Pink Eye!!!

Ting came home from work several weeks ago and announced that some kid in Zoe’s preschool had been sent home with "discharge" from his eye.

Discharge? As a concerned parent, I began trying to reason what would cause a kid to have discharge from his eye. Maybe he got jabbed in the eye on the playground, or maybe he rubbed some kind of toxic paste all over his face and got it in his eye.

"I hope its not pink eye", Ting announced nonchalantly.

Pink eye?! As a 33 year old male, my knowledge of pink eye was right up there with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and Leprosy (actually I may have known more about Leprosy then I did about pink eye). What's pink eye? Can you lose your vision? Will Zoe have to wear an eye patch?

The next day at work I asked a couple of mom co-workers if they knew about pink eye. "Pink eye!", one exclaimed with a worried tone, "Have you washed your sheets and towels?". The other mom chimed in with a story about how pink eye was so contagious that her son's kindergarten class had to be quarantined. Geeze! What was this stuff?

Sure enough by the weekend Zoe was rubbing her eyes and we were dabbing out green mucus from the corner of her eyes. On Sunday morning Zoe woke up to find that her right eye had been glued shut overnight by the sticky discharge. She came running into our bedroom smiling but somewhat confused over her limited vision. Ting quickly warmed up a washcloth and wiped clean Zoe's eye so she could see again. Time to go to see the doctor.

I spent the rest of Sunday morning laundering every article of cloth we could find. Ting and Zoe came home from their visit to the doctor with a prescription for medicated eye drops. Zoe had developed a mild form of viral pink eye. It turns out that we would have to give Zoe the eye drops four times per day. I locked our squirming, glue eyed child in a headlock and Ting applied the drops.

By Monday Zoe was looking much better. Since pink eye is contagious, Ting spent the day at home with Zoe. Meanwhile at work I started clicking around Google doing some research on the disease that had struck down our daughter. Much to my horror there are many graphic websites out there with pictures of severe cases of pink eye (or conjunctivitis as it is known by its scientific name). While I won't go into the details I will only dare you to click on this link!


Zoe cured of pinkeye and performing in her preschool Christmas pageant


Monday night I noticed a strange burning in my eyes. Hmmm... Maybe I’m not getting to bed early enough these days? But I don’t feel so tired. On Tuesday I announced to Ting that I thought I had pink eye. That night I lay down on the floor while Ting put her squirming husband in a headlock and began to apply the eye drops.

Bus Riding

Have you ridden the bus lately? I take that back. Anyone reading this, living outside a major metropolitan area rode the bus lately?

Since Reno got coated in 8" to 12" of snow over Thanksgiving weekend I have parked the bike and have been taking the bus to work. There's no better way to really get a feel for the current state of affairs in our country then taking the bus. This past week has been an interesting eye-opener for sure.

Catching the bus to get to work means getting up at 5:00am to get dressed and showered to meet the bus at 5:45am. While this seems awfully early, Reno isn't blessed with the massive population of Chicago or New York to support busses coming and going every ten minutes. In fact, the bus I'm taking only comes once an hour, which means if I miss it then I'm VERY late for work.

The number 3 bus lumbers towards the City Center bus terminal picking up people along the way. Surprisingly out by our apartment there are usually three or four other people on the bus besides myself. We pick up another four or five people before arriving at the City Center. It is now a little past 6:00am in the morning.

The City Center is a massive mixing pot of the working class of Reno. Construction workers with jangling leather tool belts wait in line next to Spanish speaking hotel maids and fast food workers. The arrival of the number 3 bus is synchronized almost perfectly with the arrival of the number 1 Virginia Avenue bus. This bus is filled, usually with people standing, holding the grab bars. I jump off the number 3 bus and shuffle past the late shift workers heading home and ranch hands going to the outskirt of Reno to hop on the number 1 bus.

In Reno there are no white collar workers riding the bus. In the past week I've listened in on countless conversations between strangers on the bus. One morning two guys are discussing which companies are hiring temporary help for the holiday season. They hopped off the bus together as it was apparent that neither of them currently had jobs. Another eavesdropping session revolved around which local motels had the cheapest weekly rates ($160/week was the last I heard). This morning I heard two guys grumbling about taking time off for the holidays since it meant they would lose some days from their paycheck. For a town that has 2.6% unemployment this doesn't seem like happy times to me.

Let's do the math here... At $8/hour and a 40 hour week a person can make $320. Take away 30% in taxes and you're down to $224. Take away $160/week in rent and you're down to $64. Take away bus rides are you are down to $49. That's not much money left for food, savings, kids, etc...

I don't want to paint too bleak a picture or scare you off from public transportation, but I am starting to see a phenomenon here. There seems to be an ever increasing division in the United States between the "Haves" and the "Have Nots". Some people describe this as the Well Curve. It might not be apparent to me or you by reading the paper or watching the evening news (it seems our society is getting pretty deaf to bad news) but it can clearly be seen from riding the bus. I don't know what the solution is but I do think the gaps in our social system need to be addressed soon. The article linked mentions that the Well Curve is often seen before a transition occurs. Whatever the transition may be, the recent uproar about the election would lead you to believe that many people are pushing for something to happen. There's no silver bullet but job training, education, and fair salaries are a start. Thoughts?

Thanksgiving in Four Acts

Thursday
The fun thing about Thanksgiving is that there's no warm up for it. There's not the pre-holiday build up in the aisles of your local grocery store like there is for Halloween or Christmas. There is no Thanksgiving Eve. One day your working and the next your enjoying mountains of food and a day full of football.

Since Ting, Zoe, and I really haven't met many people out here, we decided to splurge on the big feast by going to a local casino buffet. Now I've been out here since late July and I've resisted the temptation of the gambling halls the entire time. Not once have I set foot into a casino since I've moved to Reno (this also includes avoiding the slot machines that are commonplace in grocery stores, gas stations, convenience stores, restaurants, etc. etc.). The thought of an all you can eat buffet which not only included traditional Thanksgiving fare but also Asian and Mexican cuisine had my mouth watering. We took Zoe to the playground that morning and by noon I was already dropping hints about avoiding the long lines and parking issues. It also helped my case that it was raining that morning. By 12:30pm we had started to fill our plates.

The Peppermill Casino has an Island Buffet that is definitely worth the visit. To keep with the tropical theme a "storm" rumbles through the dining room every 15 minutes complete with flashing lights, shaking trees and simulated rain along the walls. Imagine, if you will, the Rainforest Cafe on a budget with slot machines ringing in the background. Four retirees who had made the trip from Quincy, CA sat down next to us as we started to dig into our food. They were immediately taken with Zoe who took several salad bar olives on each finger and pretended they were small, dark talking heads. As the meal went on and the plates stacked up we got to hear Korean/Nam War stories from our new friend Ray and learn the various health issues his wife and friends were currently dealing with. It was an interesting situation trying to grab more food, fain interest in jungle warfare and keep Zoe occupied. All and all we enjoyed it...

