Note to any Republicans reading my blog:

House Majority Leader Tom Delay's indictment isn't for a blowjob. • 11:00 AM 0 comments

It's a simple change, and I should have made it days ago, when the page was first brought to my attention.

The change is simply an entry in the HOSTS file on a computer that can redirect a webpage (technically, a domain name) to another IP address.

I made this simple change on the four computers I use most, and, voila! that web page is now hidden from me. I no longer have to be reminded of its existence.

Now I just have to filter out email from certain specific addresses. Something my friends have been telling me to do for a much longer time.

I don't exactly hate it when my friends are right, but I do tend to stubbornly cling to my old ideas sometimes way longer than I should. • 12:17 PM 1 comments

Arrested Development is the funniest show on the teevee.

Next week Scott Baio guest stars as lawyer Bob Loblaw.

G'head. Say the character's name out loud without bursting out in laughter.

Bob Loblaw. Bob Loblaw.

As Michael says on the show, "We're not here to talk nonsense to Bob Loblaw." • 8:30 PM 1 comments

I went running tonight, for the first time in my new Asics, around the waterfront. I took last week off from running because my heel had been really hurting me. I hoped that taking a week off from high-impact running (I still went to the gym and biked and did the elliptical trainer and walked) it would give my foot and tendons a chance to heal. And I think it was a wise decision. Prior to the past two weeks, I had been training hard (for me), putting in more miles per week than I have ever done, and doing hills and speed work every single week. And it mostly paid off, but this old boy needed a small break after that to recharge.

But, damn, I miss running. It makes such a huge difference in my mental outlook. I and my friends can tell when I haven't been running. I'm much more passive and on edge. Even working up a huge sweat on the stationary bike doesn't do the same for me that a run in the fresh air does.

The tendons in the sole of my foot, and along the inside of my ankle, still hurt a bit from about the half-mile mark to the mile mark, and a little bit after that, but for the rest of the run (about 3 miles) I felt fine. I will see how they feel in the morning, which has been when they hurt the worst.

I was also not pushing the pace; I ran just fast enough that I could still whistle or sing if I wanted to, or talk. In fact, I said hello to several other runners and bikers. If I had had a running companion I could have kept up a conversation. The weather was perfect; we're having a nice warm break before the fall starts to set in. It was just warm enough to where I felt good in shorts and short-sleeved shirt.

The new shoes feel good, but two negatives stood out. They're not major things but I wanted to make a note of them. First, I have to work out the lacing because the left shoe was too tight across the top of my foot. That's just a matter of playing with it, though; it took me a couple of runs before I got my Nike Structure Triax laces set right, for example. Second, though, and a bit more important, is perhaps related to the fact that they have a gel insole; there was just a bit too much side to side motion of my foot, and this was on concrete and asphalt and metal gratings, not grass or gravel. It made me feel just a little bit unstable in them. Maybe once I get the lacing set up right, and the shoes get broken in, that feeling will go away. I will watch for that.

But, other than that, it felt so damned good to be out and running. I'm blessed (in a totally secular non-supernatural way) to have found my health at this seeming late stage of my life. I'm thankful for being able to move and enjoy myself in a way that made no sense to Brian the Younger. Silly boy. What on earth was he thinking?

For the rest of the week I think I'm just going to play it by ear, and aim for 20 or so miles total. What I don't get to during the week I'll just pile onto a long run on the weekend. Next week I'll come up with a couple of goals, like speed work or something. I have a couple of fall races to look forward to, but I'm not "in training" for anything serious for the winter. • 7:17 PM 0 comments

This is rich, oh, yes, this is the best. In terms of Schadenfreude, at any rate.

The first and only time that the US Government has made a plea for donations from private citizens to be used for foreign aid, in order to rebuild Iraq (y'know, after the US destroyed it; remember the "Pottery Barn" rule? You broke it, you bought it?) has netted a grand total of around $600.

President Bush has been spending billions of dollars in his deadly Iraqi adventure, not to mention the billions simply lost and unaccounted for, not to mention the lives thrown away so that Iraq can become an Islamic theocracy, not to mention the political and diplomatic capital the US has lost due to this unilateral war.

And last month, he gave the war supporters a chance to put their money where their mouths were, and they stepped up to the plate and put together enough to purchase a single Mac mini - but no monitor, keyboard or mouse to go with it. Wonderful.

So all you right-wing bloggers out there, trumpeting the supposed support that Americans have for this Iraqi folly, just shut the fuck up. $600? That's the best you can do? • 6:22 AM 0 comments

A dream I had:

Everyone needs a place to live. I had spent a long time wandering around, not having any particular spot to call my own. One day, shuffling to the bus, I found what seemed to be a nice suburban house, apparently available.

I checked the house out, but I wasn't cautious enough. I ignored small signs of damage; an electrical outlet that didn't work, for instance. I moved the couch to cover up a black mark on the wall. I learned not to enter one room that emitted a strange brackish odor.

