the remnants of the crooked smile I give him are, like it or not, becoming a more prominent feature, a permanent map of our times together. I don't know what to make of the acne and twisty fishing line grey hairs. Am I growing old and regressing to teenage years at the same time?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Monday, December 04, 2006
Thanksgiving
I got hung up on posting because I got stuck at Thanksgiving. Normally, I have a lot of thanks at the ready, but frankly, this past year hasn't been the kind you would be readily thankful for. Should I be thankful for the disastrous ending to my dream of going to the Isle of Man? How about thankful for one of my best friends being in the hospital with a major head injury and no good prognosis (I still think he'll do well, just slowly)? Maybe about my grandfather passing quickly and too soon. And then sprinkle in the crappy work environment I suffered for months, the bleak occupational outlook and accompanying feelings of being trapped and being a failure, the speeding tickets, the weight gain and generally feeling like ass, the horrible luck we showered onto my brother's house, the inability to move into a new place, and, gee, while I'm feeling sorry for myself, we lost the good cats!
Well, OK, you know, all said and done, this has been a shit year. So the thanks didn't come readily, but where I can find them, they are meaningful.
I'm thankful for the late night conversation I had with James when he crashed at my house. I got to tell him exactly how much he meant to me, point blank. I'm thankful that I showed him how much I admired him. I'm thankful that sitting on the couch at the SFMC alone one evening, he said to me "that's the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me." Because I don't think we'll ever have those times again. But I made myself known. James was one of those presences that changed my life for the better. I'm glad I told him that when I had the chance.
I'm thankful for the home and family that my grandfather built for me. I'm thankful for the wisdom and meaning he passed on to me, for the time we got to spend basking in his character and frighteningly broad intellect. I'm thankful for all the love, and for the love I witnessed him giving to the world at large. I'm thankful for all the too-strong hugs and the courage he's given by example. Mostly, I'm thankful for the last time Paul and I made it up there to help with the garden and enjoy my grandparents without the rest of the noise when we had the chance. There's just not always another chance when you think there will be.
I'm thankful for the courage I've been given, to tell people what the mean to me, in the time that I have with them.
I can't find too much thanks for missing out on the Isle of Man, but I did learn this, and it's got to be worth it:
Paul and I have had a lot of good times, so many it seems unreal. But good times are easy, and it's easy to love someone when times are good.
I'm thankful for the knowledge that Paul and I can withstand extreme stress. I know what it looks like when we are angry at each other. I know how Paul will care for me when I overextend myself, when I have great loss, when I feel overwhelmed, or face failure.
Overwhelmingly, this has been a shit year. Next year, I hope to be thankful for much less heavy things, but for now, these will do.
Well, OK, you know, all said and done, this has been a shit year. So the thanks didn't come readily, but where I can find them, they are meaningful.
I'm thankful for the late night conversation I had with James when he crashed at my house. I got to tell him exactly how much he meant to me, point blank. I'm thankful that I showed him how much I admired him. I'm thankful that sitting on the couch at the SFMC alone one evening, he said to me "that's the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me." Because I don't think we'll ever have those times again. But I made myself known. James was one of those presences that changed my life for the better. I'm glad I told him that when I had the chance.
I'm thankful for the home and family that my grandfather built for me. I'm thankful for the wisdom and meaning he passed on to me, for the time we got to spend basking in his character and frighteningly broad intellect. I'm thankful for all the love, and for the love I witnessed him giving to the world at large. I'm thankful for all the too-strong hugs and the courage he's given by example. Mostly, I'm thankful for the last time Paul and I made it up there to help with the garden and enjoy my grandparents without the rest of the noise when we had the chance. There's just not always another chance when you think there will be.
I'm thankful for the courage I've been given, to tell people what the mean to me, in the time that I have with them.
I can't find too much thanks for missing out on the Isle of Man, but I did learn this, and it's got to be worth it:
Paul and I have had a lot of good times, so many it seems unreal. But good times are easy, and it's easy to love someone when times are good.
I'm thankful for the knowledge that Paul and I can withstand extreme stress. I know what it looks like when we are angry at each other. I know how Paul will care for me when I overextend myself, when I have great loss, when I feel overwhelmed, or face failure.
Overwhelmingly, this has been a shit year. Next year, I hope to be thankful for much less heavy things, but for now, these will do.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Times
Sometimes I just have to say to myself "Self, you are having a shitty time right now. Things are bad, you feel like ass, and you've lost all your patience. This is how things are right now, and not how they will always be."
Aside from the whole "busy" thing (two business trips in the past week, and two classes at CCSF right now), there are a lot of unhappy things. Notably, James still isn't ready to go for a ride with me to get that hot chocolate I promised him, and I still have to come to work every day at this horrid place.
I tried the straightforward channels, and now I have to get more creative about the job thing. It's going to reach a head next week, when my boss finds out that the rest of the department is quitting. Which just leaves me here. I do not want to be here, and have not wanted to be here for a long time. But I'm not as flexible as the other two (one is just going home to Indonesia and has no need for a job anyway, and the other is open to moving to LA, New York, or even Shanghai, which looks like the likely place he'll land. Were I open to moving, I wouldn't have a problem either) But I won't leave the Bay Area. But I *really* need out of this job. I won't go into why, but to say that this is a dead end job with people I really don't respect (can't respect, knowing and seeing what I do) and I need to go where I'm challenged and have room to grow. Besides, I'm so bored here. Same thing over and over? Ugh. No sign of ever having a change? Ugh.
Sadly, there are very few places for me to go in this industry. Levi's, GAP, Gymboree are three of the big ones in The City that I'm looking at (but good luck getting your resume in front of an actual person!) and two other places I'm most interested in are Mountain Hardwear (in Richmond) and The North Face (in San Leandro) These two companies would be perfect for me. Really. Remember all the stuff I did when I was in school? Remember how it always had to have functions and complicated parts? Remember how I was the only one there who could pull off such technical stuff? Well, oops, that doesn't mean anything. HR people screen out everyone who doesn't have 5 years experience doing exactly the same thing they are hiring for. Feh. I would be a perfect fit, but how to convince them? How to find someone to convince?
Outside of that, I also have some wish to get out of this industry. I always thought I should be a project manager instead. But what that actually means seems a little screwy, from reading job listings. Need to contact some people and find out what they do, how they got there, how they think I may or may not fit in and get in.
Mostly I just want to work somewhere where I'm learning and helping and growing, and not surrounded by idiots. That is a really tall order in the fashion industry in the Bay Area. I want out. Or, I want into North Face or Mountain Hardwear. Confusing? Well, OK, maybe I don't really know what I want. But I know what I don't want. I'm really clear about that.
I won't be able to be happy until I get out of this job.
Besides that? James is in San Francisco, but when I went to see him, it was way too crowded, and I hate putting up with other people's bullshit.
I want to see James, not really to see anyone else. Honestly, I've just never been very personable, so I have to be asked like ten times if something is wrong or I'm angry. No, I'm not, I just have hit the bottom of my tolerance for other people. I put up with a lot of personality bullshit when we were doing the events to raise money recently, and I had two rude emails from one of you, got yelled at and hung up on by another one, on the same fucking day. Did anyone ever apologize? No. Did I ever call you out on it? No. I powered through the task at hand. But now, I have no taste left for working with this group. It will take some time for me to come back to it, and then it will be different. I know this is important, but so is my sanity. I have other things going on in my life. I'm tired of making nice to you.
Since I was out a lot in the past week (Milwaukee and Las Vegas, both for work) I'm a little behind on my classes. But for the record, I'm taking my third semester of Conversational Mandarin (which I feel behind in, since many of the other students are already pretty fluent) and my first internet/html class. That one is an online class, hopefully one I'll have more success in than the Chinese Characters online class I dropped this summer.
I have to say this has been a challenging few months. This year is shaping up to be a big downer, on a grand scale. Not good times. But they can't always be. There are the ups, and the downs, but mostly I have it pretty damn good. I have the most wonderful man in the world waiting patiently for me to come down from my stress. Somehow he knows I have to keep pushing. It's not like I have to take classes in my "free" time. But I hate the idea of sitting still, of stopping learning. I don't want to stay where I am, at this job, getting older and staler. I have to keep expanding my education and skills. He knows this. He knows I have to keep going to meetings about James and doing fundraisers. He knows I have to do this even though the politics and personalities drive me up the wall. He pretends to listen when I come home and download all of this. Paul even understands my deep connection to my family, spending time with my dad, and mowing my grandparents' lawn in the boiling sun.
So as bad as times get, and they have been on a downswing, I still have it better than most. I still have so much, and so much to look forward to, in better times.
but if you're trying to deal with me now, you might find me less pleasant. Unless you can help me find a cool new job. Then I'll be your best friend, and bake you brownies.
Aside from the whole "busy" thing (two business trips in the past week, and two classes at CCSF right now), there are a lot of unhappy things. Notably, James still isn't ready to go for a ride with me to get that hot chocolate I promised him, and I still have to come to work every day at this horrid place.