Friday
Friday Ting had to work and I got a welcome chance to play. We dropped Zoe off for a 1/2 day at La Petite and then I took Ting to work. Behind Patagonia is a beautiful network of trails that slowly ramble up from the Truckee River to the Sierras. With a good days hike you can actually make it up to the snow line. That was my goal, except that I wanted to do it before noon. Unfortunately the rain from Thanksgiving Day had left the trails a mucky, clay covered mess. With each step I gained in elevation and I added a new layer of clay to my boots. Often I could give a sharp kick and fling off a pound or so of Sierra Nevada mud into the grass. Well I never made it up to the tree line but I did start to explore a Shangri La type canyon far back from the Reno hubbub. Pict below.



There is sure some beautiful country out here...

Saturday
Saturday a blizzard hit Reno. Depending on the part of town the Sierras dumped 8" to 12" of fresh snow. The entire world was clad in a white crust. Zoe naturally went nuts and wanted to go outside the minute she saw the snow. The funny thing with Zoe is that she seems to equate eating snow with eating ice cream. She couldn't stop taking big handfuls of the fluffy stuff and sucking it down. I finally had to put an end to it when we got indoors and Zoe started eating the packed snow off the bottom of her boot... BAD ZOE! NO!



Sunday
After the snow on Saturday it was time to bunker in and deal with winter. We went to church in the morning. Sunday afternoon I picked up some Chinese carry out and surprised Ting with a jigsaw puzzle (Damn! We must be getting old). At the Asian Wok I encountered a truly monolithic snowman. Standing a good six feet high with sliced cucumber ears, a carrot nose, and mushroom teeth the snowman was like none I had ever experienced. He was not of the traditional Three ball construction but looked more like a scaled down version of the Washington Monument. I guess everything is a little different on the west coast.

Barbershop

Gotta' find a good barber shop in Reno.

In a world taken over by SuperCuts, Hair Cutterys, and BoRics a good barbershop is hard to find these days. This time of year I am reminded of the best barbershop I ever went to which was Jerry's on Irving Park.

Jerry was born in Mississippi and moved to Chicago start his barbering business. He took the remains of an old southside shop and moved it piece by piece up to his small northside location on Irving Park. All of the fixtures were original turn of the century include the spring back barber chairs with aqua colored enamel bases, the cabinets with white porcelain knobs and even a Barbasol machine that dispensed hot foam to shave one's neck and beard. The shop was the ideal space as it had room for two barber chairs and seating for 4 to 5 guys willing to wait for a haircut.

I started going to Jerrys shortly after moving to Chicago in early 1994. The first visit to the barbershop can be a little intimidating since all the clientele were on a first name basis with Jerry. Jerry was a big jazz fan and played everything from old Nat King Cole to modern jazz from Obert Davis and others. He would open about 6:30am in the morning and close around 2:00pm in the afternoon to make it down to the OTB to play the horses. Those who arrived at 6:30am were reward with no wait; while those who slept in knew that there would be a line of men waiting their turn for a trim. I saw elderly men and teenage kids, guys from the neighborhood and even a few from the suburbs all pass time in Jerry’s shop. Everyone was equal and Jerry called the shots.

Jerry, like all good barbers, worked differently then what you find in most chain shops. He rarely used electric clippers, instead preferring steady hands and sharp scissors. When you sat in the chair usually the first step was to firmly grasp your head and tilt it forward or back until your chin paralleled the tile floor. Jerry would go to work pacing himself with the mellow jazz rhythms; Making conversation if the room called for it, or keeping quiet if everyone was self absorbed (as often happens when getting a haircut). At the end of the cut, Jerry slathered on hot lather from the Barbasol machine and used a straight razor to whisk away the fuzz from your neck. For those who were waiting Jerry got a great selection of magazines. Military History, National Geographic, and The Economist made the shop feel a step above the commonplace. Pure, male bliss...

Several years ago I went to visit Jerry on a winter day in the week between Christmas and New Years. The Northside was empty and I had the day off from work thus it was a perfect time to walk down the block to get a haircut. Jerry immediately recognized me and took my my scarf and jacket to hang up on on his coat rack. Next he offered me a little holiday cheer from a fifth of Bushmills that someone had dropped off at the shop as a gift. I declined but the offer brought a smile to my face that I had a barber who appreciated the finer things in life. Shortly thereafter, a small note appeared in the windows of a closed shop.

"Wife of 42 years has passed. Shop is closed, Thanks, Jerry"

Jerry’s shop stayed closed well into the spring, when one morning I noticed the lights on and Jerry puttering around. I stopped into say hello and express my condolences. A few weeks before Ting had gotten a sympathy card which we had slid through the brass mail slot on the door. It felt a little strange getting a card for my barber who I only knew on a first name basis. It looks like Jerry had gotten quite a few other cards over the winter and had a pile of them on a chair in the corner. I asked him if he was planning to open up again. Jerry explained that he was moving up to Minnesota to keep an eye on his aging father. I then knew well enough that he was moving to escape the sorrow and memories of the shop he had owned for so long. Shortly thereafter a realty sign appeared in the window and Jerry's shop was absorbed by the day care center next door. An era had ended.

I'm not sure why I typed this up. Maybe it is just holding on to memories of Chicago, or the solemn mourning of a dying profession. I DO know that I'm very appreciative of a good haircut these days and believe that the world could use a few more businesses like Jerry's. God bless...

Zoe goes climbing

Last night I couldn't get to sleep. The problem with having a blog is that I've always got some ideas to write about but have a tough time finding the time to actually type them up. Last night was no exception. I have 3 or 4 good stories in my head just rolling around like spare change in the gravity well at the supermarket. Like the coins dropping through the hole eventually I'll forget them if I don't start typing.

We took Zoe on a little hike this past weekend. About a mile from our apartment is the Keystone Canyon Trailhead at the base of Peavine Peak. Peavine is gradually becoming my favorite mountain around Reno. Peavine isn't the highest mountain around here. It only tops out at 8300 ft. BUT it seems like it is the most massive. The base of Peavine would cover a good portion of Evanston. It is mountain flanked by mountains, backed up by rolling hills, surrounded by foothills, and on and on. Over the summer I tried to summit Peavine but after a 4 hour hike ran out of water and food and still thought the top looked miles away!

Anyways back to Zoe... At a little under 3 feet she notices everything that us adults take for granted. "Ohh… Big Poopie!" she commented noticing a pile of dog excrement off to the side of the trail. Someone must have an Irish Wolfhound around here or some other large beast. We hiked back about 300 yards before Zoe noticed a monster boulder on the side of the trail. The large rock was partially embedded in the canyon sidewall with about 8 feet of vertical rock next to the trail. Naturally I grabbed a hold of the rock face and scrambled up to the top to look down on Ting and Zoe. If Daddy can do it then Zoe can do it and that is immediately what she proceeded to do!

With a few pushes from mom, a boost from Dad and some worried glances between all of us, Zoe managed to crab walk all the way up the steep boulder. She even got a few scrapes on her new boots to prove she was a true climber!

With Zoe on top of the rock I hopped down to make room for Ting. I followed a small trail around the backside of the rock suspecting that climbers might use this for bouldering. Sure enough I could see chalk marks all over the various cracks and striations on the rock face. The back side of the boulder is much taller then the front; Maybe 30 feet at its tallest point. I continued to circumnavigate the rock. Hmmm… Maybe I could climb it?!