And, all too quickly, I moved in. But the house was not just damaged, but dangerous, unsafe. The owner lied about what was going on. I felt a false sense of safety and warmth. I added small touches that made it seem as though the house was mine, in spite of my renting. A picture here, a coat of paint there. Replaced a ratty chair with a new cool chair. I fooled myself into thinking that the changes I made were somehow repairs.

Small accidents sometimes caused me to reconsider living there. But I always moved back in. I figured I could repair it.

But, again, the owner of the property misled me, in ways subtle and overt, and undermined my efforts at repair. Threw parties there when I wasn't around and to which I was not invited.

Finally, one night, I awoke - the house was on fire. Too much damage, ignored for too long, finally erupted. I was surrounded by roaring flames, could feel the heat on my face and hands.

I had to get out... but I had invested so much in repair and convincing myself (aided by the lies of the owner) that at first I couldn't leave, and even when I did, I kept trying to go back in. Friends and the firefighters warned me, even tried to physically prevent me, but I returned, hoping to save something, anything, from the flames.

The memory of the safe, comfortable home, a home I thought I could fix, going up in smoke and angry red fire, still haunts me. I couldn't save anything from the inferno. Nothing but me and the clothes on my back.

When they finally dragged me out, I was burned. The scars weren't too bad, but because of my complicity in getting them, I blamed myself harshly.

The scars healed slowly, slower than I would have liked. Again, I had no home, no place of safety. When I would notice a new place for rent, all I could see was the possibility that this place, too, harbored hidden dangers. My wounds reminded me of what I had tried, and what I had lost, and what I had given away cheaply.

And yet, lurking in the back of my mind was the thought that if I had an opportunity to rebuild that original house, I would take it, even knowing that the property owner lied, cheated and misled me, I would consider helping to clear the lot and put up a new, safer structure. Friends tried to point out that, if I'm going to rebuild, surely I could find better locations and better business partners, someone who wouldn't betray me and my efforts.

Just as I reached the point where I would consider rebuilding somewhere else, and had gone on some weekend jaunts looking for new lots or properties, I recieved a startling notice. A phone call from the old property owner, ranting about some imagined slight that I had supposedly done to the place. I protested, surprised at this re-kindling of our past battles, but the owner didn't acknowledge my comments, and hung up.

My curiosity got the better of me. I took a trip to visit the old lot. I wanted to see what had been done with it. I was motivated by the feelings of nostalgia.

What I found was worse than I imagined. The property owner had rebuilt, all right, but had not cleared away the debris from the fire. The new structure rose from the ground where burnt timbers and ashes still lay, a scorched lawn, an empty hulk of a tree.

And worse than that, the new property was a facade, just a false front hiding the fire-damaged skeleton of the old house. As I peered at it from the street, I could just make out bits and pieces of the place that once held such warm and safe memories. A shard of plaster with my paint still showing. A cushion from the chair I once sat in. I was stricken with grief and pain; these were my memories, swept aside and left in place at the same time. These scraps were the things that I had burned myself trying to recover.

My wounds ached, and for a moment it seemed that I would go back into that pile of debris to once again attempt to recover something of positive value from the experience. But then I remembered awakening to flames, and the searing of my flesh, and I realized that I already had everything I needed from that old house.

Time to walk away. Hopefully, this time, for good. • 10:41 AM 0 comments

Why on earth would anyone need a spyware program for a Macintosh?

This page is especially telling. As of the time of this post, it reads:

"Coming soon is a complete list of spyware for the Macintosh that MacScan detects."

...with nothing else on the page. • 9:06 AM 0 comments

In spite of all the bad thoughts and words I've had for Texas and Texans over the years...

I hope that everyone in Rita's path is getting out of that path, and is safe and prepared.

Well, except for a certain "ranch" in Crawford... why, oh, why, isn't the President taking a vacation this weekend? • 9:27 PM 0 comments

There's a new restaurant near where I work. It serves upscale hot dogs, called "Dazzle Dogs". I've kinda wanted to try it out, see if they're as good as "Good Dog, Bad Dog", but just haven't yet. Hot dogs are normally "bleh" but when they have actual meat in them they're not so bad.

Today I walked by there on my break, coming back from Rite-Aid to get a Diet Vanilla Coke, and the lights were off and there were signs on the door that read:

"CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS"

That's, um, a really bad sign to hang on the door of a restaurant. I think a simple "CLOSED" or, if they had to have an explanation, "CLOSED TEMPORARILY" would have sufficed. If they plan on re-opening, they're probably going to see a drop in business.

The owners must be new to this whole "marketing" thing... • 12:05 PM 0 comments

Warning to my non-texting friends.

