Emailing language that you would not want someone else to read can be dangerous... particularly in a working environment.
Yesterday I sent an email to Bob with an innocuous little statement saying that "Ana is all bent out shape about the new lawn sprinkler heads being installed." Little did a realize that Bob was going to respond and cc Ana. I don't think Ana appreciated being categorized as being "bent out of shape." I could have just as easily have used the word "upset", "irritated" or "unhappy." Bent out of shape was an unkind descriptor. I'm sure I will be hearing about this soon.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
New Blogger I am...
My daughter, who works for Google, just informed me that to make any money at blogging, we have to drive traffic to this site. Knowing how lame I am at this genre of writing and technology, I'm not sure I'm ready for the masses to be reading my disconnected little blurbs. My voice for blogging is just starting to reveal itself.
Whatever news I find or suggestions offered for driving traffic to this site will be passed along to you. I figure, if I can do this, anyone reading this should be able to profit front it also. The only one thing I know at this point is that it will be very helpful if you would click on some of the adds that appear on this page!
Whatever news I find or suggestions offered for driving traffic to this site will be passed along to you. I figure, if I can do this, anyone reading this should be able to profit front it also. The only one thing I know at this point is that it will be very helpful if you would click on some of the adds that appear on this page!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
BTW - Vivid Dreams
This may sound silly, but I swear this protein powder has something in it that makes your dreams more vivid...
Most of you probably totally ignore your dreams or don't think you dream at all. In my option, Dreams can, at times, be very interesting and at times helpful. I'm not one that puts much time into dream interpretation or hanging dream catchers above my bed. If you ever dreamed of flying or awake in your dream, knowing you are dreaming, then you might understand how intriguing vivid dreaming can be.
Most of you probably totally ignore your dreams or don't think you dream at all. In my option, Dreams can, at times, be very interesting and at times helpful. I'm not one that puts much time into dream interpretation or hanging dream catchers above my bed. If you ever dreamed of flying or awake in your dream, knowing you are dreaming, then you might understand how intriguing vivid dreaming can be.
Max Muscle Protein Powder
I'm about as far as you can get from an advocate for highly processed food.
My self-imposed regiment of food consists primarily of a diverse number of fresh fruits and organic non-fat plain yogurt in the morning, and for the remainder of the day I try to eat raw vegetable, some cooked vegetables, salads, modest amounts of free-range chicken (and maybe some beef, not crazy about pork) and wild fish. Generally I prefer to buy organic, locally grown foods, but sometime the price of these just seems ridiculous. So we do the best we can with what is available.
This appears to be a very well-rounded, diverse diet that should provide all the nutrients my body would want or need. Even though I don't eat a huge amount of animal proteins, I did not think protein powder seems like a necessary ingredient to my diet.
So you can see how I was slightly shocked when my wife brought home the largest container of protein powder I have ever seen from the little Max Muscle shop on 4th Avenue. In the spirit of adventure, I tried some. To my surprise, I actually like it! This is the Gourmet Protein - Vanilla Carmel Swirl. Sounds awful, but tastes great.
If we listen closely, our bodies will subtly or not so subtly tell us what we need. Generally people get fat because their bodies keep telling them that they are missing some particular nutrient and so we keep eating the same foods, trying to find that missing item that our bodies need... to my surprise this Max Muscle Protein Powder seems to have something in it that my body is missing. It is very satisfying to feel like you hit some food that your body is craving.
My self-imposed regiment of food consists primarily of a diverse number of fresh fruits and organic non-fat plain yogurt in the morning, and for the remainder of the day I try to eat raw vegetable, some cooked vegetables, salads, modest amounts of free-range chicken (and maybe some beef, not crazy about pork) and wild fish. Generally I prefer to buy organic, locally grown foods, but sometime the price of these just seems ridiculous. So we do the best we can with what is available.
This appears to be a very well-rounded, diverse diet that should provide all the nutrients my body would want or need. Even though I don't eat a huge amount of animal proteins, I did not think protein powder seems like a necessary ingredient to my diet.
So you can see how I was slightly shocked when my wife brought home the largest container of protein powder I have ever seen from the little Max Muscle shop on 4th Avenue. In the spirit of adventure, I tried some. To my surprise, I actually like it! This is the Gourmet Protein - Vanilla Carmel Swirl. Sounds awful, but tastes great.
