Nothin Doin

There's not much to see here. Life continues, working a lot, and running around like stick people. A question for you: I heard from a friend that only 7% of communication is understood based on words. The rest: 38% is eye contact, and 55% body language. What do you think? How does that affect your online friendships?

Swimming With Incompetent Sharks

You know, it'd really be nice to be doing new work. You know, the stuff that pays the bills. Fresh projects which smile back at me from clean sets of drawings. These don't have the angry, sloppy red marks of poor coordination or contractors' mind changes on them. They make me whistle while I work. Instead, I'm on my umpteenth day of sorting out which of the 301 connection photos I got from the project engineer are correct, and which are hopelessly botched. They are welded connections. The building is now finished, and no welding is allowed. The entire team which ran this project (when catching mistakes would have been easy) has been sacked. I've made 2 cross-country trips to inspect this dog, and the installer has visited countless times - but never got it all the way right. This crap is costly, in time, dollars, and mental resilience. Maybe I should become a truck driver.

Tuesdays are for

Good morning Surf Reporters (you know who you are). Nothin' to see here, move along. So why post, you ask? Good question. It's because a) it's what I do and 2) I have some questions. I've been told that after meeting my mortality nose to stump, I can expect to freak out at some point in the future, since it hasn't happened yet. As I regained consciousness, I assessed reality pretty quickly, recognized where I was and knew what had happened based on the evidence around me. It was a fairly matter-of-fact affair. There are also interpretations and meanings being assigned to the accident and the fact that I'm not dead or smushed like a frog on the pavement. The question, in two parts: Have you had a delayed reaction to a big event? If it were a message, what do you think it's saying? Would you be s'kind as to tell me about it?

Update

This morning I stopped by my insurance agent and the crash site. I have AAA, and my agent has always been outstanding to work with. I hope not to report Bob-kat style troubles to you... but the Carol Beers episode made her trials so much more enjoyable. From here, anyway... I don't think I missed the telephone pole by inches. Another day to count my blessings. A: Curb jump location B: Did I miss it?? C: Divot created by Marlon's windshield and roof D: Clump of trees which stopped the car and provided my first alert view of the outside world (imagine them upside down and much closer) E: Where I waited for the ambulance. I brought a layer of grass clippings and an assortment of pine cones to the hospital with me

Hand of God

Today was another wonderful Spring day. I was invited to attend church with my friend Mitch. I haven't been in a couple months, so I met him there. It's one of the local mega-churches, it meets in a converted shopping mall. Enormous. It was a good time, great music and a Mary-oriented Mother's Day sermon. It was nice to see some friends there. After that, I went to my apartment and had leftovers for lunch, read a book, and decided to repeat this week's bike trip. It was gorgeous outside, and thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Returning home, I called my friend Neil to see what he was up to. He was just closing up his roadside stand for the afternoon, and invited me over to his place for some brews. We chatted and enjoyed a couple IPA's in the back yard. Eventually, his wife called out that she was ready to go for their annual Mother's Day dinner. I hopped in the car and waved goodbye. On the way home, I started to feel nauseous. It came in waves; for a moment I thought it had passed, but then I would mentally locate the Lysol and scrub brushes in the event I couldn't pull over in time. I crossed a bridge and considered pulling into a driveway, but there was a pedestrian in the way so I stayed on the road. Scott Simon was reading the news on NPR, and it became too much noise. I turned off the radio. At a stop light, the world began to spin a little and I broke out in a cold sweat. Through the intersection, I figured I could make it the 1/2 mile to the apartment, but a hundred yards later I was looking for a place to pull over. Then I woke up. Things didn't look right. They didn't sound right, either. I felt disoriented. Some of the stuff that was in my car was lying by my face. I realized (surprisingly quickly) that I was hanging upside down from my seatbelt. The engine was making weird noises, so I turned it off as I released the seat belt and came to rest on my head. Outside the broken windshield I saw a lush green tree. Very close up. I saw the blue stripes on the flaccid airbags. I knew vaguely through ringing ears that this was not good. I fished my legs out the driver's side window and found myself on a grassy hillside. I sat up just as a man came around the car to see if anyone was hurt. He had the expression of one who was expecting to find something very nasty indeed. His relief was audible. Not sure whether I should move, I hazarded a glance at the car. It was flat on its back like a tortoise, new tires helplessly skyward. The fender near me was folded in half. I lay down on the grass, feeling clammy and woozy, while more motorists gathered around. The first responders were wonderful, doing everything right and asking thoughtful questions. Moments later sirens arrived, one by one, until 5 agencies had gathered. A state cop came and held my head still until the paramedics arrived. A sheriff breathalyzed me and found that I did indeed have only 2 beers (BAC .02). I was strapped to a backboard, neck braced, and hoisted into an ambulance. The friendly sheriff handed the paramedic my ticket. I asked if they could locate my cell phone, but it wasn't found before the ambulance sped off to the hospital. I got stuck with a variety of needles and sticky electrodes, while the paramedic kept me talking and signing release forms. At the hospital, I was parked in the hallway while blood was drawn, spine was checked, guts palpated, and joints wiggled. Nothing but a headache to report. After 2 hours in the hallway, I was taken in for my first head CT scan. It was over quickly, but something smelled funny. I hope they didn't cook my brains (freakin' radiology zombies). Another half hour in the hallway, and the phone and water I requested in the first hour arrived. Mrs. Spiffy arrived just as they were discharging me. We stopped by the impound yard on the way to the apartment - I needed my keys and phone, and snapped these photos. The driver's side fender Poor Marlon came to rest on the roof, breaking the windshield in 2 places Contents of the glove box spilled out when the airbags deployed I don't remember a moment of the accident. I remember looking to pull over, then nothing. The doctor said it was probably a vaso-vagal nerve reaction; something upset my stomach, causing me to faint. Not a scratch or bruise on me. The car is totaled. I looked at the crash scene. I crossed 3 lanes of a curving road, jumping the opposite curb. The car flipped, plowing nose-uphill into a clump of small trees. I missed a telephone pole by 5 yards. The other side of the road featured mature trees and a deep ravine which carries a creek. I'm choosing to give God credit for the outcome. And hugging my kids tonight.