For the longest time, T-Mobile (my cell phone provider) didn't offer unlimited texting. Top option was 1000 texts/month (for $6.99), not a bad deal but since I'm a text-aholic I tend to go over. In fact, last month I went over to the tune of an extra $48. Owie.

I just checked it out and I'm not sure when they added it but now they offer unlimited messaging... of all kinds; text, IM, email, pictures, video, you name it. And since that only costs $14.99/month, that's still cheaper than what I paid extra last month.

So... get ready for me to go even more text-crazy than I have been. Just sayin'. • 12:49 PM 0 comments

Ahoy, lubbers and bilge rats alike! It be International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

And here be some information on Portland's "Piratecore" culture, from the worthy blog CulturePulp.

Arrr. • 6:47 AM 0 comments

My running shoes are worn out. Runner's World suggests changing your shoes every 300-500 miles, and I know I've put more than 500 miles on my oldest shoes, so it's time for new ones. And since I've been having heel pain for a while, I've been re-thinking my loyalty to Brooks' shoes. I wanted to try some other shoes and see if that helps.

I went to my favorite technical running store, Portland Running Company yesterday. Tried on several shoes, but unfortunately there wasn't a lot of choice, because they didn't have many wide sizes in stock. Bummer. I don't normally wear a wide shoe, but I do in my running shoes. The kind salesperson said he'd special order some of the Brooks' Adrenaline GTS 6 (the update to the shoe I now wear) and was going to have some Asics GT2100's in a wide size sent over from their other location. I said fine.

But, y'know, I really wanted to get some new shoes now.

I went over to Fit Right NW, and explained what I had been wearing and about my heel pain. The kind salesgirl brought out a bunch of different shoes, including the Brooks Adrenaline GTS 5's I'm used to, and we did a comparison. And, in the end, I really liked the Asics GT2100s and the Adidas Supernova. The selection was much better than the Portland Running Company; there was no problem with finding sizes to fit me. I couldn't decide between the two, and, since it's good to have two pairs of shoes and rotate them, I ended up buying them both (the fact that the salesgirl looked like the runner version of Jennifer Love Hewitt had absolutely nothing to do with my purchase decision).

Thinking ahead, if I run 20-25 miles per week, and I alternate my shoes from run to run, I will need to start thinking about replacing them in 6-7 months, or about the time the Shamrock Run rolls around. • 3:51 PM 0 comments

Ran in the Komen Race for the Cure today. They run a co-ed 5K run, a co-ed 1 mile walk, a women's-only 5K run, and a co-ed 5K walk. I ran the co-ed 5K with my nephew, Max, who is 13. Because Max is a new runner, I didn't care much about pace or speed; I just wanted to stick with him. We finished in about 38 minutes. There were so many people! I think there were 25,000 people registered for the race we were in, and I heard later that the co-ed 5K walk had over 43,000 registrants! Wow! It was the largest Komen even on the West Coast.

After our race, Max and I got breakfast at the Hilton downtown; they have an all-you-can-eat buffet that's pretty good. After loading up on bacon and eggs and fruit (mmmmmm...) we went to find my sister. My sister (Max's mom), and her mother-in-law were walking in the co-ed 5K walk. We found them near the start line, and ended up walking the entire route all over again! It was fun, and I'm glad my sister did it, but man is my heel bothering me now. I'm icing it, even as I type...

There were plenty of booths giving away free stuff, and I brought home a container of Pacific soy milk (mmmm... vanilla) and a container of Tazo Chai tea, along with some other doo-dads and gee-gaws. • 12:17 PM 0 comments

Running update:

I've been taking it easy this week, but I've still found time to run. Last night after work I was planning on a 6+ mile run, but it was raining, so I hied myself hence to the gym. Because of the time restrictions on using the treadmills (loosely enforced but still important) I ran 3 miles, took a small water-and-bathroom break, then found another machine and did the remaining 3 miles. I managed to repeat my pace from the Pints to Pasta race, albeit with the help of the break.

(Speaking of which, the official results for that race have been posted. I came in 555 out of 787. Yay! It was a good race.)

I also ran on Wednesday,in my neighborhood, and on Tuesday around the waterfront, 3.5 miles and 3 miles respectively, but didn't keep track of the time. Adding in the Race for the Cure tomorrow, my weekly miles equal 15.6, a nice easy week after training so hard.

Next week I plan on getting back to my 20+ mile weeks, and to add back in my speedwork or hills. I also plan on seeing a doctor about my heel pain, and to get a new pair of shoes. Brooks has updated the Adrenaline model; we'll see if their being bought by Russell has had any impact on their shoes. I intend to try more than just Brooks, though... • 10:46 AM 0 comments

Friday Cat Blogging!

...and here's some more!

