"I don't want to go on the cart," said Cromely's World

Today marks 8 years since I first started my blog.  I hesitate to call it a blogaversary this year because I don’t really think 2 posts in a year let’s me count it as a strong continuing effort.  No matter, I am not one to leave well enough alone and let beloved projects die. The blog may have a DNR in place, but I’m going to toss that aside like on some crazed medical procedural show, and scream, “Live DAMMIT” as a pound away at its chest with a Shatner-style two-handed punch.  

Anyway, here are my thoughts on closing out 2013 and launching into 2014 (I didn't say it was a timely Shatner-style two-handed punch).

2013 was a different kind of year.  I managed to have a lot of fun and do some awesome stuff (often accompanied by The Shoebox Chef), but it still feels mostly like it was a year of preparation. It’s almost like I was building a foundation from which bigger things can happen.

This past year saw my workload and professional life change dramatically, my office layout finally start to make sense, and several years’ backlog of posters jump onto my walls.  There were some lowlights, but there were more highlights. Some of them include:

1. A fun CES wrapped up with a great night at 5 O’clock Somewhere
2. My first cruise in February as part of the awesome JoCo Cruise Crazy program
3. A very pleasant chat with Walter Koenig at Emerald City Comicon
4. Seeing the Doubleclicks live on at least 3 separate occasions
5. Seeing Chris Hardwick perform twice
6. Travelling to Bend, OR, to see Cake and Sigur Ros perform and enjoy some amazing microbrews over a long weekend
7. Standing under an actual Saturn V rocket
8. Guesting on the Caffeinated Comics podcast several times
9. Combining a work trip to check check out a Blake Shelton concert with a weekend getaway in San Francisco and experiencing the Tonga Room in all its Tiki glory.
10. Some conversations with recruiters about my  earning potential
11. My first ever Star Trek convention where I got to chat with George Takei and Gary Graham and briefly meet Gates McFadden, Robert Picardo, Kate Mulgrew, Avery Brooks, and, of course, William Shatner
12. Finally dealing with a busted Keurig
13. Attending the premiere of Joss Whedon’s “Much Ado About Nothing” and catching the panel discussion
14. Learning basic audio editing
15. An appearance on air on QVC
16. Seeing Macklemore perform
17. Seeing John Hodgeman perform
18. Upgrading the TV
19. Meeting Marian Call
20. Learning to appreciate Scotch, Whiskey,and Bourbon

And that’s the funny thing about the brain. That list of 20 items probably represents at least 45 days of awesome things that happened, since many were multi-day. That meant that something awesome was happening almost every week. That makes for a pretty exciting year.  And I need 2014 to be even better? Is that greedy?

No. It’s not. Unless the singularity happens in the coming decades, I’ve only got another 150-200 years on this planet to look forward to. There are so many things I want to do that I’ll never have time to get to.  But I’m going to try. And each subsequent year needs to be just a little bit better than the one before.

I do believe my brain is lying to me about 2013 and other years being dull and having nothing happen. It’s interesting how blogging impacts that. For years I had an intense chronicle of the things I was thinking/doing.  Those hundreds of posts stared back at me as a stark reminder of what I’d done and thought.  

The past couple years, it got away from me. I posted less text. I uploaded fewer pictures.  A lot of what I was doing made it’s way over to Facebook in an abbreviated form. Many others made it to the drafts folder.

In general, I wrote less. I think major changes at work, and an increase in workload sapped more of my energy away from personal writing.  Will work have less of an impact as I settle into the new normal? I have my doubts.

As is often the case, I became my own impediment to creating content. The more I blogged, the better I had to be at it. Writing simple, short posts was no longer cutting it. Doing it right mattered, but there was no time and no energy for that.

And that brings us to today, 8 years since I started this project. Perhaps I’ll finish off those drafts this year.  Perhaps I’ll just throw more stuff up here more quickly.

Or maybe I’ll just be too busy having adventures to chronicle them all.

1470

I'm a couple weeks late with this post, but that's not so surprising considering my updates over the past year.

2012-01-23 was my 6th Blogaversary.  In that time, I've done 1,470 posts. Between years 5 and 6, though, I did just 32.  It's quite a drop off from when I was doing near daily posts a couple years back.  There are a number of reasons (or excuses) for that, but I won't go into them here. In previous drafts they just came across as whiny to me. 

What intrigues me about this whole process is that I came up with excuses at all. Excuses are often something we come up with when we've let others down or failed to meet their expectations. I'm not arrogant enough to think my readers are eagerly anticipating a bunch of posts. 

Writing is a personal obligation to myself, and one that I enjoy. And yet my excuses are least effective when offered to myself.

This blog is about more than just being an outlet for my personal writing energy.It's about chronicling the events in my life. It's about recording details of trip and activities I enjoy before they get pushed out of my brain when that snippet of dialog for "The Big Bang Theory" decides it wants to set up camp on that stack of neurons.  

I write my book reviews for a similar reason.  In addition to the process making me think more about my reading and take and active roll in the process, it's also about remembering the books.  When I think back on the books I read before I started this process, I find I can't remember much beyond a general impression.  And considering the 5-35 hours that reading a book can take, that just feels wrong.  Plus it's inconvenient when I'm reading several books in a series over the course of a few years.

So what can I predict over the next year?  

I'd like to think my pace will pick up.  I'll be satisfied if I do 50+ posts between now and 2013-01-13. That means more reviews, phones, and new commentaries.  