On the North side the boulder face was at a 60 to 70 degree angle. That provided enough for me to cling to the rock and get some purchase with my hiking boots on several small 1/2" ledges. I reached up and grabbed a small crack and began to pull myself up. I was climbing! After a few more grunts and grasps I had probably gotten 10 feet off the ground. Not only was I climbing but I was free climbing! Of course now I had gotten high enough that real commitment to the sport was necessary. That and some experience which I didn't have. Hmmm... How to get down without falling and cracking my head open?

I started to inch down the rock and found that the small ledges and cracks were not as big as I thought. By this time Ting and Zoe where already done with their climbing escapades and were yelling my name to continue the hike. When I did not respond (as I was "one with the granite" Ting started following my little path to the other side of the boulder.

When Ting found me I was spread eagle about 4 feet off the ground. Feeling like a fool I half-slide and half-climbed down the rest of the face of the rock, dusted myself off and rejoined my family. For a brief second there I was Dean Potter or Tommy Caldwell. I was a climber...

Update on the Fam!

Long time no type...

Actually I've been away from the blog for the past couple of weeks adapting to life with Ting and Zoe in our little apartment. Life has been good with both of them around and we are slowly integrating with our new surroundings. A couple of notes of interest:

First off, Ting got a job her second week out here. She will be working in customer service for Patagonia over the holidays. For those who don't know Patagonia is a high end outdoors clothing manufacturer with a pretty staunch commitment towards the environment. Ting's office has solar cells on the outside of the building used to power the facility. The warehouse uses special light diffusers to provide outside light for its workers. Fabric scraps are recycled for use as gift bags and children's clothing.

Outside of the company Patagonia has provided grants to farms to raise organic cotton (used in Patagonia T's and casual wear). They donate money to various environmental groups on a consistent basis and have even started a trust to protect wild areas in Argentina for future development as national parks.

Even though Ting's only been there two weeks she's pretty stoked about working for a business that actually has a conscious and cares for its employees, suppliers, and the world around us.

As for Zoe, she has started venturing out into the world as well. With Ting and I working, Zoe is now a student at La Petite Day Care. To paraphrase the Grateful Dead "The first days are the hardest days". It took Zoe a week plus a fever and a runny nose before she fully got situated at La Petite. While we are still a little reluctant to go the daycare route with our daughter, however, she seems be doing okay. As an added bonus, with all the stimulation of a day of play she's sleeping 10 to 12 hours a night (which means more together time for Mom and Dad).

Finally, I thought I would write up a long blog on my thoughts and experiences with the presidential election and voting in the battleground state of Nevada. As of right now though, it is all still too depressing... I can tell you that there is great division in our country now and it concerns me. There are a lot of disenfranchised people out there and I don’t see a leader that will pull this nation together. The next four years should be interesting...

The Coach

(Note – Ting and Zoe got out here safe and sound on Oct. 12th. It's a joy to have them back with me and to be together as a family. The story below is from the proceeding weekend… Just a disclaimer so you don't think I'm ignoring my wife and child by going out on the town on my own ;-)

Reno is a funny mix of artists, California ex-pats, and old west culture. To satisfy this weird conglomeration of people there are probably a dozen independent coffee shops and cafes scattered around town. Deux Gros Nez (pronounced "Due Grow Nay" in bad American French) is probably the oldest and most eclectic of these businesses. The fact that the owner is a huge cycling nut and coordinates one of the largest road races in the western states – Tour De Nez – means that I had to go and check out the joint.

It was a Saturday night when I grabbed my copy of Desert Solitaire and headed to Deux Gro Nez. I'm not much for posing in smoky cafes trying to look pseudo-intellectual but I was interested in this restaurant (and besides I didn't have much else to do). The place had only six or seven tables thus I decided to make myself at home at the coffee bar. The dimly lit walls of the cafe are lined with very cool cycling memorabilia from the last twenty years. Hanging from the ceiling are leader jerseys from historic stage races from all over America. Names like the Red Zinger, Tour DuPont, and Coors Classic harken back to the time before Lance Armstrong when America saw the emergence of a young phenom from Reno named Greg LeMond. But enough with the cycling stuff; I ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie.

It's tough to go to a restaurant and seriously read a book. I opened up my Edward Abbey and pretended to read but really I was listening to the music, checking out the clientele, drooling over the cycling decor, and listening to the interplay of the staff as they whipped together sandwiches and cappuccinos. Eventually I struck up a conversation with another guy at the bar. He was an older man, probably in his mid sixties wearing a green polo shirt with a United States Marine Corps logo stitched over the pocket. He had a flat top Marine haircut and everyone who came in and out of Duex Gro Nez seemed to know the man as "Coach". He seemed a little out of place in the funky cafe.

As we talked I learned that he was the retired coach of the Reno High School track and swimming programs. His eyes lit up when I asked him about his students going on to UNR's nationally ranked swim team. This launched into a long discourse about the inequities of different college sports. From there we moved on to debating the public vs. private school issue and the Coach's concern that parents just didn't put the time into their kids that they once did. We probably spent two hours talking about various subjects. I learned that the Coach had grown up in Reno. He told me about the Hells Angels motorcycle gang invading from San Francisco in the late 1940’s. We discussed water rights, illegal gambling, prostitution, and the other calamities that Reno had weathered through the years.

By the time we had finished it was 10pm. The Coach had downed a couple glasses of port wine and my own head was buzzing from a mix of coffee and Yerba Mate. He got up to pay his bill and asked me about my book. I tried to explain that Edward Abbey was a nature lover who wrote about the desert back in the 1960’s. It would have been tough to describe a man who writing ignited the environmental movement to an ex-Marine like the Coach. As I paid my bill I asked the Coach about his book. He smiled sheepishly and said the Nora Roberts was not one of his regular reads. We both headed out into the night, thankful for the conversation; the Coach, glad to have someone to talk to, and myself, feeling slightly more at home in my new town...

Eagle Canyon

I'm starting to appreciate hills.

Last Saturday I went out on a local club ride north of Reno. I showed up and waited around for two other members to appear. After one guy dropped off it was up to me and Tom. Tom looked to be in his mid-fifties and was sporting a jersey from a local high mountain century. He had the grizzled look of a man that's spent a lot of time in the saddle.

We headed north through the sprawling suburbs of Sparks and Spanish Springs snaking in and out of new housing projects. The morning sun started to beam down on us and I could feel the heat coming off the blacktop. The roads were clear. It was going to be a good day to ride.

We slowly worked northwest and began the ascent of Eagle Canyon Road. Eagle Canyon is an undulating road that climbs up over some mountains then descends into Hungry Valley. The climb is approximately 3 miles of varying 4-6% grade with several false flat sections. As I climb I leave the tile roofed houses of the Spanish Springs for sagebrush, sand, and jeep trails. There is no shade on this road. Riding mid-summer would be punishing. Our goal was to climb over the top and then follow the rolling downhill road to the Reno Sparks Indian Colony.

The funny thing about this climb is that the very first 1/4 mile is probably the steepest approaching 6%. I gear down and start to pedal with Tom approximately 50 yards behind me. My face is not looking at the scenery but instead I'm locked on the pavement concentrating on the rhythm of the climb. Since leaving Chicago I've started to learn a thing or two about gearing. I'm in a 39/27 gear and I'm spinning comfortably at 80 rpm. This means that I'm climbing Eagle Canyon Road at about 9.5 miles/hour. The climb is "sit and spin". Any steeper and I have to stand on the pedals and crank. Tom has now dropped about 100 yards behind.

