Weekend Update

Yes, I know. It's been way more than a weekend since I've last posted. Not sure how I've gotten so distracted. The lost duck was a bit distressing, but if Harold hasn't found his way home by now, he's probably packed his bags and flown south. This weekend ushered our first crisp cool mornings and orange lights already hang around our door.

I do hope to post more frequently. I'm also going to be writing for a blog called cookwaresreviews.org, where I'll be able to talk about my favorite subject next to travel; food and everything involved with making wonderful food. Check it out in the next few days, I hope to get a post up soon.

This week I go under the knife (carpel tunnel surgery on both wrists) and the typping may be a bit slow. But the ideas are flying, so this might be the perfect time to teach Dylan some keyboard skills.

Reason 358 Why I Love Portland

We Are the World

Because we have the video in electronic form, because Loey is so cute in it, and because she has such great lines, I had to post her "We are the world" speech from the previous blog post on YouTube.



I apologize for the video quality and the noise at the start--dubbing from a 23 year old tape on an old VCR doesn't do much for the image. But it's still worth it....

--Andy the tech geek

How Michael Jackson saved a tiny Montana town

Six billion people live on this planet, 305 million in the United States alone. So it’s easy to understand how tiny we can feel, a single cell in a ginormous organism. And while our individual lives are marked by our singular joys and sorrows, sometimes we need to remember that we are part of a bigger whole. This has to explain why we gather around our electronic campfire to grieve and celebrate, whether it be Princess Diana's or Michael Jackson’s funeral, the inauguration or the Olympics.

For what it’s worth, I’m not a huge fan of Michael Jackson’s work, but it’s hard to ignore the impact he had upon popular culture. Like everyone my age I saw the Thriller video before it became iconic and like a few in Harold Tusler’s English class, watched my high school teacher make a lame attempt to do a moonwalk.

But for me, Michael Jackson will forever be associated with my political outing. During the spring of 1985 one of the biggest employer in Columbia Falls Montana was the Anaconda Aluminum Mill. At the time, the Bonneville Power Administration had decided to raise power rates, which in turn would greatly affect employment in the area. I was kind of fuzzy on the details, but a teacher pegged my friends Sam and Krista and me to write something to represent the students.

“Okay….” we thought. “Hey, We Are the World’s a huge hit and isn’t there a line in it about being children, saving for a better day and wishing for lower power rates so our parents could keep on working at the mill?” Maybe not the last bit, but it was the best we could do with an afternoon’s notice and no Wikipedia. The ironic thing is, neither Sam, Krista or I had a parent working at the mill, so what did we know. Well, like the good little Sarah Palin I was becoming, I went up and gave the speech, which was met with wild cheers, an invite from the Governor of Montana to meet with him and the head of the BPA, and the beginnings of a political future. Next came the run for Student Body Vice President, Youth Legislature Governor, and Speech Team Co-Captain. Oh, to peak so early.

While I’ve continued in leadership roles, I packed away my political ambitions and my Michael Jackson tape (kids, look that one up on the internet, they used to be played in cassette players). Yet Michael wasn’t out of our home forever. After traveling around the world our favorite touchstone to home was The Simpsons. And after seeing all 420 episodes at least twice in the past few years, I’d have to say one of my favorite is Stark Raving Dad—the one where Homer is put into a mental institute and meets a huge bald white guy who thinks he’s Michael Jackson. So in tribute to the singing/dancing/politically inspiring Michael Jackson I hum “Lisa It’s Your Birthday” and wonder how soon it will be before our next campfire gathering.

UPDATE

Three cheers to George Mason for knowing the quote came from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson. George, we're on for a drink when we are back in town!

I realized in my previous post that I may have sounded less than thrilled to do our trip. Not true! It's sitting in a car for 17 hours that bums me out. The poor planning (having to get out of town and work on Arbor's Graduation on the same day) and lack of funds (I'd rather fly to Colorado) makes getting there a bit more work.

Going to Colorado is a summer highlight since we not only get to see my folks and brother Lake (and his girlfriend Claudia), but my other bro and his family are going to be there at the same time! It will be the first time since June 2005 that we will all be together and this time our new nephew Finnegan will be part of the hijinks as we make our way to Hunter's old stomping grounds.

Road Trip '09

Thelma and Louise did it. John Steinbeck did it. Jack Kerouac really did it, and even Einstein's brain did it, once. It being the road trip. An American past time more ingrained than watching tv and shopping at Walmart. Where would we be if Lewis and Clark didn't load up the wagons with guns and booze (forget the maps, that what the locals are for) and forge out west?

Which reminds me.... Today Andy, Dylan, Wasabi and I load up the Prius and hit the road. Due to a mixture of limited funds and even less planning, our vacation this summer will be driving 17 hours to Colorado, spending a few days visiting a bunch of Werkings and driving 17 hours back. Which, when I think about it, is the best way to do a road trip. While the humans are old pros at this (have been in the car since we were tots) we're a bit worried about our canine companion. He does sleep a lot; but he has to run every few hours or he gets all wiggy, has to pee even more and is not welcome every place we visit. But we are travelers and some of the zen of traveling comes not only from the challenges that you encounter, but some you bring along. And what better companion than a four month old Golden Retriever who believes he is an ambassador for all that is doggy.

