Sunrise, Sunset

In the musical Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye and Golde, our parental protagonists, sing a gorgeous and bittersweet piece called Sunrise, Sunset, about the joy and pain of watching their children grow up. We can feel their tristesse as they sing “I don’t remember getting older/when did they?” But I don’t know if Tevye and Golde knew that the pain can run both ways.

My mother died late one night, four years ago. My dad passed away quietly in 1995. While I was never all that close to my dad, it’s still a bit weird to think that Mother is gone. Every time I took a trip, I would call her on the phone and tell her all about it. I think she got a vicarious kick out of hearing about places she never got to see and things she never got to do. These days, each time I go on a trip, I feel as though I should give her a call and hear her laugh as I describe my adventures to her.

Richard and Carol Eberhard have been so good to me…they are like a second pair of parents, Suzi and Carl are the best siblings I could have dreamed of. You know, that feels mildly unfaithful to Mother, and the rest of my family. Mom had such a problem with the Eberhards—she later confessed to me that it was because she feared I loved them better than her. It is so sad that she never really believed that I had enough love in my heart for all four parents.

I also sometimes feel, albeit very mildly, that I am stealing from Suzi and Carl…but that’s another story.

I just spent a week with my “second parents” at their home in Los Angeles. We drove up to Cambria and stayed in a beautiful hotel on the beach. We dined like royalty, spent happy times talking, shopping, and just being together.

I see my second set of parents dealing with their own mortality now. Carol walks with a cane—Richard, still strong and vigourous in his late 70s moves a little more slowly than he once did. They discuss their mortality with their children, all three of us. I’ve come to love these geeky, ultra-intelligent, adoptive folks of mine, and it hurts to see another set of parents grow old.

A few years ago, songwriter Warren Zevon was unexpectedly confronted with a rapidly oncoming death from cancer. Someone asked him what he had learned about life and he said, “Enjoy every sandwich.”

See the beauty in every tiny detail of every day, because you never know what tomorrow will bring.

I think that is the only advice I can offer myself…to hold every minute in my heart, and to be thankful for those fine folks who took in a 17-year-old stray back in 1981, and made me a part of their lives.

Today I am sitting in a nice beachfront hotel in Cambria, California. Outside, waves relentlessly pound a beach the colour of granite and the sun marches downward toward the Pacific. It's freaky idyllic. As I walked back to my room a little sqadron of monarch butterflies swarmed around my head, seeming to say "Stupid primates! You were so busy developing those big forebrains and opposable thumbs that you forgot to learn how to fly." Invertebrates say things like that to me all the time. Strange little arthropods.

Thursday we drove to Hearst Castle, that marvellous chateau in the San Simeon Mountains where newspaper and movie magnate William Randolph Hearst housed his art treasures. Two hours of walking, stairs, artistic marvels, history, and beauty. A trio of Australian blondes about my age flirted with me a bit, which was fun, although it made me all the more acutely aware that my own special someone is far away.

This has certainly been an interesting week. it started with my darling friend Suki taking me, Suzi, and our dear friend Chris out to see avant-garde violinist, composer, and performance artist Laurie Anderson. I've seen this woman perform about six times, and she never fails to top herself...It was a great start to this week.

The next day, I flew to Los Angeles to be with my "second parents," Carol and Richard Eberhard.

Richard and Carol are the parents of my best friend, Suzi. They have more-or-less adopted me and become more like family than people in my 'real' family are. They certainly treat me like family. They've spent a fortune on this trip, and we've been having such a nice time.

I sometimes tell clients that I met the Eberhards when I was about 17 years old, and they started having me over for dinner, they just never really stopped doing that.

We drove up the California coast, past post-card views and quaint little towns, to Cambria, a tiny dot on the map, crammed with more hotels than I have seen this side of Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

The first time I ever heard of touring Hearst Castle, it was when an ex girlfriend toured in in the 90s. I thought "What's the point of going to see some rich jerk's monument to his own ego. But Hearst Castle isn't like that. Well, it is a monument to a guy who was quite amazing, but had a bit of a brooding side and a flair for the melodramatic. In one of his big rooms he had a concealed panel where he could pop out, tuxedoed and suddenly be amongst the guests without anyone seeing him show up. Sometimes he would show up with a tray of cocktails and a towel over his arm and people who had not met him would assume that Mr. Hearst was, in fact, the butler.

Hearst was one of those amazing guys like Howard Hughes (albeit considerably less weird than Hughes) who did a bit of "it all." As a boy he toured Europe with his mother, as an adult he made a fortune publishing newspapers. Later, he inherited his parents' giant ranch and had the magnificent estate built on it. It's less of a castle than a ginormous villa, really.