Now, about a third of the way up the climb, I'm having a moral dilemma. If I slow for Tom I'll have to drop my cadence below 80 rpm. This lets my lungs relax but my legs will be forced to muscle their way along in slow motion. If I decide to speed up then my cadence increases above 90 rpm, I go anaerobic and my body starts to burn like a candle. Cycling is sometimes a numbers game that would make a baseball fanatic happy.

Today I feel like the Gringo. I've ridden the climb before and I know my limits. My cadence is good and I don't want to burn up my legs by slowing. I'm about half way up the climb and feeling strong. There are no cars on this road. No one has any reason to go to the Indian land on the other side of the hill. There are no strip malls or restaurants only a half-dozen rows of government built houses. I can ride down the middle of the road and I do. Tom is now back several switchbacks and is slowing.

At the top I slow and hop off my bike. On one side is the urban sprawl of the north side of Reno. Multicolored roofs denote each new development. On my other side is the barren Hungry Valley. The Indian colony where 500 people live seems tiny compared to the mountain range to the west. A truck in the distance is the only sign of activity in Hungry Valley. A plume of dust, probably cryptobiotic soil years before, streams behind the speeding vehicle. Massive Peavine Peak stares down at me from twenty miles west. Although I am happy with my climb, the valleys and mountains make me feel insignificant.

Tom comes up huffing and puffing. He explains that he is not feeling well today and, after a brief exchange he turns and begins to descend the Eagle Canyon road. I am alone under the big sky in the middle of the road. I can follow Tom down or ride over to the reservation land. I choose to continue on. I hop on my bike and begin to fly down the side of the mountain, alone, smiling, and going much to fast down the middle of the road.

Gmail!

FYI... In case you haven't heard, Google is going into the e-mail biz. GMail is Google latest product targeted at Microsoft Hotmail, Yahoo, and other free e-mail services.

I've been on Gmail for about a month, and while I haven't had a total flood of e-mail, I've been pretty happy with the features (despite some of the controversy). One of the main advantages of Gmail is that they give you 1 Gig of storage right off the bat. That means that you don't have to worry that much about deleting out old e-mails. Google's search function also lets you go back through old e-mails to find that long lost message that you thought was gone.

Finally, one of the cool things about Gmail is that, since the service is new, there are still a few cool names left (unlike Hotmail or other services that have been out there for a while). I couldn't get Steve@ or Hammond@ but I did get one I like. I have approximately 8 Gmail invites if anyone is interested in trying out the service then drop me a message below with your e-mail and I send you an invite!

Debating the Global Brain

A couple of things this week that have been making me itch to write. First off I finally finished a book with a new scientific twist on evolution called Global Brain by Howard Bloom. The day after finishing the book I turned on the radio and caught the presidential debate. What's really interesting is how these two "Taboo" topics have been dovetailing together in my mind.

Global Brain is a whirlwind tour of history from the Big Bang to today's current society of man. Harold Bloom takes into account microbiology, Greek philosophy, psychology, chemistry, and a number of other socio-scientific principles in an easy to read book backed up with numerous footnotes and bibliographic references. The interesting twist of this book is that it looks at evolutionary theory from the standpoint of networking. Evolution is possible because of like creatures coming together. This happens on the microscopic level with bacterial colonies literally changing form due to chemical imbalances in their environment. A more tangible example is the current ability of the common flu to somehow morph into a more virulent strain every year despite millions of dollars worth of research to stop it. Global Brain also gets into the forces that shape a network and thus force an organism to evolve. The need to create, the need to conform, the need to rebel, all are factors that can be seen on the playground, in the petri dish, or even in a flock of birds. Harold Bloom argues that these same forces have been at work with all species for millions of years. The network is what causes cities to grow. Wars to start, and creation to take place. Without networking and interaction, evolution stops.

SOOO... What does a wacky book about evolution have to do with a presidential debate? Actually, in my mind, a whole bunch! Let me start off by saying that I hate to discuss politics. Like religion and abortion, politics is one of those topics that, once brought up in conversation, forces this listener to immediately start forming stereotypes. Because of my beliefs, for the last ten years in every election I have registered as independent. I'd rather form an opinion about the politician based on what he/she has to say; NOT what party they belong to. Voting straight ticket in my eyes is a slap in the face to our political system...

Back to the debate. I started listening the night after finishing Bloom's book. The entire premise of this debate was the war in Iraq. I knew that Bush had to be on the defensive for most of the debate because of the obvious - wars are never popular. What did raise my concern was our current administration's stance on working with other countries. America seems to have really given ourselves a black eye in the world perspective by going into Iraq. Admittedly Saddam Hussien is a bad man and needed to be stopped. The issue is that by stopping Saddam we have raised the ire of most of the Arab world and certainly downgraded our perception of America by a bunch of other countries which once called us allies. In the long run this will hurt us.

Call me a globalist but I believe that we have to learn to work with our fellow countries out there and not bomb them, exclude them, ignore global treaties, and basically act like the playground bully. In Global Brain, Harold Bloom points out the dangers of exclusionism; being out of the "network". His book, written in 2000 talks about the threat to America by Osama Bin Laden a year before 9/11. We, as Americans, receive very little news of the world around us beyond the headlines on the nightly news. Perhaps the size of our country is partly to do with it but we don't speak other languages, we don't learn about other cultures, and we don't respect those who are different. One of the effects of going outside of the network is the polarization of viewpoints by our own nationality. This can be seen today by the seemingly opposite views of our two political parties. People quickly stamp themselves as conservatives or liberals and then hold onto preconceived notions of those who hold a different label. As these labels are hammered into us it makes it increasingly more difficult to remain objective. Just like our nation needs to become more diplomatic we as Americans need to show more understanding of our our fellow man - our neighbor. If we remain as we are then our evolution will slow.

As a footnote, I'd invite any readers of this blog to check out Global Brain. The concepts are interesting and the knowledge is bound to change your view of the network of your own life....

In-n-Out Burger

Had a doctor appointment today. I hadn't had a physical in a long time so the purpose of the appointment was to get the full check-out to see if there's anything wrong with my 33 year old body. Cholesterol checked out, blood pressure was fine, I was told I had better start taking vitamins though. Since I got the clean bill of health I thought the best way to celebrate was to check out the new In-n-Out Burger that opened a 1/2 mile north of my office.

Back at Michigan State I can remember my good friend Jon Wood extolling the virtues of In-n-Out Burger. Jon's from Southern California where the chain got it's start (as did McDonalds, Carl Jr. and several other defunct fast food chains). While everyone knows about the national saturation of McDonalds not very many people outside of California are familar with In-n-Out Burger. Wanting to see what the local hype was all about I decided to visit after work.

