Not unlike a car wreck for enjoyability

I just happened to look back at my very first blog post. It occurred August 14, 2004. That means that I completely missed my own five-year anniversary. Blogiversary, which is a word I detest. But detest is a word I like. So props to "blogiversary" for enabling me to use a good word.

But what I really wanted to write about is the Apple store. It stinks. Really. I mean, I love our MacBook and am very happy we switched. So happy, I planned on buying a Mac mini to replace our dead desktop as the homework and web and games computer for the boys.

So two weeks ago I tried to go to the Apple store, but they were in the middle of a three week closure for remodeling. The store used to have four tables, some glass partitions, some alcoves, and a theater area near the back. So I waited, and on Saturday the whole family braved the 104 degree afternoon and arrived to find absolute mobs of people crowded inside the newly remodeled Apple store.

Which now had SIX tables, some glass partitions, some alcoves, and instead of a theater in the back they had a single check-out line and three "Genius Bar" stations. With the mobs, it was impossible to find any employee to talk to. So we waited in the checkout line. We knew what we wanted, were ready to buy. After 25 minutes while the four people ahead of us were helped, we got to the front. "We want to buy a Mac mini." The skinny, long-haired kid holding the repurposed Newton gives us a funny look. "Have you already spoken to someone a

bout your computer needs?" "Uh... no." At this point I felt like we were in a timeshare presentation. He swept us out of line and... to the front door, where the only person in an orange shirt (all the others wore blue) was hiding out of the way, behind the door, where it would be impossible to see him unless you were exiting the store.

"We want to buy a Mac mini. The one with bigger memory." "Well, all five of my people are busy now. You could wait... about 45 minutes, maybe. Or you could go online and make an appointment for tomorrow."

At this point I decided that people at Apple are really good at designing interfaces for one single person. But they desperately suck rocks when it comes to more than one person. I was so befuddled, it never occurred to me to punch him in the nose. I declined to wait, and I politely took his business card while thinking "I will only use this to point out a name in my complaint letter." We piled in the car and went home. At least our trip to Target to get reading glasses and boxer shorts was successful.

I got home and went to apple.com. Within six minutes I'd bought a Mac mini, complete with educational discount (my wife is a teacher) and free shipping. Why, Apple Store, do you make it so hard to give you money? Why do you insist on making me feel foolish by presenting me with an unintelligible store while simultaneously pointing out that all of your employees are geniuses, and I can sit and worship at their Genius Bar if I can work out the perplexing puzzle of your store layout?

The Apple Store was, in summary, an exercise in truly awful customer experience. But I guess it wasn't awful enough before, so they had to shut down for three weeks to remodel. Mission accomplished.

Listen to the author... no, really.

Intro in the podbean. This is a poem. I was going to read some fiction, but I couldn't pull it together in time.

This is part of the Robin's Readings series. All the coolest people on the web are doing it, so I thought I'd tag along. Visit Robin's blog for other links to those playing along.

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haiku wednesday - August 26, 2009

This week's words are
fracture
noise
vanish

So busy today that I wrote my three haiku on the train to work... then forgot to post them. D'oh! Well, I hope I can make the rounds before the end of the week.

---

noise suddenly stopped

where did the kids vanish to?

hair fracture in vase

---

lightning fractures night

thunderous noise, whiskey rain

she'll vanish by dawn

---

blank radio noise

blips fracture reality

stars wink, fade, vanish...

haiku wednesday - August 19, 2009

This week's words are
decay
graceful
riot

Tough morning after a very very long work night. I may skip the gym, but I won't skip my 3WW! Today I had to break from my purist tradition and use a derivative of one of the words. Today's haiku pay homage to Town Hall Meetings, the roaches that host certain "fair and balanced" "news" programs, and codgers who chaperon high school mixers. My only regret is that I was unable to use "truth decay" in a more extended dental metaphor.

---

shout ungraceful lies
truth decay results in riot
revolution, now

---

graceful webs decay
when spiders don't maintain them
bugs, freed, run riot

---

decay in morals
turns dance to lewd riot
no graceful waltzes

haiku wednesday - August 12, 2009

This week's words are
capture
jinx
qualify

@%^*(V&^#(&*( Mexico and all their cheap-shot cheating hack soccer players, and the referees they paid off. Um... no, I really don't feel better now. But thanks for asking. Barely time to breathe this week. No need for false praise; these pretty much suck as bad as the US midfield defense did today.

