Real Estate
My dad and godfather, Mike, at a Spanish Coffee making contest. And yes, that’s me using a garter as a headband.
My parents were both bartenders when I was growing up. I think my mom ended up in the job because all she wanted to do out of college was party, but my Dad was born to be a bartender. He loves people, he’s loud, and he’s not afraid to jump onto the bar top and sing “Happy Birthday” at an embarrassing volume, through a stolen megaphone. When I was younger, he was famous for this, and actually mentioned, mockingly (or perhaps I should say jealously), in the menu of competing restaurants.
So when I was a little kid, and people told me, “You know, your dad is the best bartender in Eugene,” I not only believed them, I took it for granted. (To the right: I bar-backed for my dad at a private party when I was fifteen years old.)
I think I was twelve or so when Dad started studying for his real estate license. To this day, I have no idea why he chose real estate as a second career, but after a year or two, he started working a second job as a realtor during the day, while continuing to bartend at night. He kept working two jobs all through my years in high school, and then through college. He only retired from bartending a handful of years ago, and then he threw all of his considerable energy into real estate, and he seemed as meant for that as he had been for bartending. He probably works more hours of the day then most people who get paid overtime, but he likes houses, and more than that, he likes helping people find homes they love, so it doesn’t seem like he’s working all that hard most of the time, just that he’s busy doing something he enjoys.
So when people told me, “You know, your dad is the best realtor in Eugene,” I kinda thought, well Duh.
I guess he probably wasn’t, (Though, in his day, he obviously really WAS the best bartender, again, Duh.) this is just something people who liked my dad said to be nice. Especially while he was still bartending and they were sitting at the bar after a few drinks.
Well, until a couple weeks ago anyway.
Dad was named Eugene Realtor of the Year for 2011. Apparently this is a pretty big deal, especially in his Remax office, where they’ve been trying to oust the returning champion (from a different company) for several years. Dad’s boss Kevin, knowing Dad was in the running, kept bugging a friend Judy (who had an in with the committee that selected the winner) to find out who won, finally stating: “If I knew Colin (my dad) won, I’d fly his daughter and grandson out as a surprise.”
Judy called his bluff.
So, Ender and I found ourselves hiding in plain sight at the Eugene Hilton, (above: Ender trying to blend in) waiting to show up when Dad got the award.
Dad had called me on the way to the banquet, just to chat, and told me he had to go when he got there. I was nursing in the hotel at the time, and told Dad to call me back later if he felt like it, since I didn’t really have much of anything going on beyond taking care of Ender.
At first, Dad probably had a hunch that he might win this year, but Mom managed to throw him off course, because Dad knew that they always have the spouses at the awards banquet.
Dad asked her if they’d called to invite her, and she said no, so Dad knew he hadn’t won this year.
When he asked if she wanted to go with him anyway, she said no, she thought she’d get sit outside and get some sun instead. So winning was already a surprise.
Ender and I were hiding in the hall, so I didn’t get to hear them making fun of him, or surprising him with the award, but I heard the very end when they asked if he could think of anything that would make the moment any better.
I think they’d hinted that I was here, because he was already both stunned and confused, and didn’t manage to answer before they brought me out.
He was pretty taken aback. He handed Ender back after a minute or two, saying he didn’t want to break him. I think he was pretty shaky, and a little afraid of dropping him.
Dad looked almost too blindsided to look shocked. Shocked was a few notches down on the surprise meter, once he had a chance to process.
In a way, Mom and I were just as surprised since we’d only known about the whole plan for about a week: it was all very last minute, and the excitement was still high, with no time for the secret to get unbearable.
When I first heard what they were planning, I didn’t think I’d be able to take them up on it. For one thing, I’d sworn before Ender was born that I’d never fly with him by myself, especially as a lap ticket.
Faced with the opportunity to eat my words, it almost didn’t occur to me that the trip was even an option. I was exhausted from a previous weekend of travel (Matt and I drove Ender to PA to meet family there) and barely recovering from mastitis, which makes nursing not only painful, but exhausting and more difficult than usual.
Then I reconsidered, realizing that the discomfort would be more than worth it. Flying cross country with an infant was a pain in the ass, but it was amazing to have the chance to introduce Ender to my parents a month early (they’re coming out to visit at the end of August).
Once I decided I was up for it, I had to figure out if it was possible. Even “portable” baby gear isn’t really all that portable, and I’d only have my own hands, which would be filled with baby.
The only real option was to get equipment in Eugene. I looked up baby gear rental companies, but although I found a couple in Portland, and one in Bend, I didn’t see any options for Eugene. Which is weird, because Eugene is definitely bigger than Eugene, but Bend is more of a tourist destination, so maybe rental equipment is more in demand, and therefore more available.
Borrowing would have been a possibility if Mom knew of anyone who had children that had just outgrown the equipment needed, but she didn’t. In the end, Mom ended up buying a carseat and play-yard (with bassinet). I went online and found a convertible carseat that he’ll be able to use when we visit in about a year as well, so it will be a little less useless. I don’t love the carseat, but that’s a different story and it was safe and worked for the time I was there.