Hearst went into the movie industry, which was young at the time, and entertained luminaries like Clark Gable, Hedda Hopper, Greta Garbo, W.C. Fields, and Charlie Chaplin at his California estate, one of seven homes the fabulously wealthy man kept around the world.

Men like Hearst make me feel a bit small. I mean, as a lad I thought I was destined for greatness--perhaps I would be an eminant scientist, a great doctor, or a captain of industry. I would see the world, and do amazing things. I never envisioned the quiet little life I would have. I look at the accomplishments of people like WR Hearst and I am suitably humbled.

I'd actually still love to spend a year or so touring Europe like young Hearst did. I'd take my sweetie, or my sis...preferably both, and see many of the great historical sites of the Old World. Work on my book, see places where great people did great things. That would be amazing.

This has been quite a year in the quiet little life. I went to England, spent time in Port Arthur with friends, went down to Conroe and got to pet a wolf, and now I am in California. It's been fantastic, really.

Then there's the love stuff. The last 12 months has been the most complex year, love-wise, in my entire life, but good. I'm more content than a man has a right to be. Really good, in the final reckonking.

When I back up and reflect on the blessings I have: my family, my friends, my girlfriend, a job I love...I feel very fortunate indeed. It's a quiet little life, but it seems to suit me well.

I'd still like that year in Europe though.

Some Links for a Lynx

As I was giving out the URL for this here blog to another wonderful client tonight, I suddenly realised that I have never made the post I'd wanted to--a simple thing with the address of my Flickr photo album, Suzi's artwork, and a gratuitous picture of me with my new, shorter hair (and new glasses)

http://flickr.com/photos/11701835@N02/
This URL will take you to my Flickr site...a place where you can see my pics from London, from the Grand Canyon, from Wolf Park in Indiana, and even pics of me and my friends. It is almost too cool to comprehend that we can share our pictures like this.

http://flickr.com/photos/7694953@N05/
This URL takes you to Suzi (my little sister)'s Flickr site. She's quite a great artist, and I'm very proud of her--check out her art and her pics from her own travels

http://www.cafepress.com/wolfwaredesign
and this is her cafe press store. Speaking of cool...she can put her cool art directly on shirts, mugs, even undies! Her descriptions are totally hilarious, and the items are great...I have a "zen" mug...you all know what you are getting from me for Christmas, right?


and here is the pic I promised

Thoughts on London

Some people seem to feel that looking at the miracles of creation—the arm of a spiral galaxy or an electron photomicrograph of a dragonfly’s wing, for example—is supposed to make a person feel small and insignificant. In my career as a science student, and later as an amateur nerd, I never foundit that way! I guess it’s a measure of how strong my ego is—but I would look at some distant nebula or some amazingly complex structure magnified twenty thousand times and I’d think “Sweeeeet” … but it never made me feel small against the creations of nature.

The creations of mankind are a whole ‘nother matter.

Need a dose of humility? Go to London. I was walking the streets once paced by people like Elizabeth the First, Winston Churchill and Charles Dickens. I mean seriously! It’s hard not to get a little intimidated—to look at one’s own quiet little life and just kind of shake one’s head.

“It is a sobering thought that when Mozart was my age, he had been dead for two years.” – Tom Lehrer

Of course Mozart didn’t hang out in London much, but Edward Elgar hung out there sometimes, and G.F. Handel lived there full time, and Ralph Vaughan Williams wrote a symphony about the place…well, you get the point.

Note to friends: this is not me being “emo” or dissatisfied with my life—please understand that no one is a bigger fan of me than…well, me! But there’s nothing wrong with a taste of humility.

Here I was, amid places where many great works of art were created, historical decisions made, great scholars born and educated, and famous entertainers launched their careers…it’s more than a bit daunting.

I fell in love with London in my two weeks there. I spent too much money, walked enough to give myself blisters, and made a lot of friends. I will go back when I can. Unless I find that giant gold meteorite I keep talking about, it may not be soon, but it will happen.

Another note to friends: I've now replaced the pictures on the other blog posts (except the first one, where it's just a pic of a Union Jack and a pic of an airplane) with pictures I (or in a couple cases, Dimmie) took. Please feel free to go look. I mean, you're here already and all.

Home again, home again...Jiggidy Jig!

5^th May, local time unknown (probably something around 17.00), Flying over the Atlantic Ocean

Dimmie went home on Friday, and I really didn’t feel like writing much in here after that. Suzi came in on Saturday night, and, on Sunday…we rested. Today, it’s back to the USA and our regularly-scheduled lives.