---

witch competition

bad jinx... capture moose, not mouse!

failed to qualify

---

capture attention;

qualify, equivocate;

jinx the election

---

the Twit Olympics:

Jinx, the cat, could qualify

and capture the gold

The new anthology is here! The new anthology is here!

The day after our old PC died a painful and horrible death after a short bout of dementia, I received my contributor copy of the San Francisco Writers Conference Anthology with my story in it. Yay me! I haven't read it yet. I think I shall before the summer is out. My very good friend and writing buddy Julaina, who first turned me on to the prospect of volunteering at SFWC in early 2008, also has a piece in the anthology.

It can be purchased here: http://www.amazon.com/Building-Bridges-Writers-Readers-Conference/dp/1440138133/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1250141487&sr=8-1

Looking forward to CONCACAF qualifying

Spoiler alert--if you are planning on watching a recorded version of the USA @ Mexico game from today, don't read further because you'll see the result, which was of course a predictable travesty. And if you choose to read on, be prepared for a good old-fashioned rant. Insert two profanities between every pair of words, and you'll understand what my house sounded like during the second half of this game.

With the regularity of hurricanes destroying trailer parks in Florida, the US lost yet another soccer game on Mexican soil. On the field were 11 good American soccer players, 6 good Mexican soccer players, 5 cheating hacks, two officials on the take, and one official who apparently missed the payoff meeting. The game followed the CONCACAF prescribed script: Have the US show promise, then have the referees take away their win, then hope the Americans get so befuddled that the Mexicans score a late goal to send the 90,000 fans into a fit.

Sour grapes? Sure, I admit utter bias, and bitterness whenever my teams lose. But once again, Mexico proved they are classless cheap-shot artists (for the most part). The US players showed they are not yet ready to win a World Cup. And CONCACAF proved that they do not want to see a World Cup that excludes Mexico.

In the opening minutes, a clear penalty for the US was

not called. Time and again, particularly in the final 30 minutes, the referee appeared not to see blatant fouls and cheap shots by the Mexican players. At one point, three Mexican players surrounded and bullied an injured American lying on the ground; another time, one player ran 20 yards to push an American without reason... the ref did nothing when shortly before he'd given a yellow card to one of the Americans for a basic foul. Ultimately, the US missed out on a goal because the linesman called an offside which clearly wasn't. In replays it was clear; at full speed it was clear.

Mexico deserved their two goals. The first was a blistering shot amid truly abysmal defending. The second came again from sketchy defending that allowed too many green jerseys to be open in the box. But the US deserved three goals, not just the one they got. I guess Donovan could have missed the penalty. And perhaps Davies might have failed to score on his breakaway that was called offside. But I'll bet any amount that at least one of those is scored, resulting in a draw instead of a loss for the US.

I hear you: Stop whining, bad calls are part of the game, the referee was bad both ways, yadda yadda. Here's the thing: The ref was not bad both ways. He let some pretty bad behavior go by the kids in the green shirts while handing out yellow cards to the Americans like he got them on a special sale.

And I hear you again: The US should have played better, worked their way through this adversity. Definitely the US should have defended better; their midfield was porous at best and absent at times. Steve Cherundolo was left in deep two-on-one situations about half the game. Mexico had an open range up to about 20 yards from the American goal. That was Bradley's game plan, and it would have worked for a tie or a win if not for the refereeing crew. The officials exist to keep the game fair, to stop cheating. That's not what they did tonight.

Finally, here's why I think the rest of CONCACAF qualifying will be fun for American fans: As much as CONCACAF does not want a World Cup draw that excludes Mexico, they can't imagine a 2010 World Cup that excludes the United States. Can you imagine the money lost if the USA does not participate? The long term damage done to the sport in this most lucrative of countries? Yes, I feel bad for Trinidad & Tobago, Honduras, El Salvador. Barring a complete meltdown that referees can't fix, the US will qualify. So will Mexico. CONCACAF can't afford otherwise.

It's too bad, really, but quit your whining, smaller Central American and Caribbean countries. That's the way the game goes. The refs are bad both ways. When qualifying is over, you'll just be left to contemplate the sour grapes.