I tried the straightforward channels, and now I have to get more creative about the job thing. It's going to reach a head next week, when my boss finds out that the rest of the department is quitting. Which just leaves me here. I do not want to be here, and have not wanted to be here for a long time. But I'm not as flexible as the other two (one is just going home to Indonesia and has no need for a job anyway, and the other is open to moving to LA, New York, or even Shanghai, which looks like the likely place he'll land. Were I open to moving, I wouldn't have a problem either) But I won't leave the Bay Area. But I *really* need out of this job. I won't go into why, but to say that this is a dead end job with people I really don't respect (can't respect, knowing and seeing what I do) and I need to go where I'm challenged and have room to grow. Besides, I'm so bored here. Same thing over and over? Ugh. No sign of ever having a change? Ugh.
Sadly, there are very few places for me to go in this industry. Levi's, GAP, Gymboree are three of the big ones in The City that I'm looking at (but good luck getting your resume in front of an actual person!) and two other places I'm most interested in are Mountain Hardwear (in Richmond) and The North Face (in San Leandro) These two companies would be perfect for me. Really. Remember all the stuff I did when I was in school? Remember how it always had to have functions and complicated parts? Remember how I was the only one there who could pull off such technical stuff? Well, oops, that doesn't mean anything. HR people screen out everyone who doesn't have 5 years experience doing exactly the same thing they are hiring for. Feh. I would be a perfect fit, but how to convince them? How to find someone to convince?
Outside of that, I also have some wish to get out of this industry. I always thought I should be a project manager instead. But what that actually means seems a little screwy, from reading job listings. Need to contact some people and find out what they do, how they got there, how they think I may or may not fit in and get in.
Mostly I just want to work somewhere where I'm learning and helping and growing, and not surrounded by idiots. That is a really tall order in the fashion industry in the Bay Area. I want out. Or, I want into North Face or Mountain Hardwear. Confusing? Well, OK, maybe I don't really know what I want. But I know what I don't want. I'm really clear about that.
I won't be able to be happy until I get out of this job.
Besides that? James is in San Francisco, but when I went to see him, it was way too crowded, and I hate putting up with other people's bullshit.
I want to see James, not really to see anyone else. Honestly, I've just never been very personable, so I have to be asked like ten times if something is wrong or I'm angry. No, I'm not, I just have hit the bottom of my tolerance for other people. I put up with a lot of personality bullshit when we were doing the events to raise money recently, and I had two rude emails from one of you, got yelled at and hung up on by another one, on the same fucking day. Did anyone ever apologize? No. Did I ever call you out on it? No. I powered through the task at hand. But now, I have no taste left for working with this group. It will take some time for me to come back to it, and then it will be different. I know this is important, but so is my sanity. I have other things going on in my life. I'm tired of making nice to you.
Since I was out a lot in the past week (Milwaukee and Las Vegas, both for work) I'm a little behind on my classes. But for the record, I'm taking my third semester of Conversational Mandarin (which I feel behind in, since many of the other students are already pretty fluent) and my first internet/html class. That one is an online class, hopefully one I'll have more success in than the Chinese Characters online class I dropped this summer.
I have to say this has been a challenging few months. This year is shaping up to be a big downer, on a grand scale. Not good times. But they can't always be. There are the ups, and the downs, but mostly I have it pretty damn good. I have the most wonderful man in the world waiting patiently for me to come down from my stress. Somehow he knows I have to keep pushing. It's not like I have to take classes in my "free" time. But I hate the idea of sitting still, of stopping learning. I don't want to stay where I am, at this job, getting older and staler. I have to keep expanding my education and skills. He knows this. He knows I have to keep going to meetings about James and doing fundraisers. He knows I have to do this even though the politics and personalities drive me up the wall. He pretends to listen when I come home and download all of this. Paul even understands my deep connection to my family, spending time with my dad, and mowing my grandparents' lawn in the boiling sun.
So as bad as times get, and they have been on a downswing, I still have it better than most. I still have so much, and so much to look forward to, in better times.
but if you're trying to deal with me now, you might find me less pleasant. Unless you can help me find a cool new job. Then I'll be your best friend, and bake you brownies.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Happy Brithday to me
Paul took me to dinner last night for my birthday. He is the best. We drank a bottle of wine and ate chocolate cake.
Next year should involve friends. And tiki drinks, or something like that.
Next year should involve friends. And tiki drinks, or something like that.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Updates
Tuesday was Paul's birthday.
Daniel was (is) out of town all this week, so we decided to celebrate Paul's birthday on Friday.
So, Friday night, we had a lovely dinner with Daniel, Jesse, and Amy, at Sea Salt in Berkeley. Being a no-fish person, the dinner fare didn't do much for me, but the deserts were teh yummy. I drank a whole bunch, which led to...
me waking up Saturday with a mysterious headache and icky stomach. How does this keep happening to me?!?!
The mini-hangover wore off just in time for us to get a call from Jesse, to come visit him at his new digs on the Alameda Naval Base (or whatever it used to be).
After checking out their new place and watching Amy shove food into Quinn's mouth, we all took off for a wine and art fair thingy in Alameda. Which was fun. I mean, the people watching was pretty good, and Jesse knows people, people who have wine. We proceeded to get loaded, and then had a big-ass lunch. Their house at the Naval base is pretty cool because there's a lot of open space to walk the dog and throw things for her. Also, some wild geese and rabbits for her to chase. We had to get out of there to return to the City in time to get to bed early because...
Sunday we woke up at 5am to go down to our assigned corner in Golden Gate Park to direct traffic for the San Francisco Marathon. When we got there, we discovered that we'd somehow gotten the one station where there would be no action. The route didn't even come to the intersection we were on, and the roads were closed getting to where we were. A few cars got through and we turned them back, but other than that, we lay in the grass, watched the ducks in the pond, listened to birds singing, homeless people fighting... It was relaxing and nice, other than the 5am aspect.
After the free food and *Tecate* we got for volunteering, we returned for a quick nap, then started walking all over the City. Which is one of the very best ways to spend a nice sunny day like that. We saw awesome buildings in Pacific Heights, and even went to people-watch Marina Chicks. Yes, it's all true. Oversized sunglasses and flip-flops. Blech.
Last night we had more dinner for Paul's actual birthday. Eccolo on 4th Street, which we've wondered about on many occasions. The dinner was fine, service good, but the standout was the warm chocolate cake. OMG.
This week will be a blur while I get ready for this weekend's events and needs.
Paul is the best, by the way. That is all.
Daniel was (is) out of town all this week, so we decided to celebrate Paul's birthday on Friday.
So, Friday night, we had a lovely dinner with Daniel, Jesse, and Amy, at Sea Salt in Berkeley. Being a no-fish person, the dinner fare didn't do much for me, but the deserts were teh yummy. I drank a whole bunch, which led to...
me waking up Saturday with a mysterious headache and icky stomach. How does this keep happening to me?!?!
The mini-hangover wore off just in time for us to get a call from Jesse, to come visit him at his new digs on the Alameda Naval Base (or whatever it used to be).
After checking out their new place and watching Amy shove food into Quinn's mouth, we all took off for a wine and art fair thingy in Alameda. Which was fun. I mean, the people watching was pretty good, and Jesse knows people, people who have wine. We proceeded to get loaded, and then had a big-ass lunch. Their house at the Naval base is pretty cool because there's a lot of open space to walk the dog and throw things for her. Also, some wild geese and rabbits for her to chase. We had to get out of there to return to the City in time to get to bed early because...
Sunday we woke up at 5am to go down to our assigned corner in Golden Gate Park to direct traffic for the San Francisco Marathon. When we got there, we discovered that we'd somehow gotten the one station where there would be no action. The route didn't even come to the intersection we were on, and the roads were closed getting to where we were. A few cars got through and we turned them back, but other than that, we lay in the grass, watched the ducks in the pond, listened to birds singing, homeless people fighting... It was relaxing and nice, other than the 5am aspect.
After the free food and *Tecate* we got for volunteering, we returned for a quick nap, then started walking all over the City. Which is one of the very best ways to spend a nice sunny day like that. We saw awesome buildings in Pacific Heights, and even went to people-watch Marina Chicks. Yes, it's all true. Oversized sunglasses and flip-flops. Blech.
Last night we had more dinner for Paul's actual birthday. Eccolo on 4th Street, which we've wondered about on many occasions. The dinner was fine, service good, but the standout was the warm chocolate cake. OMG.
This week will be a blur while I get ready for this weekend's events and needs.
Paul is the best, by the way. That is all.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Supperclub
I took Paul out to Supperclub last night.
This was our second time, and we had to go because:
a.) Marisa was singing
b.) Every course of the meal was to have chocolate as an ingredient
c.) I totally needed to go someplace nice with Paul, since I've been working too much on this James stuff.
Dinner was awesome. The performances were great, the room was great, the company was great, the food was great. The Black Cherry drop cocktail was great. The only thing that wasn't great was the service. I hate to say this, because, I mean, the waitress was *nice,* and personable, and interactive, but when it came to the waitressing part, she lacked.