I do have one great anecdote, relating to a restaurant called The Texas Embassy. We saw this place as we were taking a bus tour of the city, right there, overlooking Trafalgar Square. I looked and saw the Texas flag, outside this place that looks like a restaurant. Turns out to have really good food of the sort we have here. Dimmie took me there on her last day in England. (note that in the picture, the sign says "Michelob IMPORT!" hehehehe things are different in other countries)

The place surprised me, the music, food, and ambiance are all very authentically Texan. I may even write the place up for E2. Over margaritas, I explained the concept of chicken fried steak to Dimmie (even thought that wasn’t what I got for dinner).

Chicken fried steak, called “country fried” or “southern fried” virtually EVERYwhere outside the South, is basically a cutlet, tenderized, breaded and fried. Served with cream gravy and usually with mashed potatoes. Great stuff…not exactly health food, but very tasty.

So, instead of chicken fried steak, I opted for nachos, while she got a salad with fried chicken strips. The nachos were authentic, the beef was a little better than you’d usually find, the sour cream mellower, and they were a touch stingy with the jalapeños, but nacho making is NOT an exact science, and these were well within the parameters for a regular order of nachos. The nachos were good enough to make me homesick and the salad was bigger than my dainty Danish dame could finish. That was another accurate thing, huge portion sizes.

She’s never been to Texas, but she did catch one minor inaccuracy. Upstairs was a cantina, and over the bar hung a huge and lovely painting of a completely naked lady. Not hard-core, but definitely nothing you could show in a PG-13 movie.

“She’d be wearing something if these were actually Texas, wouldn’t she?” my travelling companion asked.

She learns fast.

Dimmie and I had a lot of fun. We walked and talked and shared, we saw London together and talked. I miss her, but we were together the right amount of time.

Suzi also had a good, if exhausting time, at the wedding in Cornwall, then spending time with Jess. I am constantly impressed by the level of friendship and love she’s found with this little tribe of amazing people…individuals she met, more or less by chance, on the Internet, of all things!

In 26 years of friendship with the woman whom I think of like a sister, I have seldom seen her so happy, so comfortable, so ALIVE, as when she is discussing her british friends—the adventures they’ve shared, the fun they’ve had, and the plans they are making.

Between my experiences with Dimmie, and the happy times Suzi had with Chris, Kat, Jess, Walter, Matt, etc etc etc etc … I could hardly be happier.

6^th May, local time 5:02pm, in my room, Richardson, Texas

It’s been quite an adventure! I slept 12 hours last night, and maybe the jetlag will have worn off. It’s a little bit weird to be back home, back to my quiet little life, but it was the best holiday…errrm…I mean vacation, that I could have ever hoped for.

Now comes unpacking, getting back to work, figuring out my finances (the airplane tickets were a gift, but the hotel stay was a big ouch!), going over two weeks of junk mail (that’s a lot), and generally trying to re-organise my life.

Big thanks to everyone who read about my trip, who helped out, and who rooted for us on our big adventure. It’s been magical.

Lost, Museums, and Bunny Pals

Wednesday, 4:44pm (16.44), Lynton Hotel, London

I've had a couple more wonderful days of walking, touring, and getting lost. Getting lost is really a lovely thing to do on a trip (better in London than, say, New Orleans or Los Angeles, though). Monday, we took a bus tour which went around many of the sights of this old city. I did not wear a jacket...well, it was warm when I left the hotel. Anyway, it wasn't TOO bad, and I wasn't the only person around with short sleeves, but it was a bit chilly.

After the bus tour, we got lost several times, but that's all in good fun. With the A-Z, and all the streets and tube stops being so well marked, it's almost impossible to get very lost. But it is so interesting to walk down streets and through parks, squares, past ancient churches and brand-new shops. London is a great place to walk.

Yesterday, we got lost yet again...this time in some very posh...er...I mean 'swanky' parts of town. Chelsea, Sloane Square...we saw Harrod's, in addition to hundreds of places which sell expensive clothing and housewares. I'd have loved to linger, but I developed a really bad blister on my right Achilles' heel area...owtch! Blisters aside, this has been a perfect holiday...or ... ummm ... vacation, as we'd say in the states.


Thursday, 8:00pm (20.00), Lynton Hotel, London

Yesterday, Dimmie and I went to the Natural History Museum. Unbelievable...Fossils, dinosaur reconstructions, and a real, live tyrannosaurus rex. Well, it looked pretty real to me, anyway. It was some of the best animatronics I've ever seet. There were also the obligatory taxidermied animals--superb specimens which were a total delight to the biology nerd (not that I know any biology nerds or anything!).

