I Lose: Beaten by The Boss

I like Chicken Wings. I like Things That Are Hot. Doing a little addition, you might correctly conclude that I like Chicken Wings That Are Hot. Today, however, I discovered I don’t like all Chicken Wings That Are Hot.

For years, I’ve been proud of my ability to tolerate hot (spicy) foods. It’s not just that I’m Tough, but that others are Wimps. When I hear my friends complain about how spicy a certain salsa might be for example, I silently heap Scorn upon them. “Spicy? Hah!” I think. “I don’t detect even a bit of heat.” Yes, many of my friends are Wimps. They are not Tough like me. (Note: Jeremy is Tough. Jeff has some Toughness in him.)

So, it has become my habit to order my meals Hot (or Extra Hot, if the option is available) when I go to restaurants. My Thai curry? Hot! My Indian curry? Hot! Anything else that I could possibly get spicy? Hot! Please, very Hot!

Twice in the past, I’ve come close to defeat. Once while dining at the Bombay Cricket Club with Nick and Kris, I had a a dish that was really very Hot. But it was Tasty, and I was Tough. I emerged victorious. On another occasion, Andrew and I had Thai food at a little place north of Lloyd Center. My Mussman curry was almost too Hot. Almost. My gut burned inside for days, but I won. I won.

Today I went thrift-shopping with Kris and Tiffany. We started at the big Goodwill on 99E, just north of Powell. I picked up three books:

Watership Down, to loan to Rhonda and Mike
How Green Was My Valley, for book group
The Modern Library edition of Looking Backward by Edward Bellamy, which I’d never heard of before today

While the Gates women shopped, I sat on a couch and read about Bunnies. I was there a long time.

Interlude: I sat in a fuzzy easy chair in the Goodwill furniture department. Across from me was a set of almost Nice, almost Antique furniture: an ornate chair with a wooden frame (for lack of a better word), a matching settee, and a coffee table. The set was unusual in that the sittable items were labeled with signs that read: DO NOT SIT. Perhaps as a result of this (or perhaps because the items were almost Antique), nearly every adult (except the Gates women) and many children stopped to look at the price. It was an interesting social Experiment. My hypothesis was that if one were to remove the signs, nobody would have paid attention to the Ugly things, but because they were labeled DO NOT SIT, everyone stopped to look at the price. Or maybe everyone else just has Bad Taste.

“Would you like to go to lunch?” Kris asked as we paid for our purchases. She spent $41. Tiffany spent $41. I spent $6.

“Yes,” I said. I was hungry.

“Let’s go to Sully’s,” she said.

“No,” I said. “I’ll pay for lunch, but I’m picking.”

“Where are we going?” Kris said, but I did not answer. I was Mysterious.

“Where are we going to lunch?” asked Tiffany.

“I don’t know,” Kris said. “J.D. is being Mysterious.” And then she said, out of some Wifely Instinct, “I’ll bet we’re going to Fire on the Mountain.”

Ah, indeed we were. A restaurant devoted to Chicken Wings — could anything be more Lovely? Tiffany ordered Wings. I ordered Wings. Kris ordered Fish and Chips. For her sauce, Tiffany chose Sweet BBQ. For half of my Wings, I chose a delicious Lemon Pepper sauce. But for the other half, I chose El Jefe, a “Crazy Hot” sauce. I wasn’t worried. I sampled the latter before I ordered. I could handle it.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!

From the first bite, I knew that El Jefe was going to kick my Ass. My lips were on fire. The inside of my mouth burned like a Televangelist in the Afterlife. My eyes began to water. I gasped for air. Tiffany laughed.

“Do you want some ranch dressing?” she asked.

“No,” I gasped.

“He hates ranch dressing,” Kris said.

“I know,” said Tiffany, “but he looks like he’s going to cry.”

I felt like I was going to cry.

I ate one Crazy Hot Wing. I ate two. I ate three. On the fourth, I cut corners. I avoided much of the skin. My heart wasn’t in it. I picked up a fifth — and then I put it down.

“I lose,” I said. “El Jefe wins.”