Don't forget to check out The Modulator's Friday Ark for more cat, dog, and assorted animal blogging, and if you're reading this on Sunday or later, check out the Carnival of the Cats, which is hosted this week at Watermark! • 6:52 AM 0 comments

I'm at the gym tonight, on the treadmill warming up for a run, and in the next row up and to my left is a tallish blonde in black tank top and black tights, on the elliptical trainer, working pretty hard. Her tank top only partially covers a large word in Gothic lettering tattooed across her back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, and her tights mostly cover another butt-hat tattoo of a red heart with some vines or something.

I'm trying to read the word but it's kinda hard 'cause she's moving and at an angle to me, and it comes to me in a flash. The word is "L O V E R".

Geeze, that sounds familiar, I think... where have I seen that before? The seconds tick by and when several have accumulated they payoff because I realize that I'm looking at Storm Large (minus her Balls) in the flesh.

I try to get a better look at her face but I'm not sure. Her face seems... I don't know... plain. And even though it's difficult to judge height because she's up on the machine, she doesn't really look six foot tall. In heels, sure, but in her New Balance trainers? No.

Of course, I've only seen pictures of her on stage or made up for the stage, which might account for the difference. But honestly, there can't be many tallish blondes with "L O V E R" tattooed across their backs in Portland. It's a small town, you know?

All I know is, I've got an excuse now to talk to her. Wouldn't it be funny if it's not her? I finish warming up, I go stretch out, and then walk by her machine. I stop. "Excuse me..."

"Yeah?" She's all sweaty and her face is puffy from working out. I'm still not sure it's her.

"Are you...?" and I point at her, vaguely. My confidence in her identity is draining away.

She shakes some sweat out of her eyes and looks at me expectantly.

"Are you... Storm?"

She breaks into a big smile and nods. "Yes!" She suddenly seems pleased to be recognized.

"OK." My courage is draining away. "I didn't want to interrupt your workout..."

"It's OK!" Now she seems interested in what I have to say next. I realize that I've got nothin'.

"Uh, I, uh, I recognized you by your tattoos."

"Yeah," she nods and agrees.

I give her a thumb's-up, and, overcome by late-blooming shyness, head outside for my run, leaving her probably perplexed about the abrupt ending to the conversation. • 7:13 PM 0 comments

Don't forget!

Talk Like A Pirate Day is less than a week away! • 8:35 PM 0 comments

Didn't want to think about this right off the bat, but during my race yesterday I kept track of (most of) my mile splits. Here they are (with the split plus elapsed time):

1. 09:44.99 (0:09:44.99)
   
2. 09:38.84 (0:19:23.83)
   
3. Didn't see the 3-mile sign...
   
4. 19:53.20 (0:39:17.03)
   
5. 09:47.12 (0:49:04.15)
   
6. 11:24.63 (1:00:28)
   
7. 1:47:33 (1:02:16)

Up until Mile 5, I managed to keep a 9:48 pace, dammit! I was doing so well. That last full mile killed me... Yeah, I had to stop and walk a bit. Grabbed water at the water station right after the Mile 5 sign, then had to stop as we passed the Marriott... then had to stop again on the long dirt road by the new OHSU buildings that are going up. But dammit, at least I finished strong... • 6:46 AM 0 comments

Unofficial time in the Pints to Pasta: 1:02:16, for a 10:01.2 pace, or about 38 seconds per mile faster than I ran the Run Hit Wonder.

Yay for training! Yay for resting!

The best part is, my heel, that's been bugging me? It didn't hurt at all during the race nor after. Resting really did help!

And I got to drink two beers (Widmer's Oktoberfest seasonal, very good) and stayed for some music. A great race and a good way to end my season. • 10:09 AM 0 comments

Smacky stayed out last night 'til about 2 AM. Woke me up to come in. Not liking this new schedule.

Went back to bed. Got up around 9 AM (yeah, I slept in. Felt great). When I got up again, I made some breakfast, and Smacky was being very affectionate. Climbed up on my shoulders as I shuffled around in the kitchen. While waiting for the water to boil and the bagel to toast, I looked out the back door, Smacky purring and draped across my shoulders and head-butting my cheek. I reached up to scratch his head, and discovered that his collar was gone.

"Smacky, you're not wearing your collar! What happened?"

He just purred and licked my cheek.

He must have lost it last night, because I'm sure he had it yesterday when I went to bed. I'm pretty sure, anyway. I was still half-asleep when I let him in, didn't notice then.

I poked around the apartment, and found his collar, broken, in the yard next door, just on the other side of the fence. Did he break it himself? It was a safety collar, with a stretch-y section that would let him slip out of it if it was caught on something, and the stretchy section was the part that was broken.

Willful kitten! He's not going to be going outside without a collar. But if he keeps breaking them... argh. • 12:49 PM 0 comments

Pictures from my walk around Eastmoreland are posted now.

A couple of my favorites:

• Sunset in the train yard
  
• Sunset, again
  
• Anyone know what these flowers are?
  