After that, the tube and a long walk took us to the British Museum. Every place is walking distance to my dear friend Dimmie...I believe if the Atlantic were paved (and there were abundant cafes on the way), she'd just walk over to visit me!

Okay...I'd heard about the British Museum...a lot about it...but nothing, and I mean NOTHING can possibly prepare you for it. It's unbelievable. One of the first things you can see is the Rosetta Stone...the genuine, bona-fide, ROSETTA- FREAKING- STONE!!!! In the flesh...or in the stone, more correctly, I guess.

They also have Greek and Roman artifacts galore and a couple of tons of amazing old stuff from Egypt, Assyria, and Sumer. They had more cuneiform that an....than a....well, let's just say that they had a LOT of cuneiform. We only took in a small portion of the museum and yet it was absolutely amazing.

I had my geek hat on pretty much all the way throught the museums--I was finding gods, goddesses, and heroes from numerous cultures...I should have brought a notebook to write them all down for Mythical Beings. Among the Mesopotamian stuff, I saw some carvings dedicated to my favourite Sumerian king...yeah, I have a favourite Sumerian king.... WAIT! Where are you going? No...hear me out....My favourite Sumerian king is the great Ashurbanipal (685 - 627 BCE) ... but mostly because his name sounds quite a bit like "As your bunny pal"... and if that's not a great reason to love an ancient middle eastern potentate, I don't know what is... (and that may be the most Kellum paragraph ever written, in my opinion!)

Further adventures in Old Blighty

Monday 5:15pm (17.15), Lynton Hotel, London

Saturday was a gathering of E2 writers organised by my wonderful friend Ella. The noders (E2 writers are called noders, just go with it!) and I wandered London, looking at historical places and things. Ella is quite the history maven (she's the tiny one in the photo)

After a full day of walking and talking with these amazing folk, it was dinner at an Italian restaurant (in Islington...I just like saying that name!). I got an American calzone--red bell peppers, pepperoni, maranara, and lots of cheese--not particularly 'American' but really delicious.

Then, it was off to the pub for a pint, and amazing conversation. Like the American noders I've met, the Britnoders are a terrific bunch: articulate, opinionated, and freaking brilliant. I participated in (or just listened to) a number of great conversations. If you'd like a full run-down of how it went, here's the link to the stories (the one by Sam512 is especially funny): http://tinyurl.com/2p678v

I must confess, like the USA-vian noders I've met, I occasionally felt quite out of my depth. It is a bit intimidating and sometimes a bit demoralising to spend the day with so many really smart and knowledgeable people. Fortunately, they were warm, kind, and accepting--I just kinda kept my mouth shut so as to avoid seeming ignorant or boorish. I used to have a real "thing" about seeming ignorant, but that's eased up over the last ten years, I've been much more accepting of myself as I am. You know, "I don't have to be the best or smartest, just the best at what I am..." That's kind of hard sometimes when you are confronted with so many amazing people in one place. I got a pep talk from Dimmie, and that helped. I think I'm okay now.


After walking six miles or more a day, Sunday was a day of rest. Dimmie and I walked a bit, but a lot of shops are closed in London on Sunday.

There's a little shopping centre (we Ameravians would call it a mall...often pronounced to rhyme with 'gal' or 'Hal' here) near here which is named Victoria Place. Despite its insipid constant announcements ("Hungry? Need a break? Our food court is just upstairs...") accompanied by mind-numbingly simplistic music (what I call 'mental patient music')...the place is pretty good. We frequently shop there, they have a mini-grocery store ("Sainsbury's Local"), a drug store/chemist ("Boots"), and about all the other crap you need for living. Sainsbury's also carries Gin and Tonic in a can...which is so cool and always makes for a fun evening.

We went to a French Cafe upstairs at Victoria Place. Gods and Buddhas have I spent too much money on this trip, but it is so worth it...it's been one of the best holidays (erm...I mean "vacations") that I've ever had! I ate a very good croque monsieur. Unfortunately, even Starbucks (yes, they have them here) had closed down by the time we finished.

More fun in London Town

Sunday, 3pm (15.00), Lynton Hotel, London

This trip has been amazing! I haven't had any time to write in this here blawg, so here are a few notes about how it has proceded:

On Tuesday, I went to the Tower Bridge. There's a tour that takes us waaaay up, overlooking the Thames, and I know that neither Suzi nor Dimmie would be interested (both of em hate heights). It only cost £7 or so and, for a history and science geek like me, it was very interesting.

After a shopping trip to Soho, I took a coach out to Heathrow to meet Dimmie. We almost met each other, or rather, I missed her, but she saw me and we linked up and headed back to the Victoria area to get some pizza. The pizza here is so different from American pizza ... nah, just kidding! It's more or less identical! The salad bar, on the other hand, looked like it had some daunting and mysterious items, so I just ate pizza.