If we listen closely, our bodies will subtly or not so subtly tell us what we need. Generally people get fat because their bodies keep telling them that they are missing some particular nutrient and so we keep eating the same foods, trying to find that missing item that our bodies need... to my surprise this Max Muscle Protein Powder seems to have something in it that my body is missing. It is very satisfying to feel like you hit some food that your body is craving.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Lobster Pork & Urban Gardening
Several times I've heard or read the opinion that our only hope is to turn
urban lots and suburban yards into mini-farms, and their occupants into
farmers (mini-farmers?). That's what Cuba had to do after the Ruskies
pulled out - I keep coming back to Cuba as the prototype for what we'll
experience. They had to resort to an oxen-powered economy. Fine with me.
All OK here. Last batch of chicks is in the field, fourth of five goes on
vacation this Saturday. Piggies will be here 'till November - but what a
life: a seafood-dealer friend of mine brings me picked-out lobster shells
when he goes to the coast, and the piggies get the heads/carapaces/bodies,
still full of meat. They love 'em. Folks have asked, what happens if the
pork tastes like lobster? And I answer, then you dip your freakin' porkchop
in drawn butter and eat it up!!!
And you should see what a good layer of lobster shells does for pasture!!!
urban lots and suburban yards into mini-farms, and their occupants into
farmers (mini-farmers?). That's what Cuba had to do after the Ruskies
pulled out - I keep coming back to Cuba as the prototype for what we'll
experience. They had to resort to an oxen-powered economy. Fine with me.
All OK here. Last batch of chicks is in the field, fourth of five goes on
vacation this Saturday. Piggies will be here 'till November - but what a
life: a seafood-dealer friend of mine brings me picked-out lobster shells
when he goes to the coast, and the piggies get the heads/carapaces/bodies,
still full of meat. They love 'em. Folks have asked, what happens if the
pork tastes like lobster? And I answer, then you dip your freakin' porkchop
in drawn butter and eat it up!!!
And you should see what a good layer of lobster shells does for pasture!!!
Green Cuba, not Red
Received this email from my second cousin:
Have you read about Cuba? When the Russians left they stopped supplying
petroleum, fertilizer, and pesticides. Cuba had very little in the way of
foreign exchange, so they couldn't buy replacements or enough food. So they
had to figure out how to feed themselves. By necessity organic, urban
mini-farms, and animal powered farms in the hinterlands. They fed everyone,
but the average person lost something like 40 pounds. It's a cool story.
Reminds me of Pol Pot in Cambodia forcing everyone out of the cities and
into the countryside (and their likely death). I'd like to say that he wasn't
wrong, but his implementation left something to be desired.....:-)
Have you read about Cuba? When the Russians left they stopped supplying
petroleum, fertilizer, and pesticides. Cuba had very little in the way of
foreign exchange, so they couldn't buy replacements or enough food. So they
had to figure out how to feed themselves. By necessity organic, urban
mini-farms, and animal powered farms in the hinterlands. They fed everyone,
but the average person lost something like 40 pounds. It's a cool story.
Reminds me of Pol Pot in Cambodia forcing everyone out of the cities and
into the countryside (and their likely death). I'd like to say that he wasn't
wrong, but his implementation left something to be desired.....:-)
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wet Rat
"You look like a wet rat!"
John, the tall gangly old retired dentist, laughed at me as I re-entered the Mt. McKinley Visitors Center. It was the summer of 1969. I just braved a terrible night of heavy rain, as I sloughed around in the muddy glacial moraine below the visitors center.
John, the tall gangly old retired dentist, laughed at me as I re-entered the Mt. McKinley Visitors Center. It was the summer of 1969. I just braved a terrible night of heavy rain, as I sloughed around in the muddy glacial moraine below the visitors center.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Building Day by Day
It is time to build. Stick-by-stick, line-by-line, word-by-word... The art of composition eludes me but doesn't stop the process from moving forward. Self-doubt, self-criticism, bad spelling, poor grammar and lack of confidence holds me back. Let it all go... I hate to start on such rough, dry soil.
Perhaps starting an very embarrassing moment will get me going?