The first problem was that we couldn't get water. When we sat down, we were asked what kind of water we wanted. We all(there were 8 people, two at each table, that we knew) wanted still.
So still water came. ONE carafe, set at the middle table. (we're still not sure how we got three tables for two parties of four)
We asked for water again. There was popcorn on the tables with bittersweet chocolate powder. It was tasty, but made me more thirsty. No water. The food started coming out, and I asked the other server for water. The waitress took my order for a bottle of wine.
The water didn't come. I asked a third person for water, now that I had my first course and nothing to drink still. I tried to get Paul to go out into the bar to get us water.
The wine came, but it was the wrong bottle. How about some water?
Finally the water came, and then the correct wine.
Then wonderful food and performance, including the waitress dropping and breaking a glass. I can't really complain about that; I too have dropped and broken things. The waitress was nice, and energetic.
Marisa was awesome; she just keeps getting better and better.
Then some more silliness with an extra glass of wine, and the clincher was that, despite the fact that we were clearly four separate couples (in fact on two separate reservations of 4 tops), the waitress clumped the bill for eight people onto one bill. It took me a while to figure this out; I thought she was just forgetting to bring us our bill. The only upside to doing this, as far as I can tell, is that by making us one large party, they add that automatic gratuity. What. Ever. I'd tip more if you hadn't, and especially if I hadn't had to ask everyone else for water so many times. I mean, nice person and all, but just not really cut out to waitress I guess.
Hot tip for Supperclub: put a carafe of water on every table before you seat people. It's easy, and it will make people happy.
Other than service glitches, everything else was great. REALLY, if you are thinking of a big splurge meal, this is an awesome place for it. You will leave feeling so very relaxed and happy, and well-fed.
Anyway, after Laguna Seca, I just really shouldn't go anywhere without my Camelbak.
This was our second time, and we had to go because:
a.) Marisa was singing
b.) Every course of the meal was to have chocolate as an ingredient
c.) I totally needed to go someplace nice with Paul, since I've been working too much on this James stuff.
Dinner was awesome. The performances were great, the room was great, the company was great, the food was great. The Black Cherry drop cocktail was great. The only thing that wasn't great was the service. I hate to say this, because, I mean, the waitress was *nice,* and personable, and interactive, but when it came to the waitressing part, she lacked.
The first problem was that we couldn't get water. When we sat down, we were asked what kind of water we wanted. We all(there were 8 people, two at each table, that we knew) wanted still.
So still water came. ONE carafe, set at the middle table. (we're still not sure how we got three tables for two parties of four)
We asked for water again. There was popcorn on the tables with bittersweet chocolate powder. It was tasty, but made me more thirsty. No water. The food started coming out, and I asked the other server for water. The waitress took my order for a bottle of wine.
The water didn't come. I asked a third person for water, now that I had my first course and nothing to drink still. I tried to get Paul to go out into the bar to get us water.
The wine came, but it was the wrong bottle. How about some water?
Finally the water came, and then the correct wine.
Then wonderful food and performance, including the waitress dropping and breaking a glass. I can't really complain about that; I too have dropped and broken things. The waitress was nice, and energetic.
Marisa was awesome; she just keeps getting better and better.
Then some more silliness with an extra glass of wine, and the clincher was that, despite the fact that we were clearly four separate couples (in fact on two separate reservations of 4 tops), the waitress clumped the bill for eight people onto one bill. It took me a while to figure this out; I thought she was just forgetting to bring us our bill. The only upside to doing this, as far as I can tell, is that by making us one large party, they add that automatic gratuity. What. Ever. I'd tip more if you hadn't, and especially if I hadn't had to ask everyone else for water so many times. I mean, nice person and all, but just not really cut out to waitress I guess.
Hot tip for Supperclub: put a carafe of water on every table before you seat people. It's easy, and it will make people happy.
Other than service glitches, everything else was great. REALLY, if you are thinking of a big splurge meal, this is an awesome place for it. You will leave feeling so very relaxed and happy, and well-fed.
Anyway, after Laguna Seca, I just really shouldn't go anywhere without my Camelbak.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Now one foot, now the other
A children's book I grew up with which I think of daily.
Thursday night, Paul did something that made me very proud to be associated with him. He is The Best(TM) and I am so proud to be seen with him. I mean, there's the obvious hottness factor, but gee, he is so nice. And he knows me, and what is important to me, and understands it in a way no one else ever could.
Times lately have been not so good, but it's all OK, because I have this man at my side.
Thursday night, SFMC again, meetings, etc.
Friday morning, I had to go down to Redwood “City” to drop off some paperwork for our speeding tickets. Po-po bitches!
Friday afternoon, I got a phone call from Tim, from the Isle of Man, just checking in to chat about James. These people are the most incredible strangers, taking care of James like he was family to them. I asked Paul the other day if he'd like to move to the Isle of Man. People there seem so amazing. Nevermind the fact that I could only understand about 50% of what Tim said. The accent is strong, but that makes it more interesting I guess.
Friday night we ate at Priya. Priya is damn tasty. Then we watched about half of a Chinese movie I rented, while hanging out with Squeeky cat, who is all busted. This is one of the downstairs cats, and it's no secret that he's my favorite. Unfortunately, he also gets injured more than any of the other cats. We found him to have a huge swollen chest thingy the other day, and Friday the vet finally had time to see him. It was huge abscess, and now he has a drainage tube and one of those big stupid Queene Anne collars, and we have to give him antibiotics. It is sad, and he's all confused and unhappy, but he was very happy to have our our company. Poor little boo!
Saturday we walked around and got some stuff organized for a raffle that evening. I worked at New Wave City Saturday night, and Steve and Skip had offered to raffle off prizes at the club, with the money from raffle ticket sales going to benefit James Cornell. They don't even know James, and we are all very thankful for their generosity.
Right now, Paul is working on my DRZ while I catch up on some tasks I have not gotten around to yet for James' fundraisers. We've done a lot of great stuff already, and more is in the works. It's pretty amazing to see the outpouring of help. I really think we can do this, if we just keep our shit together and put one foot in front of the other. James has gotten me through some pretty hairy situations, and I know we can return the same. Now one foot, now the other...
That's how the journey goes when you can't see the end. But somehow, you get there, one step at a time. We can do it, we will do it.
Thursday night, Paul did something that made me very proud to be associated with him. He is The Best(TM) and I am so proud to be seen with him. I mean, there's the obvious hottness factor, but gee, he is so nice. And he knows me, and what is important to me, and understands it in a way no one else ever could.
Times lately have been not so good, but it's all OK, because I have this man at my side.
Thursday night, SFMC again, meetings, etc.
Friday morning, I had to go down to Redwood “City” to drop off some paperwork for our speeding tickets. Po-po bitches!
Friday afternoon, I got a phone call from Tim, from the Isle of Man, just checking in to chat about James. These people are the most incredible strangers, taking care of James like he was family to them. I asked Paul the other day if he'd like to move to the Isle of Man. People there seem so amazing. Nevermind the fact that I could only understand about 50% of what Tim said. The accent is strong, but that makes it more interesting I guess.
Friday night we ate at Priya. Priya is damn tasty. Then we watched about half of a Chinese movie I rented, while hanging out with Squeeky cat, who is all busted. This is one of the downstairs cats, and it's no secret that he's my favorite. Unfortunately, he also gets injured more than any of the other cats. We found him to have a huge swollen chest thingy the other day, and Friday the vet finally had time to see him. It was huge abscess, and now he has a drainage tube and one of those big stupid Queene Anne collars, and we have to give him antibiotics. It is sad, and he's all confused and unhappy, but he was very happy to have our our company. Poor little boo!
Saturday we walked around and got some stuff organized for a raffle that evening. I worked at New Wave City Saturday night, and Steve and Skip had offered to raffle off prizes at the club, with the money from raffle ticket sales going to benefit James Cornell. They don't even know James, and we are all very thankful for their generosity.
Right now, Paul is working on my DRZ while I catch up on some tasks I have not gotten around to yet for James' fundraisers. We've done a lot of great stuff already, and more is in the works. It's pretty amazing to see the outpouring of help. I really think we can do this, if we just keep our shit together and put one foot in front of the other. James has gotten me through some pretty hairy situations, and I know we can return the same. Now one foot, now the other...
That's how the journey goes when you can't see the end. But somehow, you get there, one step at a time. We can do it, we will do it.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Paul brought me flowers last night, and then I proceeded to ignore him while at the DNA Lounge last night. Not really ignore him, but I felt bad anyway.
The party at DNA last night benefitting James seemed to go well, and I got a bunch of cards to send to James. Also got to meet some of his friends who I've seen for years, but never really met.
Also, after working up some alcoholic nerve, plainly stated my case for a friendship that's been long strained, and was met well. We have so many fears, and they turn out to be mostly unfounded?
It was a good night for me, though I may have drank a little more than absolutely necessary.