I was out from Wednesday to Monday. 5 days seemed just long enough to make it worth it, and I didn’t want to stay longer, because I didn’t want to be away from Matt for any longer. Or to take Ender away from Matt for longer. Though I have to admit, a small part of me hated him just a little, for getting 5 whole nights of uninterrupted sleep.
Ender had already met his other grandparents, but for some reason it was a completely different experience watching him with my parents.
My mom calls him “baby boy!” in exactly the same tone as I do. Dad kept saying how beautiful Ender is, and is having as hard a time calling himself “Gramps” as I am trying to remember to hand Ender over to “G-ma” and “Gramps” instead of “Mom” and “Dad.” Whenever we went somewhere that my parents had friends, they hardly let me hold him they were so busy showing him off.
I talked my parents into waiting until late August to come out and visit, because it’s not likely that they’ll be out more than once a year or so, and I thought they would rather have some time to interact with a three month old (who’s old enough to interact back) than spend the whole time looking at a just born baby. Dad likes babies but my mom always claims to be not very into babies, at least, not newborns. I knew it would be different with her grandchild (as I assume it was different with me as a baby), but I was surprised at how dreamy-in-babyland she was. She was content to hold him, pacing to get him to sleep, for my whole visit.
As with our visit to PA, and the visits by Ender’s Cinci grandma, the thing I’m most struck by is how Ender is surrounded by people who love him. I’m so grateful that I had a chance to bring him to Oregon while he was new, and that my parents will get to see him again in just a few weeks. I wonder if I was ever really aware of how far away my family was before I had a baby.
Escape from Shmoopocolypse 2010
Or, “If Shmoocon 2010 was a Zombie Movie.”
It’s taken some time, and a whole lot of therapy, but I think I’m finally ready to talk about what happened.
Everyone’s heard of the great “snowpocalypse” in DC a few months back, the snowstorm that covered the east cost this last February. Most people don’t realize that this story is a government hoax; hiding something much darker than snow.
It did snow that weekend. Matt and I drove carefully into town, eager to attend Shmoocon, DC’s annual hacker convention. We checked into the hotel and brought our bags to the room. We were disappointed with the view, but nothing could dampen our enthusiasm for the convention. We scampered downstairs to the convention center, innocent and happy as ripe strawberries. Matt’s Utilikilt flapped merrily, alarming the other guests. How could we have known that our carefree time would soon come to an end? No one could have predicted it.
We went to see the keynote speaker, not a thought in our heads beyond computer p0wnage and chocolate tastings. Caught a session on cyborgs, with a deeper look into modern brain surgery. I think it was this focus on brains, and all the busy brains at work, that brought them.
Hanging out in the hotel restaurant during lunch break, one of the hackers started acting strange. More strange than usual for computer geeks I mean. Reader be warned: consuming a few too many Great Lakes Beers may push you to try things that are not wise. Our friend Tom Eston was lucky to escape with his life.
Matt and I left the bar, only a little uneasy, but we quickly realized things at the convention were spiraling out of control.
The government run media didn’t make up the snowstorm entirely. When we got to the doors, snow surrounded the building like trigger happy Blackwater mercs. There was no way out. Inside, hotel doors were exploding with groaning, staggering hackers. At first I thought they were drunk, normal enough at ten AM on a convention weekend, but then Larry Pesce took a bite out of poor Paul Asadoorian and I realized it must be more than normal hacker hijinks.
A crash and a sprinkling of glass made me look up. Fists smashed through the skylights, mindless of the cuts. Snow thundered down along with several battered people. They fell three stories to the atrium below. Then they got back up. That’s when I knew something was very wrong.
We hid behind a malfunctioning ATM machine for a while. I rocked in place, refusing to acknowledge what was happening. Eventually I had to accept the truth. ZOMBIES. We made a break for it.
In the first conference room we met friends: Tom Eston– still shaken from his close call, and Chris Clymer– oddly mesmerized by the corpses slumped in the audience seats. Jack Nichelson and his wife Kim. But our entrance awakened new monsters. These were quickly dispatched with typical hacker ingenuity but time was running out.
We had to find a way out of the hotel, out of DC.
From one end of the hotel to the other we fled, meeting blocked doors and drooling ex-hackers. The floor was littered with body parts, blood splattered the walls. Each turn brought fresh foes, but finally we had a moment of peace to think.
Matt remembered our hotel room. Our lousy view.
Minds on escape, we rushed to the fire stairs. I fumbled with the hotel key, terrified that another zombie would find us exposed.
Luck was with us. We spilled into the hotel room, sped to the window. It was alright. No zombies had found the roof yet, and though the snow was quickly piling up, there was room to climb out. Just.
Fortunately, all hotels in DC have helipads, and the helicopter keys were in the ignition. Chris quickly read through the manual we found beneath a seat and Tom took the controls.
Hanging out the open doors, Kim and I got a great view of the city, but the ride didn’t last as long as we might have hoped. “We’re out of gas!” Matt screamed over the roar of the rotors. I thought we were going to crash, but Tom managed to bring us down safely inside the panda enclosure at the National Zoo.
