I picked up a book (an actual, physical, honest-to-goodness paper book) during my winter break and enjoyed it so much after years of only reading from screens that I'm going to make a point of not depriving myself of this joy ever again.
I started keeping track of the books I was reading on Twitter. It's actually not a bad medium for something like this. Boiling things down to 280 characters is an art unto itself. Nonetheless, going beyond 280 characters has its value too. I won't do a full write-up of every book. However, the ones that I particularly connect with will get a write-up. For each of those, I'll list the books prior that didn't get a write-up just for completeness's sake. I'll link to the tweet for that book and may say a few more words, but not much more than that. So, here it goes. Enjoy the ride (my 2.718 readers)!
Thursday, February 28, 2019
Sunday, June 24, 2018
World Cup 2018
I have no idea who will win the World Cup, never have. Group play is where it's at. Clashes of playing style, fan style and that element of surprise make it far more interesting than the "don't lose" attitude of the elimination rounds. When the World Cup is not in your time zone, here are some ways to keep it even more interesting.
Food
Aside from air and water, there is nothing that unites people quite like the necessity of food. My wife knows this. She decided in 2010 that for each day of the World Cup, we would eat cuisine from one of the day's victors one week later. We discovered some of the best stew ever thanks to Belgium. I learned what arepas were from Venezuela. And the list goes on. It's a tradition that we keep to this day.
Unknown Teams
Since teams come from all over, the odds that any given fan is familiar with all of them is nil. Since every criteria is as arbitrary as every other, I have decided to choose who to root for based on how much higher ranked the women's team from that country is compared to the men. FIFA ranks both the women and the men. For this particular day, I have chosen Japan (6 vs 61, +55) over Senegal (82 vs 27, -55), currently holding a half-time draw.
Food
Aside from air and water, there is nothing that unites people quite like the necessity of food. My wife knows this. She decided in 2010 that for each day of the World Cup, we would eat cuisine from one of the day's victors one week later. We discovered some of the best stew ever thanks to Belgium. I learned what arepas were from Venezuela. And the list goes on. It's a tradition that we keep to this day.
Unknown Teams
Since teams come from all over, the odds that any given fan is familiar with all of them is nil. Since every criteria is as arbitrary as every other, I have decided to choose who to root for based on how much higher ranked the women's team from that country is compared to the men. FIFA ranks both the women and the men. For this particular day, I have chosen Japan (6 vs 61, +55) over Senegal (82 vs 27, -55), currently holding a half-time draw.
Monday, September 11, 2017
Eclipse 2017, Day 1: Departure
Departure was a debacle. Plans were originally delayed 12 hours, then 24 and eventually 30. Preparations that had been made were eventually rendered moot; though we had no way of knowing at the time. Food was procured but not packed. Calorie counts were far too low, so repacking was required, the value of nuts and dried fruit to campers everywhere suddenly learned. Maps were pored over, downloaded and the subject of endless printing indecision. Routes were planned based on day driving for camping, then night driving, then day driving again (hotels henceforth an option), then finally night driving again, Tesla superchargers serving as principal focal points.
Finally, the car was packed and charged, the houses ready and the path was clear. We pull out of the driveway -- 200 feet. Did we lock the doors? One last check. Pedal to the metal and we're -- wait, who messed with our mail slot? Ok, now, we're off!
It's astounding how long Child can listen to Heart, convinced that listening will cause a unicorn horn to grow. It was a joke that never really ended, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. We made it all the way to the Bakersfield supercharger without listening to anything else. While waiting for the car to charge, Dog got to claim already-claimed territory, all bipeds became familiar with the truck-stop IHOP's bathroom and Jack In the Box fries made for our dinner.