• Golf geese

• 6:52 AM 1 comments

Friday Night Cat Blogging!

This week showing off Smacky's fine new collar, along with his extreme napping skills.





...and here's some more!

Don't forget to check out The Modulator's Friday Ark for more cat, dog, and assorted animal blogging, and if you're reading this on Sunday or later, check out the Carnival of the Cats, which is hosted this week at Blog d'Elisson! • 6:48 AM 1 comments

I went for a walk to get away from the news. A long walk. (I'm not running because I'm in my "taper" before the Pints-to-Pasta on Sunday. I'm taking it a bit more seriously than previous races; where, before, I would take a two-day taper, this time I'm following the advice in Runner's World and taking a 4 day taper. We'll see how it goes).

Yeah... so, anyway, the news out of the Gulf Coast and the political situation surrounding it just gets worse and worse. The Bush administration is in full "protect the president's reputation" mode, rather than, y'know, taking care of America. And without the stress relief of a good hard run, I'm finding it harder and harder to maintain my cool.

So I set out, about an hour and a half before sunset, for a walk. I chose my 6.5-mile loop. When I was walking around the Eastmoreland Golf Course, I picked up some stray golf balls. Smacky will get a kick out of them. Walking over Holgate above the Brooklyn Train Yards, I got some good pictures (I'll post those in a bit and link to them; when I do, I'll remove this note).

And, walking back along Milwaukie Blvd., passing in front of the Masonic Lodge, I found that I couldn't escape the news.

Five fat white guys, in button-down short-sleeved shirts and Dockers were standing around in the parking lot. Looked like a meeting had just finished, and they were finishing up a conversation. One of them was making a point, speaking each word loudly and emphatically, a mode I've seen in men of little confidence, using volume instead of reason:

"If you disobey a mandatory order to evacuate, and you die, whose fault is that? It is your own damn fault!"

And the other pasty white fat fucks around him nodded and smiled in agreement, as if this was an entirely reasonable and reality-based thing to say, laughing satisfied chuckles at anyone dense enough to not get out of the way of a hurricane.

I almost said something right then. The words "It's Bush's fault" were on the tip of my tongue. But discretion held me back. I wouldn't have changed anyone's mind, and they obviously wouldn't accept the idea that the Federal government has the resources to actually protect the American people from harm. Certainly, the Bush years have been an accountability-free zone.

But with every step past them I took, my anger boiled more. I saw, in my mind's eye, the infirm and elderly who were stuck in hospitals around the area, unable to leave. I could see the dirt poor people who likely never even heard the "order" to evacuate, the ones who were hoping to ride out the storm because they couldn't afford to miss too many days of work. The ones with kids who had had to make a choice between keeping the car running and buying groceries... or choose between cable TV and groceries, or were waiting for the month-end Social Security check to get their phone service reconnected? What about the authority-averse folk who declined a helicopter ride, because they "couldn't afford a ticket"? For that matter, what about the crackheads who were too brain-addled to make a decent choice? Did they really "deserve to die"?

All these people gathered around me, like ghosts. And the ghostly cohort grew larger.

What about the nurses who stayed behind to assist the hospital patients, the ones who were told that help was on the way?

What about the ones who did as they were told, and gathered at the convention center, only to be locked inside by FEMA officials? Kept waiting in inhuman filth and squalor, with no food, always being promised that buses were coming, but were not allowed to leave? Did they "deserve to die"?

What about the ones who tried to walk across the Mississippi Bridge into predominantly-white Gretna, but were shot at by the Gretna sheriffs and told "the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in their City"? Huh? What about them? If those people died, having been forced to stay... would their deaths be their own fault?

Fuck. I could go on and on. And I could link all of the above, and, I suppose, if anyone challenges me in the comments to this on any of the above, I'll either dig up links or post a correction (I won't just remove the incorrect statements; I realize I'm writing out of anger but I'm still trying to be careful to only post what I can document if need be).

But my point is that there were thousands of people in New Orleans who either tried, or were literally unable to leave, or, worse, may have been in a position where they were either too scared of non-hurricane-caused consequences, or even unaware of the extent of the possible damage, to leave. If any of those folks are dead or die, is it their fault?

If the government (and, I'm not partisan; if the Governor or Mayor made mistakes that cost peoples' lives, they need to be held accountable, too) had resources available and did not use them to both evacuate the area in advance of Katrina, and also incompetently managed those resources to assist and rescue those trapped after the fact, then yes, it's the leaders that should be held responsible.

And since one of the primary functions of government is the protection of it's citizens, that failure would be the single largest possible.

But, y'know, a bunch of middle-aged porkers, after snorting up their dinner in the comfort of an air-conditioned hall, just couldn't see that as they grunted and oinked before crawling in to their shiny SUVs to drive the half-mile home...