A panda sunk its claws into Jack’s leg. Let me tell you, those things aren’t as cuddly as they look. We got him away from the panda, but the injury slowed him down a bit so we had to help him up the wall. Then we had to climb the outer fence as well because the zoo was closed “due to snow.” A likely story. Once we were outside it was obvious the zombies were not just in the hotel. Scenes of masacre lined the streets. Before we could run from the zoo gates, we saw several zombie orangutans gnawing on some poor sap’s severed arm. Seeing the infected animals made me hope the panda that got Jack wasn’t tainted as well, but I didn’t mention my fears.
We needed transportation. There were a few lost souls wandering the streets, but it was clear they wouldn’t last long. We wouldn’t last long. We kept low, hiding behind any cover we could find.
Zombie packs roamed the streets, and a few times we were almost seen. The zombies were slow, but we knew their groaning would alert other groups. We saw the national guard through the trees, but we didn’t dare try to signal them, for fear of giving ourselves away to the hoards. Finally, we found hope:
An abandoned Bobcat with snow treads was idling a few blocks from the zoo. I tried not to think of what might have happened to the previous operator, it was enough that we had found our salvation.
It was difficult to fit all six of us in that little Bobcat, but we were so glad to see the last of DC (Doomed City) we didn’t care.
If only it really were the last. Like a bad Jerry Springer, the infernal city kept pulling us back in.
Every time we hit the highway, we found our Bobcat grinding back into the center of DC. On our third circuit, it was starting to get dark. Kim let the machine slow to a stop. “What are you doing?” I demanded. She ignored me.
“Tom!” Kim pointed through the Bobcat’s grill. “Isn’t that…” we looked up ahead to see a small figure crouched behind a statue of Nathan Hale. “It’s your wife!”
Before we could stop him, Tom jumped from the Bobcat and sprinted to the dark shape. We followed cautiously in the rising shadows, but as we got closer, I saw that it was indeed Tom’s wife, Jill. She didn’t move as we approached her, but clutched her arm. It oozed blood through the bandage she’d fashioned from a Smithsonian banner.
Tom stopped abruptly feet away from her, staring. “Are you bit?” he asked. She started to speak but couldn’t make noise. Tom wrenched forward, grabbing her about the shoulders and shaking her. “ARE YOU BIT?”
Jill cried out in pain as her arm shook. “No!” she managed. “I got cut climbing out of the basement of some building in Adams Morgan. Thank God I had a chainsaw to get through the glass.”
“Thank God!” said Tom, and held her tightly. They had a tenderly shmoo-pey scene which I’d prefer not to dwell on. Then Tom gently removed the Smithsonian banner and replaced it with a tourniquet made from his jacket sleeve. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling Jill to her feet.
I shook my head worriedly. “Just one problem,” I told him. “Bobcat won’t run with seven.”
“WE’LL MAKE IT RUN!” he said.
When we turned back to the Bobcat, we realized it didn’t matter how many it could hold. Two zombies, perhaps drawn by the sound of the engine, were stumbling around our faithful machine. Behind them, another zombie tried to claw its way into an abandoned car. At the sound of Tom’s yell, they all looked at us.
Matt said, “Run!” but Tom shook his head. I looked at Jill and Jack, both still bleeding from fresh wounds and realized he was right. We could never make it. The zombies lurched toward us.
“Good thing I have this,” said Tom, and he pulled a Molotov Cocktail from his coat pocket. “Who’s got a light?” Matt pulled a metal lighter from his kilt pocket and tossed it to Tom.
I stared at the Molotov Cocktail. “Where did you-”
“No time!” said Tom. He lit the rag and threw the bottle, not at the zombies as I expected, but at our trusty Bobcat. It exploded like the forth of July, and after a wave of heat and noise, the streets were blessedly empty.
For a time.
It was only a few minutes before the sound of the explosion brought others. We could see black forms walking jerkily in the snow at the end of each street. We stood in the snow, shivering, wondering what to do. Below his kilt, Matt’s knees got goosebumps.
“There!” said Jack, pointing.
I don’t know how we missed it before. An undamaged Humvee sitting right in the middle of Constitution Avenue. We ran to the car, looking nervously over our shoulders.
“I’m so glad I brought my double sided lockpicks,” said Matt, shoving his picks into the doorlocks.
“Hurry!” I urged him, but he had the door unlocked in seconds. Chris climbed into the driver’s seat and quickly hot-wired the Humvee while the rest of us tumbled in. We ran over four of the zombies with scarcely a bump.
Otherwise, leaving DC was no easier in the Humvee.
The roads were chaos. Cars drove in every direction and as before, we found ourselves irresistibly drawn back to the center.
“We’ll have to leave the main roads,” said Jill as we swerved down Pennsylvania Ave for the fifth time.
Chris nodded and smashed the Humvee through the cement fence. I winced at the noise, but the car rumbled on, unconcerned.
Zombies looked in at us stupidly as we ran them over. Their bodies were as slippery as the snow.
Once we left the main roads, we were alone in the darkness and DC seemed to relinquish its hold. The trouble is, we didn’t know where we were going.
Matt looked for a way out on his Android, while I tried my iphone, but whatever way we took we seemed to keep hitting dead ends.
In the back, Jack groaned, and I glanced back at him. He looked a tad grey. I bit my lip, and met Matt’s worried look, but we didn’t say anything. Chris tightened his grip on the wheel and drove.
Slowly we got further from the city, and we saw fewer and fewer zombies the more we drove. We continued finding bad roads, but we just turned around and continued.