Paul was kept out past his bedtime and left in the corner while I worked people over to write cards, and still manages to be perfectly sweet to me. What would I do without him?
The party at DNA last night benefitting James seemed to go well, and I got a bunch of cards to send to James. Also got to meet some of his friends who I've seen for years, but never really met.
Also, after working up some alcoholic nerve, plainly stated my case for a friendship that's been long strained, and was met well. We have so many fears, and they turn out to be mostly unfounded?
It was a good night for me, though I may have drank a little more than absolutely necessary.
Paul was kept out past his bedtime and left in the corner while I worked people over to write cards, and still manages to be perfectly sweet to me. What would I do without him?
Monday, May 22, 2006
"Rebecca Does the Sheetiron, 2006" was made possible by a stunning array of supporting cast.
Friday
Being car-less folk, Paul and I were to head out on our dirtbikes around 5:30 Friday. Charles had our tent and sleeping bags already up at Stonyford. We would get there just about sundown, set up camp in the dark, sleep a bit, then get up early and RIDE.
5:40pm, we are gassed up and away, on our way on an ADVENTURE! Which lasts for precisely 1.5 miles when I realize that Paul has dropped out of my mirror. We limp back to his house on the streets as his bike (which he bought last Sunday since the XR blew up) is cutting out. Vapor lock? Or something worse? Ugh, and it is raining. Paul works like a genius and we are back on the road around 7:00, hoping for the best. It is a 2.5-3 hour ride to Stonyford, and it is raining, and it is all quite stressful.
But we go, Paul in front, as fast as we can on our little knobby tires, up to Dunnigan, which is just near 505 and I5, where we stop for gas. I have been stuck here before on the way back from Sheetiron. There is a weird restaurant. There is also a motel. I am getting the lazies. There's nothing quite as nice as riding through the rain with an open faced-helmet (which is essentially what a motocross helmet is) and feeling the painful repeated pinprick impact of rain on your face. And it is dark, and we will be either setting up a tent in dark and MUD in Stonyford, or sleeping in a warm bed NOW. It's a no brainer, we call Charles and tell him we will hotel, and meet them at Stonyford to ride out in the morning. He sounds skeptical. "we will re-evaluate in the morning," he emphasizes, implying they are thinking that it will rain, and they may just load the trucks and go hang out in Fort Bragg. After a couple of hours on a dirtbike in the rain on the freeway, that sounds fine too. I really, really want to do the Sheetiron, but feel pretty unprepared, and mud riding in torrential rain doesn't appeal to me.
Saturday
Saturday morning, we get into Stonyford around 6:15, and rush to get everything done, re-arranged, set-up, and packed in the right place in the right order. Order of operations is very, very important, as anyone with a riding gear fetish can tell you. We don't actually get out of camp until about 8, which is not ideal. Feh.
Paul and I decide to do easy splits. Saturday morning, there happen to be two easy splits, one not as easy as the other. We take this easy-moderate split since it promises creek crossings and pretty stuff. It takes me a bit to get my legs for riding on the tacky stuff, but it starts to make a little sense.
Here is what I know about riding on the dirt:
1.) Stay on the Gas, or Fall on Your Ass.
Unfortunately, I have lost any tiny bit of skill or knowledge I may have ever had about turning a dirtbike. Sure, I know what you're supposed to do. I have listened to advice and instructions, and can tell you how to do it. I *know* this, but my body does not do it. Well, fine, I run through some slippy and slightly rutty stuff and it's kind of fun and terrifying. I doubt anyone can see or hear this, but whenever I hit slippy stuff, I yell in my helmet at myself. What do I yell?
"GAS! GAS! ASS! UP, UP, UP! GAS!"
"Up" is just to remind me to keep my elbows up and loose, for all the good that will do me. Well, it sort of worked. I mean, I didn't bail.
Fortunately, a chunk of the San Francisco Motorcycle club ends up mixed in with us. I've been hanging out with the SFMC folks for a few years now, and they are the best. Really, I am delighted to be near them.
A little ways in, we get to a small creek crossing, which goes off without a hitch. I look at it with a little trepidation, but it is not a tough creek really, at least from appearances, and is much, much narrower than some I've crossed before. And the other side isn't as rutted as that nasty one we crossed last time. Lionel is standing on the other side and snaps a photo of me crossing. Cool! Can't wait to get his pictures.
Second river crossing is a bit trickier. Normally, I like to size up an obstacle, and hit it from a right angle. Specifically, for a creek, I'd like to have a little running start. No such luck here. Even the small space where I'm wishing I could get my bike to in order to get optimal entry speed and angle, cannot be used as it keeps getting filled up with other riders who came after us. I have to nudge in, or may never get a chance, as new riders keep showing up.
First I watch a few SFMC guys go through. One guy goes down on a DR650, boots in the air and all as he splashes in, then fishes his bike out and drags it to the river bank with friends. Casey enters in a very strange way, trying to turn in the creek, and falls as well. So, what the hell, I go for it, (what else can you do?) and don't quite make it. I know the line I want, but somehow veer right and into a hole that I had wished to avoid. GAS! GAS! GAS! But it isn't really enough, and my bike stalls out. BUT. I have not fallen. Casey runs out to help and so does Lionel. The bank on the other side is fairly steep, and there are people and bikes on the sides. My job? To get out of the creek and up the bank without crashing or hitting anyone. Once up there, crashing is fine, just don't do it in the water, or where you might slide back into the water (possibly taking other bikes and people on the way).
Glancing behind me, I realize that Casey has somehow fallen completely in the water behind me. I don't know what happened, but as he gets up, I gas it, and the guys help guide me and the bike out of the water. Up the bank I go, and it's all I can do to get up the side without hitting all the bikes that have parked at the top of the ridge there. I glide to a stop on the thankfully wide, flat road and wait for the rest of the guys. Woo! I don't know how this could have worked out without Casey and Lionel. So far I have yet to fish my bike out of a creek, and it's not something I look forward to.
Paul arrives effortlessly, and I enjoy my early morning wet sock prize. Creek crossing in the morning means wet squishy toes the rest of the day. Yay! I soaked in it!
SFMC guys go ahead to take some hard splits, and we do the rest of the ride to Lake Pillsbury at a snail's pace set by me and my crappy dirt riding.
Lake Pillsbury lunch stop is always a trip. This place is in the middle of nowhere, and once a year the lot fills up with dirtbikes and we sit on the porch and eat our sandwiches while chickens, ducks and geese wander among us. Greg and Cindy show up. Greg is begging around for bike parts. What bike parts? Brake pads! He forgot to check them in his pre-ride prep, and they are completely gone. No one is carrying spare brake pads (imagine that), so he rides on. He and Cindy are having a blast. I haven't seen them in a long time; I have heard Cindy is quite a good dirt rider, and Greg looks great, having lost a ton of weight and just seeming more healthy and energetic. After lunch, we latch onto SFMC for Casey's cutoff to get into Fort Bragg at a decent hour. Paul and I have ridden a lot and will have a long Sunday ahead of us: 150 miles of dirt riding (like everyone else) and then a 3 hour ride home (unlike everyone else)
CRAPPY dinner in Fort Bragg, notice a new oil leak on my bike (sniff, sniff) which we will have to carry oil for now, and then to bed at a very decent hour. Stagger the fifty feet to Perko's in the morning for breakfast (which takes WAY too long, since they are shortstaffed) and then we are on the road again.
Sunday
The Sunday morning segment of the Sheetiron is a bit of a legend. The Tanktrapper, we have called it. I met Wayne in a ditch three years ago, and, not even knowing he was from SFMC or knew anyone I knew, handed him my basically new DRZ with the keys in it and told him to take it away. I had crashed something like 5 times in a couple of miles, and the ruts were so deep and overwhelming, everyone was crashing around us and yelling, there were puddles 30 feet long the entire width of the road. The first year I did it, I think we spent a few hours just getting through those first few miles.
Then, the next year, it was gone. Totally flat. Lollipop hill, we thought of re-naming it.
So there had been a lot of guessing about conditions this year. Heavy rains pointed toward ruts, but a man we met in the bar in Willits said it had been closed all year to the 4x4 drivers who are the ones who tear it up like that.
Sunday morning leaving Fort Bragg, I am looking forward to it with trepidation and a little excitement and fear and a little adventure. I expect it to be bad, and take the wrong turnoff looking for bad conditions. Oops, no it is the easy road. We ride and ride, and finally I see the spot where I did my 6th and final get-off in front of all the parked bikes that first year. Lollipop Hill it is, again this year. Hmm. I don't know if it's good or bad. Somewhere in between would be good, a little challenging without being so totally horrible would be nice. Well, OK, at least we will make better time, which we need, at our pace. Stop for a quick vista and it starts to drizzle. Damn! Drizzle is fine, but just a little! Rain, I do not want. So we plug ahead, and finally find our selves down at the bottom with the "Road Not Maintained in Winter" sign. Yay! I love that sign! But we don't get to take a picture there; Paul is concerned about my front tire: it appears low. Indeed it IS low, so he puts some air in, and we will keep checking it to see what kind of leak it is. Incidentally, the oil leak seems to have let up a bit. Still, Paul is keeping his distance after I sprayed his bike on the way into Fort Bragg Saturday afternoon.
