Spine Tingling

Welcome to the Gala Holiday Edition of the least read blog on the web! Let’s get right to the business at hand.

The month’s coveted DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award goes to Cheezit for their “Talking Cheese Wheels” commercial. No more two-martini lunches for the ad execs on the Cheezit account…

Okay, that was quick. Anyway, imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here…

In honor of Mrs. R’s four recent knee surgeries (2 scopes, 2 partial knee replacements, one of each per knee) and my lingering back troubles, Casa Del Rogue has been renamed the Littleton Knee and Spine Center. Mrs. R is almost three weeks past knee replacement #2 and is recovering quite nicely. The Orthopedic Clinic, Surgery Center and Hospital are also enjoying a recovery of sorts, thanks to Mrs. R’s determination to “single-handedly revive the health care sector of the economy…”

Mrs. R is one tough cookie and has worked very hard on her physical therapy. Soon she will have two fully functional bionic knees which means I am in serious trouble...

While Mrs. R was going through this knee replacement business, I developed some lower back problems which have been variously diagnosed as a bulging disc, muscle-skeletal imbalance, or old age. After several weeks of whining and complaining I finally broke down and went to the doctor. The prescribed treatment consists of steroids and physical therapy. I’ve finished the steroids and they really helped - I didn’t even develop overly large muscles. Like that was ever really a concern…

Physical therapy basically consists of a very muscular therapist contorting my body into positions for which it was not designed. He is annoyingly good-natured and encouraging, and also very good at his job. My back is feeling better, but there is still a ways to go. Before long I’ll have to find something else to complain about...

The end of November always means it’s time for a trip to the dermatologist. Ever since a little problem showed up a few years ago, I’ve had to go in for annual check-up. Usually this is a breeze, and I’m in and out in a few minutes. Usually…

I had a little bump on my arm and some red spots on my face that I wanted the doctor to look at. So they shot my arm full of Novocain and then took a tissue sample to send off to the lab, leaving me with a crater in my right arm. I was a big boy and did not cry, or even tear up, during this procedure. I thought that would at least earn me a Snoopy band aid or a lollipop, but no such luck…

Anyway, I pulled myself together after that setback and got ready for the cryotherapy treatment of the red spots on my face. Cryotherapy consists of the doctor spraying liquid nitrogen on the affected area. For those of you keeping score at home, nitrogen becomes a liquid at negative 321 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s right, negative 321.

I’ve had this treatment before, on some small spots on my nose, and it was a quick little spray, a brief sting and that was it. No big deal.

In the interim, I had developed a couple of large reddish-brown spots on my face that a year ago were “nothing to worry about.” One year later they had become more of a concern, so the doctor decided that he should treat them with the liquid nitrogen.

I naively thought there were just a couple of small areas within the larger spots that he was worried about. Not surprisingly, I was wrong…

The doc mistook my face for the front fender of ’57 Chevy in need of a paint job and hosed me down real good with the liquid nitrogen. It hurt like a “word you can’t use in a family blog…” This time I did tear up, effectively ruining any shot at the Snoopy band aid…

I left his office looking like I had been in a bar fight, with two large swollen red welts on my face. I noticed people averting their eyes when they saw me, and normally docile dogs growling and baring their fangs as I walked by.

Mrs. R. said she thought the welts actually improved my appearance, since “they kinda balance out all of the other knots in your head.”

So you know, at least I got that goin’ for me.

Which is nice…

Happy Holidaze everybody!

Road Trip!

Okay, it was time…

Time for Mrs. Rogue and me to head west on an epic road trip.

Our planned itinerary had us going from Denver to the north shore of Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas to Moab and then home. Our actual itinerary took us from Denver to the north shore of Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas to Moab and then home. Let's face it, we engineers really don’t like it when the plans get changed…

Anyway, we left home on a bright sunny Wednesday morning, heading north to catch I-80 for the long trek west. I-80 is an easy drive, plus there is a whole lot of nothing to see in southern Wyoming. We were fortunate enough to see almost all of that nothingness. When we couldn’t stand it any longer we pulled off the highway in Rock Springs to grab some lunch. With all due respect to Rock Springers (Springites?), Rock Springs is quite possibly the least scenic town on the planet. It is surrounded by desolate, barren hills which open to the endless sagebrush of southwestern Wyoming.