Around midnight, our road trailed off into a corn field. Chris pulled the car around sharply and we heard a sound like a shot. The car shuddered. My shoulder slammed into the side, painfully. “The tire,” said Kim. “We must have hit a nail.”
We looked at each other. “We haven’t seen a zombie for hours,” I said.
“I’ll get it,” said Jack.
“What about your leg?” asked Kim.
He shrugged her off. “I’m fine.” I think he knew already, what we all knew. More grey than ever, Jack hopped out of the car (really hopped, that leg wasn’t fine at all) while Kim watched fretfully. The tire came off easily and we all waited in silence while Jack jacked up the Humvee. He was just tightening the final nut when the zombies started out of the corn.
“Get back in the car!” said Kim. “Jack!” He looked at her and smiled, shrugged.
He hefted his tire iron. “Come on you bastards!” he yelled. “Let’s see who’s Left 4 Dead tonight!” Jack waded into the melee swinging. They must have finished him in the end, but not before he splattered a bundle of zombies in the snow. We drove off before it was over, knowing there was nothing else we could do.
We made it home eventually. Since that time, Matt, Tom and Chris have dedicated themselves to zombie research. After two months of hard studying Matt got his PhD and Chris finally earned his MD, while Tom spent his time stockpiling one of every weapon there is.
Next weekend, at Notacon 7, the three of them will give a presentation on Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse. Be there. Because believe me, whatever the government says to the contrary, it’s coming.
Please take a minute to appreciate the sacrifice off Jack Nichelson who surely lost his life while taking some of these photos, tire iron swinging. Also, a moment of silence is in order for Jess Rudolph of the Confused Greenies, an unwitting test subject.
On a Boat
This last weekend may have been one of the most relaxing I’ve had in ages.
Our friends Jack and Kim invited us along on a boat ride Saturday. The 31 foot sailboat belongs to a friend of theirs, so I was a bit nervous about barging (hah!) onto the trip, but he was a super nice guy and seemed happy to share the experience, not to mention his knowledge on boating. He put everyone to work who wanted to work (for myself, I prefered to stay out of the way, clinging to anything that seemed somewhat stable) teaching them boating slang as they went. I guess Jack and Kim join him on sailing races pretty often, so they were more or less already part of the crew.
Matt got a chance to haul rope and generally play pirate (no boarding though) which he seemed to enjoy. I love boats but am not so much a fan of, you know, water, so I didn’t help much until the end, when we pulled into a dock which seemed WAY to small for the boat. It was a bit of a scramble, with everyone running to the edges to push away from whatever permanent feature was about to hit the boat. On my side we nearly hit a large metal pole. I thought to myself, someone really ought to take care of that before we hit it. Then I looked around at everyone already frantic with something and realized, aw crap, that’s me. I’m still shocked we managed not to scrape off any paint or people.
We sailed from Elyria to Edgewater which gave us some fantastic views entering the city.
Other than docking, most of the trip was pretty tame. For the first few hours there was unfortunately not enough wind to sail, so we had to motor our way east. This made things easy, but I liked it better when the sails went up. The weather was beautiful, a gentle breeze that got us up to 7 knots (nots? whatever, and don’t ask me to translate that into mph), with nothing rough enough to make me wonder if I’d end up in the lake. In spite of my dislike (ok, FEAR) of water, when I was a kid, my ideal bed was a padded row boat in a flooded room. For some reason my parents didn’t go for that, but I could easily have fallen asleep for large parts of this trip.
The only slightly scary part of the sailing had nothing at all to do with the weather. This was labor day weekend, our destination was to anchor downtown and watch the airshow. Being labor day weekend, it was rather crowded, which was entertaining during the show, but extremely annoying afterward.
I guess it’s the same old story of one bad egg ruining the… whatever it ruins. In this case there were several. I’m not a boater, so I may not have the right to get indignant when people ignore ship rules. As a passenger though, I feel pretty entitled to be pissed off when people put me in danger. A good handful of motorboats decided they were getting back to the dock, and screw everyone else. They jetted back at top speed, causing wakes that pushed everyone else in all directions and all angles. I don’t know if we nearly tipped, or how close we came to the other sailboat riding the waves, but I DO know that the captain was looking anxious, and looking sideways and suddenly seeing water is pretty freaky for a landlubber.
Mostly though, people were friendly, and except for the few jerks, considerate of each other. Also, fireboat showing off=me acting about four years old with simple happiness.
We had a fantastic view of the air show, getting constant close flyovers. This was exciting, and I probably missed some of the show trying to get good photos, but I got some good shots so I think it was worth it. They did all the sort of death defying loop-de-loops you expect from the Blue Angels, but I think the flyovers were my favorite part.
There is something alarming about seeing airplanes so close to the cityscape.
The air show lasted several hours, with leisurely breaks in between. People on other boats were swimming and climbing around like the boats were jungle gyms.
I don’t expect I’ll have the opportunity to go sailing all that often, and I’m not sure I’d enjoy it as much if it got “exciting.” I wouldn’t have missed this weekend though.
On a totally unrelated note, I’ll be working on the blog design for the next few days (read: weeks) so the layout may be a bit… broken for a while. I know there’s a way to work on wordpress blogs without disturbing the online site, but I haven’t figured out how, so please just forgive me for any annoyances.