With a name like Pea Soup Anderson's, how can one not envision PT Anderson's works come to life, the bleak day-to-day grind of modern human survival, the uninspiring environs of strict untilitarianism feeding that grind, the restlessness of souls that catch a glimpse of the outside world, the refusal to acknowledge the refuse-like existence of a cog stuck in a machine. While the neon sign presented a facade to the contrary, time spent charging and relieving one's innards confirmed it was a facade indeed. An 18-wheeler ground to a halt on the highway shoulder not more than 100 feet from our car, a chain link fence providing the only separation. Waste water from the restaurant doing its best impression of sewage spilled into the lot. And, yet, for all this, we were charmed as much as watching an Anderson film. Saying you got to Point B gives one no more insight into the journey from Point A than one can gain knowing only the end of an Anderson movie. All the dirty, grimy, irrational, barely real points in between are where the real story's at. While Parents took it all in, fully aware of the gory glory surrounding them, Child's idea of the story was simply "I got a jump rope!"
Finally, the car was packed and charged, the houses ready and the path was clear. We pull out of the driveway -- 200 feet. Did we lock the doors? One last check. Pedal to the metal and we're -- wait, who messed with our mail slot? Ok, now, we're off!
It's astounding how long Child can listen to Heart, convinced that listening will cause a unicorn horn to grow. It was a joke that never really ended, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. We made it all the way to the Bakersfield supercharger without listening to anything else. While waiting for the car to charge, Dog got to claim already-claimed territory, all bipeds became familiar with the truck-stop IHOP's bathroom and Jack In the Box fries made for our dinner.
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| View from Tesla supercharger in Gustine, CA |
Eclipse 2017, Day 2: To Bend
The drive to the Manteca supercharger was uneventful. Child was put in pajamas and slept in the car. Parents listened to Malcolm Gladwell. The Bass Pro Shop made Parents note yet again how closely the person of color known as Dad was watched at the Las Vegas location.
Any excitement Manteca robbed us of was made up for in Corning. The innocuous appearance of banks, hotels and various doctor's offices was offset by a big rig overnighting. We'd rather the truckers be sleeping than driving sleep-deprived, so we happily stopped. Everything seemed normal as Mom and Dad took turns trotting Dog around the parking lot while Child slept. The active sprinklers were a continuous annoyance, as it meant Dog's paws kept getting wet, necessitating yet more trotting. On one of Dad's deployments, Mom noticed a suspicious character in the strip mall across the street. Jerky motions and repeated peeks inside store windows combined to have Mom call Dad back to put Dog in without her safety restraint and diaper harness (Dog is elderly these days). The risks either of those prevented was less than the risk of a motivated zombie accosting us. Mom disconnected the car as Dad and Dog jogged back. Dad put Dog in, jumped in the driver's seat and a quick getaway was made, right onto a freeway another zombie had tried to claim for pedestrians. On to Mt Shasta.
The only noteworthy thing in Mt Shasta was Child's first visit to a Burger King. Some very unhealthy breakfast items turned out to be vegan and it was within walking distance. With sunrise came the beauty of Mt Shasta. Unfortunately, driving makes drinking in such splendor difficult. The decision was made to press on to Bend. Dad had felt the cycle of tired switch over to wakefulness. One more stop was required, Klamath Falls.
The way in to Klamath Falls was where our first sightings of Confederate flags were made. It's always impressive just how impoverished places that make such public displays are. Life decisions paved by desperation rarely lead up. The state of impoverishment was further confirmed at the supercharger, patrons of Fred Meyer inspiring only thoughts of EBT and not-yet-kicked habits. The Bend, OR supercharger was also in the lot of a Fred Meyer. While charging, we wandered this place, a store bigger than Costco and classier than Wal-Mart. Amazement at a decidedly different demographic than we were accustomed to ensued. Political stickers on cars were still battling nine months after the election.
Bend at large was a blend of white power symbols and granola that made the worst combination of rural and urban I've ever seen. Vegan restaurants inundated with people making camping plans around the latest gear bought from locally sourced ingredients who love getting out to nature in their gas-powered SUVs are served by Aryan brothers in pick-ups modified using their minimum wages to pump soot blacker than Wild West era trains into air they're convinced will only hurt colored people because their god will cause these inanimate particulates to distinguish between members of the master race and others. Though we did spend the night, eating at Next Level Burger twice, swimming in the hotel's integrated pool and stocking up on water, we felt a lot safer after we had departed.