The dining options were somewhat limited so we had the pleasure of dining in one of Rock Springs’ most elegant fast food establishments, where we witnessed the finest this fair city has to offer. There was the single mother of two trolling for husbands, and what a fine assortment she had to choose from - the two old-timers who must come out of the hills once a month for a bath and a burger, the sullen delivery truck drivers, or the brainiac working the register. It left the impression that education is an afterthought in Rock Springs…

Mrs. R hopped behind the wheel and quickly put Rock Springs behind us. She also thanked me for taking her to Rock Springs…

We stopped the first night in fabulous West Wendover, Nevada. This is a crazy place. Hotels and casinos just spring up, the instant you cross the state line. I did my part and contributed to the local economy by losing $10 in a slot machine that evening.

On Thursday we began the drive across Nevada. An aside here - by the end of our trip we had seen most of Nevada and I was surprised at the number of ranches that exist in the Silver State. Before we left Nevada, we had passed billboards for the Mustang Ranch, the Kit Kat Ranch, the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, Angel’s Ladies Ranch, and the Shady Lady Ranch. Although these are unusual names for ranches, the preponderance of these establishments reminded me that ranching is one of those iconic industries that made the American West what it is today…

Anyway, we arrived on the north shore of Lake Tahoe on Thursday afternoon. We were greeted by my cousin, Barb, who was standing in her driveway doing some kind of traditional Sierra Nevadan folk dance to welcome weary (wary?) travelers. Mrs. R and I knew right then that we were in for a fun weekend. Fortunately neither Barb, nor her husband Bob, ever asked us to dance; otherwise the weekend would’ve taken a turn for the worse.

We had a wonderful time in Lake Tahoe, spent some on the beach, made a brief stop at breathtaking  Emerald Bay State Park ,

visited my 89 year-old aunt who apologized because “this is the first year I haven’t been able to mow my own lawn.” We spent the warm sunny afternoons sitting on Barb and Bob’s deck, visiting, swapping lies, spinning yarns, and just relaxing.

Bob has a collection of air rifles, including an air machine gun. One afternoon Bob was nice enough to let me give it a try. I aimed for a tree, and I did hit a tree. I was kinda hoping for the same tree…

Another afternoon I found myself engaged in the curious activity of chipmunk fishing. Barb and Bob feed several chipmunks and ground squirrels off the back of their deck. They have developed this contraption, which consists of a line of rope that extends from the deck to a tree. Attached to the rope is a wire “cage” which holds an ear of corn. The object of the game is to slacken the rope and let the caged corn lie on the ground, and wait for a chipmunk/squirrel. Once the critter has gotten ‘hold of the cage you slowly take the slack out of the line and lift the critter off the ground. I had several interested parties, including one lil’ fella that used the rope as part of his high wire act…

In the evenings, Barb and I would take a walk around the neighborhood. They have some beautiful sunsets out there…

Barb and Bob were gracious hosts, and treated us like royalty. Thanks guys!

On Sunday we made the drive from Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas, stopping in Hawthorne for a picnic lunch that my cousin had thoughtfully prepared for us. Hawthorne, Nevada is home to the U.S. Army Ammunitions Depot and, interestingly enough, a detachment of the Naval Undersea Warfare Center. Did I mention that Hawthorne is in the middle of the desert? There is a nearby lake, Walker Lake, which has a maximum depth of 78 feet. I guess as long the undersea battle takes place in a shallow ocean, this whole thing makes sense…

We rolled into Las Vegas and immediately headed for the fabulous   Red Rock Resort . It’s located on the west side of town, several miles from the strip. Our room was on the 18th floor and we had a view of the strip, which is pretty spectacular at night. The Red Rock has a large casino, several great restaurants, a pool, movie theaters, a bowling alley and an area for outdoor concerts. Oh yeah, they have a spa, too. Mrs. R pampered herself one morning with a luxurious manicure. I spent that time losing about $80 in the casino. We almost opted for the spa’s “Couple’s Reconnection Package” but we were a little short of the $2000 price tag. At those prices, losing $80 seemed like a bargain.

Tuesday afternoon we made the obligatory visit to the strip, and had the obligatory lunch at Margaritaville .