Aside from that, I don't think there will be other major changes over the next year.  But keep checking back. There will be more stuff on here that is interesting to me. And maybe -- just maybe -- to you too.

Previous Blogaversary posts:

• Year 0: 2006-01-23 -- To Begin with... (First Post)
• Year 1: 2007-01-24 -- 371
• Year 2: 2008-01-24 -- 685
• Year 3: 2009-01-24 -- 990
• Year 4: 2010-01-23 -- 1,262
• Year 5: 2011-01-23 -- 1428

RIP, Mr. Quigley

At our Junior/Senior Banquet the year I graduated from college, Brent Northup, our Carroll College Forensics coach (Go, Talking Saints!) was one of the speakers. He said that after graduation, we would pick up the alumni newsletter each quarter to find out who died. It was one of those moments that was equal parts morbid and terribly funny.

I thought back on comment last week when I opened the email from my High School’s alumni office and learned that my HS Forensics coach, Andrew Quigley, had just died.

It was quite a surprise because I can’t imagine Mr. Quigley was more than 10 years older than I. And, yes, nearly 25 years later, I still think of him at Mr. Quigley, and I do most adults I met prior to turning 18. But that’s not the point I’m making here.

I remember Mr. Quigley as a smart, nice, and patient guy. He had to be to put up with our team.

He started teaching at our school in 1987 when I was a Junior. That first year, he brought back the Archbishop Molloy Speech and Debate team after a multi-year hiatus. I don’t know why he decided to do that; it never occurred to me to ask. But that decision had a huge impact on my life.

Have you ever stopped to think about how the decisions that other people make for their own reasons can completely change the direction of your life?

I joined the team, and meet some great people. I met new people from my school and from neighboring schools we competed with in the Brooklyn Queens Catholic Forensics League and beyond.

That team is the reason I spent 2 weeks in 1988 at the Baylor University Speech and Debate camp in Waco, TX. I’d spend my entire life in NY up to that point, and on that trip I met people from entirely different cultures – the south and Colorado.

I learned to dramatically read poetry and prose. I learned to support and oppose a positions from both sides and to depersonalize conflict. I learned to process and dissect arguments. And I learned to think quickly.

We had a lot of fun at tournaments, even when we had to pile way too many people into one car to get there. We were a team and we had the team jackets to prove it.


And Mr. Quigley’s decision to start that team led me to one of the most important and best decisions in my life. That was the decision to go to college in a place many of classmates thought was imaginary – Helena, MT. I learned about and attended the school because of the Forensics team.

The skills I use in my job are the ones I learned on that college Speech and Debate team. The stuff I learned in class has less impact day-to-day.

Most of the people I’m still in regular touch with from High School are from the Forensics world. Most of my friends from College are also from the speech team. And the speech team is the reason I know everyone else that met there. I can’t imagine what path my career and social life post-college might have taken had I not gone down this path. And since things have turned out pretty well, I’m not sure I’d want to imagine it.

I guess there are a couple of key take aways from all this:

• It's cliché, but teachers have a huge impact on the direction of our lives. I wonder if Mr. Quigley had any clue as to the path he set me on.
• Speech and Debate (Forensics) is a fantastic activity for kids to pursue. The logical, social, communications and team work skills they can learn are invaluable in the future.

RIP, Mr. Quigley. And thanks from bringing that team to life.

Dinner and a Soda

So on Thursday I turned 27 for the 14th time (everyone else is telling me that is actually 40,but I refuse to believe it).

Here are some random observations about the concept and the day.

• Dinner at Sullivan's in Seattle?  Definitely a good choice. Located at the former site of the Union Square Grill, it's easy to walk to from my apartment. And they have plenty of meat, which is awesome.
• Apparently you can get cases of soda from Jones with custom labels. The Shoebox Chef created a batch for me with what had been one of my sillier Facebook profile pictures. It's quite good.
• My Mother is in town, and that's always fun.  It gives me an excuse to some of the remaining tourist things in the area, and it's always great to see her. Visiting MOHAI was particularly interesting especially when this article in the Seattle Times followed that visit.
• The age itself?  Yeah. That's a little weird.  I'm still not sure how I feel about that.  There comes a point when you start to realize you are no longer preparing for your adult life, but actually living it.  I can see that in the distance.
• I'm kind of stunned by the number of birthday greetings I got on Facebook this year.  It's awesome, and quite different from years passed.  It's great hearing from the awesome folks I've known over the years, and it's fascinating how this appears to represent a larger cultural shift...but now is not the time to drift into an analysis of the impacts of social media.
• Perhaps next year it will be time to turn 28. We'll see what happens next spring.

It's been a great 26+14 years so far, and I am grateful for all the awesome people who have been a part of that and contributed in large part and small to making me the person I am today.

Now, let's see what the next 160 years have to bring...

1,428

This is post 1,428 at Cromely's World and today is my 5 Year Blogaversary.

Since I started blogging, this past year has had the fewest posts (just 173).  I moved from trying to post a minimum of 5/7 days to targeting just every other day.  Sometimes I even missed that mark.  The posts I have done tend to be longer so I may still be up on total word count.

I keep writing not because it's fun (although it usually is) but because I need the outlet, and I need the practice.  When my posting frequency began drying up in the fall, walking away would have been easy for me, but it felt wrong.  Continuing to post became a personal exercise in discipline.  I'm glad I stuck it out.

The idea of writing a book has always both intrigued and scared me.  It still does, but for slightly different reasons now.  I don't know how long my average post is, but using 500 words as a conservative estimate, then I've written more than 700,000 words.