Any excitement Manteca robbed us of was made up for in Corning. The innocuous appearance of banks, hotels and various doctor's offices was offset by a big rig overnighting. We'd rather the truckers be sleeping than driving sleep-deprived, so we happily stopped. Everything seemed normal as Mom and Dad took turns trotting Dog around the parking lot while Child slept. The active sprinklers were a continuous annoyance, as it meant Dog's paws kept getting wet, necessitating yet more trotting. On one of Dad's deployments, Mom noticed a suspicious character in the strip mall across the street. Jerky motions and repeated peeks inside store windows combined to have Mom call Dad back to put Dog in without her safety restraint and diaper harness (Dog is elderly these days). The risks either of those prevented was less than the risk of a motivated zombie accosting us. Mom disconnected the car as Dad and Dog jogged back. Dad put Dog in, jumped in the driver's seat and a quick getaway was made, right onto a freeway another zombie had tried to claim for pedestrians. On to Mt Shasta.
The only noteworthy thing in Mt Shasta was Child's first visit to a Burger King. Some very unhealthy breakfast items turned out to be vegan and it was within walking distance. With sunrise came the beauty of Mt Shasta. Unfortunately, driving makes drinking in such splendor difficult. The decision was made to press on to Bend. Dad had felt the cycle of tired switch over to wakefulness. One more stop was required, Klamath Falls.
The way in to Klamath Falls was where our first sightings of Confederate flags were made. It's always impressive just how impoverished places that make such public displays are. Life decisions paved by desperation rarely lead up. The state of impoverishment was further confirmed at the supercharger, patrons of Fred Meyer inspiring only thoughts of EBT and not-yet-kicked habits. The Bend, OR supercharger was also in the lot of a Fred Meyer. While charging, we wandered this place, a store bigger than Costco and classier than Wal-Mart. Amazement at a decidedly different demographic than we were accustomed to ensued. Political stickers on cars were still battling nine months after the election.
Bend at large was a blend of white power symbols and granola that made the worst combination of rural and urban I've ever seen. Vegan restaurants inundated with people making camping plans around the latest gear bought from locally sourced ingredients who love getting out to nature in their gas-powered SUVs are served by Aryan brothers in pick-ups modified using their minimum wages to pump soot blacker than Wild West era trains into air they're convinced will only hurt colored people because their god will cause these inanimate particulates to distinguish between members of the master race and others. Though we did spend the night, eating at Next Level Burger twice, swimming in the hotel's integrated pool and stocking up on water, we felt a lot safer after we had departed.
Eclipse 2017, Day 3: John Day day 1
While the good feelings of departing Bend sent us on to the beginning of our journey's next leg, they gave way to traffic between Prineville and Ochoco National Forest. Though a bit slow for a short section, it was nothing an Angeleno family wasn't accustomed to. Then the 2-lane state highway 26 came to a dead stop -- for the entire two miles visible from our car to the next bend in the road. An eclipse festival was taking place in the forest. The estimated 60,000-85,000 people had strained the local systems to the breaking point.
After 15 minutes of stopped traffic, there was no containing the spirit of the festival. People spilled out of their cars, introducing themselves to each other and just generally hippie-ing out. Among the things on display were pasties, butts, juggling, ukuleles, white-person dreadlocks, numerous converted school buses, fuzzy bikes, yoga, art car painting, people riding on tope of converted school buses, joints, all manner of manual wheeled conveyances, granola people, actual granola, a fuzzy Mutt Cutts van and (drum roll) Bob Marley.
After an hour of no vehicular movement whatsoever, we retreated to Prineville and picked a route south of the Ochoco National Forest along 380. The drive through some forest, some mountains and some flat valleys was not only made in almost complete isolation, but was also both fun due to windiness of roads and pretty due to backdrop.
We rolled in to John Day with under 20 miles on the car, vague plans surrounding campsites, a car we had to sleep in, 3 hungry bipeds, one hungry dog and fears white supremacy would be bolder in secluded, rural areas. On the first item, we found the car charger almost immediately, one block west of Grant County's only traffic light. It was attached to the same building as the Chamber of Commerce, which, small as it was, had been converted to eclipse information central. As Dad was leaving the Chamber after having a look around, he thought to inquire about lodging. Though ostensibly just small talk, the man started making phone calls, told Dad to download a phone app and gave him a list of campsites that were already full and not worth bothering with.