I have never taken a punch at someone in my life. But I felt like doing so tonight. I had gotten about a half-block away, when the rage reached it's boil-over point. I walked back.

Perhaps lucky for both of us, the doughy sidewalk pundit was no longer around. Maybe he felt a chill as the hair on the back of his neck rose, warning him that he had attracted the attention of a conscience?

Nahhh. Impossible. That pasty fuck had no empathy. • 8:55 PM 1 comments

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Believe me, I have things to say. I just can't seem to sort them out into blog-sized bits.

The post-Katrina national disgrace continues. I need to write about all that's happened, if only to help me sort it out in my own mind, but every time I try to outline my thoughts, I just get so freakin' angry and disgusted and sad at all the ugliness that has been revealed... well, maybe soon I can remain calm enough to get it off my chest.

In positive news, a bit closer to home, Smacky has now become an indoor/outdoor cat, mainly because he took it on himself to chew through my living room window screen last week. Putz. I caved in, bought him a collar and hung his tags on it (he did not like that at first, until he realized that I was not going to let him roam around outside without some kind of identification) and now he's learning new tricks.

His first trick was meowing right outside my bedroom window at 3 AM, wanting back inside. How did he know it was my bedroom window? Did he bug other folks in my area? Or could he tell by the smell and sounds that it was home? At any rate, the first morning he did that, I ended up staying up and going for an early morning run. After a couple of nights staying out, coming back in the morning, he's kinda/sorta settled into only going out for the evening and coming back before I go to bed, and sleeping inside. Often but not always.

But his latest trick is to meow to go out the front door... and then, five or ten minutes later, meow to come back in the back door. Repeat a couple of times, until I get stubborn and stop letting him out, at which point he runs around crazy until I let him out again. Double-putz.

The best part is that, behavior-wise, he's become a much better cat. He's stopped biting and scratching me, he plays only with his toys, he tends to sleep in the afternoon when I'm home. In fact, he's sleeping in my lap as I type this. He's very affectionate when I get home, jumping up on my shoulders and riding around on me, rubbing his head on my cheek, and generally acting cute as he should be. I gather that he's taking his aggressions out on stuff outside, chasing birds and squirrels and maybe the dogs in the neighborhood, and then coming home for food and attention. And I'm OK with that. I won't be surprised if I wake up some morning and he's caught a mouse or small bird and left it for me as a gift. I think he'd make an awesome mouser (if my scarred arms, hands and feet are any testament).

I still worry about him being outside, especially in my area, but since he seems happy with it, and has demonstrated that he will come back on a regular basis, and is more affectionate when he's here, I can live with it. Wow. They grow up so fast, don't they?

Got some great pictures for tomorrow, showing off his snappy new collar and generally acting cute. Tune in Friday morning for the regular catblogging. • 5:04 PM 0 comments

Mmmm... Cake.

Saw Cake at the Crystal Ballroom last night. Cake is one of my all-time favorite bands (I'm a blogger, I can use superlatives like that) and I've been waiting to see them live for a long time. Last time they were in Portland, tickets could only be had by calling in to the local "alternative" radio station, so, yeah, I was out of luck. I may have emailed the band and told them that they'd better get their asses back to Portland so that fans who don't have the spare time to sit around calling a local radio station to snag tickets to see them, could see them.

The opening act was two guys calling themselves The Punk Group (warning: site requires Flash Ugh). Good, local, sounded kinda like Devo. In fact, they had distinctive black t-shirts, black hats, black wristbands and white sunglasses, giving them the near-conformity of look that Devo had. Their lyrics were hilarious.

Cake, on the other hand, don't have a conformity of anything. They were late to the stage, where a crowded, sweaty house was resorting to chanting "We want Cake! We want Cake!" and even booing after a bit when they still didn't show. Finally the band took the stage at 10:25. But once they were up on stage, all previous asshattery was forgotten.

Later, after a couple of songs, McCrea said, "Cake isn't very professional in at least one way..." to which I shouted (but probably wasn't heard) "Yeah! You were late!" but it turned out that he was referring to their lack of a set list. "It makes us feel like a damned jukebox," he said, and the crowd started shouting out requests. "Don't tell us what to do!" he admonished the audience. "We play what we feel like!" To which the fans responded with a cheer. Anyone who likes Cake likes every single song so anything they felt like playing was met with cheers.

The lead singer, John McCrea, struck me with an odd presence on stage. Distracted, distant... the more I think about it, much like the band's music, which is also ironic and detatched.

I danced. Wow. I didn't care who saw me. I danced, I pogoed, I sang along, I participated in the audience-participation sections, like the men vs. women singing on "No Phone" from their new album "Pressure Chief". I had a great time.

Highlight of Cake's set was John McCrea, lead singer, dedicating the following song to "FEMA, New Orleans, and George W. Bush", giving a new twist to the lyrics:

You part the waters,
The same ones that I’m drowning in.
You lead your casual slaughters,
And I’m the one who helps you win.