Current layout:
Eventual layout (I hope):
The Other Cathedral
Matt and I made sure to get to the National Cathedral when we were in DC this May.
I’ve been there before, when I was twelve on a school trip in middle school.
Actually I based a lot of my suggestions of sights we should see in DC on things I’d seen while on that middle school trip. I think we were there for a week, and we saw far more than I could have retained. I guessed however, that anything which DID stick in my memory from that trip was probably worth seeing. After all, most 12 year olds are more interested in hanging out with friends than seeing national monuments.
Probably the most memorable images from that first trip were our tours of the cathedrals in Washington DC. I thought there were several, now I’m not sure how many we went to see. Definitely more than just the National Cathedral.
Matt and my mom and I went to the National Cathedral first, because that was the only cathedral we could find any information on.
In a way, we picked a bad day. We got there at about noon on a day where tours were canceled until one. The reason for this was interesting: there was a graduation in progress.
The National Cathedral has two high schools associated with it– a boy’s school and a girl’s school. On the day we visited, the girl’s school was having their graduation mass. I don’t know if they call it mass at the National Cathedral, which is (I think) Episcopalian. I went to a Catholic school and we called it mass. It made me think of all the small prayer services and holiday masses, and I wondered whether they had them all in the cathedral, vast and beautiful.
It must have been an amazing place to have a graduation. We stood and back and waited until it was done. There couldn’t have been more than fifty girls, so the whole thing seemed rather quiet, and more relaxed than I would have expected for the setting. It was lovely. The architecture of the cathedral makes it a fascinating setting for any service, or just to walk through.
They have continual tours, and though we waited until one for the first tour to begin, we ended up wandering without it, which I think was more enjoyable, if less informative.
We got a vantage point that I never saw on my first tour, because the upstairs floor would be too cramped to bring a large group. I remember being a bit disappointed in the cathedral as a 12 year old, because I’d wanted to see the gargoyles and grotesques, but couldn’t see any close enough to really see them. From the upstairs observatory we could see much better, not to mention a great view of the surrounding area. There’s no doubt that the National Cathedral is awe inspiring. An exhibit on the main floor told us that it took almost a hundred years (83 actually) to build. I didn’t realize when I visited in 1993, construction had only just finished three years ago.
What I really remembered from my first trip was that while the National Cathedral was the stone worked gothic arches that you envision when you hear the word “cathedral,” it wasn’t the one that struck me as most beautiful.
None of the local advisors seemed to know what I was talking about when I mentioned another cathedral, a place full of mosaics and side chapels. For some reason it took us half the week to find the Cathedral of St. Matthew.
St Matthew’s is a Catholic cathedral, and like many Catholic buildings walks the line between beautiful and gaudy. Churches lined with gold tend to annoy me, the overt expense reminds me of a time of dishonestly rich cardnals and popes.
St. Matthews manages to avoid that feeling, though I imagine the piles of marble used must have cost every bit as much as gold plating. Everything is so colorful that it’s almost distracting.
Not quite though. Unlike the flashiness of gold, marble is beautiful but understated, expensive but not braggingly so. The cathedral is full of skillful beauty, with marbled alters tucked away in side corners, and mosaics lined up on the walls like paneling. I could have looked at the art of this cathedral for hours, but Matt and I decided we’d better make it quick instead.
Unlike the National Cathedral, St. Matthews is not so orderly a tourist attraction. I imagine they give tours (I went on one when I was 12) but when we walked in, the building was silent with worshipers. We tiptoed around the perimeter, trying not to disturb anyone. At one point my camera flashed (it turns it back on every time the camera restarts) but I mostly covered it.
I’m sort of conflicted over whether this building should be more of a tourist attraction. On one hand, it’s an amazing sight. I suppose construction probably didn’t take 83 years, and the type of beauty is completely different from the majestic depth of the National Cathedral. Spanish rather than French maybe. The difference I see is that the National Cathedral is a coherent masterpiece, while St. Matthew’s is a gallery of brilliant mosaics. It’s not that they clash, it’s just that they are meant to be seen one at a time, up close. In prayer I suppose, though as a non-believer, I’ll have to appreciate it for artistic value alone.
It seems a shame that more people don’t know about St. Matthews, but on the other hand, part of the beauty may well be it’s quiet. So nice to walk in and see people meditating, praying, thinking, believing, instead of chatting and taking photos. I think they try at the National Cathedral to retain a sense of holiness, they remind you to please be respectful and speak in lowered voices, but they tell you in a tour-guide yell, so it’s hard to take it seriously.
St. Matthew’s is a church first and foremost. I love it because it’s beautiful, but I’m not sure it would be quite so beautiful if it weren’t so respectfully hushed.
The two cathedrals can’t be fairly contrasted. Stone work vs. marble. Architecture vs. mosaics.
One area where you ought to be able to make a straight comparison are the stained glass windows.
In the National Cathedral, each window is different, with a separate burst of color and composition. Oddly, in St. Matthew’s, where each nook and cranny is individually crafted, the windows are very nearly identical. The windows in St. Matthews seem to be made of impossibly thin marble pieces (either that or painted glass to look like impossibly thin marble pieces). The variety of windows in the National Cathedral is breathtaking, but I couldn’t pick a winner between the two.