Hopefully at the pace we'll be traveling I'll be able to post a few missives on the road; until then we'll just play it cool, crank up the ipod and stay under a hundred. A beer to whoever can name the source of this quote, " We were someplace around Barstow, at the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold."

Wasabi in the White House

The Obama's are not the only family to be getting a puppy this spring. Back in March we surprised Dylan with the gift of a puppy for her 12th birthday. He was only a month old then, so we've been anxiously awaiting his arrival for the past month. He finally came home this past Friday and the weekend was filled with moments of joy everytime he pooped or peed outside, and exhaustion after getting up 4-5 times during the night. The puppy's full official name is Wasabi Dill Tippy Toes Wells, and he's one of the cutest, most intelligent puppies we've ever met. He's a Golden Retriever, which means he's always got something in his mouth.

You know how people get a dog to practice parenting for the day they get a baby? Well, we're going at it a bit backward and think having the kid first is making us better puppy parents. We now understand the idea behind developemental milestones, are all for Ferberizing (never did that with Dylan) and are experienced with distracting the pup with a rawhide in order to get back my shoe.

The only problem we have is whenever I say "good puppy", both Dylan and the dog turn around.

Looks Like I'm not Alone

The NY Times--my source for all sorts of inspired blog posts--had a piece today featuring a bevy of blogs for those without work, and who might want to find company to share their misery. It's titled Out of Work? Read a Recession Blog. Or, Better Yet, Write One.

While some of the blog entries are inspired, I've clicked on a few links within them and found even juicer nuggets of information. My favorite of the day? Watching 93 year-old Clara cook recipes from the Depression.

I (heart) Facebook.

No I have not been hanging out in a cave off the beaches of Koh Samui, or herding cattle on the pampas of Argentina, but those who have, may be the few left on the planet who haven’t heard of the phenomenon called Facebook.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a fairly serious question: will Facebook replace blogging? That’s because I’ve not posted many blog entries lately and I’m blaming it on Facebook’s status update—the ultimate communication tool (in 150 characters or less) to your Facebook friends.

Facebook, a digital networking site, was started by Mark Zuckerberg in 2004 (at the time he was a student at Harvard). He based it on the books that many colleges (and law schools!) give out to students which have everyone’s ID photo and name listed and are called—ta da—facebooks! Essentially Facebook is a handy communication tool that allows free social networking and connecting, something we used to have more time to do before work and family life became subject to an all-consuming 24/7.

Since joining Facebook I’ve had some pretty cool interactions including but not limited to:

* meeting another Loey (who also lives in Portland) and becoming part of a group called Only the Loeys where we ponder the unfathomable mystery of being named Loey.
* getting back in touch with a friend who I honestly thought had died during the 20 years since I’d last spoken with him.
* finding out that a good friend’s brother worked for another friend’s family ten years ago—a very random connection, and
* knowing my father-in-law can read my wall and having him tell me to get to bed when I posted at 2 am after a night of crazy dancing.

I often wonder what our trip would have been like if we had Facebook while we were gone? Would we have ever felt gone when we would get word that our friends were making lasagna for dinner or happy that their tax refund check had arrived. And would we have been missed if it felt like we never left? I mean how many times would you have wanted to hear that I was bored standing in line waiting to see some really old thing: “Loey is waiting to get into the catacombs.”

No, I think I’m glad we didn’t have Facebook when we traveled. While the blog could provide a one-sided road trip, where I could take you on whatever part of our journey that felt significant, Facebook status updates would have felt less wondrous. Perhaps Facebook will not replace blogging for me, especially when I’m thinking beyond 150 characters. I’ll take (and give) the virtual pokes, hugs or cupcakes on Facebook, but even though Shakespeare said “Brevity thy soul is wit” he didn’t imagine a constant twitter of words—and for now I will keep the tweets to myself.

I'm feeling like a Grammy

Tonight, while watching the Grammys, (we tivoed last night's show) I came upon a very clear realization, I'm old. Well, maybe not old enough to get the Senior Discount at Dennys, but I had a moment that I truly hoped wouldn't happen for a few more years. My kid--the not quite twelve year old--knew more of the songs and performers than me.

I'm not one usually clued in on the music scene, as evidenced by the obnoxious number of songs from the Shrek soundtracks on my ipod, or the fact that in the mid-nineties I innocently asked my friend Sam "Who?" when he mentioned Billy Ray Cyrus --which he responded, half with pity and half with awe--how lucky I was to not know about the phenomena behind Achy Breaky Heart. But I could always fancy myself more clued into popular culture than Dylan.

To find out that is no longer the case was a bit unsettling. I mean when did she learn the difference between Miley Cyrus (progeny of Billy Ray) and Taylor Swift? And how is it that she knows the tune to Viva la Vida by Coldplay? Moreover, where have I been these past couple years? Dylan actually said to me "I like it when there's a song on that you don't know, it makes me feel smarter than you."

She was groovin' on that smarter feeling until Paul McCartney came on.
"Paul who?" she asked.
"Only the most famous musician in the world"said I, dripping in smugness. "You know of the Beatles."
"Oh right...." She claims that she thought they said Paul McCartheleeeey or something.
"Whaaaateveeeer"---I said. Isn't that the correct response when talking to a pre-teen?