Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
"oh, my butt!!"
I carry a little memo pad with me all the time that I write stuff down in that I want to remember. A lot of what I write down is funny or inspiring things that people say.
After my recent trip to Texas, I was looking over the stuff I wrote down during my visit with my brother, Garrett, and his wife, Denise, in Houston. They have three kids - Mason, Madison, and Mitchell. The funniest thing I heard came from Mitchell. He's nearly five years old and really smart. At one point he was playing with Adria on the living room floor while I sat in a barstool with my back to them, visiting with Garrett and Denise. All I heard was "OH, MY BUTT!!" I turned around in time to see Mitchell running towards the stairs, in his socked feet, being careful not to slide out as he crossed from the carpet to the tile to make the turn to the stairs. Adria and I looked at each other and cracked up. My brother just shook his head. We're still not sure if he had to poop and was running for the toilet, or if he gave himself a wedgie and ran from the room to fix it. Here's a picture of his butt:
This is me pushing Mitchell to jump from the swing and trying get him to fly across the line in the sand. He didn't make it, and proceeded to re-draw a line in the sand closer to the swing. He made that one. He's a little daredevil.
Me and Denise:
Family portrait on the stairs:
Me, Adria, and Mitchell at the park, just before the duck-feeding.
After a few days, we left Houston and drove to San Antonio to visit Dad and JoAnn. Between Houston and San Antonio, Adria exclaimed at least four times: "We're in Texas!" 
We went to the Alamo on Feb. 23, which happens to be the anniversary of the first day of the attack on the Alamo by the Mexicans back in 1863. Here's a picture of me and Adria and JoAnn and Dad in front of the Alamo.
After my recent trip to Texas, I was looking over the stuff I wrote down during my visit with my brother, Garrett, and his wife, Denise, in Houston. They have three kids - Mason, Madison, and Mitchell. The funniest thing I heard came from Mitchell. He's nearly five years old and really smart. At one point he was playing with Adria on the living room floor while I sat in a barstool with my back to them, visiting with Garrett and Denise. All I heard was "OH, MY BUTT!!" I turned around in time to see Mitchell running towards the stairs, in his socked feet, being careful not to slide out as he crossed from the carpet to the tile to make the turn to the stairs. Adria and I looked at each other and cracked up. My brother just shook his head. We're still not sure if he had to poop and was running for the toilet, or if he gave himself a wedgie and ran from the room to fix it. Here's a picture of his butt:
This is me pushing Mitchell to jump from the swing and trying get him to fly across the line in the sand. He didn't make it, and proceeded to re-draw a line in the sand closer to the swing. He made that one. He's a little daredevil.Me and Denise:Mason, Mitchell's little brother, and the cutest seven-month-old on the planet:
Family portrait on the stairs:Garrett killed it in the kitchen during our visit. For lunch one day, he made grilled cedar-plank salmon with red potatoes and asparagus. Our last evening he busted out with the following dessert: grilled bananas stuffed with fresh raspberries and a dark rum-caramel sauce, served with ice cream. Good job, G!
Me, Adria, and Mitchell at the park, just before the duck-feeding.After a few days, we left Houston and drove to San Antonio to visit Dad and JoAnn. Between Houston and San Antonio, Adria exclaimed at least four times: "We're in Texas!" We went to the Alamo on Feb. 23, which happens to be the anniversary of the first day of the attack on the Alamo by the Mexicans back in 1863. Here's a picture of me and Adria and JoAnn and Dad in front of the Alamo.We hung out at the Rusty Bucket, a piece of land that my folks are working on. Adria was stoked because she got to drive a tractor. "Next time," she said when we were leaving, "I want to do some real work with that tractor."
That night we slept in a loft in the barn:
"No farting on the bus."
A recent and wonderful life event has allowed me to explore another means of alternative transportation - the city bus. I now commute at least a few times a week, either one way or round-trip, between Santa Cruz and the mountain-town of Felton.