Hiking to Ellis Peak

Last weekend, we camped in the Tahoe area. On Monday we hiked a gorgeous trail to a mountaintop called Ellis Peak in the Tahoe National Forest. The hike was about six miles total, over an easy and well maintained trail with a pretty steep climb over the beginning quarter mile. Some of the most spectacular views of both Desolation Wilderness and Lake Tahoe can be seen along this trail. As you'll see in the photos below, we were graced with unparalleled, perfect weather.

The hike started poorly when Sam t

ried to climb and then jump off the gate where we parked (which Ethan is sitting on here). It looked like he took a header right to the pavement, but fortunately his leg got stuck enough that he never hit his head; he only got a charlie horse in his thigh. But he was OK, and we charged onward.

The first quarter mile consists of dusty switchbacks up the side of the mountain, a few hundred feet vertical. At the top is the first of a long line of spectacular views, and a series of alpine meadows with various types of plants. At the top, the trees look weather beaten and sparse, clearly battered by years of wind. This is a ridge that rises well above Desolation Wilderness and then falls off into the Tahoe basin, so it's essentially the top of the wall.

Peter standing in front of Desolation Wilderness

Maria in one of the alpine meadows, sort of.

Peter and Sam on top of the rocky ridge

The trail meanders across the top of the ridge for a quarter mile before dropping onto the back side of the mountain, into a long and quite pleasant stroll through redwoods and white pines. We met a few other day hikers along the way, but largely the trail was quiet. A mile or so farther on, the trail splits--one path to Ellis Lake, and the other to Ellis Peak. We chose the peak as our destination.

Peter, Ethan, and Sam overlooking the valley leading up to the trailhead

A view of the valley; the road to the trailhead winds through it, and Lake Tahoe is at the other end of the road.

Ethan waiting for his old man to catch up, sitting among redwoods and white pines.

The last half mile is again very vertical, rising back to the highest point on the ridge, a pinnacle that towers over Lake Tahoe on its western side. On the western side of the ridge, the wind whipped across and cooled us nicely; on the leeward side, the sun beat down and shade was difficult to find. We ate our lunch on the leeward side at 8,700 feet, admired the view, then began the trek back along the trail.

Maria in front of the valley.

Maria from Ellis Peak with Lake Tahoe in the background. You can see nearly the entire south end of the lake, including Heavenly, from this point.

On the way back, the views were equally spectacular. Some were even more dramatic because of the angle looking at the sheer rock faces along the ridge. The whole affair took us about four hours. The five of us (us four plus my brother) went through five gatorades and about three liters of water, and we could have used a little more.

Peter trying not to fall off the peak or look to knackered in the elevation.

All the boys, from front to back: Sam, Ethan, Mark, Peter

When we got back to our Meeks Bay campground, we jumped in Lake Tahoe (brrr) and played some touch football on the beach.

This weekend: More camping, but at lower altitude. We will be going to our usual Lake Sonoma campsite with dear friends. For me: three weekends of camping in a row! See you on the other side.

haiku wednesday - August 5, 2009

This week's words are
accentuate
glamour
pitch

Just back from four gorgeous days in Tahoe. Great fun camping with my boys and my big brother. Nice to get a few days away from crazy work, but it means all the crazy work piled up in my inbox. Egads. This week's haikus pay homage to politics, pop tarts, and college softball players. Not necessarily all at once.

---

When you make your pitch,
accentuate the glamour
and downplay the slime.

---

those who love glamour
accentuate little things
and pitch righteous fits

---

diamond's glamour babe--
accentuate smile, strikeouts
mascara fast-pitch

how should I follow blogs now?

My online friends may have noticed that I haven't been commenting on your blogs much lately. Three things have conspired against me:

• Work is crazy. Normally I'm a huge proponent of work-life balance, and in reality I still don't put in as many hours at work today as I did during the startup culture days of Geoworks when I was a 20-something. But they're intense hours, and work is actually terrific--love the job, love the people I work with and work for--and I have this truly huge project that could be something really special in my career. So there's that.
• Jason Evans picked July for his contest. Writing the flash piece for the contest (yay me, a reader's choice second place finish sandwiched between the incomparable JaneyV and the illustrious Chris E!) was fun. So was reading and commenting on all 158 freakin' entries. But man, that takes time.
• The IT folks at work decided to block netvibes through the firewall.