After failing to express his full gratitude, Dad stepped outside to hear Child speaking French with a Dutch couple. They pointed us to Kam Wah Chung. It seemed a bit hokie at first, but turned out to be the real deal. It quite literally is a time capsule from 1948. Mom loved it. Child loved it. Dad couldn't believe his eyes. Dog, unfortunately, was not allowed in, forced to play in the attached park instead.
When we walked the block back to our car, the bike shop attached to the Chamber of Commerce had opened. Russ and Lorin were talking amongst themselves and did what everyone in town had up to that point, be as friendly as can be. Russ was the bike shop owner and Lorin ran the only local food truck. When asked "Is 'vegan' on the menu," Lorin said "Yeah!" which was met by fist pumps in the air from Dad. Lorin also mentioned his brother's property as a potential place for us to stay as we discussed our camping plan.
After exchanging numbers and saying thanks, we headed into town to explore. It didn't take long to peruse every menu along the 2-block section of "town." No menus had "vegan" on it, but one did have "hummus," a subtle yet clear dog whistle that even some carnivores can hear. 1188 ended up having a black bean burger in its fine print as well. With Dog unable to enter the eatery, we took the food to our car to eat. Still not sure whether to head into the forest for the night, a grey van with a faded red door and faded yellow Adidas stripes pulled up. Lorin hopped out and Mom talked to him while Dad and Child ate. It turns out there would be a vegan gathering for the eclipse. Our city slicker instinct was "What game are you running? Why are you being so nice to us?" Normally the answer is money. Since we would have been happy to exchange such for what was offered, we kept these suspicions to ourselves. Lorin proceeded to provide us with information about where we could sleep for the night with bathrooms and some amenities easily accessible. Nothing dispels notions of forlorn evil quite like the offer of a comfortable place to take a dump.
Child played in the Canyon City park, which adjoins the parking area Lorin directed us to. Mom and Dad contemplated whether this was indeed a good place to bed down for the night. After experiencing the cleanest public bathrooms of our lives, we were convinced this was indeed worthy. After Mom made friends in the historical brewery, the decision was cemented.
After taking some time to transform the Tesla from road vehicle to sleeping quarters, we piled in for the night. Not really knowing whether authorities or locals would hassle us, the night's sleep was neither the most comfortable nor the least fitful. We did make it to the morning without incident.
In the morning, a loud, official looking pick up did tear around the corner to park two spots down from us. Would we finally be hassled? Were eyes on us catching us unawares? Clanking metal. A pole of some sort. Huh? Oh, just parks and rec turning on the park's sprinklers. Nonetheless, Dog had been roused. No sense in risking damage to the interior or pee stains. Dad got up and took her for a walk.
After 15 minutes of stopped traffic, there was no containing the spirit of the festival. People spilled out of their cars, introducing themselves to each other and just generally hippie-ing out. Among the things on display were pasties, butts, juggling, ukuleles, white-person dreadlocks, numerous converted school buses, fuzzy bikes, yoga, art car painting, people riding on tope of converted school buses, joints, all manner of manual wheeled conveyances, granola people, actual granola, a fuzzy Mutt Cutts van and (drum roll) Bob Marley.
After an hour of no vehicular movement whatsoever, we retreated to Prineville and picked a route south of the Ochoco National Forest along 380. The drive through some forest, some mountains and some flat valleys was not only made in almost complete isolation, but was also both fun due to windiness of roads and pretty due to backdrop.
 |
| Exterior of Kam Wah Chung |
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| The kitchen at Kam Wah Chung |
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| Sampling of the wall coverings at Kam Wah Chung |
When we walked the block back to our car, the bike shop attached to the Chamber of Commerce had opened. Russ and Lorin were talking amongst themselves and did what everyone in town had up to that point, be as friendly as can be. Russ was the bike shop owner and Lorin ran the only local food truck. When asked "Is 'vegan' on the menu," Lorin said "Yeah!" which was met by fist pumps in the air from Dad. Lorin also mentioned his brother's property as a potential place for us to stay as we discussed our camping plan.