On Wednesday, we went and met with our friend David and his girlfriend, Leah. The four of us walked a lot, coz that's what you do in London. I had 'spoken' with David many times online, but he's even better in person, of course. David and Leah are fun-loving, quiet, devoted, and exceptionally good-humoured. We spent a lot of time walking around near Buckingham Palace, St. James's Park, and Green Park. Beautiful scenery, and so much green--expanses of it with bicycle paths and side walks, flowers, trees, and lakes. Also, there were some really huge swans, geese, and even a couple pelicans.

I had a splendid time meeting David and Leah.


For about a day and a half thereafter, Dimmie and I did exactly what you would expect. Exploration, fun, plenty of laughs, exercise--this vast city of stairs and rain has done a lot to keep us both soaked and exhausted. At the very least I'll be in great shape when I return to the Big D.



Sunday, 10:45pm (22.45), Lynton Hotel, London

Friday afternoon, we went to meet Dave, another online friend. He took us through the Bourough Market, a food marketplace of frightening size and variety. A thousand kinds of food: meats, cheeses, fish, breads, baked goods of every description, beer, wine, sweets...I could easily have gained back all the weight I'm losing on this trip there--guess it's good I'm pretty much out of money!

Dave took us out to his lovely home and made a delicous dinner for us. His wife Iza and amazingly cool daughter rounded out the crew. A neighbour, Judith joined the fun and stayed for dinner (she'd just become a grandmom that very day, so we had a lot of fun toasting to her and the baby and just being silly). Laughs abounded, good conversation, scrumptious food...everyone had fun. It was a perfect evening.

Monday 12:30pm (12.30---whoa, they match!), by the side of the River Thames, London

I just went on the London Eye flight, like a colossal ferris wheel, standing just across Westminster Bridge from Big Ben and the famous Houses of Parliament.

This sucker is huge...135 metres tall (which is something like 400 feet)... The so called 'flight' takes 30 minutes and goes at a stately pace in a climate controlled capsule. My capsule was full of German-speaking tourists. I took lots of great pictures, or pictures I hope look as good as I think they do....it is overcast, but bright, so I could not tell how they looked.

I made my first two stupid tourist mistakes: one today and one yesterday---neither one was too bad. Yesterday I went to the cash machines to get some money (that's the problem with being a tourist. It costs money.). On the way there, I picked up a big, frosty bottle of water. I set the bottle, unopened, on a table near the cash machine, then turned, got £40, turned around and my water was GONE. Some crafty bugger got a free bottle of water, thanks to the American tourist. The lesson is, never leave anything unattended in London. It only cost me a pound at least.

Today, I decided to go on the London Eye and the attendant River Cruise. I got my tickets, walked out and suddenly realised, the combined fee was £55!!! That's not dollars, son, that's a lots of money. I looked in my hand and discovered, I had two tickets for each!!! It was easy to walk through the queue and get £27.50 put back on my card, but a little embarassing. A pound is almost two dollars, so that's a pretty dangerous mistake...and yeah, I did pay the equivalent of $55 for the two events, but they were totally worth it.

Getting a bit of a blister on my third toe of the left foot. Londoners not only walk everywhere, but London is no place for those who hate stairs. On the plus side, I've walked more this weekend than I normally walk in a week. I will HAVE to go to Jeannie or Mary or Lianna and get a massage when I get back to Dallas.


Monday a bit later (maybe 14.30 or so) in a nearby sandwich shop at Embankment Tube Station, London
The other hotel owner, Mark, Simon's brother, was there this morning. He loaned me a small handbook called London A-Z (remember, the final letter of the alphabet is pronounced 'zed' here...which, cool as it is, does seem like it might detract from that ABCs song we sang as kids). It is like a miniature London Mapsco (a reference probably lost on non Dallasites!)---a tiny map book with every tube stop, street, and landmark clearly marked. It's been a lifesaver...On the Eye, I looked about and identified a lot of landmarks, buildings, and streets.

Boats and maritime stuff like that have always been a source of fascination for me. I'm not sure why, coming from landlocked Dallas, but maybe it's a matter of loving the exotic. The river tour was money very well spent...we saw tons of landmarks and I took a lot more pictures (all hail digital photography!), which I'll put up on Flickr when I get back to Dallas.

After that, I set out to find some lunch, across the appropriately named "Hungerford Bridge." Now, I know that I didn't come a quarter of the way around the globe to eat at Quizno's, but a club sammich sounded really good, and the place is right here next to the tube station; Also, they have odd British-y flavours of chips...I mean crisps. They're actually different names for basically the same things we have in the good old USA: barbecue rib (think BBQ), cheese and onion (very similar to nacho cheese), and vinegar and sea salt (which we call...vinegar and sea salt...pretty much).