It was a sad moment for me. All my life, I have been the victor. I have been Tough. I have not been a Wimp. But today? Today El Jefe kicked my Ass.

p.s. I paid for lunch. It cost $35. So, my total for the day was also $41.

Your Life Unfolding

Sometimes you read or see something that connects with you on a deeper, almost spiritual, level. David sent me a short video that contains some pieces of wisdom that really resonate with where I am in life.

Narrator: What is the most important thing you have learned in life?

Dan Millman: If I only had one sentence to say to somebody about life, it would probably be, “Trust the process of your life unfolding.”

I don’t know if it’s true or not that everything that happens if for a highest good and learning, but I choose to take that on as an operating belief in my life. Because I can never choose to feel like a victim. Then instead of saying, “Why did this happen to me?” or “How come? Is God Punishing me?” if this is a difficult time, instead I can only say, if I chose this on some level, I might as well make the best of it.

I tell people that at least 10% of what I say is going to be wrong for you. You need to determine which 10%. Discriminate. Have your bullshit detector on, turned up. You check it out against your own inner knowing, because I’m not here for people to trust me, I’m here to help people to trust themselves.

Narrator: I love this journey. I get to live my dream, travel the country, and meet amazing people. The only time I really screw it up is when I try to control it instead of just letting it unfold as it should.

Lately I feel like I’m too inclined to micro-manage my life and the things I’m doing. I don’t enjoy that micromanagement. I think that in many ways this attention prevents my life from actually happening. I’m always worried about how other people are going to react when I should just relax and let life unwind. I should just be myself.

Amok Time

For most of the time since I’ve been working as a writer, Kris has been getting home from work at 4:45. Or 5:00. Or 5:15. (It’s all rather random, despite what she says.)

Lately, though, she’s moved to her “winter schedule”, which means now she’s getting home at about 6:00 or 6:15.

This may not seem like a big deal, but it’s actually rather disconcerting. Right now, for example, it’s 8:45 but it feels like it should only be 7:15. By coming home later, Kris has shortened my evenings!

Colin Powell on His Reasons for Supporting Barack Obama

It’s not often I discover something profound on Digg (a social networking site seemingly inhabited by every freshman boy on a college campus in the U.S.), but it does happen. Today somebody quoted a piece of the transcript in which Colin Powell endorsed Barack Obama for President:

I’m also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say. And it is permitted to be said such things as, “Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim.” Well, the correct answer is, he is not a Muslim, he’s a Christian. He’s always been a Christian. But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer’s no, that’s not America. Is there something wrong with some seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she could be president? Yet, I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion, “He’s a Muslim and he might be associated terrorists.” This is not the way we should be doing it in America.

I feel strongly about this particular point because of a picture I saw in a magazine. It was a photo essay about troops who are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. And one picture at the tail end of this photo essay was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery, and she had her head on the headstone of her son’s grave.

And as the picture focused in, you could see the writing on the headstone. And it gave his awards–Purple Heart, Bronze Star–showed that he died in Iraq, gave his date of birth, date of death. He was 20 years old. And then, at the very top of the headstone, it didn’t have a Christian cross, it didn’t have the Star of David, it had crescent and a star of the Islamic faith. And his name was Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan, and he was an American. He was born in New Jersey. He was 14 years old at the time of 9/11, and he waited until he can go serve his country, and he gave his life. Now, we have got to stop polarizing ourself in this way. And John McCain is as nondiscriminatory as anyone I know. But I’m troubled about the fact that, within the party, we have these kinds of expressions.

So, when I look at all of this and I think back to my Army career, we’ve got two individuals, either one of them could be a good president. But which is the president that we need now? Which is the individual that serves the needs of the nation for the next period of time? And I come to the conclusion that because of his ability to inspire, because of the inclusive nature of his campaign, because he is reaching out all across America, because of who he is and his rhetorical abilities–and we have to take that into account–as well as his substance–he has both style and substance–he has met the standard of being a successful president, being an exceptional president. I think he is a transformational figure.

I think both of the Presidential candidates are fine choices, despite the histrionics from either side. It’s these histrionics, which seem to be most pronounced right now from the Republicans, that drive me nuts.