IF You See A Faded Sign At The Side of the Road

Good morning! I bring you tales of travels. Last night it was gorgeous, schpring in Michigan is really pretty nice when it eventually arrives. Sunny and 79 when I got home from work. I had an appointment to go talk quietly in a small room for a couple hours 25 miles away, but the outdoors was calling. So I canceled. Instead, I heated up my leftover steak & taters in my toaster oven (love that thing), peeled on my Under Armor, shorts, and a fire-engine red shirt (both for my commitment to high fashion and traffic visibility), and hopped on my bicycle. I struck out without a plan, as is my wont. Leaving the parking lot, I went right, then left, then left again, and on a whim went straight instead of left again. Left would take me along the White Pine Linear State Park - a rails-to-trails path which stretches from Comstock Park to Cadillac. It's a nice ride, but the scenery is familiar. Instead, I crossed the Grand River and headed toward Riverside Park. The park was simply lousy with people. All shapes, sizes, and stripes (some with spots), on foot or wheel, enjoying the evening. There was a soccer field loaded with older kids chasing the ball with all their might. I passed scores of moms with little bambinos in various wheeled apparatus. Riverside has an 18-hole frisbee golf course, so there were all kinds of disc-flinging folks walking around chasing their toys. At least 4 family picnics were underway, with charcoal grills perfuming the air with hot dogs and overdone marshmallows. I got to the end of the 3 mile long park and kept going. Riding onto Monroe, I found the road exceptionally lumpy, but got to see the amazing architecture of the old fresh water treatment plant from a new perspective. Round turrets and parapets in glazed, rust-colored brick caught the sunlight and sent it around like a giant disco ball that seemed to spin as I rode past. The park system picked up the trail again along the river, closing periodically for construction. I don't think I've ever seen the entire river trail open all at once; it is pretty extensive and they're always improving it. I crossed the river repeatedly on historic bridges and foot paths, taking whichever trail caught my immediate fancy. There were lines and lines of people fishing off the boardwalks and bridges. You could catch a hint of fishy aroma, but I never actually spotted a real fish. I crossed into Ah-Nab-Ah-Wan Park, which is a great expanse of manicured lawn and paved trails between the GR Ford Museum and the Grand River. The city fireworks are held there on Independence Day and a couple other festivals in the fall. Great spot for a concert, or to get food onnastick. Over the crashing roar of the fountains, I heard a deep, insistent drum beat. The south end of the park features model Indian burial mounds - big grassy knolls which call out to kids to climb and roll down (the actual historic burial mounds are downriver about 10 miles in a swampy area). In a little valley between the mounds and the park, a group of native Americans were seated on lawn chairs around a giant drum. Each had a mallet and was beating on the drum and singing in call-and-answer style. A little girl in a leather skirt was dancing a few feet outside their circle. I slowed to listen and rode over the foot bridge, the song and beat bouncing off the Amway Grand Plaza concrete and glass walls. I went just a little further, circled the museum and the university, and headed back. I rode past the final resting place of Gerald Ford, interred in a garden beside the museum last December. Since then, they've put up a tall wrought iron fence around the garden. I suppose it's only open during museum hours or tours. The drums were still thumping their echoes off the buildings as I retraced my route, on the opposite bank of the river where possible. The sun sets late here in the western side of the eastern time zone, leaving plenty of light well after 9PM. People were still out in force, although there were more couples holding hands at this hour. I came through riverside park and heard clanking, grunting, crashing noises like people throwing bricks and raccoons into metal garbage cans. A group of guys, dressed up in medieval armor like the Knights of Swamp Castle, were standing around a pair of their own. The two in the middle were carrying shields and round blunted swords, bashing each other in halting, awkward thrusts. A girl was watching disinterestedly from the open door of a Plymouth Dart, clearly waiting for one of them. I pondered how one gets a girlfriend with a hobby like that, but quickly remembered there's someone for everyone. Surprisingly, I found myself full of energy by this point, sprinting for whole sections of the park. Thick clouds of IN's (Eyeball Gnats, using the acronym promulgated by strict adherence to the IKFSA*, which, no matter where you are, kamikaze directly into your blinking peepers) were loitering over the path in unexpected places. I ate at least 3 bugs, maybe more. One felt like it was still clinging to my uvula today, its carcass refusing to be moved. I bounded into my kitchen and wondered how far I'd went. I retraced my steps in Marlon (the grampa car) and clocked it out: 15 miles. Not bad for a lazy late spring evening. *Innernational Kownsel on Fonetikly Spelt Akronims

