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…

Dazed and Confused

We’ve got some catching up to do, so this one is kinda long.

Well, the Holidaze are upon us once again, and this year I am confused by…

… the football announcer who said that a team “narrowly averted tragedy” when they recovered their own fumble. Really? A tragedy? Come on dude, it’s just football. A real tragedy is running out of chips before halftime…

…the other football announcer who observed that if a team “runs successful plays they will have success on offense.” Thank-you, Captain Obvious. I’m surprised you’re in the broadcast booth instead of on the sidelines with that keen insight…

… the young woman I saw wearing a down vest with a fur-lined hood. It just seems to me that if it’s cold enough to need a fur-lined hood, it is cold enough to wear a jacket with sleeves…

… television, apparently. My Dad enjoyed watching Bonanza reruns and we spent a couple of afternoons earlier this year doing just that. Recently, while home alone I came across another episode and decided to watch. It seems the bad guy was planning to frame Hoss for a murder by knocking out Hoss, shooting the victim, planting the gun next to Hoss, and then leaving the scene. As I was watching this unfold I was thinking “well that will never work. Once Grissom and Katherine and the other CSI folks get there they’ll dust the gun for finger prints and check ol’ Hoss for gun-shot residue and he’ll be exonerated…” Yikes…

This month’s DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award goes to the Ford Motor Company for their commercial in which a young man is extolling the virtues of the keyless entry system on his new Ford. He especially likes it when he’s wearing tight jeans because there is no bulge from his keys. Apparently Ford is targeting the lucrative “Does This Car Make Me Look Fat?” demographic…

Imagine a well written transition paragraph right here…

Mrs. R decided recently that it was time to replace our worn out Xmas tree. It seemed like a good idea, the old one barely made it through last year. (This is the part of the story where it’s important to note that Mrs. R likes to think big during the Holidaze, I mean really big…)

We had been looking for a couple weeks and began to realize that the inventory of artificial trees was beginning to shrink in our corner of the ‘burbs. We checked a couple more places but weren’t satisfied and we finally ended up at one of the big-box home improvement stores (the blue one, for those of you keeping score at home…) And there it was – the largest pre-lit artificial tree in the western United States – checking in at 12-feet tall and 3-million pounds.

Mrs. R’s eyes lit up instantly when she saw it, and I think I may have heard the Hallelujah Chorus being sung softly in the background. I knew then that we were gonna take that bad boy home, in spite of my objections about:

Can we get it in the car?

Can we get it in the house?

Can we assemble it?

Will there be any money left for gifts?

It turns out that the only 12-foot tall, 3-million pound tree left in the store was the floor display model. This is where Mrs. R began her “no !#$%%**! way am I going to pay full **@#$!! price for the !@#**^* floor display” negotiating technique. It’s subtle, but effective…

Anyway, the big-box gave us a discount, disassembled the tree, helped us load it into our car, and merrily sent us on our way. One of the more interesting things about floor display models is that they don’t come with directions. And while that may be okay if you bring home a new recliner; it’s not so good if you bring home a giant tree with 14 unmarked parts and a bewildering array of wires, plugs, and other unidentifiable electrical things.

Realizing we may be in for a challenging time, I quickly designed a complex series of hoists and pulleys, rented some scaffolding, and applied for a building permit. I am a trained professional after all.

Mrs. R thought it would be fun if we tackled the tree assembly by using a Mission Impossible style approach. We’ve had success in the past using a similar tactic:

Suburban Rogue - Health Food

Since Mrs. R is somewhat afraid of heights, I agreed to be suspended from the pulley and assemble the tree while hanging upside-down, ala Tom Cruise, while Mrs. R was “on belay.” So, I got hooked up, strapped in and was ready to descend into tree assembly when, as I was stepping off of the upper stair landing, I remembered that I weigh twice as much as Mrs. R. I distinctly remember waving to her as we passed while she sped toward the ceiling and I was plummeting toward the living room floor.

We managed to get untangled, get the tree assembled, and even get the lights to work. I would, however, like to apologize for the power brown-out some of you may have experienced on Saturday…

Merry Christmas!

A Good Man

This is a simple story about a good man…

My Dad was born in 1933 in a small town in Missouri; he was the youngest of seven children. In 1938 his family moved to Windsor, Colorado and Dad grew up there.

He left school early and moved to California to work in construction alongside his brother-n-law. Soon the Selective Service came calling and Dad was drafted into the Army as the Korean War was winding down. His active duty time was spent on a base in Fairbanks, Alaska.

One of Dad’s favorite stories from his Army days was how, during winter exercises, each soldier was assigned a buddy – if your buddy got frostbite you got court-martialed. Each soldier was issued a winter parka with a fur-lined hood and a row of snaps around the outside. If you saw your buddy’s face turning red, you were to snap your hood to his and let each other’s exhaled breath warm the skin.

Those of you that knew my Dad may remember that he had a large, and somewhat red, nose. Dad said he couldn’t remember how many times his “buddy” would yell “Reynolds, get over here! Your nose is turning red, you’re getting frostbite!” and would then snap his hood to Dad’s. Then with a devilish grin, Dad would say “I really started to worry about that guy after a while…”

Mom and Dad were married in 1956 and lived in San Diego for a brief time. Dad got a job as a lineman with the telephone company and he said it was the best job he ever had. Apparently, the poles where the new guys learned to climb were located along one of San Diego’s most popular beaches. Once they mastered climbing the poles, the newbies were told to “just stay up there and have a look around…”

Mom and Dad returned to Colorado in 1958, a few months before I was born, and they were living in Lakewood when my brother, Scott, was born in 1962.