You’ve got your grand piano.
You don’t even play piano.
I’m the one who plays piano.
You don’t even play piano.

You part the waters,
The same ones that I’m thirsty for.
You invite your friends to tea,
But when it’s me you lock the door.
You’ve got your credit cards,
And you thank your lucky stars.
But don’t forget the ones who foot the bill.

You’ve got your grand piano.
And you don’t even play piano.
I’m the one who plays piano.
You don’t even play piano,
But you part the waters.

Mr. McCrea also had a rant about not being able to buy beer on a Sunday in South Bend, Indianapolis, Indiana (yes, he made the mistake of calling the state "Indianapolis") and turned it into a plea for further separation of church and state, and bemoaned the demise of 3/4 rhythm in popular music, which turned into an introduction to "Mexico".

If I find a full set list for the show, I'll post it. Nothing's shown up yet on the internets (but I'm sure it's out there). • 6:32 AM 0 comments

Oh, yeah, running schedule for this week. Um... OK, here:

• Monday: 3.5 miles training (no timing)
  
• Tuesday: Elliptical trainer intervals 5 miles total.
  
• Wednesday: Rest day.
  
• Thursday: 4 miles - run at race pace
  
• Friday: Rest day
  
• Saturday: Rest day
  
• Sunday: Pints to Pasta 10K
  

• 10:08 AM 0 comments

After my seven miles yesterday, I woke up this morning with a sore left ankle and my normally-sore right heel. Probably not good. Tried my stretches, walked up to the Skybox to get breakfast, both were still sore. Probably should have iced them both but didn't.

The plan called for hills today, as part of my speedwork. Finished breakfast around 10 AM, figured I'd go home and clean up the house a bit, then head out for a run around noon, come back and find a large delicious lunch close by.

I got caught up in the cleaning, though; took my bottles back to the store for the deposit, bundled up my newspaper for recycling, vacuumed, did the dishes that were stacked up in the sink, laundry, rolled up my loose change. The whole shebang. Even gave Smacky his flea treatment.

So there it was, nearly 3 PM, and I hadn't had any lunch and still hadn't run. I was getting hungry. Breakfast was big but not that big, to tide me over for 5 hours plus a grueling hill workout.

...but I decided it would have to do. I stuck with my plan. I may come to regret it later but for now it's behind me. I did make one small concession; I still did eight times up the hill and jogged back down, but I did not aim for 5-10 seconds better each time. I only pushed myself to go a little bit faster each time. As long as the numbers went down, I was OK. And they did almost each time, although I was pretty wiped out by the last time and forgot to time myself.

The best part was coming home and finding this month's Runner's World in my mailbox. Perfect timing.

Total miles today: 6.8
Total miles for the week: 26.55

...um, wow. Didn't realize I'd ran that much this week. Next week I'll taper off the end of the week and then run the 10K on fresh legs. Yay. • 5:58 PM 0 comments

Running helps me deal with the sadness and frustration of the twin American disasters. The first, Hurricane Katrina, was natural in cause. The second, ongoing tragedy, however, is the government preparation and response to the first one.

Take note, kids: Republicans. Can't. Govern. Bush has demonstrated what he's done to learn from the lessons of 9/11. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

See? I can't talk about anything without talking about my outrage. I'll post more later. Remind me to tell you about the National Guard troops stuck in Iraq with families in the affected area. Short version: if their families are confirmed dead or wounded, they can come home. If they're just missing, or refugees, the troops are shit out of luck. They stay in the sandbox.

Deep breath. Getting a grip.

But for now, I wanted to post my running times. Ran 7 miles tonight, my longest single run ever. It's part of my preparation and training for the Pints-to-Pasta 10K, which I've chosen as my season-ending race. Last year I performed incredibly well, running the race in 59:54.5, for a 9:40 pace. I hope to do at least that well this year. And my plan has been to increase my long run until it was more than 10K and run it several times before the race, to build up my endurance, and to work on my bursts of speed with hill- and speed-work. Yadda yadda, I've explained this before.

At any rate, tonight was the stress test of my training. And I think I've done quite well. I finished 7.01 miles in 1:13:58.2, for an average pace of 10:33, which I think is very good considering my poor results in the Nike RHW last month, not to mention my horrible time last week. Hell, last week that was practically my time for 6.5 miles.

My time at the 6-mile mark was around 1:02:00 or so, which put me at a 10:25 pace. Keep in mind that I was running on the street, in warm (but not hot) weather, and I did stop several times for water. The P2P course is almost entirely downhill, and I will be pushing myself harder, so I'm really pleased at where my training has brought me. I'll continue to work on speed for the next couple of days, then taper for at least 2 days and maybe 3 if I can stand it, so I'll be running on fresh legs for the race.