London Trip: Days Two & Three

Saturday late, Lynton Hotel, London

One of my friends on Everything2 wrote an article about Heathrow Airport, so I knew what to expect. Still, it was not as bad as I feared. Suzi and I took a coach (that's a long-distance bus...as opposed to those double-decker things that are so characteristic of London...those are just called 'buses') into town and wound up a mere two blocks from our hotel. The Lynton, our hotel, is a great place, cozy, clean, and homey--it's just great. It's also very inexpensive, which is great, but I'd probably stay here even if I had a lot more money.

Our host, Simon, is a really nice man--a big, boistrous, jolly fellow full of good humour and good advice. Just what you want from a B&B guy.

After shopping, lunch, and a nap, we went to a local pub for a snack and a pint...who should we run into but Simon? He bought us a couple pints and we all had a laugh or two, then Suzi and I feasted on baguettes filled with brie and bacon.

Chris (just Chris), as our local Anglophile expert, had advised me about English bacon. It's not like American bacon---I never ever EVER thought I'd say this...I never thought it was possible. It's actually better! It is something a bit like a compromise between our breakfast bacon and Canadian bacon, but REALLY smoky and thick and crisp. It absolutely blows my mind. I've said that bacon is the reason I could never be vegeterian...and it's still true.

Before I came here I hoped to have a drink at a real English pub on this very night. It's interesting, I recently read an article to the effect that we Yanks don't really have a homologue to the pub. I think the author was right. A pub is much more than a bar or a bar & grill--it's a big part of the social landscape and a sort of geographic centre for neighbourhoods. Very hard to describe.

After a couple of drinks, we came back for a good night's sleep. There aren't many perfect days in a lifetime, I'm going to remember this one.


Sunday Noon, Camden Town, London

I've made the following observations about London so far:

1. I can deal with people driving on the left. You can get used to it pretty quickly, actually. But the steering wheel being on the right side of the car (while eminently sensible) just looks strange to me!
2. I know they're "pounds" or "quid" but I keep trying to say "bucks"--as in "That's a buck 'n' a half...I meant one pound fifty." Also, it's kind of hard to remember that they're twice as valuable as a USA buck. So four quid may not sound like much, but that's almost eight dollars!
3. People look different here. What I mean is, in Dallas, there are certain accepted models for dress, hair, etc. according to your social status, age, etc. Back home, middle-aged businessmen dress and look a certain way, teen-aged rebels dress a certain way, angry loners have their look as well. Minor (but only minor) deviations are allowed. Here, it is much less strict. I've seen middle-aged businessmen in suits with nose-studs, for example. I think it is because the city is so cosmopolitan, I've noted the same thing in New York.

Suzi was very sweet last night. Little Sis turned into Big Sis, being protective and lavishing me with lots of advice. It was really touching. This morning she and I had breakfast at the Lynton (eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, tomatoes, and beans--filling and delicious!)... After that, she was off to Cornwall, I walked her down to the cabstand and she grabbed a cab to Paddington (normally, these so-called 'black taxis' are not a very good value, but she wasn't going far and it really beats taking the tube...at least for someone who hates stairs and escalators as much as my beloved Suzi). A hug and she was off. I hope she has the time of her life!

I went to Camden Town to meet Catherine, a friend from on-line. Simon at the hotel told me that the buses are much better than the tube, but for the life of me, I could NOT figure them out, so it was down to the tube station to get some advice from the information people. A few false starts and I got an Oyster Card (a transit pass that is re-fillable...like a little credit card thing), and was off to Camden Town. This afternoon promises to be very cool, as this is one of the major punk and goth centres of the world.


Sunday 11:50 (23:50), Lynton Hotel, London

I had an absolutely amazing time. Catherine gave me the tour of Camden Town. Punks with hair spikes that would make rhinos jealous, women with hair the colour of cotton candy, people with enough piercings on their faces to qualify them for careers in cutlery display...all this and SO much more. I was in heaven.

Afterwards, we went to her home and I met her husband, Anthony. LOVELY people, very charming and good hosts. Simon, another friend, came over and the lot of us drank, talked and had a laugh. Dinner was marvellous--wine, and a Mediterranean style tapas too complex and varied to adequately describe here: fresh bread, delightful dips, fabulous cheeses, hummis, and a dozen other items...As my 'Second Mom,' Carol likes to say, "If you leave hungry, it's your own fault." ... heeding that advice, I ate and drank VERY well.