If the average novel contains 75,000 to 125,000 words, then the idea of filling the pages is suddenly a lot less daunting.

Of course, there are still a few things that keep me trying to write a book. I would need "characters" that have a "story" that unfolds through a "plot" that's part of a "genre" and then I would actually have to write it.  Before I get that far I would need to choose between fiction and non-fiction yet.  So I've got a ways to go before I start worrying about how to get from the airport to the bookstore in time for my signing.

My blog plans for the coming year are pretty simple:

• Regularly post every other day with stories I want to tell
• Finish my Tokyo Travels series before 2011-05-15
• Evaluate a shift away from Blogger
• Consider reducing my typos (I dowt that will happen)

Thank you all for reading over the years.  I hope to keep you coming back for years to come.


Previous Blogaversary posts:

• Year 0: 2006-01-23 -- To Begin with... (First Post)
• Year 1: 2007-01-24 -- 371
• Year 2: 2008-01-24 -- 685
• Year 3: 2009-01-24 -- 990
• Year 4: 2010-01-23 -- 1,262

Back Yard Burial

A reader recently asked the Seattle PI if people could bury their pets in the backyard when the die.  That answer was that they could, as long as it didn't pose a nuisance. Apparently, the law also pets under 15 pounds to be disposed of with "household waste" which, while logical, seems all kinds of wrong.

I had gerbils for several years when I was a kid, and a few of them did make it to the back yard after they lived out their gerbil lives.  Joe The Gerbil had  a crazy long tooth that really was never right. He was the first to come into the house, and the first to make it into the back yard.  I remember packing him in a Maxwell House coffee can with woodchips when it was time for his burial. 

I also remember taking and old, heavy, slate, stepping stone of some sort and working on it with a hammer and chisel to carve his name into it.  Now, it feels like that was a project I spent days or weeks on, but it could easily have been just an afternoon. I must have been in that 10-13 year old age bracket at the time.

Writing this, it almost seems like a sad story (I suppose I could punch it up and make it a real tear jerker (the handicapped gerbil with the weird tooth would put it over the top)), and I was probably sad at the time.  But it wasn't a traumatic experience; it didn't scar me.  Carving that tombstone wasn't a labor of love.  It was just what you do.  It seemed natural, and I took to it like the project it was. 

Over the years, there were several more gerbils, and several more backyard burials.  They came in and lives through their normal gerbil lives.  I think there was only one more tomb stone, though.

I'm not sure what the point of this story is.  It started off as a tale about paint, but I guess that will have to be a future post.  I can't always be certain just which story will want to be told. 

Off to the cleaners

I'm not the best housekeeper.  My apartment is cluttered, but it is reasonably clean (defined as no odd smells or critters).  And I don't change my sheets as often as some people (of course they don't get much use consider the amount of time I spend on hotel sheets so it's okay).  But occasionally I get it in my head to actually clean something.  This year it was the bedding.

It started with the pillows.  I haven't been happy with my pillows for several years.  For a long time I had a stack of three that worked really well, but I had to get rid of them.  I think the oldest was about 25 years old.  The others were much newer -- only 10-20 years old.  But eventually, they had to go.  I've bought additional pillows here and there, but never got quite the right combination.  

So it was time to reboot.

I bought all new pillows to start from scratch, but they're still in their packaging.  I decided I needed new pillow protector things and new pillow cases, since I was getting new pillows.

That led to sheets.  As long as I'm getting pillow cases, why not replace the sheets, too?  That's now on order.

And why not throw a new mattress pad into the mix, too?  Cleaning the existing one typically meant soaking it in Oxyclean in the bathtub for a day before prying it into the washing machine.

I'm also been told I need to get a bed skirt now.  I guess that makes it easier to hide stuff under the bed.  That's also on the way.

All this new stuff brings me to this: Blankets. Lots of blankets. And comforter covers.  Some new blankets and some that I had as a baby.  Most are somewhere in between.

I have a washer and dryer in my apartment, but a single throw really tests the limits of its capacity.  I've struggled to squeeze in king size blankets in the past, and then tried to dry them, with middling success. I was able to convince myself I successfully washed them.

Over the weekend, I finally did it right.  I hauled them all to an actual laundromat.  It's the first time I stepped in one in over 13 years.  Fortunately, the attendant took pity on me and helped me with my machine choice.

3 Industrial 40 pound washing machines, 6 dryers, and about 100 quarters later, I know have the cleanest blankets I've had in years.

If there's a moral to this story, it's this.  If you need to do laundry in Seattle, head over to Transformation-Surprise Laundromat.  The place was clean.  The attendant was friendly.  The machine all worked.  The other customers were pleasant.  It was one of the nicest laundromats I've been in, and even has glowing Yelp reviews.  They have some spiritual or religious connection that I'm not familiar with, and maybe that's why it's such a nice place. Check it out if you need one.

Now I'm just waiting for the new sheets to arrive so I can use my freshly cleaned blankets.  I'm sure that's the day my next road trip will begin.

Skipping Mordor in favor of Dawn

The other night I took off a ring I've worn for 15 years.  There's no dramatic, cathartic story behind the removal. It was all a rather practical matter.  And no hobbits were harmed in the process.

It's a ring I inherited from my father.  I'm the fourth owner.  Early owners included my grandfather and an uncle.  All their initials are on the inside.

