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!

A Christmas Tale

Listen up, children, and you will hear the great tale of the mystical gift-bringer who visits us all this time of year.

While the kiddies snooze away, this magical character soars high above their homes, coming to each to dispense goodies to those who deserve them.

I am talking, of course, about the Christmas Bird.

Every Christmas Eve, the great Christmas Bird wings his way into civilized areas, flying high above the world. The haunting melodies of his magical bagpipes carried on the crisp night air (kiddies in warm climates simply change that to “balmy” or some other appropriate adjective).

Of course, he really doesn’t make moral judgements, like the other guy, though. I mean, he is more about judging people on annoying behaviour. You know, that guy who was talking too loud in Starbucks on his cel phone? Or that couple who would not shut up in the movie theatre? They aren’t getting a visit from old Christmas Birdie THIS year. No sirree.

But that couple at the restaurant, the ones who kept taking their screaming infant outside to calm him down—I’m betting THEY’LL be heaing magical bagpipes this 24 December.

Likewise, good tippers—Christmas Birdie LOVES people who leave appropriate gratuities (the person who tipped me $40 recently…she’ll probably be getting a visit from a certain large avian in a couple of days here).

Now, the Christmas Bird doesn’t really have presents…not exactly...I mean, who's he gonna get to build them? He finds lost items, or fixes things around the home that were broken. If you’ve been careful to signal your lane-changes while driving and you find something you thought was gone forever—think hard—did you catch the sound of bagpipes? Or if you are the type who always leaves a tip for your barista, you may find that your car runs a little better after Christmas or your computer boots up faster in the new year.

The Christmas Bird even has a distinctive catchphrase—as so many great holiday icons do. You know, Santa says “Ho Ho Ho!”, the Saint Patrick’s Day leprechaun says “Erin go bragh!” and, on Valentine’s Day, Cupid says “Duck and cover, or I’ll arrow your ass!”

The Christmas Bird says “Merry Christmas, boys and girls!” Okay, I guess he’s kind of uncreative sometimes.

So now you know the story of the Christmas Bird. Next time, perhaps I’ll tell you about the Birthday Cacomistle, the Easter Frog, or the Hanukkah Kitten.

Or even the .. I dunno..the Arbor Day…Ape … or some darn thing.

Happy Holidays to all my friends!

Kellum, Suzi, Kenny, Cassandra, Ayumi, Nick, Jack, and, of course, Andromeda (who got left out of the picture, but I think she doesn't mind too much)!

I can't believe it's been so long since I've posted on here. I've had some crazy stuff happen...some good, some very sad.

I kind of lost my will to write for a little while, but I'm back. I have been working on Mythical Beings very hard, and the first printing of the Third Edition should be done within a couple of months. I'm very excited about it.

Oh yeah, and I flew Suzi to England to hang out with her friends there. But that's her story to tell!

I leave you with this little thing my friend John sent me...

It would take 10 Long Island Iced Teas to kill me

and also these little bits of good news

47%

67% Geek

Cleveland Dating

Heading Out to the Great Midwest, pt. 2

It was good to see Charlie. We used to spend at least one evening a week with our crazy friend, but as he’s been up at Purdue doing the PhD thing, we’ve had to make do with a phone conversation every Monday night. We caught up for awhile, Charlie treated us to a rather unpracticed (but incredibly adept, in my own opinion) rendition of Rhapsody in Blue. I tried to read the music and keep track of where he was. Once upon a time, I was pretty good at that (my High School girlfriend was quite a good pianist and I used to turn pages for her). I was pretty well out of practice, but it was fun to try. It was also really neat to get to see Charlie play. He’s quite amazing at the old ivories!!

The three of us went to see the Simpsons movie. While we waited, Suzi and I played air hockey. Now, in 25 years, I can’t ever remember beating her at this game…But I did! I guess the Jedi training is really paying off!

The movie was, contrary to what a young friend of mine had said, quite funny. Of course, the three of us are all huge Simpsons aficionados…so that helps

Spider Pig! Spider Pig!
Does whatever a Spider Pig does…
Can he swing from a web?
No he can’t coz he’s a pig!

After the movie, we went to our favourite Mediterranean restaurant in West Lafayette, then back to Chez Charlie for some more hanging out and talking.

The next morning, we hit the Route 66 Diner, a local landmark---always hearty fare. We then went to a coffeehouse and hung out and talked, checked email and all that. We checked the Urban Dead crisis (which wound up with about three people leaving our little group … it’s complicated) and chatted with Charlie. All day, I was staring at a place called Hot Box Pizza. I was getting hungry.