The In-n-Out in Reno has been open for about 2 weeks now. The first day it opened there was a line down the sidewalk outside the restaurant for about 50 yards. The city had set up orange cones to direct traffic off the main street towards the drive-thru and the parking lot. Whoa!! All this for fast food with a slight retro flair? I managed to use my big city driving skills to snake into the parking lot and wedge the Outback into an open spot designated for compact cars. The initial mission of simply getting into the parking lot was accomplished. The line outside the main entrance door had shortened up in the past 2 weeks. There were approximately a dozen hungry customer (most of them probably ex-Californians) waiting in line to christen the new burger joint. Once inside I was immediately impressed with the flurry of activity. At one point, peeking behind the counter, I counted at least 25 employees cooking fries and assembling burgers. In-n-Out looks like it does it the old fashion way with manpower instead of high tech grills and toasters. The menu was pretty simple. Three basic types of burgers, fries, drinks, and milkshakes. At least I wasn't hunting though twenty different value meals trying to decode what I would actually get for my $5. Since I was living it up after the good report from the doctor I ordered a Double-Double Cheeseburger, fries, and medium drink (geeze - better not tell the doc about the blog here!). I was given a receipt and waited 4-5 minutes for my dinner.

In-n-Out does some stuff that is fairly unique in the fast food industry; they take a natural approach. The fries are hand peeled and cut on site. The burgers are not frozen patties (read Fast Food Nation about the burger meat in most fast food chains if you want a scare). The buns use no preservatives to improve their shelf life. All and all the food is probably just like it was back in 1948 when In-n-Out started.

So based on my extensive fast food experience over the years you might wonder "what's the verdict"? For all the initial hassle, In-n-Out has some pretty good burgers and fries! What's actually funny is that I have heard several people mention that they don't like the fries at In-n-Out. This is probably due to the fact that the fries are real and not pre-cooked, pre-coated, flash frozen potatoes that count on various addititives to achieve their taste. The employees (who are paid much better then any other chain) all seemed friendly and smiling despite the non-stop business. With all that said I also felt the food was comparable with SuperDawg, Hub's, or Ronny's (and I mean those comparisons as a complement to In-n-Out).

Man! Eating at In-n-Out I'm slowly starting to feel like a local!? Wonder if Jon Wood will read and agree?

Summiting in snow!

Sunday was the first cold day in Reno (meaning I had to wear pants).

That morning I went to church then decided to go hiking. The peaks around Lake Tahoe have been calling my name for a while so I mapped out a section of the PCT near Donner Pass. Yep! It’s the same Donner Pass where in year 1846, members of the Donner Party resorted to cannibalism to make it through the winter. Of the 83 Donner pioneers only 45 survived the winter. The goal was to hike about 10 miles and summit Donner Peak (8019'), Mount Judah (8243'), and Anderson Peak (8683') before hoofing it back to the car.

I started out about 11:30am working up about a dozen switchbacks on the PCT before trailing off on a separate singletrack to bag Donner Peak. After an hour of hiking I started to notice the sky getting cloudy and the temperature dropping. Soon shimmering snowflakes began to wisp through the Douglas Fir. The snow was much different then back east. It consisted of dry, fine flakes; not like the clumping, packy snow of winter in Chicago. The temperature was still about 40F so I did not think much of the flurries. I soon hit a fork in the trail with one section leading off to Donner Peak while the other section headed west several miles towards Mount Judah. Since I didn’t really prepare for the cold (t-shirt, windbreaker, Nylon pants) I thought it best to take the shorter trail to summit Donner Peak and see what the rest of the Tahoe Basin looked like. After about a quarter mile I stepped out of the tall pines and made the final climb up the granite of Donner Peak. By now the snow had changed from small silver flakes to BB-sized frozen pellets of ice. On top of Donner I stopped to wolf down an apple and take in the scenery. Most of the Donner Lake region could be seen. To the east was Northstar Ski Resort and to the South was the ring of mountains that formed the rim of Lake Tahoe. In the valleys to the South and North the snow looked like it was coming down in like white sheets like rain. Hmm... This hiking was a little more then I expected!

While chomping away on the apple a couple of rock climbers appeared on the summit. They had the full gear with ropes, carabiners, etc. We immediately started talking about the 180 switch the weather had taken. One of the climbers mentioned that they were heading down because they didn't have tire chains in their car. This set off an immediate alarm for me. TIRE CHAINS?! I started thinking about all the "road closed" gates I had seen on the drive to Donner Pass. When the Sierra Nevadas get blizzard conditions salt and sand do next to nothing. The highways are simply shut down and you can't drive them. I started getting visions of spending the night in the car in my head!

Heeding the climber's sage advice I now began to gingerly work my way down the steep granite on the west slope of Donner Peak. Once back in the forest I noticed that the windblown snow had started to accumulate around the base of rocks and trees. It was definitely coming down harder and I followed suit and picked up my pace tromping down the damp trail. My hands were frozen red and the snow was filling up the creases in my windbreaker. Things were starting to get serious.

By the time I got back to the car there was probably a 1/2" of snow on the brim of my baseball hat. It was coming down so heavy that I could not see the peak of the mountain I just visited or for that matter, any of the surrounding peaks nearby. I hopped in the car and fired up the defroster. Time to drive down the tarmac switchbacks of Donner Pass. Luckily as I drove down the black pavement, warmed from earlier in the day, was doing a good job of melting the fresh snow. I feathered the breaks most of the way down and back to the highway.

My only regret is not having a camera to document the hike. I certainly have a new appreciation for alpine weather now!

The Reading List

Over the last couple of months I've been knocking off a lot of books (easy to do with out the temptation of prime time television). Here's a few that might be of interest to you:

The Millionaire Next Door - Wow! There's a lot more millionaires out there then I ever thought. What's good about this book is it delves into how these people live (what cars they drive, what neighborhoods they live in, their spending habits). After reading this I can tell you that probably most of us are not destine to be millionaires however, it does give some basic thoughts on how these people got to their financial status. The book reads a little like a textbook but is still very interesting.

Timeline - A forgotten Michael Crichton novel. Good if you are a Michael Crichton fan (I read Prey earlier this summer and it was pretty good). Basically a time travel thriller.

My American Century - I read a Studs Terkel book to give me a little bit of Chicago fix. This is a compilation of a bunch of interviews that Stud's done over the years. Kind of a brief history of the common man in America. Leaves you scratching your head a little after reading a book all about millionaires.

Fast Food Nation - Another good one. The author provides a complete history of our American obsession with fast food. He interviews meat packers, politicians, fast food execs, etc. The results are pretty scary for a guy like me who enjoys T-Bell! A good muck raking read. Time to go to Whole Foods!

Bobke: A Ride on the Wild Side of Cycling - Bob Roll was part of the first wave of Americans to go to Europe and race in European peloton. Bob talks about being a good ole' boy from Colorado and learning to adapt to Euro hotels, food, and the grueling lifestyle of a domestique. This is a great read if your a cyclist and probably entertaining even if you are not. Bob talks about the late '80's racing with Greg LeMond and the rise in popularity of mountain biking. He's the kind of guy that could tell storys all night at the bar; that's the feel of this book!

Flashing on the Sixties - The definitive photo album for readers of Tom Wolfe's Electric Koolaid Acid Test. Not really serious reading but cool picts and stories from the late '60's. Kind of makes me wonder if we're heading for similar social upheaval with Iraq, the election, etc...

For a final note, I got all these books from thrift stores or the library. The Amazon links are simply there if you want to do a little more follow-up. On the shelf right now are Global Brain by Howard Bloom, Subterraneans by Jack Kerouac, and Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey... Who knows, I might never get another television (although football is pretty tempting on the weekends).

Wild Horses

The deal fell through...