After exchanging numbers and saying thanks, we headed into town to explore. It didn't take long to peruse every menu along the 2-block section of "town." No menus had "vegan" on it, but one did have "hummus," a subtle yet clear dog whistle that even some carnivores can hear. 1188 ended up having a black bean burger in its fine print as well. With Dog unable to enter the eatery, we took the food to our car to eat. Still not sure whether to head into the forest for the night, a grey van with a faded red door and faded yellow Adidas stripes pulled up. Lorin hopped out and Mom talked to him while Dad and Child ate. It turns out there would be a vegan gathering for the eclipse. Our city slicker instinct was "What game are you running? Why are you being so nice to us?" Normally the answer is money. Since we would have been happy to exchange such for what was offered, we kept these suspicions to ourselves. Lorin proceeded to provide us with information about where we could sleep for the night with bathrooms and some amenities easily accessible. Nothing dispels notions of forlorn evil quite like the offer of a comfortable place to take a dump.
Child played in the Canyon City park, which adjoins the parking area Lorin directed us to. Mom and Dad contemplated whether this was indeed a good place to bed down for the night. After experiencing the cleanest public bathrooms of our lives, we were convinced this was indeed worthy. After Mom made friends in the historical brewery, the decision was cemented.
 |
| Morning after this Tesla's first use as a camper |
In the morning, a loud, official looking pick up did tear around the corner to park two spots down from us. Would we finally be hassled? Were eyes on us catching us unawares? Clanking metal. A pole of some sort. Huh? Oh, just parks and rec turning on the park's sprinklers. Nonetheless, Dog had been roused. No sense in risking damage to the interior or pee stains. Dad got up and took her for a walk.
Eclipse 2017, Day 4: John Day day 2
It had been decided we would go to the forest today (Malheur National Forest that is). Just because we weren't enjoying the forest as our hotel didn't mean we couldn't enjoy it for its own sake. Doing so would require our party to be well-fed and properly hydrated. We had no choice but to patronize Little Canyon Food Truck.
Finding parking in John Day is considered a failure if there is more than ten feet of walking. We pulled right up to the food truck. "Food truck" is a bit of a misnomer. Us city folk are accustomed to roach coaches (standard and glorified). A tin can the length of a cargo van and a bit taller squeezes a kitchen, ingredients, two cooks and a cashier in like a sardine can. Dad is pretty sure such uncomfortable people are thinking "Fuck! How am I going to keep this drop of sweat out of the food? Maybe if I -- shit! Too late." Or maybe they're thinking "I hope we get a nice breeze, cuz homie next to me STINKS!" Little Canyon is a converted horse trailer, one that could hold two horses, all their gear and leave room for a cowboy to sleep. Looking at the folks inside working in such spaciousness gave Dad confidence that all were focused making the best food they knew how.
We perused the brief menu and settled on two burritos. Before we even began, the girl taking orders said, "You guys are vegan, right?" Yes. "Lorin told me he met this cool couple yesterday. We can definitely do the burritos vegan..." Spacious kitchen inspiring confidence? Ha! Nothing inspires confidence quite like being treated like celebrities! This girl was Michaela, Lorin's girlfriend and business partner. In between taking orders, handing out food and cleaning up, she gave us directions to a nice secluded swimming hole in the forest. It would also be her father's land that we would camp on for the remainder of our stay. Suffice it to say we felt like we were swimming in kindness and generosity that more than equaled any river.
The burritos were so delicious we got two more to eat on our swimming trip. After sorting out the evening plan (just give us a call and we'll take you up), we ventured south into the forest. Two years prior, there had been a pretty severe burn. The swimming hole was located within the burn area. Though perhaps not quite as picturesque as it once was, there was a beauty in the barren. Grazing cows were easy to spot as were some fairly hefty birds. I took the opportunity to note where the moon and sun were relative to each other in anticipation of their eventual full conjunction.