So, it’s refreshing to hear Colin Powell speak evenly about both men, and to offer a reason for supporting Obama that transcends the mudslinging. And it’s refreshing to have found this on Digg!

Hello, Autumn

Autumn is here. The days and nights are getting colder. My usual strategy for coping with the chill is to bundle up. This morning, though, I couldn’t shake the cold. I turned on the heat for the first time since April, and sat at the kitchen table drinking a mug of cocoa.

As I ran a hot bath, I sat and watched the leaves fall from the walnut tree. I mowed the lawn yesterday, so the grass beneath the tree is short, like a carpet. There’s no wind to speak of, but still yellow dying leaves are drifting down in waves. It’s as if a group of leaves hatched a plan: “Let’s all jump at the same time.”

The cats aren’t pleased with the change in seasons. First of all, there’s not enough light. Second, it’s raining too often. Third, although they have fur, they’d prefer not to have to rely upon it to stay warm. Finally, they no longer have freedom of movement. During the summer, the doors are open constantly, and they can come and go as they please. Not now. Now they have to ask to be let in and out, but they don’t like asking.

Mornings like this are slow. They’re nice. But I need to have some productive mornings. During the week before our vacation, I worked hard to prep articles for the time we’d be gone. It’s been nearly two weeks now since I worked at such a frenzy, but I can’t seem to muster ever a little motivation.

That’s okay, though. I have stuff ready to go through this weekend, for the most part. I still have time to sit at the table, sipping a mug of cocoa, watching the leaves fall.

Why I Blog

“Are you watching YouTube again?” Kris asks me nearly every day. Usually I am. She doesn’t get it. But to me, YouTube is just another form of blogging. Both are new forms of community, ways to express yourself and to interact with other people (most of whom are strangers, no doubt, but who can become acquaintances — or friends).

The following video is an hour long, but it does an outstanding job of capturing the mood, the mentality, and the motives behind blogging. Even though it’s about YouTube:

The world is a mess lately: economic turmoil, a contentious Presidential election, and rumors of doom from the corners of the globe. But, for whatever reason, this new interconnectivity gives me hope.

What I Did on My Autumn Vacation

Kris and I had a good trip to San Juan Island. We didn’t do much besides laze around. We chose to go in early October because peak season has ended and prices on most things (like our bed and breakfast) had dropped. We gambled on the weather, of course — if it were always nice in early October, it would still be peak season, after all. It ended up mostly misty and grey, but that’s okay. We are from Portland, after all.

On our first day, we drove around the circumference of the island. Just outside Friday Harbor (the only real town on San Juan Island), I fell in love with a house: a 1915 bungalow on a few acres of farmland. Love love love it. But I don’t have $726,000. Plus, I’m not sure how I’d do isolated on an island.

The Lime Kiln Lighthouse — not the farmhouse I covet.

After coveting this farmhouse, we drove down to see the lighthouse, visited American Camp, stopped at Lime Kiln Point, resisted the urge to spend money at an alpaca farm (I very much wanted a $99 “throw”), and then swung back toward Friday Harbor. We stopped to visit Mona, the local celebrity camel.

Mona, the camel of San Juan Island.

The second day was cold and rainy, and we didn’t do much but wander Friday Harbor (we visited the consignment store and the thrift shop — I bought books for the first time in ages). In the afternoon, we read and watched Heroes on the laptop.

On our third day, the sun was shining, so we hopped on the inter-island ferry and spent a couple hours seeing the sites. It was lovely.

Like I said: we didn’t do much. But it was a great vacation nonetheless. We enjoyed our time at The Kirk House, a Craftsman bed-and-breakfast just across from the high school. We fretted about the Focus and all of the nasty smells it threw off. And we planned for our future.

Good times.

Can you guess who’s most glad that Kris and I are home from vacation now? The cats, that’s who.

After a week penned inside the house, they finally have the freedom to go outside, which, as they’ll tell you, is their natual habitat. Inside is only for food and sleeping.

They’re especially happy to have us back in bed at night. Max takes the corner by my feet, Simon takes the corner by Kris’ feet, and Toto sleeps by our heads. (Nemo is too scared to sleep with us — he’s scared of everything.) Mom and Dad make for a warm bed.