The people who signed the contract on our condo backed out several weeks ago so our place is back on the market. To further add insult to injury our contract was already at our lawyer being reviewed when they backed out. Now we have to pony up some money to cover our legal fees on the deal. Argh! If you happen to be reading this and know anyone looking to move into Lakeview then let Ting or myself know (although avoid showing them this blog!).

Ting and Zoe did come out for a good week and a half during the start of September. I never thought it would feel so good to see my family. While I have been leading quite the bachelor life lately hitting coffee shops, looking at tattoos and all; it was pretty exciting to know that Ting and Zoe were coming for a visit. I knew I’d have to spruce up the old apartment to prepare for their visit. Away went the Thermorest mattress and sleeping bag I had been using for the past month. In its place, a new Sealy mattress and box spring straight from the Mattress Land warehouse. The various bike tools and parts scattered around the living room were put away to prevent greasy little fingers. Finally, I made a quite trip to Albertsons to buy bananas, yogurt, and other Zoe-based food.

Zoe seemed to really love it out here. She exerted her strong independence at the apartment pool by gingerly dipping her toes in then standing on the first step, and eventually the second step.

“All by myself!” she screamed when I floated over to help her out.

Later in the week we took Zoe up to Tahoe and had her hike down to the waters edge by scrambling from boulder to boulder. There were a few small lizards sunning themselves on the rocks and Zoe immediately decided it would be a good idea to pet them.

“Where’d they go Daddy? They’re too fast!”

Ting and I just laughed as Zoe tried to pet the lizards only to find that they quickly scrambled into the cracks and crevices.

Anyways Ting and Zoe went back last Thursday and I’m back to my humble existence. This past weekend I rode the bike out through Palomino Valley north of Reno. Nevada has more wild horses then any state in the nation due to the huge wilderness areas within the state. It’s not uncommon for people living on the outskirts of town to have wild horses grazing in their back yard not unlike deer in the Midwest. As I pedaled along I passed the National Wild Horse and Burro Center. There were hundreds of horses galloping along within their fenced-off study area. I did 56 miles in the hot sun that day; riding through some beautiful desert land. While the ride was satisfying, it would be much more satisfying if I could come home to my wife and daughter.

Hopefully soon...

Drug Testacapade

My employer finally broke the news that I would need to take a drug test in order to be qualified for employment. This came about after already working for a month in my new position. I got the address and phone number for the local drug testing lab. They opened up at 7:30am so I told everyone I’d probably be to work by 8:00am... Mistake.

I got up on Tuesday morning and did my usually morning stuff including showering, brushing my teeth, getting dressed...and, regretfully...spending a little time in the bathroom... Mistake.

Off to the drug testing lab. Upon entrance I noticed a pretty cool cross-section of workingman culture. Fed Ex truck drivers, little old ladies, general laborer types; they were all there for the same reason, to pee in a cup. After filling out some paperwork I started browsing through the tattered magazines in the lobby. Luckily I was one of the first names called. The thought never crossed my mind that I would be there for the next 2 HOURS!

I was escorted to a bleak looking bathroom by a man who appeared to be a doctor (or at least wore some doctor's scrubs). He peeled of the lid on a 8 oz. plastic cup and asked that I "provide a sample" and not to flush (actually the toilet didn't even had a handle to flush if I chose to do so).

I closed the door and got down to work... and work... and work some more. Unfortunately my earlier morning routine precluded me from peeing in the cup! I strained and sweated but could produce no more then a couple of ounces for the urine vampires. After realizing that I had now been in the bathroom for a good five minutes I started to get a little anxious that my delay might appear suspicious. I slinked out of the bathroom and sheepishly gave the doctor-type man my sample.

He looked at my couple of ounces and cringed. Next, he popped the top on a disposable plastic test tube and began to fill it up, tapping the cup on the lip of the test tube to get the last drop.

Holding it up to the light trying to determine the pee meniscus, "It’s not enough" he said...

Oh, geeze... "Okay", I told the guy. "I’ll give it another shot (no pun intended)".

"I’m sorry Mr. Hammond. We can’t add to an existing sample. There’s coffee and a water cooler in the lobby."

It was now 8:30am and I'm sucking down alternating cups of Folgers and water like a man lost in the desert. I can feel my insides sloshing back and forth as I get up for each new cup. The steady stream of visitors has slackened and now myself and a leather clad biker guy are the only ones left in the waiting room. It's 9:00am and I'm feeling my oats... It’s time.

I lean over the desk and tell the doctor-type man that "I’m going to give it another shot (no pun intended)." Back into the bathroom with another plastic cup. Again I strain and work until I'm starting to sweat.

No flow from below.

I'm working so hard that... Well... I'm a little concerned that I might have to... umm... go #2. The minutes pass by and still the cup is dry. My stomach begins to feel upset and I realize as I work away that I now REALLY do need to go to a bathroom. One that flushes!

Once again I peer out the door and look for the doctor-type man.

"I'm sorry, but um... no luck... I actually have to go to the bathroom and that might get things flowing... Is... um... that possible?"

The man wearing scrubs rolls his eyes and shows me to another bathroom which appears to be the employee bathroom. I follow with my cup. I ask the guy, "Is this okay? Should I flush?" He gives me an exasperated look and tells me I can definitely flush.

Cup in hand I manage a good four ounces… It’s now 9:30am. I quietly grab my paperwork and start racing off to the office. So what should I tell my co-workers? He dropped the sample? The place was very busy? Hmmm…

Riding Giants

I started thinking about this blog the moment I left the house this morning. As mentioned before, there's a steep series of downhill roads on the way to work. Going down the hill this morning I watched as my odometer slowly climbed up to 35 mph. My first few times riding this hill I always felt unstable. The crosswinds made my front wheel twitch and hitting my brakes at these speeds caused the bike frame to shudder and flex. Now, after a month of the same hill, I felt like I had mastered it. I leaned forward over the bars a little more to cut the wind and hopefully bring the speed up to 40 mph. Even with a full messenger bag, I managed to squeeze out a few more miles per hour before looking over my shoulder, crossing two lanes of traffic, and leaning deep into a lefthand turn to head east towards my office. This morning was a good one...

Anyways... What I was thinking about flying down the hill was the movie I saw this weekend – Riding Giants. Riding Giants is a new documentary about the history of big wave surfing. The movie chronicles the history of surfing as it evolved from its historic origins in native Hawaii to the 1960's Gidget inspired, surf scene of Southern California. Most of America visualizes surfing for its tanned bodies, mellow culture, and Dick Dale beach tunes. This is where the movie departs from common knowledge.

Riding Giants documents the migration of the first generation of California surfers who moved to Hawaii specifically to ride big waves. Keep in mind, this is the mid-1950's with a "Leave It To Beaver" conservative middle class growing in America. The thought of young Caucasian men with no jobs, living on the beach with the only goal of surfing 8 hours a day was completely foreign to our nation. Jack Kerouac had just gotten in the car...

Riding Giants does a great job of telling us the early adventures of pioneering big wave surfers such as Greg Noll. It follows their progression from Makaha to Waimea Bay in search of bigger and bigger waves. The audience visibly flinches every time one of these guys fall 20 to 30 feet and is crushed by a massive wave. You can hear the gasps as the movie shows increasingly bigger and bigger waves.