Next up, a gravel road which I remember "fondly" since:
a.) I have seen at least one guy stuffed into a fence on a surprise right hand hairpin
b.) this is where Eric broke all his toes the first time I went.
c.) Frank from SFMC stacked on a bridge here a few years back, which I think ended with broken bones or something.
(Later I found out Greg high-sided here on Sunday)
O-tay, on we go. Farther and farther down the road, and I am feeling worse and worse. I am supposed to be getting better and better as I ride ahead and get more confident, right? No, it is not working. Toward the end, I am fucking up all the corners and feeling horrible about it. I thought "I am steering this thing like a Goldwing in a parking lot! What the hell is wrong with me?" Deciding I had gotten myself into a bad headspace, I decided to pull out near the bottom for a breather, just before the highway. Into a nice little turnout, and as I pull the front brake lever and get wobbly feedback, I realize my head problem is really a flat tire problem, and I feel elated.
"My tire!"
"I know!"
"I thought it was ME!"
We decide it really must be changed, right now, and commit to it and begin de-gearing. This will take a while; we are not experienced trailside tire changers. But Paul can do anything, it just might take a bit in this case. We are about to plug ahead, when... who is the FIRST person to come down the road after we decide to do a tire change? Phil Douglas, hero, ISDE silver medalist, The Man, the Myth, the Legend. OK, I barely know Phil, but he is easily the coolest person I know. Well, one of the coolest anyway. And although I barely know him, he has been a hero to me several times.
He slows down to see what's up and I point at the culprit. We are about to change the tube. He offers to do it. We feel bad. He reminds us that he can do it in 4 minutes. I know this, I have heard the story somewhere before, but not from him. Phil is the kind of guy people talk about. He is so talented. As I recall, changing a tire in four minutes is part of qualifying for ISDE. "No really, I can do this really fast and save you a lot of time." Of course it is true; this will take us an hour. Phil can do it in 1/15th the time. And he does. It was fun to behold, and I was so very, very thankful. Phil is the best.
Other amazing and cool things Phil has done:
1.) Saved me from putting a seized chain through my case on the EX500 when I didn't know any better.
2.) Made my DRZ400 from a cool bike into The Perfect Bike For Me. People ask me what did he do to your bike? I say "Phil put his hands on it, and that is it." I have no idea; it is a black art, and Phil is a genius. The bike handles like a dream. (though at 36K, it really should go in for a check-up) Take your bike to Phil; it is worth every penny.
3.) Picked me up out of the dirt at Metcalf twice in about five minutes, and told me exactly how to ride out. I have a problem with falling the dirt.
4.) Raised two awesome daughters. This has nothing to do with me, but it is so cool to see.
5.) Oh, yeah. Silver medal in the ISDE. I mean, I GUESS that is pretty cool.
Anyway, we move forward, through a nice paved road (this I can handle) and into the gas stop. Unfortunately, everyone else is here at the same time. EVERYONE. We lose two hours here, but there is no gas between there and the finish, and Paul has a tiny stock tank.
Second half of the day is not so nice. Mendocino National Forest roads are usually quite beautiful, but this time around, the fog is too thick to see the views. In fact, it gets so thick that at times, I can't even see where the road is going. Snow on the side of the road is usual and nice, but this year, it is raining on top of this, and then hailing. It gets so cold, that at some point, I can't feel my fingers. My limbs are stiffening up as I shiver, and this is BAD. I want the bailout. I feel we've done our time, and we have a 2.5 hour ride home on top of this. But we plug ahead, unsure of the bailout directions, and it gets colder and foggier. I am miserable and FREEZING.
But onward we go, and finally to the gate for the last road. It takes a while, but we get through it. I warm up a little as we get near the bottom, where I know there will be one last water crossing, though it is not on the rollchart. It is not a difficult water crossing at all. Finally, we are at the bottom.
Back into camp, and we are wet and miserable. It is raining again, and muddy. The plan is to get our gear, and get on the road. I'm soaked and it's going to be miserable. As we fuss around with changing our clothes and bike-gearing in the mud, the SFMC guys stepped in with ANOTHER godsend: Wayne has room in his truck, and they insist on getting us back home in the truck. Really, we can ride home in the rain. There is nothing to prove here, but it will SUCK. REALLY suck. We are so lucky, and so grateful. Bikes loaded up, and we hit the road, and the rain goes from drizzle to torrential downpour. Holy crap, are we lucky. These guys have their shit together and take care of their friends. I am so lucky to be considered a friend.
Back to Berkeley around 9:30 or so, and I spread the wet gear all over the house to let it dry before we deal with it later. And we are totally wore out. And it was a blast.
I could not do all of this without my friends. And I'm sorry for all the troubles and inconveniences, but so very appreciative. I am just a girl with a lack of skills and a sense of adventure. I always say what I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm. Well, that and a network of friends and acquaintances who are incredible, nice, and talented folk. Without them, all of my bad ideas would never come to fruition.
Thank you all!
-The Score-
Sheetiron 2006:
-The bikes have taken a beating: the XR never even got to go (blown motor) and my DRZ has finally shown some real wear, in the shape of an oil leak and odd squealing (wheel bearings maybe?). Feh!
-I did not crash at all, which leads me to believe I was being too cautious, and not challenging myself enough.
-Paul didn't crash either. He is a great rider.
-I need a lot more dirtbike practice, possibly school or something. I am tired of sucking so much.
-Our room at Super 8 smelled like biological waste. (I've stayed there several times before without problems though)
-It's just not the same without James there. We will be sure to complain about that when we see him next week at the ISLE OF MAN!!!!!
Being car-less folk, Paul and I were to head out on our dirtbikes around 5:30 Friday. Charles had our tent and sleeping bags already up at Stonyford. We would get there just about sundown, set up camp in the dark, sleep a bit, then get up early and RIDE.
5:40pm, we are gassed up and away, on our way on an ADVENTURE! Which lasts for precisely 1.5 miles when I realize that Paul has dropped out of my mirror. We limp back to his house on the streets as his bike (which he bought last Sunday since the XR blew up) is cutting out. Vapor lock? Or something worse? Ugh, and it is raining. Paul works like a genius and we are back on the road around 7:00, hoping for the best. It is a 2.5-3 hour ride to Stonyford, and it is raining, and it is all quite stressful.
But we go, Paul in front, as fast as we can on our little knobby tires, up to Dunnigan, which is just near 505 and I5, where we stop for gas. I have been stuck here before on the way back from Sheetiron. There is a weird restaurant. There is also a motel. I am getting the lazies. There's nothing quite as nice as riding through the rain with an open faced-helmet (which is essentially what a motocross helmet is) and feeling the painful repeated pinprick impact of rain on your face. And it is dark, and we will be either setting up a tent in dark and MUD in Stonyford, or sleeping in a warm bed NOW. It's a no brainer, we call Charles and tell him we will hotel, and meet them at Stonyford to ride out in the morning. He sounds skeptical. "we will re-evaluate in the morning," he emphasizes, implying they are thinking that it will rain, and they may just load the trucks and go hang out in Fort Bragg. After a couple of hours on a dirtbike in the rain on the freeway, that sounds fine too. I really, really want to do the Sheetiron, but feel pretty unprepared, and mud riding in torrential rain doesn't appeal to me.
Saturday
Saturday morning, we get into Stonyford around 6:15, and rush to get everything done, re-arranged, set-up, and packed in the right place in the right order. Order of operations is very, very important, as anyone with a riding gear fetish can tell you. We don't actually get out of camp until about 8, which is not ideal. Feh.
Paul and I decide to do easy splits. Saturday morning, there happen to be two easy splits, one not as easy as the other. We take this easy-moderate split since it promises creek crossings and pretty stuff. It takes me a bit to get my legs for riding on the tacky stuff, but it starts to make a little sense.
Here is what I know about riding on the dirt:
1.) Stay on the Gas, or Fall on Your Ass.
Unfortunately, I have lost any tiny bit of skill or knowledge I may have ever had about turning a dirtbike. Sure, I know what you're supposed to do. I have listened to advice and instructions, and can tell you how to do it. I *know* this, but my body does not do it. Well, fine, I run through some slippy and slightly rutty stuff and it's kind of fun and terrifying. I doubt anyone can see or hear this, but whenever I hit slippy stuff, I yell in my helmet at myself. What do I yell?
"GAS! GAS! ASS! UP, UP, UP! GAS!"
"Up" is just to remind me to keep my elbows up and loose, for all the good that will do me. Well, it sort of worked. I mean, I didn't bail.
Fortunately, a chunk of the San Francisco Motorcycle club ends up mixed in with us. I've been hanging out with the SFMC folks for a few years now, and they are the best. Really, I am delighted to be near them.