I’m glad I saw both. For the National Cathedral I’d say it’s worth taking out an hour or more. At St. Matthew’s we felt disruptive, and left after 20 minutes, which was enough to see everything since the space is so much smaller. I won’t claim St. Matthew’s is prettier, or more impressive than the National Cathedral, but I am surprised that one is almost unknown to tourists while the other is a visitor staple.
April Camping
My favorite season to go camping is fall. Summer tents get very hot, spring can be tick/mosquito heavy. Bugs aside, spring camping is a close second, assuming you’re the type that enjoys being outdoors. If you define nature as lawn care, preferably done by someone else, camping would obviously be the furthest thing from relaxing or enjoyable, so if you are one of those, you may want to leave my blog before the nature-y pictures make you itchy.
We decided to go on a camping trip for my brother’s birthday this year, but this presented a couple problems. The choice was made only a week and a half ahead of time, and though it was easy to reserve a site (weirdly, not many people want to go camping a few days after snow) it wasn’t enough time for people with jobs to prepare the time. Also, while it was a beautiful weekend in spite of the snow earlier that week, it was a beautiful APRIL weekend, a bit colder than any of us were really equipped for.
So we decided on a day camping trip instead. The woods in spring are still brown, with shocking bursts of green popping up from beneath the dead.
We started the day with a hike. We pretty much had the trails to ourselves; I think there were maybe 5 other groups on the whole site. We went to Findley, because it’s relatively close, and a decent park for the distance. Partway through our hike, Matt, Jack and Kim apparently had to pause and pose for a Jay Crew Catalog (above).
I am not a power hiker. Amy and I kept trading places at the back, because we were the ones with cameras. The thing I love about hiking is it gives you the chance to really look at things. I consider myself an artist, and that’s supposed to mean I’m observant, that I look at the world through some special filter. In truth I spend much of my time in day dreams, and often don’t look at the concrete world at all. I have to remind myself to look closely, to see beauty. I think that’s why I like taking pictures. Simply having a camera hanging around my neck forces me to notice things, to see how fascinating something as simple as dirt can be, the intricate patterns made by tree branches.
The best parks have some kind of water feature. Findley has a lake, and a dam, which is for some reason more fascinating than the lake.
Maybe it’s the way the man made elements intersect nature, the industrial concrete against the lines of the trees. I’m not sure it would be so striking with the trees fully greened. I like the starkness.
But then I’ve always been a huge fan of visual contrasts between life and death. Structure and disorder. I also find myself concentrating on the simple shapes, and lines, almost to the point that I hardly see what I’m actually looking at. Not “can’t see the forest for the trees,” I can’t see the trees for the lines.
This only comes in waves however, so I do still get a chance to enjoy the nature walk. It was crisp and sunny, I’m glad I dressed warm, in a long sleeved t-shirt and fleece jacket. It’s easy to either over or underestimate the temperature on a early spring hike. It looks sunny so you think it’s warm and you freeze, or you remember it’s actually pretty cold, and end up sweating from the exercise.
I stole this photo idea from Amy. I waited until she moved into frame and all five of them were well down the trail. My friends eventually got used to me lagging behind.
Whenever you go camping or hiking, it’s a good idea to take along a pair of extra shoes and socks (if you’re going multi-day camping, MORE than one pair of extra socks). Especially if at the end of the hike you come to a river between you and your campsite. You find a log bridge. Ignoring common sense, you start tentatively to cross it. It’s pretty sturdy, so you walk more confidently, and as you get to the end, Jack says, look out, it’s slippery there. Just one more step before you jump onto the ground. Like I said, extra socks.
We sort of overestimated one day’s food, but we ate more of it than could be reasonably expected. It would be nice to claim that we earned it, burning off the calories on our rigorous hike, but since I was the one wandering at the end, taking pictures of interesting tree bark, I wont even try.
No camping trip is complete without cheesy-injected goodness (pork franks with cheddar). We also brought along food for foil wraps, the holy grail of camping food. Most people probably know what a foil wrap is already, take random roasting veggies (potatoes, onions and carrots are the best staples), some meat or not as you prefer (steak works best, but I don’t eat beef so I used pork, which is a little less tricky than chicken) wrap it up in thick foil, and stick it on the embers (not fire) for 30-40 minutes. Salt, seasoning, herbs, and olive oil can all be a nice addition, but it tastes good without.
Jack and Kim didn’t really believe us about the foil wraps. Kim’s surprise when she tasted the contents was worth the 40 minute wait.
For dessert we had apple crumbly things. Again with foil, a bunch of oatmeal at the bottom, apples, brown sugar, cinnamon, and lots of butter. It’s got fruit in it, so it must be healthy.
It was hard to see by the time we got to the foil wraps, and it was extremely cold even a few steps away from the fire. We had a good fire going though, which kept at least one half of us nice and toasty. I was actually not as cold on this trip as I have been on some others. Maybe because I expected this one to be cold, and dressed warmer than I usually would.
Day camping isn’t quite the same as a weekend long trip (or week long trip if there’s time) but it was surprisingly relaxing. It’s not something that would occur to me most of the time, and now I hope it will. Sometimes a full out camping trip is just impossible, but a lot of that time, fitting in a day, or a half day is way more doable. And definitely worth it.