In addition to that, I also did the obligatory gazing at the relative skills of Las Vegas’ finest plastic surgeons. Even though Nevada has been hard-hit by the recession, the implant business seems to be, ahem, in full bloom…

Later that night, we found ourselves downtown, on Freemont Street . Just us, and about 10,000 other people, a decent Eagles cover band, Desperado , an Elvis impersonator, and a couple of showgirls. Oh, and just so you don’t think I’m making that last part up, here’s the proof…

By Wednesday morning it was time to leave, but not before I took care of a little “bidness.” When I finished playing the day before, I walked away with a pay slip worth $0.95. That’s right folks, ninety-five big ones… I thought about cashing it in right then, but, because I’m a Big Time–Big Spender–Vegas kind of a guy, I thought I’d let the casino remain open one more night before they paid up and would have to shut down. Anyway, when the moment had finally arrived, I asked the Casino Manager for a security escort to the cashier. Instead, I was comped two bottles of water… Got my ninety-five cents though, every last penny of it…

We left Las Vegas heading northeast toward Moab. A few miles outside of St. George we got stuck in the worst traffic jam in the history of modern mankind… It took us 90 minutes to travel 4 miles, which equates to less than 3 miles an hour. This is somewhat slower than the posted 75 mph speed limit. It turns out that the contractor couldn’t figure out how to shut down one lane of traffic, causing chaos, including several overheated vehicles, a few near misses, and scores of angry motorists. Nice work Mr. Contractor. Are you from Rock Springs by any chance?

We spent Wednesday in Moab, well actually,  Arches National Park . This is a spectacularly beautiful place, and we are already making plans to return.

We finally made it to Casa del Rogue about 10:00 pm Thursday evening, tired, but the good kind of tired.

Road Trip tired…

Carry On

   

Forty–one years ago this summer, a trio of young musicians performed at a music festival in rural New York. Although each of the three had enjoyed success as members of The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, and The Hollies, David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash had never performed together. Four decades later, after creating some enduring music, CSN recently performed at one of their favorite venues, Red Rocks.

Seeing a CSN concert at Red Rocks was something Mrs. Rogue and I had wanted to do since, well, we became us. It just never seemed to work out, until this past week. Earlier this spring, while I was away on business, Mrs. R had scored a pair of 19th row seats to the show. We marked the date on our calendar as the kickoff to summer.

Things have changed at Red Rocks since I was a kid. It used to be that all of the seats were General Admission and if you were a slug, and I was/am, you could get to the amphitheater early, bring a cooler, and enjoy 8 hours in the hot sun before the concert. Now the gates don’t open until 6:00 pm, and the only GA seats are at the top. This is actually a good thing if you are gainfully employed and your boss is not a music fan.

With this in mind, we decided to arrive promptly at six, tailgate in the parking lot, and then head on in for the show. Mrs. R made some delicious wraps that were reminiscent of the sandwiches she made for our first date, at this very same place, 31 years ago. We sat in the parking lot, drinking our diet sodas and eating wraps and organic grapes (hey, when a person gets to be my age, you have to make some concessions) and began one of our favorite pastimes – people watching.

Some of the highlights from the evening included the chain-smoking anorexic 50 year-old sorority mom wearing her daughter’s sickeningly cute pink sorority sweatshirt, several people who may not know that the 60’s are over, and the couple with the perfectly feathered 70’s style hair who may not know that the 70’s are over…

Oh, and one other thing. To the guy sitting behind us – I did not come to the concert to hear you sing. I realize that you’re the best fan ever because you know all of the words to all of the songs, but the other 7999 of us came to hear the guys who actually wrote those songs sing them. Save it for the shower dude…

Okay, the snarcasm switch is now off…

One of the recent, unfortunate trends is for rock ‘n roll (and country) bands is to develop elaborate productions for their live shows, including giant stages, pyrotechnics and a host of other gimmicks. CSN went old school, with three mics at center stage, two keyboard players, a bassist, and a drummer. To begin the show, they simply walked onto the stage, sans introduction. It was very cool.

The crowd arose in unison, and CSN dove into a revved-up version of “Woodstock” with Stills laying down some scorching guitar licks, the first of many to come.

It was an electrifying opening to the show, and things only got better. Right from the outset, it was clear that CSN had their harmonies dialed in, and the acoustics of Red Rocks made it that much better.

The first set included amplified versions of “Long Time Gone,” and “Southern Cross;” then closed with “Wooden Ships.” Mrs. R and I looked at each other, we couldn’t find the words to describe what we had just seen, and heard.