A little ways in, we get to a small creek crossing, which goes off without a hitch. I look at it with a little trepidation, but it is not a tough creek really, at least from appearances, and is much, much narrower than some I've crossed before. And the other side isn't as rutted as that nasty one we crossed last time. Lionel is standing on the other side and snaps a photo of me crossing. Cool! Can't wait to get his pictures.
Second river crossing is a bit trickier. Normally, I like to size up an obstacle, and hit it from a right angle. Specifically, for a creek, I'd like to have a little running start. No such luck here. Even the small space where I'm wishing I could get my bike to in order to get optimal entry speed and angle, cannot be used as it keeps getting filled up with other riders who came after us. I have to nudge in, or may never get a chance, as new riders keep showing up.
First I watch a few SFMC guys go through. One guy goes down on a DR650, boots in the air and all as he splashes in, then fishes his bike out and drags it to the river bank with friends. Casey enters in a very strange way, trying to turn in the creek, and falls as well. So, what the hell, I go for it, (what else can you do?) and don't quite make it. I know the line I want, but somehow veer right and into a hole that I had wished to avoid. GAS! GAS! GAS! But it isn't really enough, and my bike stalls out. BUT. I have not fallen. Casey runs out to help and so does Lionel. The bank on the other side is fairly steep, and there are people and bikes on the sides. My job? To get out of the creek and up the bank without crashing or hitting anyone. Once up there, crashing is fine, just don't do it in the water, or where you might slide back into the water (possibly taking other bikes and people on the way).
Glancing behind me, I realize that Casey has somehow fallen completely in the water behind me. I don't know what happened, but as he gets up, I gas it, and the guys help guide me and the bike out of the water. Up the bank I go, and it's all I can do to get up the side without hitting all the bikes that have parked at the top of the ridge there. I glide to a stop on the thankfully wide, flat road and wait for the rest of the guys. Woo! I don't know how this could have worked out without Casey and Lionel. So far I have yet to fish my bike out of a creek, and it's not something I look forward to.
Paul arrives effortlessly, and I enjoy my early morning wet sock prize. Creek crossing in the morning means wet squishy toes the rest of the day. Yay! I soaked in it!
SFMC guys go ahead to take some hard splits, and we do the rest of the ride to Lake Pillsbury at a snail's pace set by me and my crappy dirt riding.
Lake Pillsbury lunch stop is always a trip. This place is in the middle of nowhere, and once a year the lot fills up with dirtbikes and we sit on the porch and eat our sandwiches while chickens, ducks and geese wander among us. Greg and Cindy show up. Greg is begging around for bike parts. What bike parts? Brake pads! He forgot to check them in his pre-ride prep, and they are completely gone. No one is carrying spare brake pads (imagine that), so he rides on. He and Cindy are having a blast. I haven't seen them in a long time; I have heard Cindy is quite a good dirt rider, and Greg looks great, having lost a ton of weight and just seeming more healthy and energetic. After lunch, we latch onto SFMC for Casey's cutoff to get into Fort Bragg at a decent hour. Paul and I have ridden a lot and will have a long Sunday ahead of us: 150 miles of dirt riding (like everyone else) and then a 3 hour ride home (unlike everyone else)
CRAPPY dinner in Fort Bragg, notice a new oil leak on my bike (sniff, sniff) which we will have to carry oil for now, and then to bed at a very decent hour. Stagger the fifty feet to Perko's in the morning for breakfast (which takes WAY too long, since they are shortstaffed) and then we are on the road again.
Sunday
The Sunday morning segment of the Sheetiron is a bit of a legend. The Tanktrapper, we have called it. I met Wayne in a ditch three years ago, and, not even knowing he was from SFMC or knew anyone I knew, handed him my basically new DRZ with the keys in it and told him to take it away. I had crashed something like 5 times in a couple of miles, and the ruts were so deep and overwhelming, everyone was crashing around us and yelling, there were puddles 30 feet long the entire width of the road. The first year I did it, I think we spent a few hours just getting through those first few miles.
Then, the next year, it was gone. Totally flat. Lollipop hill, we thought of re-naming it.
So there had been a lot of guessing about conditions this year. Heavy rains pointed toward ruts, but a man we met in the bar in Willits said it had been closed all year to the 4x4 drivers who are the ones who tear it up like that.
Sunday morning leaving Fort Bragg, I am looking forward to it with trepidation and a little excitement and fear and a little adventure. I expect it to be bad, and take the wrong turnoff looking for bad conditions. Oops, no it is the easy road. We ride and ride, and finally I see the spot where I did my 6th and final get-off in front of all the parked bikes that first year. Lollipop Hill it is, again this year. Hmm. I don't know if it's good or bad. Somewhere in between would be good, a little challenging without being so totally horrible would be nice. Well, OK, at least we will make better time, which we need, at our pace. Stop for a quick vista and it starts to drizzle. Damn! Drizzle is fine, but just a little! Rain, I do not want. So we plug ahead, and finally find our selves down at the bottom with the "Road Not Maintained in Winter" sign. Yay! I love that sign! But we don't get to take a picture there; Paul is concerned about my front tire: it appears low. Indeed it IS low, so he puts some air in, and we will keep checking it to see what kind of leak it is. Incidentally, the oil leak seems to have let up a bit. Still, Paul is keeping his distance after I sprayed his bike on the way into Fort Bragg Saturday afternoon.
Next up, a gravel road which I remember "fondly" since:
a.) I have seen at least one guy stuffed into a fence on a surprise right hand hairpin
b.) this is where Eric broke all his toes the first time I went.
c.) Frank from SFMC stacked on a bridge here a few years back, which I think ended with broken bones or something.
(Later I found out Greg high-sided here on Sunday)
O-tay, on we go. Farther and farther down the road, and I am feeling worse and worse. I am supposed to be getting better and better as I ride ahead and get more confident, right? No, it is not working. Toward the end, I am fucking up all the corners and feeling horrible about it. I thought "I am steering this thing like a Goldwing in a parking lot! What the hell is wrong with me?" Deciding I had gotten myself into a bad headspace, I decided to pull out near the bottom for a breather, just before the highway. Into a nice little turnout, and as I pull the front brake lever and get wobbly feedback, I realize my head problem is really a flat tire problem, and I feel elated.
"My tire!"
"I know!"
"I thought it was ME!"
We decide it really must be changed, right now, and commit to it and begin de-gearing. This will take a while; we are not experienced trailside tire changers. But Paul can do anything, it just might take a bit in this case. We are about to plug ahead, when... who is the FIRST person to come down the road after we decide to do a tire change? Phil Douglas, hero, ISDE silver medalist, The Man, the Myth, the Legend. OK, I barely know Phil, but he is easily the coolest person I know. Well, one of the coolest anyway. And although I barely know him, he has been a hero to me several times.
He slows down to see what's up and I point at the culprit. We are about to change the tube. He offers to do it. We feel bad. He reminds us that he can do it in 4 minutes. I know this, I have heard the story somewhere before, but not from him. Phil is the kind of guy people talk about. He is so talented. As I recall, changing a tire in four minutes is part of qualifying for ISDE. "No really, I can do this really fast and save you a lot of time." Of course it is true; this will take us an hour. Phil can do it in 1/15th the time. And he does. It was fun to behold, and I was so very, very thankful. Phil is the best.
Other amazing and cool things Phil has done:
1.) Saved me from putting a seized chain through my case on the EX500 when I didn't know any better.
2.) Made my DRZ400 from a cool bike into The Perfect Bike For Me. People ask me what did he do to your bike? I say "Phil put his hands on it, and that is it." I have no idea; it is a black art, and Phil is a genius. The bike handles like a dream. (though at 36K, it really should go in for a check-up) Take your bike to Phil; it is worth every penny.
3.) Picked me up out of the dirt at Metcalf twice in about five minutes, and told me exactly how to ride out. I have a problem with falling the dirt.
4.) Raised two awesome daughters. This has nothing to do with me, but it is so cool to see.
5.) Oh, yeah. Silver medal in the ISDE. I mean, I GUESS that is pretty cool.
Anyway, we move forward, through a nice paved road (this I can handle) and into the gas stop. Unfortunately, everyone else is here at the same time. EVERYONE. We lose two hours here, but there is no gas between there and the finish, and Paul has a tiny stock tank.
Second half of the day is not so nice. Mendocino National Forest roads are usually quite beautiful, but this time around, the fog is too thick to see the views. In fact, it gets so thick that at times, I can't even see where the road is going. Snow on the side of the road is usual and nice, but this year, it is raining on top of this, and then hailing. It gets so cold, that at some point, I can't feel my fingers. My limbs are stiffening up as I shiver, and this is BAD. I want the bailout. I feel we've done our time, and we have a 2.5 hour ride home on top of this. But we plug ahead, unsure of the bailout directions, and it gets colder and foggier. I am miserable and FREEZING.
But onward we go, and finally to the gate for the last road. It takes a while, but we get through it. I warm up a little as we get near the bottom, where I know there will be one last water crossing, though it is not on the rollchart. It is not a difficult water crossing at all. Finally, we are at the bottom.