As Promised
Nothing hugely amazing, but I need to get back into the habit of sketching wherever I happen to be.
The drummers were great fun to watch, much more active than I captured in my drawing.
A couple little girls started dancing nearby, very cute.
Chicago Coffee
I meant to write this post after our last trip to Chicago, then I forgot all about it. Fortunately, when Matt and I went back to Chicago last week (ok, two weeks ago?) and I remembered again.
We found this funky coffee shop somewhere near Evensville. In terms of design elements, the main thing that caught my attention was the use of coffee mugs: they had an entire segment of wall pegged with non-matching mugs. 
There were a few pretty ones I guess, but most were nothing special. They weren’t all that different from a collection you might expect to find in a less organized home cubbord. Some of them were pretty dated, some were downright ugly, though not ugly enough to be really special, if you know what I mean. The total effect was interesting. The fact that they didn’t match just made the collection more impressive, it looked fun and eclectic, and really matched the feel of the coffee house. Also, eco-friendly– using obviously recycled mugs instead of buying new ones or using cardboard cups– which is nice.
Another feature I liked was a more common coffee shop element, a collection of for-sale artwork hanging on the walls. This is a great, probably free (or even profit making) way to decorate a coffee shop that also supports local artists (I assume local) which is fantastic. 
I love to see businesses helping each other, realizing that it’s possible for more than one party to profit at once; not everything is competition.
I’m not sure whether it’s a common occurrence, but the night we were there, a drum circle was practicing/preforming. When they started out I thought I was going to have to leave, the rhythm wasn’t all that, well, rhythmic, and it was unbearably loud. Pretty quickly though I got used to the noise level and, more importantly, the drummers warmed up, and pretty soon I was really enjoying it.
While I was there I did some sketching:
Edit: Sketches added in later post.
A Pause
Well, we’re on the way to Michigan. Or Dayton. I’m really not sure at this point.
The plus side is that we’ll be back home on the weekend, and then in town for at least two weeks. With any luck, traveling will even out after that. Matt and I are both worn out.
I had my thesis defense yesterday, and I passed (*phew!*) so I will receive my MFA in May. My novel still needs probably one good overhaul, then I’ll be ready to start looking for publishers. I’d also like to get a few good chapter illustrations to send off with the manuscript.
My mind kept slipping to Sheila during and after the defense, which made the day a little bitter-sweet… but mostly sweet. I wish I’d emailed her in October when I finished the first draft, I wish I’d sent her a card, and most of all, I wish I’d invited her to my wedding even though I didn’t think she’d be able to go. But I know she’d be happy for me today, and I know she was pleased with what I was writing back at the start. I felt her triumph as my thesis comittee discussed the success of my most difficul character: the one Sheila insisted I get right.
I am starting to get myself together in terms of goals. In addition to polishing the novel, right now I’m concentrating on updating my art portfolio so I can start sending out samples. My technique has improved since I graduated from ND, and I think at my current level, I have a reasonable chance of getting work. I’d also like to start revising some of my old short stories, which I haven’t so much as glanced at in 2 years, or even *gasp* write new ones. If all goes according to plan, I can get myself back into a reasonable work schedule. At home.
For now, stuck in the car, I’ll leave you with a photo. I bet you’re sick of pictures of the road, so here’s one of some crabs:
Smoocon Wrap Up
Last weekend I went to a hacker convention in Washington DC. I am not a hacker.
When I first met Matt he described his job as: “computer ninja.” He does everything from hacking wireless systems to physically breaking into buildings, and he does it legally, for money! He goes to hacker conventions a few times a year, often I’ll tag along because even though I only understand about a quarter of what they’re talking about, the people are interesting and the more theoretical talks are fascinating. Last year when he went to Shmoocon I went along for the ride, but didn’t got to the convention. The hotel is in a super safe part of DC and there’s a ton to do in the city by myself. Last year I meant to walk down to Dupont Circle and be all touristy, but mostly ended up hanging out at the zoo. I love zoos.
The talks last year sounded interesting enough that I wished I’d been able to attend some of them, and this year, Matt ended up giving one of the talks, so hacker or not, going to Shmoocon was a must. Shmoo tickets are generally a little pricey, not to mention close to impossible to get, to justify buying one for someone who won’t really understand what’s going on (aka: me). Fortunately Matt had already purchased his ticket when he found out he was speaking, so when he got his comp for speaking, we had an extra.
I talk about being a technical idiot, but the truth is I generally understand enough to at least keep my head above water. I’m not a hacker, but I am a weirdo, so I fit in pretty well. The keynote was given by an academic named Matt Blaze (not to be confused with my husband, Matt Neely), talking about what a horrible idea wire tapping is. Specificly, he pointed out that the ethical issues were completely irrelevant because the technical problems were so horrendous that something horrible is (and has) bound to happen. The talk pointed out several specific issues that I’d never considered, all of which go along with my usual conception of a disjointed, bullheaded government. I think that’s not a reflection on any particular administration, it’s just bureaucracy. He’s a good speaker and it was an encouraging way to start the day.