I drank a very tall glass of Seven-Up after a long day skiing Winter Park. The sparkling clear, cold refreshed and quenched my thirst. It still amazes me how parched one can become on a cold winter day in the high Rockies. I thought nothing of the drink until two hours later as we stopped on I-70 just south of Idaho Springs. My bladder started to scream for relief, but the persistence snow kept pounding the pavement into a slushy mess. Traffic backed up to a near stand still as cars slipped and slid all around us. Asking to turn off for a pit stop become impossible.
Perhaps starting an very embarrassing moment will get me going?
I drank a very tall glass of Seven-Up after a long day skiing Winter Park. The sparkling clear, cold refreshed and quenched my thirst. It still amazes me how parched one can become on a cold winter day in the high Rockies. I thought nothing of the drink until two hours later as we stopped on I-70 just south of Idaho Springs. My bladder started to scream for relief, but the persistence snow kept pounding the pavement into a slushy mess. Traffic backed up to a near stand still as cars slipped and slid all around us. Asking to turn off for a pit stop become impossible.
Arriving at our Fourth Street home, the wet steamy seat was unbearable to see and smell as I walked away from the car. This was the most embarrassing memory of my life.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's Day & Japanese Ceramics
Alex brought Matthew B. Crawford's book Shop Class as Soulcraft on this weekend venture. Briefly perusing the first few pages of the book, I am transported back to my Junior Year Abroad trip to Japan. The University of Colorado's Seminar on Art and Religion was a rag-tag group of twelve students lead by a husband / wife professorial team. Essentially this was a independent study year based out of Kyoto Japan. My emphasis was on ceramics and pottery. As a Junior High Student, I started studying pottery at the Old Fire House on the Hill in Boulder, Colorado. Betty Woodman, a now quasi-famous Boulder ceramics artist, taught the class.
I will never forget the day my mother embased me while touring Betty's contempory cinderblock house during one of her annual pottery sales. "Betty, my son says the walls of your pots are not very thin." She graciously rolled her eyes, seeing my face turing red and said that she suffer from the flue during the time she threw these particular pieces. The thickness of the walls of your pots showed the acumen of your talent at the wheel. Betty really didn't care how thick the walls of her pots were, she was much more concerned about the overall artistic result created by wet clay crystalized by fire and glaze.
So springboarding from my highschool and college studies to my Junior Year in Japan, I found myself neck deep in the study of Japanese ceramics.
I will never forget the day my mother embased me while touring Betty's contempory cinderblock house during one of her annual pottery sales. "Betty, my son says the walls of your pots are not very thin." She graciously rolled her eyes, seeing my face turing red and said that she suffer from the flue during the time she threw these particular pieces. The thickness of the walls of your pots showed the acumen of your talent at the wheel. Betty really didn't care how thick the walls of her pots were, she was much more concerned about the overall artistic result created by wet clay crystalized by fire and glaze.
So springboarding from my highschool and college studies to my Junior Year in Japan, I found myself neck deep in the study of Japanese ceramics.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Lake Tahoe
Sitting at this modest oak butcher block dinning room table, I silently thank our friends for kindly allowed us to use their Tahoe Tavern town home over Father's Day weekend. The cool azure blue sparkling lake waters shimmer quietly off the rear grassy shoreline. After stumbling through numerous frustrating attempts at disabling the computer glitch that blocked me from starting a new blog, I am ecstatic at finally being able to start cranking out some thoughts.
Killed by bandits during the 1850 California Gold Rush, the precious metal they stole is now just a past life recall. Sitting here, in the high Sierras, the story of Mark Trafton Howe is slightly closer as it wafts away as a distant memory. The letters Mark wrote home are safely filed away in our San Mateo home. I wonder at the adventuresome spirit that lead him from the Howe clan's Bangor, Maine home across the Panama Isthmus to California. He struck it rich, found a beautiful young lady to marry, and then died while traveling in the forested highlands by some unsavory characters.
Killed by bandits during the 1850 California Gold Rush, the precious metal they stole is now just a past life recall. Sitting here, in the high Sierras, the story of Mark Trafton Howe is slightly closer as it wafts away as a distant memory. The letters Mark wrote home are safely filed away in our San Mateo home. I wonder at the adventuresome spirit that lead him from the Howe clan's Bangor, Maine home across the Panama Isthmus to California. He struck it rich, found a beautiful young lady to marry, and then died while traveling in the forested highlands by some unsavory characters.
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