The Wolf Howls at the wolf park are one of the West Lafayette “things” … the wolf park has several packs of wolves that researchers and students can come and work with. On weekends, we humans pay money and the researchers show us how to say “howdy” to the beautiful lupines.

We sit in bleachers just yards from the wolves (there's a fence). We had a great time…the audience would go “Ooooooooooooooooo” and, when we quit, the wolves would all be responding in their beautiful, mystical voices.

After that, we went to Charlie’s, hung out, and ordered a pizza. If you’ve been paying attention, I’ll bet you can guess where we got it from. The menu was as suggestive as the name of the pizzaria!

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Bright and early the next morning, I set out for Bloomington Illinois. I got to the Flat Top Grill just ahead of the E2 gang. It was cool--my editor friend Joe was running this shindig, and, of course, his significant other Tom was there as well. I also got to sit at lunch between two of my friends and catch up on the latest with them.

We went back to Joe’s for some games, some beers and lots and lots of talking. I was really happy to get to spend a lot of time with Joe and Tom, who are two of the best friends I’ve made one E2. Additionally getting to know a certain Rogue Poet better and the video-game maven whose screen name is Passport. It was a wonderful time! (In the photo of us playing Chrononauts, Tom is the guy in the hat, to the left is Vandewal, to the right are Rogue Poet and Passport.)

Tom and I had some fun--he has an amazing steel-trap mind that can do some cool tricks. His thing is the Periodic Table of the Elements. He gave me a chart and I quizzed him, he could (at least 80% of the time) match up an element with its atomic number on the chart. Amazing stuff. He could do it in reverse too, I’d say a number and he’d have to figure out what element it was. He did that one almost as well!

To me, the friendships one can forge online are every bit as real as any that you can make in person. I think of the people on E2 who have gotten married, hooked up, or become lifetime best friends. I think of Suzi and her new British friends, Chris, Jess, Kat, and Matt. And I think of my own pals like Joe, Anni, Tom, Andy, Kevin, two Chris’s, Eric, and so many more. There are certainly some dubious sides to the newest technologies, but there are also some silver linings, and this is a big one.

Anyway, we got home safe, sound, and of normal size after our midwestern adventure. A splendid time was had by all.

(and I leave you with a picture of Andy and me!)

Heading out to the Great Midwest

Our trip to Indiana started out with one near-disaster after another. The night before the trip, we packed and prepared to sleep. A personality conflict in our group in the game Urban Dead had been looming on the horizon for some time. Tuesday night, it blew wide open.

Additionally, Suzi’s new (used) laptop is not working properly. She had it in the shop for repairs for over a week, and they scarcely touched it! So, we had to go pick it up so that we would have it for the trip.

Between the on-line drama and the computer, we had quite a time getting on the road.

You know those torn-up pieces of tire tread you see on the highway? Denise once told me that these are colloquially called “Alligators” because of their ability to bite onto your tires and never let go. There was a whole field of them littering a highway in Oklahoma. It was as if four or five complete tires had disintegrated into fist-sized bits all over the road. There was no dodging this minefield … we thought we had gotten away, though.

A few miles later, there was an awful, dragging sound under Suzi’s car. We pulled off of the road, got out and inspected the vehicle, just certain that it was going to be something horrible.

The rubber, molded plate underneath the engine had come loose and was dragging. Back when I was in high school, they called it a bash plate. I’m not sure what the real name is. I think the 'gator had torn the bashplate loose, at least it isn't a crucial part of the car.

I found some wire in the trunk and Suzi set to work. Head and shoulders under her Honda, on the shoulder of an Oklahoma freeway, vehicles zoomed past at 80 miles an hour. I heard her comment, “I am my father’s daughter.” No question about that. She got the bash plate secured and we were off down the highway again.

(photo by my friend RoguePoet)

Somewhere along the freeway was a big, friendly “speed zone” sign.

“Okay, self,” I told myself, “slow it on down.”

The speedometer read 60. The speed limit sign ahead said 45.

Do you ever have those times you can’t get yourself to do what you need to do? I just could not get it slowed down.

The police officer ahead turned on his lights instantly.

When he reached the car, I was almost laughing, I was polite, but not obsequious or servile. “You got me dead to rights, sir! I was telling myself to slow it down.”

The policeman took the whole thing in good humour, letting us off with a written warning and an admonition to “Slow it down.”

The Howard Johnson’s hotel in Effingham, Illinois was pretty nice, but the promised wireless-in-room did not seem to work. The Night Manager could not figure it out, so we had to wait to find out about how the Urban Dead drama shook down.

to be continued...