It hasn't left my finger in 10+ years.  Why?  My fingers (and the rest of me) got a little too big.  I put on some weight over the year and that secured the ring pretty well.  Recently it began to loosen up (along with my waist band) so I thought it might be possible to take it off.  I didn't try very hard though, until the other day.

I noticed my finger felt irritated under the ring.  It wan't intense pain, but it was definitely a "something's not right" feeling.  I don't know if something got caught under there, or if there was too much moisture or not enough or something else, but it wasn't right.  I rotated the ring 180 degrees for a few hours, and that seemed to help.  Later on, I developed a plan.

First, I soaked my hand in ice water for 10 minutes.  I figured that might contract the skin and it's related components enough to wiggle the ring off.  It may have helped; I'm not sure on that point.  

What ultimately brought success was the Dawn dish washing detergent.  I poured some on the finger and ring and massaged and rotated the ring around my finger.  I poured on more dish washing detergent and continued to massage.  Millimeter by millimeter I made progress.  After about 5 minutes of this the ring popped over my knuckle, as smooth as anything.  The whole experience turned out to be much less harrowing than I expected.

Here's how a normal finger looks.  This is my left hand.

And here is my right hand.  Can you tell where I wore the ring all those years?

It's now three days later and I still have the indentations at the base of my finger. I'm guessing I'll have those for a while.  I'm still getting used to how it feels to make a fist or grip the steering wheel.

I found the whole experience oddly fascinating.

The ring now safely rests in my jewelry box, along with a couple tie tacks, some small rocks, and about 40 French Francs.  I'll putt it back on in a few months to a year.  

Just as soon as a few more of those pesky pounds come off.

The lamest gypsy curse ever

Saturday at Fred Meyer, I stood in line behind one person. I had 20 5' tomato stakes, 4 tomato cages, and a spook of twine to purchase.  The woman in front of me was attempting to purchase an outdoor furniture set and table umbrella. It was a display model, on sale, and she had been all over town. With the special pricing, the cashier had a to call for multiple manger overrides.  Then the customer pays with three different gift cards (which required yet another manager override) and cash. She fished out exact change  from her purse, and dropped some of it, to wrap up her purchase.

It took a long time.

The customer and cashier apologized to me for the delay.  I said it was okay because I knew it would happen.  Regardless of the line I choose, it's the wrong line.  Her troubles were probably because I got in line behind her.

And that's the curse I live under.  No matter what line I choose at Home Depot, Fred Meyer, Costco, QFC, Safeway, or any other store, I choose the slowest line.  I can choose the shortest line, or the fastest moving line, or the most efficient cashier, or any other scenario, and that line will instantly become the slowest one at the store.

It used to bother me.  Eventually, I accepted it.  I know that any line I get in will be the worst choice, so I don't even try to pick a quick one anymore. I just sigh and pull out my phone because I'll have plenty of time to read through my Twitter stream.

The GF has gotten used to me making her choose the line when we go to a store.  Occasionally, I'll pick the line, the curse kicks in, and she is able to redirect us the a better one.  As long as I'm not the one picking the line, we're fine.  Otherwise, we're spending the night in the store.

I'm not sure what I did to earn this lamest gypsy curse ever.   Did I annoy some long dead gypsy relative?  Look at someone funny in 1994? Did I take it as a disad so I could spend the points on some other stat?

I'd investigate it further, but I'm guessing there's a line.

Star Wars in Georgetown

On Friday, The GF, her former roommate, and I had dinner at The Georgetown Liquor Club Company.  It's a pub in a mainly industrial area of Seattle, just north of Boeing Field and right next to a set of active train tracks.  You know they best thing about this place was?  This:

It's the vector graphics Star Wars arcade game introduced in 1983.  It's probably been 15-20 years since I've played it, and it's still awesome.

In it you pilot Red 5's X-Wing fighter through a dog fight with Tie Fighters, across the surface of the Death Star against a series of gun turrets, and finally through the Death Star trench blowing up more turrets and dodging inconveniently placed beams until you finally drop your payload into that exhaust port that surely got some architect fired.

My favorite way to play this game was in the sit-down cabinet version they had at Electric Avenue in the Green Acres Mall.  But for now they stand-up version will be fine.

The food?  That was surprisingly good, too.  It's a vegetarian pub.  I'm not anti-vegetarian, but I am suspicious of that cult.  The food here was quite tasty though.

And raise your Geek flag higher, because it's all geek themed, with dishes named for Star Trek characters, Land of the Lost inhabitants, Penny Arcade denizens, and Battlestar Galactica profanity.  Check out the menu here.  And to top it off, they have Guinness on tap.

Good music, video games, tasty food, nice beer selection, and geek-friendly?  Throw in some bacon and beef and you may as well forward my mail.

No longer misleading the DMV

I just hit a goal that I didn't even know I had until about a week ago.
I just got my new driver's license in the mail, which was actually part of a wonderfully simple process.  The state sent me a note saying it was time to renew and that I could do it online.  I took the note on a trip to Phoenix, and from my hotel, found the site, checked that my info was correct, gave them my credit card number, and a week later, they sent me my new Driver's License.  It was so much better than trekking down the the Jamaica DMV in Queens in the late 80s.

But when I checked my license, I saw my weight was listed at 240.  "Huh," I thought.  "That's not too far off."

And as of tonight, I reach a new goal.  I now weigh what it says on my license.  My actual weight and my state reported weight haven't matched in, well, ever.

I know some people are horrified at the idea of posting their weight publicly.  It doesn't bother me too much because it's not like people I know in real life are under the illusion I'm skinny.  It's no "secret shame." It's pretty obvious that I'm a big guy.