The movie progresses into the modern era and discusses the evolution of Laird Hamilton's tow-in surfing. The key to conquering even bigger and badder waves is developing higher speeds at the lip in order to beat the curling wave that is falling over on the surfer. Hamilton solved this in the late 1990's by having a jet ski pull him into the wave while standing on his surfboard. This changed all the rules... Hamilton starts riding 60 to 70 foot waves on a regular basis. The footage is amazing. Hamilton look like a toy racing down a mountainous wall of water. This is truly extreme sport!

And that's what I like about this movie. There is no X-Games for big wave surfing. No million dollar sponsorships or teen idol worship. Guys like Hamilton are simply riding for the rush. These guys are testing the limits of their body and their fear. Also add the fact that Stacey Peralta, Director of Dogtown and Z Boys made the movie and you walk out of the theater with a mellow high feeling that you don’t quite get with the latest blockbuster thriller.

There’s no way going down a hill at 35 mph on a bike even approaches the thrill level that the big wave riders in Riding Giants experience. If I didn’t ride down the hill; however, everyday life would be a little more mundane. If you ever want to try and understand why someone climbs a mountain, surfs a wave, or rides a bike then you might want to check out this movie.

Stop! You'll poke your eye out!

I sat on my glasses yesterday. For the past 14 years I have worn glasses every day of my life. Take off my glasses and I can't read a stop sign from 20 paces. Now my 4 year old Lenscrafters specials are completely flattened with the temple snapped off on the right side. I’m trying to tape them together with some black electrical tape. It's 6:15am in the morning...

Well... what a guy to do but bend them back into place and get to work. I ride into work wearing my Rx sunglasses and debate whether to endure the humiliation of wearing sunglasses all day or trying to hang my standard glasses on my face and hold them in place with my index finger. I take the sunglasses. Noontime finally arrives and I pay a visit to Lenscrafters.

"No, Mr. Hammond, I'm afraid that frame style was discontinued years ago. Besides the computer says that the last check-up you had was in 2000. Would you like to schedules another appointment?"

I'm the type of guy that avoids doctors of all types, especially guys in a chain retail store at the local mall. I decline and leave. Next stop, Costco. They can take me at 3:30pm. Back to the office with my shades on.

At 3:20pm I go racing out of the office and cross town to Costco (getting "crosstown" in Reno is a pretty quick process). While the doctor at Costco quizzes me about the lowest line I can read on the chart, I start to notice the rack of contact lenses on the wall.

"So, how big a hassle are contacts?"

The doctor, probably amazed that he had a patient asking some open ended questions, starts pontificating about the joys of contacts. Within ten minutes I'm holding my eyelids open, starting at a point on the ceiling, and trying not to flinch as the doctor tries to stick an Acuvue Soft Lens in my eye.

"Hold 'er steady… Lots of first-timers have trouble putting in contacts... Especially men"

I'm not sure why men have more trouble then women sticking their finger in their eye but it took me about a dozen attempts. Now, a day later, I'm sitting here typing this without glasses. I’m blinking like crazy and my eyes feel like I've been up all night watching television, BUT I’m not wearing glasses. I’m told that these contacts will get easier to put in over time and the irritation will go away. Maybe I just need to take it like a woman.

Okay... Time to start looking for new sunglasses!

Church of Donuts

Last Sunday while out on the house hunt I decided to take a pit-stop at a suburban Reno Krispy Kreme. After playing dumb at the counter and getting a hot newly glazed donut, I ordered a couple of filled donuts and a medium coffee. Sitting down with the Sunday housing classifieds and my sugary breakfast I noticed a table of 20 something kids with bibles yacking away at the table kiddy corner from me.

Within 10 minutes several more groups showed up with bibles in hand. They all looked to be college aged kids and had no other distinguishing features beyond the bibles they were carrying. Next thing I know a guy in his early 50’s shows up, bible in hand, and sits down with his group of parishioners. This preacher had on a western style green blazer, a cowboy hat, and shiny cowboy boots. He bore a strong resemblance to Billy Bob Thorton…

Now that the preacher had arrived they began to pull together tables and start to pray. I was feeling pretty strange watching all of this and noticed the other Krispy Kreme customers were also starting to become aware of the group. After a short group prayer the preacher started reading from the bible and discussing "God’s intended meaning..." and "What Christians believe...". Needless to say, I was pretty astounded…

Obviously there’s a whole lot of issues going on here.

Why is an old guy preaching to a bunch 20 something kids?

Where are the kid’s families?

Is this a cult?

Why are they holding their service in a public place?

How does Krispy Kreme feel about religious ceremonies in their lobby? Especially since only a few of the kid’s actually had bought donuts?

What about the customers who now don’t have a place to sit since five tables are now taken by the church group?

Would you confront this group?

I offer no answers, only the story and some questions. All and all, a very strange morning for me.

The Gringo

Well, I conquered some demons today on the bike. Ever since I came to Reno it's been like learning the ride the bike all over again. The pavement feels different, the air is thinner, there are mountains to climb; you get the picture. This morning I completed a 25 mile loop on McCarran Blvd. McCarran is a loop road around the city of Reno. Parts of this loop include some pretty intense climbing. To give you an idea, I ride a 2-1/2 mile section of McCarran every day on the way to work. There are street signs going down this section of road that show the symbolic semi-truck on a wedge of hill with the words "check your brakes" printed under it. The hill is a 6% grade and every morning I hit 37 mph down the hill without so much as a pedal stroke. Needless to say going home is where the challenge begins. The first day I climbed the hill on McCarran I hit 191 bpm on the heart rate monitor. My legs felt like jello by the time I got to my apartment.

After 3 weeks of riding to work and battling the "hill" I decided that it was time to tackle some of the bigger hills on McCarran Blvd. The main climb leads up through the Caughlin Ranch neighborhood and is similar to my daily commute "hill" except twice as long! Anyways...without beleaguering the blog for the non-cyclists out there I rode the hill and several others that make up the 25 mile loop. I feel pretty happy that I'm progressing and getting stronger. If only my gut was getting smaller ;-)

During the ride this morning I was reminded of a passage I read from Columbian, Santiago Botero. Botero was the World Time Trial champ several years ago and rides for the German powerhouse cycling team T-Mobile. Here is a little write-up where he talks about Lance Armstrong in the mountains at the Tour de France. It's a very good read (even for the non-cyclist)...

"There I am all alone with my bike. I know of only two riders ahead of me as I near the end of the second climb on what most riders consider the third worst mountain stage in the Tour. I say 'most riders' because I do not fear mountains. After all, our country is nothing but mountains. I train year-round in the mountains. I am the national champion from a country that is nothing but mountains. I trail only my teammate, Fernando Escartin, and a Swiss rider. Pantani, one of my rival climbers, and the Gringo Armstrong are in the Peleton about five minutes behind me.

I am climbing on such a steep portion of the mountain that if I were to stop pedaling, I will fall backward. Even for a world class climber, this is a painful and slow process. I am in my upright position pedaling at a steady pace willing myself to finish this climb so I can conserve my energy for the final climb of the day. The Kelme team leader radios to me that the Gringo has left the Peleton by himself and that they can no longer see him. I recall thinking 'the Gringo cannot catch me by himself'. A short while later, I hear the gears on another bicycle.