OK, that third one I can understand because I assume netvibes is a bandwidth hog. But it's meant that I no longer get notifications when friends post. So the question for all of you is:

If my company starts blocking feed reader sites, how should I follow your blogs? Is blogger's "follow" feature actually useful? Is there another feed reader I should try? Should I write it all down on a yellow pad?

Looking for your advice here, folks. Unless of course you are hoping I stay away from now on. Which I wouldn't blame you for.

haiku wednesday - July 29, 2009

This week's words are
darkness
patronize
weaken

How could I go a full week without even noticing it pass by? The last seven days have been wild. Camping in the Sierras, two presentations to 1,000 people each time, travel across three time zones. And I am chagrined that not only have I failed to visit all y'all in two weeks, but I don't believe I even replied to last week's comments. (I do read them, every one!)

---

east glows, stars weaken
we patronize coffee shops
darkness dissipates

---

stocks, markets weaken
darkness, famine, falling sky!
patronize the mall!

---

sleepless, cold darkness
your words weaken at morning
don't patronize me

haiku wednesday - July 22, 2009 special Thursday edition

This week's words are
cradle
perfect
snare

Not only was I too busy last week to make the 3WW rounds, but I was so busy I never had a chance to post yesterday for this week's 3WW. I am, at least, rectifying that. Do I get to consider my streak still alive, or do I have to join #3wwfail?

---

snare the perfect guy
new cradle--no honeymoon
wed by Pa's shotgun

---

old snare, upside-down
taken from new mom's drum set
makes perfect cradle

---

clouds snare sunlight
spread colors in perfect arc
crdle in the mist

Wachovia tower Charlotte

Just finished a long day of meetings. I'm first on tomorrow's agenda, but it's a gorgeous night and I may have to take a walk...

Did I mention that while I am working away in my hotel room, putting together my presentation for the morning meetings, my wife & kids are attending the No Doubt concert back home, gratis, courtesy of our good friend Lola?

Yeah, I'm jealous.

SFWC Anthology Now Available

The San Francisco Writers Conference anthology, which includes the brilliant, ground-breaking, and breathtaking short story called "35 Across" by yours truly, is now available in both print and e-book. (I don't know where to get the ebook). I'm not going to tell you go rush right out and buy it today. I trust you all to do the right thing.

What I find funny is that my contributor copy has not yet arrived in the mail; I only got notification that the book was available on Friday night. Yet Amazon shows there's already one used copy for sale. Even odder: The used copy costs twice as much as the new copies. I guess they're still working out the kinks in this online book market.

post #700 - do you print your blog?

A dear friend of mine is in the genealogy business. She seems to do a lot of historical research and speaking (though I'm unclear on the revenue part of this gig). She recently raised a question for bloggers: Do you ever print your blog, just to have a "permanent" archive?

As this is my blog's 700th post (and I'm less than a month from my five-year blogiversary), the topic seems timely.

I always thought printing a blog would be missing the point. Won't Blogger be around for ever? Can't I export the file to XML and put it on a CD? Save trees!

But what if the unthinkable happens, and Blogger goes away one day? What if my archive CD gets scratched or simply degrades, as CDs are wont to do over time? Or what if formats pass us by, and my archive CD is no longer readable by new technology?

I wrote a story, I think it was a pretty good one, in college. I used my girlfriend's Mac, which was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. It was one of the originals (later to be renamed "Mac Classic"), way cooler than my Apple ][+. So anyway, I saved my story to a 3.5" floppy disk. I still have that disk, but I no longer have any disk drives. And I never printed the story. Lost? Maybe, maybe not. Worth the work and expense to recover? Maybe, maybe not.

At some point, CD drives will be replaced by something cooler. Nanotechnology is already producing some wild stuff. You'll get the cool new thing, then for a while you'll forget to migrate all your archived work, and one day you'll find you no longer have any equipment that can read your archive CDs that are stored in the garage, behind the carton of photos from the 1980s that you've been meaning to scrapbook.

But printed matter is always human-readable.