With the exception of a couple of years, Dad spent his professional life in the dairy business working a variety of jobs from milking cows to delivery to making cottage cheese and ice cream to loading to sales. While he was in sales, many of his clients were restaurants in the Denver area and Dad got to see what went on in the kitchens. Let’s just say that there are some places in town where I still refuse to eat…

Once retired, Dad enjoyed woodworking and traveling; searching New Mexico for the best burrito. He also worked very hard to have the greenest lawn on the block, not that he was competitive or anything...

Dad could fix just about anything and he tried to pass that skill on to Scott and me. I have to admit that my brother paid much closer attention during those fixing lessons than I did…

Dad, along with Mom, created a home, a safe place where my bother and I could begin to pursue our dreams. He taught us the values of hard work and honesty, and how to treat people fairly.

He possessed a great deal of physical strength, and if you ever shook hands with Dad, you knew about his bone-crushing grip.

Along with his physical strength, Dad was strong of character…

In 1982 we had the infamous Christmas Blizzard and my wife and I were stuck in our basement apartment. Dad spent all of Christmas day digging out and then coming over to rescue us. Not so we could celebrate with Mom and him, but so we could make it to my wife’s house to celebrate with her family. That might have been the best Christmas present ever.

A few years back the local elementary school was having a Dad’s day, and everyone’s Dad, including staff, was invited to spend the day at school. None of the front office staff at that time still had their fathers, so Dad stepped in and made four young women very happy that day.

Nothing filled Dad with pride more than his four grandchildren. I often watched him steer a conversation so he could talk about his grandkids. Corey, Kaitlin, Mary and Jake - I know this is painful, as this is the first time any of you have experienced this in your young lives. Please remember that your Grandpa loved you all very, very, much.

Dad was a good man and he led a quiet, simple life. There is much to be said for that.

Just Us Kids

Every so often, reality a big dose of reality shows up and gets your attention.

I attended a large suburban high school in the mid 1970’s, and I’ve written about some of my misadventures before…

Speechification

Homecoming

My graduating class was very large, over 600 students, and it was impossible to know everyone. I was fortunate to be part of a medium-sized circle of friends. We were close-knit and hung out together for most of three years. Then we graduated and grew up; went our separate ways and built our lives. Some did a better job of staying in touch through the years than others.

These days we get together every 5 years at our class reunions to catch up, swap lies, and to reminisce about how innocent and free we once were. Unfortunately there are always a couple of more names on the list of deceased classmates. They have all been people I didn’t know very well during my high school years.

Until now…

Every high school class has that special person, the sweetheart of the class, the homecoming queen who is everyone’s friend. The girl with the radiant personality who is a beautiful person inside and out. We were fortunate that our class sweetheart was in our, as well as everyone else’s, circle of friends.

She was also the first one from our circle to leave us.

A few days ago, after our friend’s memorial service in a small Colorado mountain town, a few of us got together to catch up, swap some lies, and most importantly, share some laughs. Before we all left, we promised each other we would do a better job of keeping in touch.

As I drove home I was reminded of James McMurty’s song “Just Us Kids.”

"Just us kids hangin' out today

Watchin' our long hair turnin' gray

Not so skinny maybe not so free

Not so many as we used to be"

Goodbye Dandy, may you go in peace…

Summertime

Since summer has officially started, I thought it might be a good time to officially restart my blog. My muse, which had gone missing, is beginning to reappear. That is good news for me, bad news for you…

So let’s get started…

Very few people are known by only one name, Elvis, Ali, Einstein, Ralphie (Ok, I know she’s a buffalo, but still…) to list a few. If you’re male in your late 40’s or early 50’s, chances are that you owned/still own/still display this poster:

During my college years, Farrah was always stuck to the wall next to my desk. On more than one occasion, late at night when I was struggling with some homework problem, I would look up and start a conversation with Farrah to try and take my mind off of the blank sheet of paper on my desk. I probably would’ve gotten a better GPA if I had spent less time talking to a piece of shiny paper on the wall - not that there’s, you know, anything wrong with that…

Speaking of Boulder…

Mrs. R and I recently spent the day in Boulder. The Pearl Street Mall has some of the best summertime people watching anywhere on the planet and I highly recommend it.

Anyway, on the way to Boulder we had to stop for gas. There was a very large Ford Expedition with its driver side door open parked at the pump island next to ours. This particular SUV was all tricked out with a lift kit, chrome grill guards, and chrome steps. The damn thing was at least 2 feet off the ground.

All of sudden, the driver of this vehicle, all 5’-4” of him, including boots and hat, came running out of the store toward his monster rig, planted his feet, jumped with all of his might onto the chrome step, wobbled momentarily, and then deftly pulled himself inside the truck. It was an impressive display of athleticism. It was also pretty damn funny and it got me to thinking about an unverified theory of mine...

I postulate that the size of a man’s truck is inversely proportional to the size of a certain portion of his anatomy. (Full disclosure here – I drive a medium-sized pick-up truck...) I am unaware of any rigorous scientific studies to prove, or disprove, this theory, although some of you may have conducted your own research…

Speaking of scientific research, a colleague informs me that a plumbing supply manufacturer has developed an automatic dual flush valve.

Dual Flush Valve

There is an electronic sensor in this valve, and if it senses the user of the toilet is present for less than 60 seconds, it releases a modest amount of water to flush. If the user is present for longer than one minute, then a larger volume of water is released.

This is a great idea and has the potential to save thousands of gallons of water in public facilities. There are, however, a couple of areas of concern.

How was the research conducted and who was the poor slob that got assigned to that job? How much do you have to screw up in your previous life to end up being the person who measures how long it takes people to pee and poop? That is some seriously bad karma, dude...

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, who decided 60 seconds was the magic number? Because I’ve noticed that certain activities that used to take less than 60 seconds often take much longer to finish these days…