Music and Tagging

Thanks to Wordimus Nerdimus for the musicthing tag, I have to come up with 7 songs I'm into - WITH AN ESSAY on each - and then fling my tags upon other bloggertypes. I'm not alone in saying music is a huge part of my day. When I'm driving, I'll often have talk radio on, but at work, at home, or on solo bike rides, I've got a couple thousand of my favorite tunes ready to feed my need for rhythm. I'm always on the lookout for new stuff, and my tastes are varied all over rock, alternative, electronic, and world. I do need to get some classical in me, stuff without operatic singing or squeaky sleepy olfolks music. I'm not sticking strictly to the rules, partly 'cause that's how I roll. I'll pick 7 artists, since my MO is to find one I like and devour everything I can find. Heave-ho, here we go... OK Go: I've been on a total immersion diet of these guys for WEEKS now, and while I always move on to something new, their 2 CDs are my best music purchases of this century. I ain't kidding. Master musicianship and hooks, pop sensibility, intelligent humor and soul-stirring harmonies all come together. I like 'em a lot, enough to list 7 just for them (plus a bonus). Shortly Before The End: Horribly sad lyrics, but incredible build-up and gorgeous melody There's a Fire: Polyrhytmic song where every instrument is quirkily understated, and I love the earnest storyline. Don't Ask Me: Danceable, singalongable, and the most fun angry song evah. Video here. Let It Rain: Pretty AND fun. Whoever can tell me the time signature wins a prize (difficulty: no internet help!) Lately It's So Quiet: Nobody can 'oh' like these guys. Modern day Jon Anderson with the falsetto. Get Over It: Hay! I love this song. A Million Ways: One zero zero zero zero zero zero ways to like this tune. Bass line is just one. The Fix Is In: A song about getting lost in Boston that just makes me tap my enormous toes. Dave Matthews Band: Ants Marching is the song on the radio turned me on to these guys, and the quality stands up to ridiculous amounts of repeat listening. I particularly like the live version, Carter shines as one of the greatest drummers on the planet. I have a religious experience every time I hear Bartender (from Busted Stuff). Switchfoot: More Than Fine is one of my theme songs. Might Have Ben Hur is another one that I always drop everything and pay attention to. Def Leppard: Rock of Ages. As a pre-licensed teen, I walked for miles in a light rain to go buy Pyromania because that song would not leave my brain. A turning point in my musical curiosity. Rush: My heroes all through high school, and the only band I've seen live four times. I wanted to play bass like Geddy Lee, although for some reason I never wanted to sing like him. Tom Sawyer got me hooked, and I can sing along to any of their tunes from Fly By Night through Grace Under Pressure. Talking Heads: I'm gonna make them representative of the quirkier side of my music, even though it's pretty mainstream. Same with the B-52's, Bjork, Massive Attack, Peter Gabriel. AfroCelt Sound System: Another group I've never gotten sick of. Great driving music. This is an All Skate tag (cue organ music from The Wrong Trousers). If you're reading this, you're tagged!