We bypassed the swimming hole slightly to what looked like a previous camp site. What it sacrificed in water play, it made up for in dining comfort. Some cut tree stumps made for nice chairs and tables, albeit awkwardly placed ones. Dog got to frolic in a river for the first time in her life. Though wobbly with age, she just kept wanting to go back in. Mom and Child did the same, sans wobbliness. Dad just sat and relaxed, alternating between sips of water, taking photos and doing Peter Gibbons's proverbial nothing.
Unable to think of a reason not to charge the car, we headed back to the Chamber of Commerce after. Mom and Child took a walk while electrons streamed from one side of the battery to the other. Among other things, this walk included the first of what would become four consecutive days of Snow Cones for Child, one a day until we left town. Much swimming gear had been purchased for use in the swimming hole. It had gone unused. The only option now was the public swimming pool. Mom also wanted to keep cool, so a 2nd water outing was embarked upon. Dad stayed with the car, hoping to sleep. A luxury sports car packed full of camping gear wasn't terribly comfortable, so he took Dog for a walk to the park, checked in with Mom and slept on the grass in the park instead.
At this point, we called Lorin to make sure we had a place to stay for the night. Knowing we had to head to Canyon City, we let Child work off yet more energy in the park. Lorin came by on a small motorcycle and asked if we had dinner plans. We did. However, just about anything sounded better than sitting around by ourselves eating nuts and dried fruit, so we said no. It turns out Russ's cousin Bailey, a Japanese restaurant operator in from Washington for the eclipse, was making sushi and had been informed vegan guests would be coming. The hike up to Russ's and the entire evening was where Mom and Child's relation with Michaela really blossomed. Thrift stores and the secondary market in general got things off to a great start and various recreational activities at Russ's (mostly a Slackline) brought Child and Michaela together. Dad got to know Russ's folks and Paul, a friend of Lorin's from his Portland days. Food was magnificent. Conversation flowed with beer and hearty topics like the outdoors and metal fabrication. Child even put on a show, doing every animal she knew and Fat Guy In a Little Coat. Before we knew it, night had fallen and it was time to head up to Michaela's dad's place. We slept in the car again, much more peacefully with threat of hassling lowered significantly and without the constraint of fitting everything back into the car.
Finding parking in John Day is considered a failure if there is more than ten feet of walking. We pulled right up to the food truck. "Food truck" is a bit of a misnomer. Us city folk are accustomed to roach coaches (standard and glorified). A tin can the length of a cargo van and a bit taller squeezes a kitchen, ingredients, two cooks and a cashier in like a sardine can. Dad is pretty sure such uncomfortable people are thinking "Fuck! How am I going to keep this drop of sweat out of the food? Maybe if I -- shit! Too late." Or maybe they're thinking "I hope we get a nice breeze, cuz homie next to me STINKS!" Little Canyon is a converted horse trailer, one that could hold two horses, all their gear and leave room for a cowboy to sleep. Looking at the folks inside working in such spaciousness gave Dad confidence that all were focused making the best food they knew how.
We perused the brief menu and settled on two burritos. Before we even began, the girl taking orders said, "You guys are vegan, right?" Yes. "Lorin told me he met this cool couple yesterday. We can definitely do the burritos vegan..." Spacious kitchen inspiring confidence? Ha! Nothing inspires confidence quite like being treated like celebrities! This girl was Michaela, Lorin's girlfriend and business partner. In between taking orders, handing out food and cleaning up, she gave us directions to a nice secluded swimming hole in the forest. It would also be her father's land that we would camp on for the remainder of our stay. Suffice it to say we felt like we were swimming in kindness and generosity that more than equaled any river.
The burritos were so delicious we got two more to eat on our swimming trip. After sorting out the evening plan (just give us a call and we'll take you up), we ventured south into the forest. Two years prior, there had been a pretty severe burn. The swimming hole was located within the burn area. Though perhaps not quite as picturesque as it once was, there was a beauty in the barren. Grazing cows were easy to spot as were some fairly hefty birds. I took the opportunity to note where the moon and sun were relative to each other in anticipation of their eventual full conjunction.