I'll also be running in the Race for the Cure co-ed 5K, but because there are so many entrants in that one, and because I might be running with my 13-year-old nephew, I'm not planning on having a great time in that race. I'm going to stick with my partner, and make sure he enjoys the race, and not focus on speed.

I might look for another 5K to run in myself, though. With my great 4-mile times (sustained sub-9:30 pace) lately in training, I might be able to (finally!) post an equally-great "official" race time for the 5K this year. • 10:41 PM 0 comments

Friday Cat Blogging!

I caught the slinker in a rare playful mood, even rarer for the fact that he was moving slow enough for me to catch on camera...




...and here's some more! • 7:21 AM 1 comments

Lately all I've been posting about, it seems, is my cat and my running.

Now I want to post about something geeky.

At home I have a desktop (a Mac mini) and a laptop (3+ year old G3 iBook). Most of the time I use my iBook, occassionally I'll use the Mac mini if it's something that requires a (tiny little) bit more horsepower; the difference in processor power and memory is slight but sometimes noticable. (I know, I know, I should upgrade. Someday...) But mainly I use the Mac mini as a file server for my iBook. My music collection is on the mini, for example.

Lately, though, I've realized that I don't have a backup strategy. I mean, my music collection is on both my mini and my iPod, so the chances that both drives would fail is small. But I don't have anything else backed up. My Quicken data, going back years and years, exists in only one place. All of my personal writing - again, pretty much only in one place. Archived email, again, going back years... only in one place (not counting the stuff stored on my IMAP server, but that's on a burly RAID system so I'm not too worried about it).

So I thought that a good partial solution would be to mirror the home directories of my mini and my iBook. I figured I could write a simple shell script that ran nightly and copied files back and forth depending on which files were new. That way, both machines would have copies of all my important files.

But... I'm a newbie when it comes to shell scripts. I goofed around writing pseudo-code but never got around to figuring out the actual scripting.

Then, poking around for examples, I found a program called unison. It's essentially a mirroring tool - it does all the hard work of comparing files by date and differences and deciding which to keep. It will report if conflicts exist - for example, a file on both machines was modified in different ways. It's like rsync in that it will only propagate the updates instead of the whole file and will use compression. It can be run either as a direct connection, or tunnelled over ssh.

So now, instead of writing a script, I can just invoke a simple command to mirror the specific directories I want. It's perfect for my needs - simple mirroring over my local network. Although there are some other files I do want to make copies of (like my iTunes preference files and some other important preferences) so I'll probably end up scripting the whole shebang anyway. But now the mirroring part is essentially done.

With the -path and -ignore switches, I can direct unison to only the directories I want, and leave alone the ones I don't, like my ~/Music/iTunes/ directory. I've got over 20 GB of music and only have a 30 GB hard drive on my laptop. Like I said above, my iPod is my backup for my music.

And the best part is, unison was available as a package in Fink, the package manager I use. It's in the "Unstable" group but that doesn't worry me. So it was easy to install (almost a requirement for a Mac OS X program, even a command-line utility!). • 6:54 AM 0 comments

Smacky got out last night. I was cleaning out his litter box, and when I came out from the bathroom, he wasn't in the house. I looked all over for him. No sign of him. The front door was open but the screen was still latched. While I was poking around for him I heard the dog next door barking and then a cat-like screech and yowl, and then the neighbors were outside talking amongst themselves.

I headed outside and around the corner of the building and asked them if that had been a black cat tangling with their dog. One of the girls said yes, and the older lady asked me if it had been my cat.

Glumly, I said, "Yes, probably. He's not in the house. But I don't know how he got outside."

To which the mom pointed at my living room window. "Looks like there's a tear in your screen," she said. And, sure enough, a round cat-sized hole was in my living room window screen.

I went inside and got a flashlight and his bag of food, and walked around the building a couple of times, shaking the bag and calling his name. He didn't show up. I went to bed worried.

This morning, around 5 AM, there was a soft mrow-ing and then a scratching at my bedroom window. I got up and looked outside; I found myself face-to-face, through the screen, with Smacky, hanging by his claws on the ledge.

Looks like Smacky's decided he's an outside cat. I let him him, he headed straight to his food dish, gulped it down, and then went out to the living room and plopped himself down, eyes half-lidded, and posed like he was the king of the house.

"Tire yourself out, Smacky, running around all night?" I asked him. I got no reply.

Since I was up early, I went out for a run (4 miles! I didn't time myself but I ran strong the entire way, no walking, kept a good pace, and finished strong with a sprint to my finish line!). When I came back, Smacky was curled up on my bed, fast asleep.

Not sure I like the implications of this new development. Is he going to claw his way through the screens anytime he wants out? Am I going to have to put in a cat door? For his safety and my peace of mind I'd really prefer he be an indoor cat.

But it looks like Smacky has a different opinion about that. • 6:50 AM 0 comments