Back into camp, and we are wet and miserable. It is raining again, and muddy. The plan is to get our gear, and get on the road. I'm soaked and it's going to be miserable. As we fuss around with changing our clothes and bike-gearing in the mud, the SFMC guys stepped in with ANOTHER godsend: Wayne has room in his truck, and they insist on getting us back home in the truck. Really, we can ride home in the rain. There is nothing to prove here, but it will SUCK. REALLY suck. We are so lucky, and so grateful. Bikes loaded up, and we hit the road, and the rain goes from drizzle to torrential downpour. Holy crap, are we lucky. These guys have their shit together and take care of their friends. I am so lucky to be considered a friend.
Back to Berkeley around 9:30 or so, and I spread the wet gear all over the house to let it dry before we deal with it later. And we are totally wore out. And it was a blast.
I could not do all of this without my friends. And I'm sorry for all the troubles and inconveniences, but so very appreciative. I am just a girl with a lack of skills and a sense of adventure. I always say what I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm. Well, that and a network of friends and acquaintances who are incredible, nice, and talented folk. Without them, all of my bad ideas would never come to fruition.
Thank you all!
-The Score-
Sheetiron 2006:
-The bikes have taken a beating: the XR never even got to go (blown motor) and my DRZ has finally shown some real wear, in the shape of an oil leak and odd squealing (wheel bearings maybe?). Feh!
-I did not crash at all, which leads me to believe I was being too cautious, and not challenging myself enough.
-Paul didn't crash either. He is a great rider.
-I need a lot more dirtbike practice, possibly school or something. I am tired of sucking so much.
-Our room at Super 8 smelled like biological waste. (I've stayed there several times before without problems though)
-It's just not the same without James there. We will be sure to complain about that when we see him next week at the ISLE OF MAN!!!!!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
2 tortoises, no hares
Sunday 280 to San Jose: fuck you, pig, I know my rights!
Then, Mother's Day breakfast at my folks' house, very nice, very relaxing. The weather finally picked up, and I felt like I was on vacation for a couple of hours.
Sunday afternoon, Paul got a bike for the Sheetiron. Paul likes to make fun of my DRZ. It's so gutless, it's so slow, blah blah blah. See, we have different needs for a bike. I see it as a Tortoise and Hare thing. I don't need a hare. I don't have the patience for a hare. I don't have a garage for a hare. Mostly, I hate pushing a hare off the freeway or back over ten miles of single track. A tortoise will do me just fine. And it has. The bike has 35K on it, which is a lot for that sort of bike, and no problems. Sure, it wanted its valves done at 27K, but what bike wouldn't need that from time to time?
My tortoise just does the job, and gets me there. I never have to worry about "it wasn't built for that." It's built to do a lot of things just fine. Not to do a few things really really well, and then blow up in-between unless you rebuild it first. I do not need a high-maintenance girlfriend.
So now Paul has a DRZ. We'd match, except his is yellow, and way, way cleaner. At least until Saturday. After watching the XR failure from 2 years ago at Stonyford, I'm relieved. Not that nothing can go wrong, just that the likelihood has gone down for THAT failure.
Now that it's a reality, we have a lot of prep to do.
Then, Mother's Day breakfast at my folks' house, very nice, very relaxing. The weather finally picked up, and I felt like I was on vacation for a couple of hours.
Sunday afternoon, Paul got a bike for the Sheetiron. Paul likes to make fun of my DRZ. It's so gutless, it's so slow, blah blah blah. See, we have different needs for a bike. I see it as a Tortoise and Hare thing. I don't need a hare. I don't have the patience for a hare. I don't have a garage for a hare. Mostly, I hate pushing a hare off the freeway or back over ten miles of single track. A tortoise will do me just fine. And it has. The bike has 35K on it, which is a lot for that sort of bike, and no problems. Sure, it wanted its valves done at 27K, but what bike wouldn't need that from time to time?
My tortoise just does the job, and gets me there. I never have to worry about "it wasn't built for that." It's built to do a lot of things just fine. Not to do a few things really really well, and then blow up in-between unless you rebuild it first. I do not need a high-maintenance girlfriend.
So now Paul has a DRZ. We'd match, except his is yellow, and way, way cleaner. At least until Saturday. After watching the XR failure from 2 years ago at Stonyford, I'm relieved. Not that nothing can go wrong, just that the likelihood has gone down for THAT failure.
Now that it's a reality, we have a lot of prep to do.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
black and blue
So Saturday night, we were headed down to San Jose, on 280, on our dirtbikes. The plan was to crash at my folks' house so the ride to Metcalf in the morning would just be 15 miles. We were going to meet Charles at 8:30 in the parking lot. Right.
Wrong. Somewhere between Magdalena and Foothill, Paul toasted his motor. I mean, he didn't do anything, it just happened. Well, anyway, fortunately I have some incredible friends.
Charles once again showed me how lucky I am to have such great friends.
And since I would only be in the way hanging around Paul's garage on Sunday while he tore down the XR, I proceeded to San Jose, and then Metcalf in the morning.
Then all the crashing and all that.
Then, this:
Who doesn't love a good bruise?
Yeah, I need to replace my elbo guards, which are AWOL.
And Paul, well, he has bigger problems. The bike is TOAST, and surely won't be back up by next weekend for the Sheetiron, if at all. So what to do... working on creative solutions now, and I'm hoping this won't just end with me crying about missing the Sheetiron again. I have faith. Hmph.
Wrong. Somewhere between Magdalena and Foothill, Paul toasted his motor. I mean, he didn't do anything, it just happened. Well, anyway, fortunately I have some incredible friends.
Charles once again showed me how lucky I am to have such great friends.
And since I would only be in the way hanging around Paul's garage on Sunday while he tore down the XR, I proceeded to San Jose, and then Metcalf in the morning.
Then all the crashing and all that.
Then, this:
Who doesn't love a good bruise?
Yeah, I need to replace my elbo guards, which are AWOL.
And Paul, well, he has bigger problems. The bike is TOAST, and surely won't be back up by next weekend for the Sheetiron, if at all. So what to do... working on creative solutions now, and I'm hoping this won't just end with me crying about missing the Sheetiron again. I have faith. Hmph.
Monday, May 08, 2006
what I was thinking just now.
Old ladies adore my boyfriend. I think that's great, since I plan to be an old lady one day, and I can't wait to see him through the eyes of an adoring old lady.
That's planning ahead.
That's planning ahead.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
This past Saturday, Paul and I got up early-ish and scurried down to Market Street to catch the Earthquake Cottage on its last display day. The shack itself wasn't much to look at, but the photos and info were interesting, and the fact that you could see the old wood in most of it, stories and all. These shacks were built as a part of a permanent answer to an immediate emergency need. These shacks provided previous slum dwellers who'd lost everything with a permanent structure and the option to take their house out into the "country" (sunset district! See, it IS the suburbs!) and make a new life. What do we have for Katrina refugees? A couple bucks for a hotel, and then out on the street see-ya-later!
Some of these shacks have been cobbled into homes that are still lived in today.
Then.
My folks came to the city and picked us up and we all went to meet Paul's mom at the de Young Museum to see the Arts and Crafts exhibit. It was very cool. Everyone should go. Arts and crafts: very cool. Tower view, very cool. Getting stalked by the old Filipino security guard who kept telling me and the people around that I looked like the Mona Lisa? Not quite "cool," but it made for laughs later.
I worked Saturday night for New Wave city again. 550 Barneveld is a great space, but it's way too far from the rest of the city. It seemed slow. I got some reading done.
Sunday we went back to Berkeley and worked on getting the dirtbikes back into dirtbike trim. Paul had finished the SV tune-up (it idles so much smoother now) and installed the high-low horns Charles bought for my EX500 years ago. These are COOL. Loud. Fuck you mister cellphone driver!
Monday Paul did his part in the ongoing battle against highway litter and picked up a nail on his commute. Charles heroically arrived to save the day and feed him Mexican food. Or something. I don't know, but my boyfriend looks pretty hot in his fancy work outfit with a tiny jack under his Yamabego. All is well now, new tire has been installed.
So the XR can go back to dirtbike.
so we can *finally* go dirt riding this weekend.
*finally*
tonight?
Indian food... mmmmmm.... Priya
Some of these shacks have been cobbled into homes that are still lived in today.
Then.
My folks came to the city and picked us up and we all went to meet Paul's mom at the de Young Museum to see the Arts and Crafts exhibit. It was very cool. Everyone should go. Arts and crafts: very cool. Tower view, very cool. Getting stalked by the old Filipino security guard who kept telling me and the people around that I looked like the Mona Lisa? Not quite "cool," but it made for laughs later.
I worked Saturday night for New Wave city again. 550 Barneveld is a great space, but it's way too far from the rest of the city. It seemed slow. I got some reading done.
Sunday we went back to Berkeley and worked on getting the dirtbikes back into dirtbike trim. Paul had finished the SV tune-up (it idles so much smoother now) and installed the high-low horns Charles bought for my EX500 years ago. These are COOL. Loud. Fuck you mister cellphone driver!