The second set opened with just CSN, the rest of the band was off-stage, and the trio worked through several acoustic songs, including some well-done covers of “Norwegian Wood,” “Midnight Rider” and “Ruby Tuesday.” That last one proved a little confusing for a woman sitting nearby – she just “didn’t remember The Beatles ever doing that song.”

One thing that struck me was the respect Crosby, Stills, and Nash have for each other when on stage. At various times throughout the show each of the different performers was featured, be it singing, or playing guitar or keyboard. The other two would simply step back and let the third have his moment. Wow…

The highlight of the evening for me was when Crosby and Nash performed “Guinnevere.” Guinnevere is not one of my favorite songs, but I have never witnessed a more beautiful, heartfelt performance. Except for the music, the amphitheater was dead quiet during this song. At the end of the song, there was no sound; it was as if the audience couldn’t believe what we had just heard. Suddenly the crowd broke into loud and sustained applause. David Crosby patted his heart, thanked the audience and said “This is so much fun!” There weren’t very many dry eyes in the crowd at that point.

CSN closed out the second set with their classic “Almost Cut My Hair,” putting the rock in Red Rocks…The encores included “Love the One You’re With” and “Teach Your Children” and CSN encouraged the audience to sing along to both. I figured I was safe as one voice among 8000, so I threw caution to the wind and joined in.

The show finally ended and we headed for the car. As we were walking down the long ramp, Mrs. R said “it's not just that you see and hear them perform, it's that you feel their music someplace deep inside.”

It was The Best Night Ever at Red Rocks…

Zero Gravity and Other Weighty Matters

Ok I’ll admit it; I’m a long time practitioner of the “Eat Whatever You Want, Don’t Exercise, and Still Lose Weight” diet. For some reason, this diet hasn’t worked for me, so I decided that it was time to change things up…

On Friday, I spent an hour or so getting the ol’ bicycle in working order (let me just say that I was exhausted after blowing the tires up, they’re much more difficult than balloons), checked out my helmet and gloves, and was all set for a nice ride on Saturday. Mother Nature, it turns out, was all set to provide some nice gale force winds on Saturday.

If you’ve been reading along closely, you’ll remember the part about the diet not working, which means I present a large surface area to the wind. I decided to head out anyway, because, well, I’m not really sure…

The first part of the ride, along the Highline Canal was a nice easy ride with the wind at my back pushing me along. On the trail I saw some deer, (both the 4-legged and, ahem, 2-legged varieties…) some cows (only the 4-legged variety), and watched a hawk soaring in (on?) the wind. After covering about 4-1/2 miles, I decided I should turn back and head for home.

I knew the ride back would be a bit of a challenge (“bit of a challenge” is code for “damn near impossible”) for an out-of shape 50-something riding uphill against the wind. As an extra added bonus, there was an unavoidable steep climb waiting about a mile from the end.

It was an interesting return trip; I discovered that it is actually possible to be pushed backwards by the wind while riding a bicycle. Oh, and I had to have a fourth-grader help me push my bike up the steep climb. Thanks Tommy!

I finally made it home, having covered the final two miles in a blazing 45 minutes, and then collapsed in a wheezing heap on the floor. After consuming about 40 liters of supplemental oxygen, I was able to crawl into the shower and revive myself.

Mrs. R, who had observed this entire unfortunate episode, decided it would be a good idea if we got a couple of those zero-gravity chairs for the patio. She had astutely determined that gravity was a big problem for me, and thought that any kind of zero-gravity device would be helpful.

Let me just say this about that, those zero-gravity patio chairs are perhaps the greatest invention since, well, non-zero-gravity patio chairs…

We set the chairs up in a shady spot, and spent the most of the afternoon just chillin’ in them. I also slept in mine. In fact, I haven’t left the chair for 19 hours.

This weightlessness thing is most excellent…

All Shook Up

This is the latest in a continuing series of moderately interesting travelogue blogs…

I am convinced that the sun, the beach, and especially the ocean, have some very mysterious healing powers. I recently traveled to Coronado Island in California to attend a seminar on seismic engineering, and arrived with a bruised psyche. So I ditched the first afternoon of the seminar and hung out the beach. It was very therapeutic. Thank-you, Mother Ocean...