Afterwards we chatted about a dozen subjects, played some Wii games (oh, NOW I see what those are about... great fun!), and I got treated to an exhibition of some of Catherine and Anthony's lovely photography. They are extrememly talented, and I was quite impressed. I also got to hear some tales about the places where they grew up.

Catherine also took me to a Goth pub...that was really cool. The heart of weirdness...Although one fella sorta gave me a little trouble. He said something to me to the effect of "You don't belong here, mate!" while clapping me on the shoulder rather aggressively. It wasn't a real problem, but it was a little weird. I mean, come ON! I was wearing a Bauhaus shirt and everything.

Catherine paid me a big complement when she told me that I don't look at all like a tourist, for which I'm glad. Tomorrow, I think I'll allow myself to look like a tourist and go do some touristy things.

London Trip: Day One

Friday 5:45 pm Dallas time (17.45)
Wednesday, this abstract entity of a trip started being very tangible. I packed by suitcases and suddenly my plans of the past year began to be very real.

Yesterday before work, Suzi and I took our little ferrety friends to the veterinarian's office, where they'll be boarded for over two weeks. I hope they don't get too lonely! But the people at this particular clinic love ferrets quite a lot. The young man at the desk played with them affectionately as we waved bye-bye to our fuzzy-wuzzy friends.

I have quite a few people named Chris in my life right now--eleven by one count, including three at work and four on Eveything2. I have been editing/co-writing a story for a co-worker whom I call "Writer Chris" or "Chris F." I finished the first draft of his latest story, a supernatural thriller sit in Dynastic Egypt, and sent him my comments just before it was time to leave town.

Chris' story is a real diamond-in-the-rough-draft. When he approached me about it, he was afraid it did not quite have enough story...but this is what an editor does, I am helping him flesh it out. We're really excited about working together.

But he was not the Chris who came to pick Suzi and me up and take us to the airport. That Chris has been one of my closest friends for over 25 years, and, by token of our long friendship is known, simply, as Chris. Okay, sometimes I call him "Texan Chris" to my overseas friends!

Chris arrived, looking quite dapper from work, all slacks and tie and button-down collar.We petted the kitties goodbye and we were off. Thanks to his clever thinking and thorough knowledge of back routes to the airport (and a quick call to Sally), we got there, deftly avoiding the horrors of highway 635 and we were there in good time.

We all have "airport horror stories" to tellk but today was not one of them. We got aboard the plane and into the air with almost no difficulty. So here i sit, aboard a Boeing 777, flying over Missouri at 29,000 feet (8,800 metres). In another seven hours, I will be in London...my first time in a foreign country.


Friday 7:42 pm (19.42) Dallas time/8:42 (20.42) local time

A nifty display in front of me shows my modern-day magic carpet's position and speed. We are passing over the Great Lakes, into Ontario. I want to see them someday--I wrote an article on E2 about those five inland seas. their geography is so fascinating to me. My friend Joel went us there a couple years back and I have a lovely pic of him on my computer: he stands on a rocky shore, smiling, behind him a seemingly endless expanse of beautiful azure spreads out forever.

I note that we are headed toward the Kingston area. Somewhere, 31,000 feet below, my sweet Facebook friend Bernie is probably gotten to bed early--she's been busy. Next to me, my darling Suzi, sister in all but genetic reality, watches Cartoon network. To my right, my row-mate, a young military guy with the obligatory short hair, watches a subtitled movie. Ah bliss, a nice quiet row-mate.

Back before Dennis Miller decided to stop being funny and became bitter and angry instead, he had a very funny monogogue about the sort of row-mates he apparently always had..."Jonathan Livingston Humans" who would cheerfully chat the entire flight about their trips, try to show him the skull bong they'd bought in Jamaica, and ask him to interpret their dreams. "What am I here, freaking Queequeg?"

Thankfully, I have never really encountered one of those irritating creatures, but I'm sure they must exist! Why would the stand up comics lie?

The Last Ride of Jidosha Cavalier

The first time I saw him, I knew we’d become great friends—I could tell at a glance that he was smart, reliable, and a lot of fun. I hoped we’d stay together for a long time.

Jidosha was a 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier—Okay, I’ve been accused of imparting personalities to my belongings…guilty as charged! I guess I’ve always been a bit of an animist (I name my computers too, always after a computer, cyborg, or robot from a book or movie).

By April of 2004, my old car, Robin was wearing out—getting fuel leaks, suspension problems, and that sort of thing. At the time, I was studying Japanese. More precisely, I was studying Kanji, the flexible and beautiful writing system of Japan. One of my vocabulary words was jidosha which means ‘automobile.’ Each syllable is a word:

Ji (自) = self

Do (動) = move

Sha (車) = vehicle

That sha is the same word that got transliterated as shaw in the word rickshaw (from jinrikisha = ‘man-powered vehicle’).