I'm down about 15 pounds since 2009-10-31.  At my biggest I was up around 265 3-4 years ago.

For an number of reasons I decided to make some small changes this past fall.  For example, while I always fit entirely in my own coach seat, even on a regional jet, it wasn't always pleasant.  And if the person next to me spilled past their own seat, well, there was no room for error.

I've been losing at about 3 pounds a month, which isn't quick, but it is likely sustainable.  I'm doing it without major lifestyle changes, too.

When I'm at home, I spend about 60-90 minutes on the Wii Fit Plus. (See 5 Things I like about the Wii Fit Plus and 5 Thing I don't like about the Wii Fit Plus.)  That's actually how I started -- just using the Wii Fit Plus.  And it helped.  I attribute that fact that I'm accomplishing any of this completely to the Fit.

I started taking the stairs in my building whenever I'm not carrying too much stuff. I live on the 5th floor and can make it all the way up without being too winded. 

I've reduced my regular soda drinking.  Now I mainly drink diet soda, water, juice, wine, beer, or other items.  I still have the regular stuff from time to time, and am not jumping on the corn-syrup-is-evil bandwagon.  As with most things, moderation is key.

I really enjoy eating good food, and I'm not willing to give up the wonders of bacon and butter and meat.  It's just not going to happen.  What I can do is make sure that if I'm going to eat stuff that's bad for me, that I eat it because I am actually hungry or because I really want it.  Eating just because it's time to eat, or because something happens to be in front of me, is a bad idea.  The key here is to eat deliberately and intentionally.

A few years ago I switched to 2% Lattes.  I tried the Soy ones, but they were nasty (which is funny because I do enjoy things like Miso, Edemame, and even Tofu).  More recently, I switched primarily to Americanos and often drink my coffee black.  I'll explain the reasons for that switch in the coming weeks.

I try to walk more.  I live in a fantastic neighborhood and plan to explore it more this summer.

So it's been a lot of little things.  I'm not swearing off any food that's "bad" for me.  This biggest change is the hour+ on the Wii Fit and that's mainly come at the expense of some time wasting on the net.

Where do I go from here?

Well, in a couple months, the summer will be here and once again, I'll be hauling 7, 50 pound water jugs up the stairs and out to the roof most days, so I may pick up the pace there. 

I was hoping to make 235 by the end of the month, but that might be pushing it. Here are my target weights for the next 12 months.

• 2010-05-15: 230
• 2010-06-30: 225
• 2010-09-30: 215
• 2010-11-25: 210 (Thanksgiving)
• 2010-12-31: 220 (Holiday food it too awesome to worry about it)
• 2011-03-30: 199

Does anyone else have a weight at or below what it says on their license?

Discount Aifare

Yesterday (Monday, 2010-03-08) Jetblue celebrated 10 years of flight by offering $10 fares to select locations.  You can read more about that here:

JetBlue is holding a one-day sale offering $10 fares between New York's JFK airport and the carrier's first 10 destinations in celebration of its 10th year of operation.

...More

While that sale is over, it reminded me of one I did once take part in.

In 1989, Eastern Airlines was going through deep financial trouble, as were many other carriers.  On top of the competitive issues, Eastern had a terrible relationship with its unions.  The mechanics went on strike, and the airline filed for bankruptcy a few days later.

In the interim, however, they slashed prices on their east coast shuttle.  Karl, one of my fellow members of the Archbishop Molloy Speech and Debate team, and I decided to take advantage of this awesome $10 fare to Boston.  Heck, that was cheaper than taking a cab to the airport.

So we showed up at the airport, bought our tickets and went to Boston.  I'm not even sure what we did for much of the day, though I do recall going to Faneuil Hall.  I believe we also went to the JFK library, which seems and odd choice for us since at that point in my life I was at the height of my Republican-ness (Karl was slightly to the right of Rush Limbaugh). We did a few other historic related things and headed back to the airport.

And that was when I had my first "airport experience." We got to Logan, and wouldn't you know it? All those $10 fare drew a lot of people to the airport.  Despite the hourly shuttle flight, people just kept showing up.  We couldn't get on the first 3 or 4 flights we tried and got pretty nervous about being stuck in Boston.

We found ourselves in an interesting position.  We really wanted to get back to NYC that night because we had a speech tournament the next day. I was 17 and had my driver's license.  Karl was 15 and did not, so renting a car was unlikely to be an option.  We began to think we might not have a choice but to grab a hotel room someplace, and try to catch the first flight out to get to the tournament the next day. Or we'd just have to sleep in the airport.

Eventually, though, we got on a plane and made it back to NYC.

Was it worth the hassle to participate in those cheap fares?  Today, maybe not.  But in 1989? Absolutely.  It was an adventure to spontaneously go to another city while participating the in final decline of what was once America's biggest airline. Plus it was a great independent thing for a city kid to do.  BOS and NYC are very close to each other for most of the world, but while I was growing up in Queens, it may as well have been in California.  

 

Seeing stuff in Boston was almost incidental to just the exciting nature of the trip, and the opportunity to witness business history.

I just wish I recalled the details a little better.

Oh, and BTW, when I have to do the route now, I don't fly between NYC and BOS.  It's just silly.  That route is one of the things that Amtrak gets right.

For more information about the history of Eastern Airlines, check out the Wikipedia article.