That evening Matt (my Matt), as part of Security Justice (a local security podcast) was part of a joint podcast with several other security podcasters. It was interesting to watch the process but I think it could have gone better. There were about fifty spectators or so, and we were repeatedly told, at the beginning, to keep silent, or we’d ruin the podcast. So we watched in silence (more or less) to recording that we unfortunately couldn’t hear. There were no speakers set up, or anyway way for us to have a decent idea what was going on. Although the podcasters were all speaking into microphones for the recording, we could hear only their normal, un-amplified voices. Often or not, that wasn’t enough. They gave out prizes throughout, and while I suppose that was cool for the people who got prizes, it sort of distracted from the actual podcast. Lastly, I think since they were recording in front of an audience, it would have been nice if they’d had some way for the audience to participate in the discussion (what little we could hear of it), beyond clowning for prizes. It was still interesting, and I think the actual podcast should be decent, I just thought there was a lot of room for improvement.
Matt gave his talk at ten the next morning. He ROCKED. I’m honestly not just saying that because he’s my husband, his talk was great, even though I’ve heard most of it in bits and pieces before.
The talk was on using radio equipment to break into a client site. He talked about hearing guard information and tapping into headsets to hear valuable information. I think this is pretty cool: he’s using what most people consider antiquated equipment. Radios are popular among computer geeks because they’re geeks, not because most of them actually consider them useful. He also had some awesome stories of times he’d actually used these techniques, which made it that much better. Because radios are pretty much ignored however, Matt presented a fairly new direction of attack. Considering the packed room and positive feedback he’s getting, I think I’m not the only one who was impressed.
After Matt’s talk I went to a martial arts demo in the hallway. It’s stretching parameters to make this fit in a hacker convention, but I think it qualifies simply by being “cool.” I found the demo interesting, not half because 70 percent of the attendants had some kind of experience with martial arts already. It was entertaining to listen to the conversations after of: “no, you should do it this way,” and “why did you do this? doesn’t this work better?” I myself have done several years of martial arts, but am by no means an expert, so I mostly kept my mouth shut (a rarity I assure you) and watched the show.
I avoided what seemed to be the super technical hacking talks. I could care less about new hacking tools, and I wouldn’t understand the more defensive geared talks. Instead I went to a talk on “Hacking the Genome.” The speaker was good, I enjoyed the first half of the talk immensely. I liked the idea of comparing gene biology to cryptography, a juxtaposition that ought to be obvious I suppose, but I’d never considered it. About halfway through the talk got to be a bit too technical for me, but I had enough to think about to keep myself entertained.
There was a great talk given by lawyer Tyler Pitchford on the laws surrounding the 4th amendment (he also talked briefly about the 5th amendment). This was right up my alley: my iphone has the constitution app installed, and before that I carried around a pocket constitution. I get very annoyed when people talk about their “constitutional right” to do things that aren’t actually in the constitution, so I keep it handy so I can make them look stupid (because I’m that kind of person).
This talk was all about when and what police can search on your computer. He used case studies to show different examples. The one I remember best is: the police are searching for a robber in your neighborhood and ask for permission to search your apartment. You give it, and while they’re searching they notice a file on your screen called: “My illegal hacking files.” The open the file, discover that it’s only porn, but on searching the rest of your computer, find several scary illegal hacker files on other parts of your computer. As I understood it, anything in the initial file would be admissible in court because it was in “plain sight” while the files found under further searching would not, because they were not covered in the scope of permission you granted them. Lots of stuff like that, a discussion on whether passwords are protected by the fifth amendment, and a heavy concentration on border laws.
The last talk of the day, and my favorite (aside from Matt) wasn’t hacker related at all. It was “Storming the Ivy Tower,” by Sandy Clark (or “Mouse”). This talk was all about how hackers can use their skills (both technical and social engineering) to get into school (undergrad or grad). The only criticism I have is that I think Mouse may have misjudged her audience– I may be mistaken but I don’t think there were many high schoolers in the audience, and she spent about twenty minutes talking about how to get into college from high school. I still found it interesting since I’ll have kids someday, and, since academia moves at a glacial pace (I should know) I doubt much will have changed in twenty years in terms of admissions. Nobody else seemed to be bored by it, so I don’t think it’s a big deal.
The rest of the talk was probably more relevant to Matt than me. It was all about how to convert real life experience to academic credit, how to change hacker, convention style talks and papers (like Matt gives) into peer reviewed academic papers, how to find the right program, etc. It was geared specifically at people looking into computer science degrees, but much of it could easily have applied to other areas. She included her own academic history which was interesting and encouraging.
Aside from all the talks, Shmoocon is mainly an excuse for hackers to get together and go wild in their geeky, low alcohol tolerance, ways. Matt actually wore a kilt (from Utilikilt in Seattle) the whole weekend, which made it easy for people to pick him out. And yes, he was wearing it “regimental style.”
Shmoocon is fun and relaxing, even for me, not knowing much about hacking. I did skip the second day of talks, not understanding any of the titles I guessed I wouldn’t understand the content either, so I got my National Zoo fix. I even managed to make it back in time for closing remarks, which included lots of “Shmooballs” thrown at the speakers, prizes (I snagged a book, the Manga Guide to Statistics???) and general silliness. It was a good weekend.