We bypassed the swimming hole slightly to what looked like a previous camp site. What it sacrificed in water play, it made up for in dining comfort. Some cut tree stumps made for nice chairs and tables, albeit awkwardly placed ones. Dog got to frolic in a river for the first time in her life. Though wobbly with age, she just kept wanting to go back in. Mom and Child did the same, sans wobbliness. Dad just sat and relaxed, alternating between sips of water, taking photos and doing Peter Gibbons's proverbial nothing.
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| Elderly Dog wobbling through the river |
At this point, we called Lorin to make sure we had a place to stay for the night. Knowing we had to head to Canyon City, we let Child work off yet more energy in the park. Lorin came by on a small motorcycle and asked if we had dinner plans. We did. However, just about anything sounded better than sitting around by ourselves eating nuts and dried fruit, so we said no. It turns out Russ's cousin Bailey, a Japanese restaurant operator in from Washington for the eclipse, was making sushi and had been informed vegan guests would be coming. The hike up to Russ's and the entire evening was where Mom and Child's relation with Michaela really blossomed. Thrift stores and the secondary market in general got things off to a great start and various recreational activities at Russ's (mostly a Slackline) brought Child and Michaela together. Dad got to know Russ's folks and Paul, a friend of Lorin's from his Portland days. Food was magnificent. Conversation flowed with beer and hearty topics like the outdoors and metal fabrication. Child even put on a show, doing every animal she knew and Fat Guy In a Little Coat. Before we knew it, night had fallen and it was time to head up to Michaela's dad's place. We slept in the car again, much more peacefully with threat of hassling lowered significantly and without the constraint of fitting everything back into the car.
Eclipse 2017, Day 5: John Day day 3
Brian (Michaela's dad) proved quite a character. An electrician that had recently separated, he still seemed very active in his adult kid's lives. Like many others during our visit, he was both incredibly friendly and pretty fascinated with the Tesla. We were happy to inform him of the various ins and outs of electric car and solar power ownership; and we traded stories about being landlords and how the inevitable confrontational moments it forces puts us out of character. It was good to know that one of his properties had the town's only laundromat. Most important, though, he offered us coffee and had a dog, Diesel, with a motor that ran 100mph, easily evading any of elderly Dog's potential aggressions, leading to happy play.
We practically had a routine at this point. Eat at Little Canyon Food Truck, charge the car, wander, do some kind of "meaningful" activity and reconnect with Lorin and Michaela after they had closed up shop. Dad dropped Mom and Child off at the thrift store and ran into Russ's family when he returned to the car charger at the bike shop. Once again, good company made the time fly. Russ taught Dad a thing or two about bikes and his dad put our American ways in perspective with tales of his time in China. We saw another Tesla roll by, so Dad offered them the charger and scooped up Mom and Child.
There was a nice, big park on Seventh St with a duck pond, play equipment and a huge field for two baseball diamonds. Dog was too tired to enjoy the wide open space, but Child burnt off some energy. We decided to try the curry at Little Canyon and were not disappointed. We stopped in the Canyon City park again on our way back up to Brian's to set up camp. A few carloads of Lorin's friends showed up that night and, as usual, Child was the star. After the get-to-know-yous, we strolled back to our camp and settled in for some stargazing, seeing a few shooting stars, to which Child asked Parents, "How do you want your shooting compointment? Beautiful or cool?" Parents still have no idea where "compointment" came from or what it is.
We practically had a routine at this point. Eat at Little Canyon Food Truck, charge the car, wander, do some kind of "meaningful" activity and reconnect with Lorin and Michaela after they had closed up shop. Dad dropped Mom and Child off at the thrift store and ran into Russ's family when he returned to the car charger at the bike shop. Once again, good company made the time fly. Russ taught Dad a thing or two about bikes and his dad put our American ways in perspective with tales of his time in China. We saw another Tesla roll by, so Dad offered them the charger and scooped up Mom and Child.
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| Water fowl on Seventh St |
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