So what do you think? Should we periodically take our whole blog and lulu.com it into a type of journal? It would only be a few bucks; it would only take up a few inches of bookshelf space. But it would be permanent (barring flood, fire, etc.). Future anthropologists, biographers, and whatever it is my friend does would thank us. Maybe.

haiku wednesday - July 15, 2009

This week's words are
drip
hypnotic
sulk

Although I didn't have a very difficult time with the words this week, "sulk" was a reluctant participant. Plus, that's one of those words that sounds funny if you say it a lot. Sulk. Sulk. Sulk. sulk sulk sulk sulk. See? (Aloof is also one of those words.)

---

high clouds sulk, aloof
hypnotic waves smooth lake's sand
tears drip from willow

---

your wine-sulk bores me
hypnotic gyrations lure
I melt, drip in pools

---

it's hypnotic--gross!
that drip hanging from your nose
is your sulk done yet?

Clarity of Night Contest Entry

UPDATE: My entry is posted as #97. So many, many of my friends are also entering! And, although I've only made it through five entries so far, the quality does not disappoint.

Jason Evans is once again running a short fiction contest on his blog, The Clarity of Night. All entries must be no more than 250 words, in any genre or style, somehow inspired by or relating to the theme of "In Vino Veritas (Truth in Wine)" (see accompanying photo, taken by Jason Evans).

I'm sure he'll get well over 150 entries for this contest, so be sure to get yours in no later than July 15th, 2009. (Full rules at the link.) Also, his contests typically generate some really terrific writing--from high quality to high entertainment--so be sure to visit Jason's blog and read the entries. Already there are more than 80 posted.

Below is my entry into the contest. Although I like it for the most part, I think I was trying to do too much in just 250 words.

Judgment Day

The younger vines below stand like gnarly Jesuses, wired to their posts, monuments to the dozens whose blood soaked this soil under the roar of his machine gun. I puff my way up the dirt path to his plain farmhouse dug into the hillside. My leg aches as if his German bullet were still lodged in the bone, these fifty years later.

Sweating, I arrive at the faded green door surrounded by once-white trim, brittle with age. As I lean to knock, the door swings inward. My heart races. My leg throbs.

"Bonjour," he says. His weathered face is furrowed with timeless grief. His crooked hand is worn hard and smooth. His eyes, however, have softened. No longer the cold, leaden discs of my nightmares, they are now clouded and wet. "Come in. Please."

He ushers me in, seats me, pours. "I’ve been saving this." The label's thick script reads, Sang du Tombé, blood of the fallen. "It's the last of my very first vintage. His voice dies, leaving the final word lingering, and he lowers his face to his hands.

As he sobs, I exhume the small vial of arsenic from my pocket and open it. He looks up, into my eyes. I can see that if I pour it into his wine, he will drink. "I've been saving this," I say, and I set the vial next to the bottle. I rise and depart, leaving him alone with his regret and his decision.

coaching myself

My wife would say I watch a lot of soccer on TV. But the first 25 minutes was all I could stomach of last night's Mexico vs Panama game in the Gold Cup.

The game was important for both teams; the loser would be in a bad position for advancing to the knockout stage. In addition, Mexico are under serious pressure to display some quality after poor showings in recent tournaments and falling to 4th in their six-team world cup qualifying group. I sat down with my DVR and high expectations for an interesting and spirited game.

What I saw, though, was more like a couple of preschoolers fighting over toys. Early on, the Mexican captain was booked for impertinence when he needlessly carried the ball away from the site of a foul, then flipped it over the heads of the Panama players. I say kudos to the Ref for showing him the yellow card. The next ten minutes was filled with players from both sides--mostly the Mexicans--whining at the ref and arguing every whistle (and most non-whistles), asking for bookings, and collapsing in indignant heaps of fake agony.

There were a few moments of very good soccer, but they were hard to pick out amid all the preschooler behavior.

And it's the lack of that kind of thing (in general) that I like about the American team. They'll complain about calls occasionally--every player does from time to time--but unless something is truly outrageous, they let it go and focus on playing the game. There's a respect for the game, the honest effort, that kind of behavior shows. The opposite, as demonstrated by Mexico and Panama, illustrates a lack of respect and a selfish petulance that is unbecoming.

I think about things like this a lot because I take my role as a youth coach very seriously. I love the game of soccer--very few games are simpler or more elegant when played well, and it's the ultimate accessible game. You don't need to be 6 foot 10 or 300 pounds to do well. You don't need a 3.4 time in the 40. When I coach kids, I want them to love it, too. But to love something is also to respect it, and to honor it.