Monday Paul did his part in the ongoing battle against highway litter and picked up a nail on his commute. Charles heroically arrived to save the day and feed him Mexican food. Or something. I don't know, but my boyfriend looks pretty hot in his fancy work outfit with a tiny jack under his Yamabego. All is well now, new tire has been installed.
So the XR can go back to dirtbike.
so we can *finally* go dirt riding this weekend.
*finally*
tonight?
Indian food... mmmmmm.... Priya
Friday, March 17, 2006
I totally just almost died! (again)
This week has been very, very busy. All I want is to sit in my house for a few hours and stare at the wall or alphabetize my CD's or something...
Sunday we were supposed to work on the SV, but got a better offer when Jesse and Daniel showed up. We went into SF and had a grand time at Toranado and Lingba Lounge.
Monday night I had my midterm for Mandarin. It went OK, I think. I can now argue about prices in Mandarin. Sortof.
Tuesday night I went to Berkeley to help Paul with some stuff, and Wednesday night we went shopping in Union Square. Which was totally exhausting.
Last night I went and saw my folks at the Garden Show, and then I nearly died on the way to dinner afterwards when I was trying to merge onto 280 South at Geneva.
It was raining, and there was a car a ways back in the lane I was merging into, but tons of space, no problem. Then THUNK! *Loud,* over the rain and freeway noise, and I hit the bars. I thought I was going to go over them. I have never hit anything so hard as I FELL into that pothole. Fucking great. My rim is dented now. I was sure I was going down, but the bike took the impact. The SV would not have; I am very lucky. That hole could easily get someone killed, so uhhh, watch out at the Geneva onramp.
Tonight I am going to do -nothing-, and then tomorrow is ridiculously busy again.
Oh, by the way, my boyfriend is totally The Hotness. The future became a different place when I met him, a much closer and more important place. I get excited about things in near and distant futures... the Isle of Man trip is turning into a near future, and that's pretty cool. What's next? ... We've talked about Bhutan... Who knows? Whatever it is, it will be grand.
Sunday we were supposed to work on the SV, but got a better offer when Jesse and Daniel showed up. We went into SF and had a grand time at Toranado and Lingba Lounge.
Monday night I had my midterm for Mandarin. It went OK, I think. I can now argue about prices in Mandarin. Sortof.
Tuesday night I went to Berkeley to help Paul with some stuff, and Wednesday night we went shopping in Union Square. Which was totally exhausting.
Last night I went and saw my folks at the Garden Show, and then I nearly died on the way to dinner afterwards when I was trying to merge onto 280 South at Geneva.
It was raining, and there was a car a ways back in the lane I was merging into, but tons of space, no problem. Then THUNK! *Loud,* over the rain and freeway noise, and I hit the bars. I thought I was going to go over them. I have never hit anything so hard as I FELL into that pothole. Fucking great. My rim is dented now. I was sure I was going down, but the bike took the impact. The SV would not have; I am very lucky. That hole could easily get someone killed, so uhhh, watch out at the Geneva onramp.
Tonight I am going to do -nothing-, and then tomorrow is ridiculously busy again.
Oh, by the way, my boyfriend is totally The Hotness. The future became a different place when I met him, a much closer and more important place. I get excited about things in near and distant futures... the Isle of Man trip is turning into a near future, and that's pretty cool. What's next? ... We've talked about Bhutan... Who knows? Whatever it is, it will be grand.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Slapping sharks
I am constantly anxious.
It's part of my equilibrium. If I don't have a project, a goal, a change I'm working on, I will come up with a new one. Something more complex, more difficult, less attainable.
If things get quiet, I'll want to plan some ridiculous venture (endurance rally?) It's not that I'm never satisfied. I am very happy. But there's always got to be something in the works. Several somethings, usually.
If it gets too quiet, I'll start making waves. There needs to be constant motion, at least on the horizon.
And then there are all the little things; the things that are never done. The dishes, the papers that need to be filed or sent, the constant chatter of daily life that is constantly overdue. The guilt is enough to crush me. How can I find the time to file things when I'm a week behind in Chinese, agreed to go to San Jose for support time, working on the weekend, planning a trip to a tiny island no one has any information about, trying to keep in touch with my friends and family, trying to arrange a gigantic financial goal, and playing Katamari Damacy? Not that I'd have it any other way. I feel sorry for people who just plod along, waiting for life to happen. I prefer to bite off more than I can chew, and just swallow it whole if need be.
Paul signaled to me the other day that he knows this. (I assume he's known this for a long time.) Still, it's nice to hear that your insanity has already been accepted as part of the package. Good luck to him in managing me.
It's part of my equilibrium. If I don't have a project, a goal, a change I'm working on, I will come up with a new one. Something more complex, more difficult, less attainable.
If things get quiet, I'll want to plan some ridiculous venture (endurance rally?) It's not that I'm never satisfied. I am very happy. But there's always got to be something in the works. Several somethings, usually.
If it gets too quiet, I'll start making waves. There needs to be constant motion, at least on the horizon.
And then there are all the little things; the things that are never done. The dishes, the papers that need to be filed or sent, the constant chatter of daily life that is constantly overdue. The guilt is enough to crush me. How can I find the time to file things when I'm a week behind in Chinese, agreed to go to San Jose for support time, working on the weekend, planning a trip to a tiny island no one has any information about, trying to keep in touch with my friends and family, trying to arrange a gigantic financial goal, and playing Katamari Damacy? Not that I'd have it any other way. I feel sorry for people who just plod along, waiting for life to happen. I prefer to bite off more than I can chew, and just swallow it whole if need be.
Paul signaled to me the other day that he knows this. (I assume he's known this for a long time.) Still, it's nice to hear that your insanity has already been accepted as part of the package. Good luck to him in managing me.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Sicky
We've been spending a lot of weekends around the house lately. I guess it's a winter thing. I mean, I hope it is.
Last weekend was fairly productive, in terms of long-term goal setting and getting things on track. I sorted out my financial picture and gathered info. And played a LOT of Katamari Damacy.
Thursday I called in sick to take care of family stuff, which was good, and Friday I went to work despite being Actually Sick. I felt like ASS.
So it was really charming when I tried to call Paul (since the plan was to go to his house that night) to see if he was home so I could leave work early. He didn't answer until after usual quitting time, but when he did, he was cute and fuzzy drunk. I was worried I wouldn't be able to make it over the bridge because I was dizzy, but I did, let myself into the house, ignored the apparent fact that Paul was completely shitfaced and probably puking, and proceeded directly to bed. At about 6:30. Slept for a good 13 hours, and we were both up quite early Saturday morning, feeling, oh, about 85%.
I assume we were each hoping that the other would take care of our sick selves Friday night, but were both S.O.L.
Saturday Paul jumped out of bed and got the FZ1 project finished, then we proceeded to napping. At least we can now check that off the list.
Meant to go home Sunday but the light rain turned into real rain turned into pouring rain. And gusty winds. When did I become such a pussy? Well, we could have gone to SF, but it was warm in the house in Berkeley, and I did my studying there. I feel like I've fallen behind in my Mandarin. But the new book I picked up is pretty good, and hopefully I can get back on track.
Tonight: Class
Tomorrow Night: San Jose
Wednesday Night: laundry!
Last weekend was fairly productive, in terms of long-term goal setting and getting things on track. I sorted out my financial picture and gathered info. And played a LOT of Katamari Damacy.
Thursday I called in sick to take care of family stuff, which was good, and Friday I went to work despite being Actually Sick. I felt like ASS.
So it was really charming when I tried to call Paul (since the plan was to go to his house that night) to see if he was home so I could leave work early. He didn't answer until after usual quitting time, but when he did, he was cute and fuzzy drunk. I was worried I wouldn't be able to make it over the bridge because I was dizzy, but I did, let myself into the house, ignored the apparent fact that Paul was completely shitfaced and probably puking, and proceeded directly to bed. At about 6:30. Slept for a good 13 hours, and we were both up quite early Saturday morning, feeling, oh, about 85%.
I assume we were each hoping that the other would take care of our sick selves Friday night, but were both S.O.L.
Saturday Paul jumped out of bed and got the FZ1 project finished, then we proceeded to napping. At least we can now check that off the list.
Meant to go home Sunday but the light rain turned into real rain turned into pouring rain. And gusty winds. When did I become such a pussy? Well, we could have gone to SF, but it was warm in the house in Berkeley, and I did my studying there. I feel like I've fallen behind in my Mandarin. But the new book I picked up is pretty good, and hopefully I can get back on track.
Tonight: Class
Tomorrow Night: San Jose
Wednesday Night: laundry!
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Bikini-Clad Robots
Last night we went to the Parkway and watched Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine. It was great. I want to watch it again just to see the San Francisco chase scene.
I drank a bunch of beer, and rode around on the back of my bike.
Paul is The Hotness.
I drank a bunch of beer, and rode around on the back of my bike.
Paul is The Hotness.
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