A visit to the Dentist

Last month was the first time in more than 10 years that I had been to the dentist.  Back then I began my series of visits after breaking a tooth on a tuna fish sandwich.  I subjected myself to the dental care system, had a root canal to fix the damage caused by that sandwich, and eventually stopped going.

Why?  Well, I wasn't entirely comfortable there.  The dental care was okay, but there was something off about the environment.  Sometimes I felt like they were selling me a used car.  Other times, I just got this weird vibe that screamed "Russian Mob."  I have no idea if they were connected, but eventually I trusted my instincts and stopped going, especially when they started pushing the idea of braces.

In the years since, I haven't needed dental care, though it may have been a good idea.  It always planned to look for a dentist "next month."  Months passed.  Then years.  And ultimately, a decade. Eventually, I ended up back in the chair.

Today was the second in a series of dental appointments in the current series.  It was for a deep cleaning.  Now, I don't recall ever getting this procedure done before, but then again, my last regular, every 6-month appointment dental care schedule was back during the thousand-points-of-light Bush administration so things may have changed.

So today I sat in the chair and got all novacained up for a deep cleaning.  If you're not familiar with this process, it involves scraping under the gum line to get gunk out.  Normally, they do only one half of the mouth at a time, but we decided to just do the whole thin today.

I spent an hour having some guy scrape my teeth with little metal tools. And though I felt like I was choking once or twice, it wasn't too bad.  Though it did give rise to this dialog:

Me: I'm starting the taste a little blood.

Dentist:  Just now?!

While the whole thing was going on, my mind tried to wander a bit.  I layed back in the chair and looked up at the spot light.  I wore orange sunglasses so it wasn't too bright.  The shop light reminded me of the sunset and I tried to transfer myself to the beach through that sun so I would't be terribly bored, but it wasn't that easy.

It seems you can't just ignore the guy poking around your mouth with metal implements, hoses, and a suction tool.  The scraping is loud as it echoes through the skull, bypassing the ears altogether.  And the the tools slip, which is always a little jarring.  I also had to frequently remind my self to relax my muscles, not drive my fingertips through the chair too hard, and breath through my nose.

My higher brain functions were perfectly okay with the whole process, but the lizard core deep in the evolutionary recesses of my brain, screamed, "AHHHHHH!!!!! Run AWAAAAAYYYYYY!" If I let down my guard, that part of my brain would start to gain more influence over the situation, and there is no way a Fight or Flight response could have ended well.

Now, I've got clean teeth, an aching jaw, and sore spots where the Novocaine needles had been plunged in and moved around like tiny liposuction hoses.

And for some reason, I'm willingly going back next week.

But those glasses sure made my phone easier to read.

Late Night Visitor

When it comes to ghosts and other supernatural critters, I'm skeptically open-minded.  By that I mean, I acknowledge the possibility that the souls of the departed sometimes wander yet on this side of the veil, but it's unlikely I'll believe any particular ghost story.  Except my Grandmother's. And, more importantly, my own.

When I was a sophomore in college, 19 years ago, I took the job of yearbook editor.  I learned a lot on that job.  Namely that I wasn't cut out to be a yearbook editor.  But I took the job, had deadlines to meet, and no matter how much I didn't want to do it, I had made the commitment and was going to live up to it.

The yearbook office was in St. Albert's Hall, a small building that was maybe 100' away from my dorm.  St Al's was the campus student activity center.  Level 1 had lounge space with a full kitchen, and level two was long, narrow coffin like offices.  It wasn't a lot of room, but it was enough.

Decades earlier, St. Al's was home to the nuns who used to work at the college.  Stories passed from student to student had it that one of them had hung herself in her room.  Did it actually happen?  I don't know.

What I do know is that if it did, I nearly met her.

Late one night, at about 3:00 AM, I was working on a bunch of layouts.  I was alone in the building; the front door was locked.  I sat in the upstairs office along the long hallway with my door open and the radio playing.

Step

Step

Step

Step

I heard someone walking down the hallway from the far end,  got up from my chair, and peeked my head out.  I was sure it was the night security guard just checking on things.  But no one was there.

I was shrugged my shoulders, figured it was nothing, and returned to my work.  I turned off the radio in case that's what I heard.  I pulled out a fresh sheet of layout paper.

Step

Step

Step

Step

This time the steps were closer.  They came from the middle of the hall.  "Hello?" I called out, but no one responded.  I got up, looked up and down the hall, and saw no one.  I stepped out of the office, and took a quick look around downstairs.

No one.

By now, I was getting a little nervous.  I could sense the goose bumps just below the surface of my skin.  But I was still alone, and there was work to be done.  I sat down at the desk and tried to focus.

Step

STEP

Definitely closer now.  Definitely not some animal or rodent in the building. And when I looked out, there was still no one in the hall. 

I sat at the desk and began collecting my things.  I figured I should probably go to bed soon since I was having trouble focusing, what with the phantom walker in the hall.

STEP

STEP

STEP

STEP

STEP

STEP

The mystery walker slowly walked right past my open door! 

I had no doubt these were footsteps, but still they came from nothing.  Now officially scared and making the sign of the cross, I grabbed my stuff, and got the heck out of there. 

I barely remember shutting off the lights.  I don't remember walking to my dorm; I have just flashes of the lobby in my memory.  The next thing I knew I was back in my dorm room, my heart rate starting to fall back below 500 beats per minute. 

And I never encountered that dead nun again.  But for whatever reason, that one night, she decided to check up on me. It would be a few weeks before I spent another really late night in that building.