And thanks also to my friends Debra and Mark and Sarah and Hannah and Katie for taking the time to hang with me after school, and for generally treating me like a “rock-star” while I was in town. Although, after attending the musical in which Sarah performed and Katie had choreographed, and learning about Hannah’s role in her show choir, I know who the real rock-stars are!

Okay, imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here…

Coronado Island, which, loosely translated, means “Place Where Dorky Engineers go at the End of Winter to Cause Widespread Boredom in the Indigenous Peoples” is a wonderful place. Everyone, it seemed, was tanned, friendly, and laid back. Of course, the warm sunny climate is conducive to that sort of thing.

There might be one group of folks on the island that aren’t laid back – the Navy SEALS - who have a base there. It was suggested by my smart-aleck cousin/brother/friend that we engineers challenge the SEALS to a competition of some sort. So, during a break on the first morning of the seminar, I commandeered the podium and microphone and gave one of my best speeches ever (which was actually pretty easy, since I have only given one other speech in my entire life) and got the group fired up. We excitedly broke out our calculators and laptops, crunched some numbers, and quickly determined that we didn’t stand an ice cube’s chance in hell of beating the SEALS at anything except, well, number crunching. It was at this point that we dutifully returned to our assigned seats and waited for the next session to begin…

The seminar was really good, very informative. There are some significant changes coming in the world of seismic design, but, since this is not an engineering blog, I won’t bore you with the details. Interestingly, there was a magnitude 4.4 shaker east of downtown Los Angeles a couple of days after the seminar ended.

I stayed at the Coronado Island Marriott Resort and Spa and had a terrific view of the San Diego Skyline from the walkway just outside of my room.

Pretty cool, huh?

The Marriot really does have a resort feel, beautiful grounds, friendly staff, great location. Jeez, I should get a commission from the Coronado Island Visitors and Convention Bureau…

My friends came to Coronado on Friday night and took me to dinner at Coasta Azul. This place has a relaxed atmosphere and some killer guacamole. It was a little chilly to dine al fresco, so we sat inside and had a great time.

Coasta Azul is a short walk form the iconic Hotel del Coronado.

This is the place to stay in Coronado!

On Sunday, my friend Debra came back to Coronado and we enjoyed lunch at Peohe's with a great view of the sailboats on the bay and the San Diego skyline. I tried fish tacos for the first time (when in Rome…) and they were delicious. Debra had some kind of salad thingy that looked very healthy.

I came back home Sunday evening and had the pleasure of driving the 50 miles from the airport to my house in a wet, sloppy snowstorm. Coronado Island seemed far away, but not too far. Mrs. R and I are planning to head back in October.

 Please don’t tell her about all of the high-end shopping at the Hotel del Coronado…

The Mettle to Medal

First things first. Eric Heiden , Bonnie Blair , and Dan Jansen are among the greatest of all  Winter Olympians.

Nextly, I’m not ashamed to admit it – I like curling. I have no idea what’s going on, what the strategy is, or how points are scored, but I find the sport(?) intriguing. I guess if I watched it more often than once every four years I might learn what it’s all about…

In keeping with the spirit of the games, it’s time to award some medals. Today’s categories are DUMBASS (Designating Under Achievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) and a new one, DIMS (Denoting Inane Mutterings about Sports).

Since Gold, Silver, and Bronze are already taken, we’ll use Tin and Aluminum.

So…

Receiving the Aluminum medal for DUMBASS is McDonald’s for their insipid commercial depicting two parents racing home, trying to be the first to deliver a Happy Meal to junior. Here’s an idea mom and dad, why don’t you race home from work and just cook a nice meal for the kid?

Winner of the coveted Tin DUMBASS is AstraZeneca LP for their inspired Symbicort ad which shows the silhouette of a woman with large pink or blue ellipses on her chest. The commercial wants you to believe these ellipses are her lungs. Well, I saw something like this in Vegas once; ok, twice, and the ellipses were most definitely not lungs…

The Aluminum DIMS winner is the announcer at the snowboard half-pipe competition who kept referring to a place called “CHREE-no.” Hmmm… The last Winter Games were held in a place called “to-REE-no.” You don’t suppose they were the same, oh, wait, never mind…

Although this next announcer is the winner of the Tin DIMS, he may also qualify for a lifetime achievement award. After the time for the first skier down the mountain in a women’s competition was posted, our medal winner breathlessly announced that the skier was “in first place.”

Yikes…