Half Full or Half Empty?

Kris and I are taking a short vacation to Washington State’s San Juan Islands.

“What time does the ferry leave from Anacortes?” I asked last night before bed. We were planning our agenda.

“5:25,” Kris said. “And if we miss that, the last ferry is at 6:00. What time do you think we should leave?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “How about ten? Then I can go to the gym first.”

“How about nine?” Kris said.

I went to the gym when it opened this morning at eight. I lifted weights. I ran on the treadmill. When I got home at 9:15, Kris asked, “How long until you’re ready to leave?”

“About half an hour,” I said. “I still need to pack. What’s the rush?”

“I don’t want to miss the ferry,” she said.

In true J.D. fashion, I dragged my feet. I answered some e-mail. I made a post at Get Fit Slowly. I debated which sweater to bring. “Come on,” Kris said.

We finally left the house at around ten. On our drive north, we listened to This American Life. We listened to The Decemberists. We chatted. We made good time.

“We’re making good time,” I said. “But we still have to make it through Seattle.” Seattle’s traffic is a nightmare.

But this time, we only had a five-minute patch of stop-and-go in the city, and then it was smooth sailing. We left Seattle at about 1:30.

“Huh,” I said. “Is there a ferry before the 5:25?”

Kris checked. “There’s a 2:45,” she said. “Do you think we can make it?”

“It’s going to be very very close,” I said, and I stepped on the gas. We flew through Everett. We flew through Mount Vernon. We tried to fly to Anacortes, but our progress was slowed by a minivan from Pennsylvania and a pumpkin festival.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” I said, as we marched through the lights in downtown Anacortes. “I guess we’ll have to settle for being 2-1/2 hours early.”

As we crested a bluff, we saw the 2:45 ferry pulling away. Kris gave me a look.

The good news is:

We’re first in line for the 5:25 ferry to San Juan island.
There’s a picnic table we can sit at while we wait.
For $3.95, I was able to purchase two hours of wireless so that I could share this funny story with you.

As a footnote for the Ice Queens in the audience, Kris has decided it’s too cold at the picnic table, and she’s gone to sit in the car. I bet she’ll be back to join me sometime in the next two hours!

Connections to the Cosmos

Over the past few years, I’ve accumulated a lot of Amazon credit by selling books on my various web sites. The problem is, I accumulate it faster than I can spend it. Sometimes I buy comics. Sometimes Kris buys something for herself. But mostly it just sits there, unused.

Today I decided to splurge a little with my untapped wealth. I picked up (used) DVD copies of two of my favorite television series, series I haven’t seen in more than a decade.

First up, James Burke’s Connections. When I first saw this series in 1993, it blew my mind. Over 10 episodes, Burke traces the history of everyday objects: nylon, plastic, computers. Trust me: it’s much more exciting than it sounds. In fact, I’m a little giddy at the prospect of watching this again.

Here are the first ten minutes of the first episode:

Okay, that’s not fair. Here are parts two, three, four, five. (And you can find the entire series on YouTube, though surely not legally.) See also: James Burke’s Fan Companion.

I haven’t seen the second series since 1983 (or before!). Carl Sagan’s Cosmos has had a profound influence on my life. It’s imbued with a sense of wonder that’s almost child-like, but at the same time reaches the pinnacle of human knowledge. I love it.

Here’s the beginning of the first episode:

And the end of the same:

Most especially, I love the music. I have three copies of the Cosmos soundtrack on CD. There are two different versions — the long version would be great but it has annoying segues between tracks. I also own the soundtrack on vinyl and cassette tape. (This soundtrack is awesome, but it’s out of print. The regular soundtrack goes for $85 on Amazon, and the two-disc set goes for $200. Amazing.)

You can find most (not all) of Cosmos on YouTube, too. (This excerpt is amazing.)

Anyhow —

Today I splurged on 23 hours of the finest intellectual stimulation I could find. I can’t wait for these boxes to arrive on my doorstep.

Complaints from Rosings Park

It’s come to my attention that I haven’t written enough about our cats lately. I apologize. Here, then, is a revealing look at the psychology of the beasts with whom we share Rosings Park. These are the top complaints from each animal.

Max