There may be a rational explanation.  And I know few people will believe this story.  They/you are right to be skeptical.  But if I close my eyes, I can still here those steps coming down the hall.

If you've made it this far, I hope I haven't caused you any nightmares.  If you want more scary stuff, here's Jonathan Coulton's Creepy doll.  Listen and enjoy. If you dare.

Java Junction in Boise, ID

This time of year reminds me of my 2.5 years in Boise, ID. The chilly air would put me in the mood for coffee and a hearty snack. Off I would go to Java Junction for a mocha and a bowl of chili. The 1 mile walk from my North End home to the corner of Harrison BLVD and Hill Road made that warm meal even better.

I always liked walking up Harrison BLVD in the fall. The trees were busy shedding leaves, and the fantastical, classy Halloween decorations adorned the million dollar homes. The chill in the air kept me walking quickly, while my mind wandered to the point in my life where I could live here, instead of the one room house I was renting.

At Java Junction I'd step up to the counter, find my frequent coffee card in their Rolodex (I wonder how many years it stayed there after I moved away), order a large, 2-shot Mocha, get a bowl of Chile, and sit down in a corner with my computer and sales magazines.

I don't know if they had a special recipe, or if it was all just out of a can, but that Chile was fantastic. It was warm, flavorful, and meaty. I warmed me right up from the inside out, forcing out the chill way a fireplace forces the winter air out of a lonely mountain cabin.

A few hours later, warmed, calmed, and freshly educated, I'd head back home, perhaps strolling a little more slowly this time.

A simple sandwich

I've been doing a lot of things with tomatoes the past couple weeks (harvested 390 last weekend, and another 200 today), but sometimes, it's nice to go back to the basics. And that's a cheese and tomato sandwich.
I grew up eating these. The ingredient list was simple. Sliced tomatoes, Kraft Singles, Wonder Bread, and a bit of salt.

I can't recall the years I was eating these all the time. I'm guessing 3rd thru 7th grade, but I can't be sure. Each day, I walked home from school at lunch time to a waiting sandwich. I think it was a daily lunch, but again, it's been so many years, I can't be positive. But they've become a fixture in my mind. It was a sandwich that rarely let me know.

I do remember one time it didn't quite work out. We were on a class trip on the Circle Line, which is a tour boat that circles Manhattan Island. When I got on the boat that morning my sandwich was safely packed in a bag. But in the following hours, the heat, tomato acid, and salt combined their efforts to melt the cheese and turn it into an unappetizing, drippy amalgamation of bread and fruit.

Today that likely wouldn't bother me. The GF is often horrified by some of the things I eat and my tendency to treat expiration dates as mere suggestion, but the picky eater I was then wouldn't touch it. I waited of a fresh one the next day.

I'm still not sure why that failed sandwich stuck with me through the years.

Wonder Bread is no longer available in Western Washington, and grocery store tomatoes don't taste like they did back in the 70s. But the garden yields the fruit, and other white bread is a passable substitute.

And sometimes all it takes is a simple sandwich to take me back to a simpler time.

Death of a Pitchman

On Sunday, the string of celebrity deaths continued. I'll let other post tributes to Michael Jackson. The death that got me was that of the great pitchman.

"HI! BILLY MAYS HERE..." is a phrase we will be graced with at 2:00 AM now that Mays died on 2009-06-28.

From CNN:

"I'm a pitchman, my business comes from the pitch, nothing else," Mays said recently in an interview with Portfolio. "My voice, my likeness is my livelihood. That's it. I keep it simple. I pick good products."

Mays died Sunday at his home near Tampa, Florida. The Hillsborough County medical examiner Dr. Vernard Adams said Monday that Mays had heart disease.

...More

Billy Mays was known for his Best Buy style of clothes (blue shirt, khaki pants), his beard, and the string of infomercials he did for Orange Glow, Oxi-clean, Mighty Putty and more. Some hated his loud, bombastic style, but I got a kick out it.

There is an emotional charge get when you start in on a great pitch. When you hit the right rhythm, the words just roll off your tongue like Mercury off a clean pane of grass. And your teeth tingle with exuberance.

Mays got his start hawking products on the Atlantic City boardwalk. He moved from speaking to dozens at a time to speaking to millions at a time. His energy made doing laundry exciting.

I'm sorry to have missed Pitchmen, his new behind the scenes series about the Made for TV industry and how those products got on there. All the reviews I've read indicate Mays seems like a nice guy. He only pitched products he believed in.

During one of my summer jobs I was a pitchman at the state fair. I interned at the Montana State Lottery in 1992. Sometime during the first day of the state fair in Great Falls, someone handed me the mike and asked me to make a quick announcement about a current lottery promo. And that was the start of my pitchman career.

I was on the PA from morning 'til night, with only a few breaks to pick up a viking, or fair pretzel, or polish sausage, or funnel cake. "By 5 tickets, get one free. You could be an instant winner of this brand new Ford F150 pickup truck! We had a $500 winner just this morning, and you could be next. Buy 5 tickets, get one fee. And do you know how big the Powerball jackpot is this week?"

I did that for days and had a great time. The other folks in the lottery booth liked it too because I kept the counters full. The folks at the Bingo hall across the fairway weren't all that pleased, but they eventually got over it.

My pitchman career took me back to the fair a couple years later selling water filters and related products. I was not as successful with that as I was with lottery tickets.

My career took me into retail sales and marketing, and today, I am a product evangelist -- a pitchman without a sales quota. And I love it.