I ranted here last year about a game my kids played. The opposing coach taught them to play dirty in order to win. Their dirty play sucked the fun out of the game, which they won. When we beat them in the tournament rematch, it wasn't so much fun as gratifying revenge. We lost the tournament final to a good, well-coached team. That loss was far more fun than our win over the dirty team. I think that's true both as a coach and as a player.

Twelve years ago, I joined an over-30 league after not playing since I was 12. I look back now and realize how frequently I whined about bad refereeing my first few years in the league. I understand the passion of the moment that underlies such bad behavior, but I've overcome that now (for the most part). Coaching helped me see my own behavior on the field and modify it. Even though the kids on my team never watch me play, I still feel I should model the behavior I'm trying to coach.

haiku wednesday - July 8, 2009

This week's words are
gloom
kneel
transparent

Happy 19th wedding anniversary to my wife. No, not apropos to 3WW exactly, but I figured I should say it.

---

hypocrites, we kneel
transparent priest prays for us
gloom of man-made church

---

your voice lights my gloom
thick walls dissolve, transparent
come, kneel next to me

---

kneel before you? ha!
your gloom and doom are all lies
transparent clothes, gone

learning through play

Every parent knows peer pressure.  It overwhelms us, drives us to irrational and often self-destructive behavior.  Like limiting our children to 30 minutes of "screen time" each day.

We have friends (some of whom may be reading this now) who allow their children 30 minutes of screen time a week.  Screen time includes video games, computer games, and even TV.  I believe exemptions are made for computer (homework) and TV (family movies).  Most families we know, including us, allow 30 minutes a day.  We give an hour on weekends.

Most screen time involves Wii FPS games, Wii "Brawl," or Spore on the computer.  But how much is really too much?  My kids have begun making a low-budget movie.  Their equipment is a 6-year-old digital camera with an MPG feature, plus whatever they can turn into costumes and props.  The most successful prop appears to be the garage door, which they film closing when they want to illustrate that the main character has been locked away in a prison camp cell.  They have a plot, but they take turns being the main character and there's not much dialog besides "oh, I've been shot" and such.  This makes the whole thing a little difficult to follow.

BUT today they discovered how to get the files onto the new MacBook and play with them in iMovie.  Ethan is cutting out bits and splicing the segments together.  He already knows how to add background music and sound effects.  Sam, who just turned 10, is actually quite a good cameraman and is learning iMovie and GarageBand, too.

Does this count as "screen time"?  They're creating.  They're learning.  They're developing skills that I think will help them achieve more in the future.  They're honing their ability to think creatively, to identify improvements and try again.  Their work allows us to talk about the craft of storytelling, the craft of moviemaking, even money management.

But they're still huddled over a screen inside during summer vacation for much of the day.

I suppose it's really about balance.  Time spent filming is time outdoors, imagining and playing.  Time not on the computer is time spent reading or playing games.  (The one thing they DON'T do is chores.  Of any kind.  At any time.)  Really it shouldn't be about time in front of the screen.  It should be about time spent in mindless play as opposed to imaginative or active play.

personal writing log

I've been a total slug with writing recently.  OK, only a partial slug.  Work is sucking up all my creative energy.  Still, in June I managed to write ten poems (besides my haiku wednesdays), and some of them were even decent.  That's ahead of my "2 poems a week" goal for 2009.  I hit 1,111 words for Aerin's random complexity challenge.  I even revised one chapter of "Andie's Gold," my MG adventure set in the gold rush.  So I'm on my goals.  But my goals are modest.

Any of you who would like to see my poems, please email me at dudleypj at gmail dot com.  They're posted to a private blog which only Aerin appears to be reading (hi Aerin!  Thanks!).  I'm happy to have more people there; I just don't want them to be considered "published."

Speaking of "published," within the next few weeks a story of mine will appear in the San Francisco Writers Conference anthology.  AND a poem of mine was accepted by a literary journal and is expected to be published I guess towards the end of this year.  It's my second attempt at publishing poetry and first hit.  Doesn't pay much, but I'm thrilled.  I heard the journal's co-editor speak, and I am honored and flattered that she liked my work.