I called him “Ji” (pronounced exactly like the letter G) for short—that little car got me through my years of delivery driving for diningin.com. Ji saw me through some very good times, and some very bad ones. Sitting in the front seat, between calls for Dining In, I wrote some of my best nodes for Everything2: Platonic Life Partner, Dorothy Dandridge, Jay Ward, Everything Stops for Tea, Tripanosomiasis, Breast Massage, and a half a hundred other of my works got conceived in the front seat of my little white car.

Ji got me safely to Mother’s house in Early, Texas dozens of times to see her, and my dear sister Marilyn. And a few days after Mother died, when the full gravity of missing her hit me, I pulled over at a public park and cried my eyes out in the front seat of that little white car.

But Cavaliers, like people, have a predictable and limited life span. Both of my previous Cavaliers lasted about 150,000 miles (that would be around 240,000 kilometres for you folks that use a sensible system of linear measurement—you know who you are!). As the 150k mark loomed, I got a bit of a sense of foreboding.

Last Wednesday, I went to get my hair cut by my dear friend Cecilia. On the way home, Jidosha started to shake, rattle and roll… “Maybe it’s just a spark plug or a coil or something…” I thought hopefully. “A tuneup will be all Ji needs.”

But it was not meant to be. Ji needed head and valve work—a very pricey proposition. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to pour a thousand or more bucks into a car that isn’t worth that, particularly when you’re saving up for a very expensive vacation, so it was Hobson’s choice.

So, late Sunday night, I drove my poor old steed home from Green’s Automotive. His engine sputtered and gagged for the interminable mile to our house.

Why is it that the French have such cool words to describe emotional states? Tristesse is usually translated as “pain,” “sadness,” or “melancholy,” but to my understanding, it is a deep, aching sadness…a very profound, empty feeling. Driving home in my old car brought all those old memories back, the good times and the bad…The last ride of Jidosha Cavilier was a mile of tristesse.

I picked up his replacement today, a blue Toyota Corolla. Older, but less worn than Jidosha. It sits in the driveway, ready to carry me to work for the next few years. I’ll donate my old white car to charity in the near future.

Setback and Drawbacks—Murphy Strikes Again

Did you know that Murphy, of Murphy’s Law was a real person? I certainly didn’t. And his law, as usually quoted, is not what he actually said, which is terribly disappointing to me. I like to use the popular version of Murphy’s Law:

If anything can possibly go wrong, it probably will

…at every possible opportunity. The real version, alas, is far more mundane, actually, it’s similar in spirit but I challenge you to read the eye-crossingly dull writeup in Wikipedia describing why the popular adage is incorrect. Go ahead! What’re you, chicken? Bok bok bok! C’mon, I double dog-dare you!

Ahem. Anyway, it is a little like finding out that Benjamin Franklin never said “A penny saved is a penny earned,” but instead gave some dull (and rather less pithy) discourse on the minting and management of small-value coins. Luckily for us, the marvellous Dr. Franklin did in fact utter the line about pennies, so one of our treasured aphorisms, is, at least, safe.

I guess Murphy’s Law is not itself safe from the ravages of the Axiom Commonly Referred to as Murphy’s Law.

You know, I think I shall continue referring to that axiom as Murphy’s law. If anyone challenges me on it, I will claim that I am referring to goth rock superstar Peter Murphy, former lead singer for Bauhaus. I mean, as a rock star, surely he could be no stranger to things going wrong. Or maybe sitcom character Murphy Brown…in sitcom world, things go wrong all the time…it’s one of the chief sources of humour.

Or maybe even Eddie Murphy. I suspect, at some point, during the making of Haunted Mansion, he must have thought “Didn’t I used to be a huge box-office draw?” And then maybe he thought, “If anything can possibly wrong, it probably will.”

So that brings us to my hobby, passion, and obsession: Mythical Beings

I’ve been working hard on my project all last year, hoping I can get copies ready by my birthday or so (23 March, btw). It’s great fun, but somewhat slow going. So yesterday I did the math…the results, as the wags say, are sobering.

It looks like, if I can put in two or three hours a day, every day, on the project, including work days and weekends, I might just barely make it. Of course, there is no possible way that can happen, not with house cleaning, work, and friends…not to mention the all-important E2 and on-line games.

So, it looks like Mythical Beings, Third Edition may take most of 2008 for the first printing. The better news is that the second printing should not take so long.

Murphy strikes again…someone named Murphy does, anyway!