I'm no Billy Mays (and I hear some of you sighing with relief) but I always admired his work. If I eventually end up doing his job -- promoting products I believe in during infomercials, well, that wouldn't be so bad.

So it was a sad day to learn of his mysterious death. He's a working class salesperson who made the big time.

When I get home, I'll reach under the sink, pull out the bottle, take off the cap, and pour some OrangeGlo on the floor in Billy May's memory. And I'll toss some Oxyclean over my shoulder for luck.


You can see Mays' last appearance on the Tonight Show here:

Late coffee

Sometimes I get caught up in my morning activities and forget to make coffee until about 1:00. Today was one of those days.

1:00 -- Clean coffee pot, maker, grinding unit, filter, filter basket.

1:02 -- Remember than message I wanted to send this afternoon. Run upstairs to send it. Check emails. Open spreadsheet.

1:34 -- Remember the half prepped coffee maker. Run downstairs. Make coffee.

1:35 -- Microwave lunch.

1:38 -- *Ding* Microwave lunch is ready. Coffee still brewing. Take lunch upstairs back to work. Plan to get coffee in 5 minutes.

3:45 -- Head downstairs to look for tape. See coffee maker with slowly cooling coffee. Make mental note to pour a cup when I go back upstairs.

3:48 -- Head upstairs with tape.

4:15 -- Note mild headache. Think, "Coffee might be a good idea." Then realize I had that idea three hours ago.

4:45 -- Head out to pick up the GF from work. Hmm. Maybe a Thermos would work...

6:30 -- Get back from errands, head back to my APT to get a computer to work on a few projects, and a cup of coffee.

6:35 -- Head downstairs to the GF's APT with my computer.

10:00 -- Get back to my APT and notice the coffee pot mocking me.

10:05 -- Check email and randomly surf.

11:00 -- Pour the first cup of coffee of the day from the now 9.5 hour old pot. Mmm. Luke warm stale coffee.

1,000 Posts

Cromely's World has had quite a few milestones over the past 4 months.

• Several days ranked #1 on Entrecard in November and December.
• Passed 100,000 visitors in December.
• Celebrated 3rd Blogaversary in January
  

And that brings us to tonight. This is post #1,000. Three years ago it never occurred to me I would hit that mark. Rather than taking a look back at posts (you can see my favorites in the side bar), I thought I would answer one of my most frequently asked questions.

Where does the name Cromely come from?

It's not my meat space name. As I discussed over at Loud Noises, Big Plans I choose not to use my regular name not to guarantee anonymity (which is impossible) but for discretion.

I created the name Philip Cromely back in 1993. My senior year of college, I and several friends started playing the White Wolf role playing game, "Vampire: The Masquerade." Cromely was the pseudonymn for my character. The character's real names was Bryan Rosares, a Setite, but he was operating in Gary, IN, and pretending to be a Ventrue named Philip Cromely.

So yes, my fake name is the made up name of fictional vampire.

In 1995 I got my first PC -- a Gateway 2000 Pentium 75 desktop. I signed up for AOL and needed to choose a Screen Name. I was stumped and chose Cromely as an inside joke for myself.

It stuck. I was Cromely@aol.com

A couple years later, I beacme Cromely@cyberhighway.net and eventually became Cromely on pretty much every other ISP, online service, IM, or free email service out there. Cromely at this point has become more than my on line name - it's my online brand.

I have no idea what the next 1,000 posts will bring. But I am looking forward to the surpise. And so is Cromely.

Performing 01: The start

When I saw the Coulton show on Friday, I was reminded how much I want to do just that. I want to be on stage performing for hundreds or thousands of people.

Someday, I'll have a plan. And maybe even some talent.

Most people are petrified of public speaking. Surveys have show that people fear public speaking more than they fear death. I am not one of those people. I've always gotten a charge out of it.

I still rememeber my first two stage experiences, brief, though they were.

Back in kindergarten at PS 97, each letter in the alphbet on our classroom wall had a character associated with it. We had to dress up as our favorite letter/character and go on stage with our class. Everyone got to say who they were and something about their letter.

I chose J -- for Mr. Junk. I thought he was the coolest of the letters. (Mr. Teeth was was the lamest of the letter characters -- his too tall smile was too goofy. I wanted to knock those teeth off the board and I didn't even know why (but that's another story (Or was he actually Mr. Tall with the very Tall teeth? Now I'm all confused))).

As I recall, my mother took a sheet or old pillowcase, sewed bits of household clutter to it and put a big J on the front.

I went on stage, said my part (probably, something like "I'm Mr. J") and stepped back into the alphabet row.

I don't remeber the rest of the day, or even what the play was about. But I do remember the view of the crowd from my side of the stage. All those people were looking at me and hanging on my words. And I couldn't wait to get on stage again.

For first grade I had moved on to St. Elizabeth's School in Ozone Park, NY. Each year, every grade level put on a play of some sort. My first year there, we put on some sort of Fairy Tale review.

I was Prince Charming.

I got to wear a purple cape with little hooks on it. (I think the cape is a highly underrated garment in these modern times. We really should bring back the cape.)

I was only on stage briefly. I was in a group of 5 or 6 kids. We each had to introduce ourserlves. I stepped forward, got down on one knee, reached my arms out, and said, "I'm Prince Charming" to the entrie student body.

I don't even remember who played my Princess that year. I just remember the feeling of power in front of that crowd.

And it's one I am happy to recapture whenever I can.

So what was your first brush with an audience? Did it empower you or scar you for years?