Within seconds, the Gringo is next to me - riding in the seated position, smiling at me. He was only next to me for a few seconds and he said nothing - he only smiled and then proceeded up the mountain as if he were pedaling downhill. For the next several minutes, I could only think of one thing - his smile.

His smile told me everything. I kept thinking that surely he is in as much agony as me, perhaps he was standing and struggling up the mountain as I was and he only sat down to pass me and discourage me. He has to be playing games with me. Not possible. The truth is that his smile said everything that his lips did not. His smile said to me, 'I was training while you were sleeping, Santiago'. It also said, 'I won this tour four months ago, while you were deciding what bike frame to use in the Tour. I trained harder than you did, Santiago. I don't know if I am better than you, but I have outworked you and right now, you cannot do anything about it. Enjoy your ride, Santiago. See you in Paris.'

Obviously, the Gringo did not state any of this. But his smile did dispel a bad rumor among the riders on the tour. The rumor that surfaced as we began the Prologue several days ago told us that the Gringo had gotten soft. His wife had given birth to his first child and he had won the most difficult race in the world - He had no desire to race, to win.

I imagine that his smile turned to laughter once he was far enough not to embarrass me. The Gringo has class, but he heard the rumors - he probably laugh all the way to Paris. He is a great champion and I must train harder. I am not content to be a great climber, I want to be the best. I learned much from the Gringo in the mountains. I will never forget the helpless feeling I had yesterday. If I ever become an international champion, I will always remember the lesson the Gringo taught me.

Offer and a dinner

Woo Hoo! We got an offer on our condo in Chicago. Hopefully this will be the start of the process to get Ting, Zoe, and I reunited in Reno! I miss them terribly despite the decadent bachelor lifestyle I have been living (hanging out at Albertsons and all)...

After discussing the offer with Ting last night I decided that a celebration meal was in order; something beyond the normal fast food I was used to. Close to my apartment there is a small coffeeshop, Waldens, that serves sandwiches and other light meals. They are known for live music and alway seemed busy so I thought I would check out the local scene. Walking up the coffee shop I was confronted by a teenager with a 10” Mohawk haircut, dressed in the standard disenchanted youth outfit: Black jeans, combat boots, and an Exploited t-shirt (can anyone actually say that they’ve heard a tune by he Exploited?). I felt pretty confident walking in with my polo shirt, khaki shorts, and un-tattooed skin…

Inside I was surprised to find an interesting cross-section of culture. There were middle-aged families having dinner, 20-something slacker college students drinking coffee, and of course, a couple tables of disenchanted youth who were waiting for the band to start playing. I ordered a ham and swiss on sourdough and took it all in. The band was a folk/rock act with a female lead singer. The cool part about the act was that a couple family members where there to watch her perform and she even invited a young (5-6 y.o.) girl to come up and sing with her. Once again, I felt pretty hip reading a book, enjoying my sandwich, and listening to live music.

I hung out for an hour getting free refills on iced tea until I knew I'd better head home. Walking out I noticed the coffee shop had WiFi access. I wonder what Thoreau would have thought about wireless internet, electric guitars and punks hanging out with yuppies... Maybe the coffee shop didn't take it's name from the pond...

Tattoos

Reno has to be the tattoo capital of the US. Never before have I seen so much design on so much skin (and you see a lot more skin out here due to the warm weather). Example - last week I saw a tattoo on a woman in formal business attire (at my favorite place Albertsons, no less). Some type of scrollwork down the back of her leg. Another example, There’s a girl in my apartment complex who can’t be more then 15 or 16 y.o. with a large red tattoo over most of her lower back. I’m not sure what the design is but I think she’s Marcus’s older sister (see prior blog entry about the pool).

The other day a 20-something girl came into our office to ask about a manufacturing job. One of our guys from production came out and spoke with her. The first words out of her mouth were "I like that tattoo! I had a similar one but had it burned off recently!". This launched into a discussion about the pain of getting a tattoo vs. the pain of removing a tattoo. What a way to start the interview process.

And not to give you the idea that I’m only noticing women with tattoos; I’ve seen many men with tattoos, as well. These are all normal looking guys NOT biker types with Harley’s and leather jackets…

In fact, I’d say it’s a rarity to see anyone out here WITHOUT a tattoo. Admittedly, I feel like a minority in my un-inked, plain, pasty skin out here. Maybe its time to get that anchor on my bicep or the serpent around my ankle (Probably before Ting gets out here)…

Reno Observations - Friendly?

The western US is definitely different from the Midwest. With that in mind, I'd like to point out a few observations of the differences between Chicagoans and Renoites.

Whoa! The first thing I noticed was that people were friendly out here. Certainly more friendly then I was used to after eleven years of living in Chicago. On my first visit to Albertson’s Grocery store I was confronted by the happiest checkout guy I’d ever seen.

Checkout guy - “How are you doing today sir? (looking interested)”
Steve – “Huh?”
Checkout guy – “Did you find what you needed today? (large grin)”
Steve – “Umm… Yeah”
Checkout guy – “It sure is hot out there! Don’t let your ice cream melt. (chuckle)”
Steve – “yeah okay”

Steve – “I just moved here… How do I get one of those Albertson discount cards?”
Checkout guy – “Well Well…welcome to Reno! I can certainly help you out with that! Fill out this form and return it back to me! (looking excited)”
Steve – “great (rushing to the exit door)”
Checkout guy – “have a great day Mr. Hammond (remembering name from my receipt)”

This exchange gave me a flashback to Steve Martin in My Blue Heaven. In Chicago the checkout people look like they’re on work duty from the local prison. It’s hard to imagine getting too excited about a part time job at minimum wage with no benefits. In Chicago, you’d better know how to work the credit/debit keypad or you’re sure to raise the ire of the checkout guy, no less the people in line behind you.

I also experienced this strange friendliness while driving (people wave at you when you cut them off), riding my bike (people smile at your sweat laden face when stopped at a light), and walking down the sidewalk (people say hello and freely sidestep out of the way).

Starting off in Reno...

Well… A few people asked me about the bachelor pad out here so I figured I’d provide a little feedback. The apartment is a little sparse right now. I drove out with all our camping equipment so I've got mini, folding pots and pans to cook with and a sleeping bag and air mattress for a bed.

Apartment living is pretty amusing. I'm close to UNR (Univ. of Nevada - Reno) so I have strange mix of college kids, retirees, and various immigrant families in my apartment complex. The family next to me is Muslim. Every day after riding home I enjoy a nice cold beer on my outside porch. Oftentimes their two little kids are playing on their porch and the Dad gives me a nervous grin every time he sees me sucking down a cold one in front of his kids.... The other evening I was recuperating in the pool after a hot, 100F ride home and got asked to participate in a "chicken fight" with a bunch of kids in the pool. Next thing you know, Marcus, a 5 year old, had his legs locked around my neck and was grappling with his sister. School should begin soon and I won't have to worry about Marcus trying to send me to the Chiropractor...

Here it is....

Well, I've been looking for a while for a place on the web to chronical some of the trials and tribulations of our life and our move to Reno. Looks like Blogs are pretty trendy these days and Blogger.com makes it pretty easy so welcome to Tingandsteve's Blogspot! Look for new content as time permits in the upcoming days...

Steve