The bus is its own world. There are regulars on each route - both drivers and passengers. Here's what I've noticed so far about my bus-world:
1. Bus drivers are generally happy.
2. Bus riders help each other out. One lady needed change and four riders scrambled to make change for her so she could ride.
3. People like to sit in the same seats.
4. It's not unusual to smell body odor, cough drops, and marijuana on fellow passengers.
5. I like looking at all the different shoes people wear.
6. Buses are never early. This is good for me, because I tend to always be early for everything, so I will test myself and see how late I can (comfortably) arrive and still catch it.
I dig it 'cause for a dollar fifty, someone drives me where I need to go, and during the drive I can do whatever I want - read a book, write, watch traffic, look out the window at the city or the redwood trees, talk to strangers, and watch people.
One of the regulars I enjoy watching is a teenager with Down's Sydrome. He's high-functioning, pimple-faced, and smiles all the time. I think his name is Chris. Today he and I sat next to each other on the bench before boarding. Another regular walked by and Chris jumped up and extended his closed hand for a fist bump with the guy. The guy, beaming when he saw Chris' extended hand and big smile, said, "Hey, man, what's going on?" Chris said something in reply and the guy came back with "Another day another dollar, huh?" Chris didn't really get it but kept it alive with, "Yeah, yeah, another day another daughter." The guy started to correct him by saying, "No, Chris, "dollar""....but then stopped about halfway through.
After we boarded, the bus stopped in downtown Santa Cruz, in front of Trader Joe's. An old man, about five feet tall with tan, wrinkled skin and good posture boarded and sat next to me. As he sat, he greeted me in a French accent with, "Hello, young man." He was wearing a blazer, SAS shoes, a beret, and large glasses with rose colored lenses. He told me two jokes in the block-and-a-half that we rode together. I didn't know the punchline to either of them. As he pulled the stop-cord to tell the driver he wanted the bus to stop, he looked over his shoulder at me and said, "How do you entertain your girlfriend if you don't know good riddles?" Oh, if he only knew....
He was replaced with a middle-aged ex-hippie looking man with a large, unkept white moustache who sat next to Chris. They obviously knew each other from the bus from the way they were interacting. The ex-hippie guy was joking with Chris and said, "Hey, Chris, no farting on the bus!". Chris immediately replied with, "Too late!!" We all laughed (except the young girl in the pea coat reading Marie Claire magazine).
The bus is its own world. There are regulars on each route - both drivers and passengers. Here's what I've noticed so far about my bus-world:
1. Bus drivers are generally happy.
2. Bus riders help each other out. One lady needed change and four riders scrambled to make change for her so she could ride.
3. People like to sit in the same seats.
4. It's not unusual to smell body odor, cough drops, and marijuana on fellow passengers.
5. I like looking at all the different shoes people wear.
6. Buses are never early. This is good for me, because I tend to always be early for everything, so I will test myself and see how late I can (comfortably) arrive and still catch it.
I dig it 'cause for a dollar fifty, someone drives me where I need to go, and during the drive I can do whatever I want - read a book, write, watch traffic, look out the window at the city or the redwood trees, talk to strangers, and watch people.
One of the regulars I enjoy watching is a teenager with Down's Sydrome. He's high-functioning, pimple-faced, and smiles all the time. I think his name is Chris. Today he and I sat next to each other on the bench before boarding. Another regular walked by and Chris jumped up and extended his closed hand for a fist bump with the guy. The guy, beaming when he saw Chris' extended hand and big smile, said, "Hey, man, what's going on?" Chris said something in reply and the guy came back with "Another day another dollar, huh?" Chris didn't really get it but kept it alive with, "Yeah, yeah, another day another daughter." The guy started to correct him by saying, "No, Chris, "dollar""....but then stopped about halfway through.
After we boarded, the bus stopped in downtown Santa Cruz, in front of Trader Joe's. An old man, about five feet tall with tan, wrinkled skin and good posture boarded and sat next to me. As he sat, he greeted me in a French accent with, "Hello, young man." He was wearing a blazer, SAS shoes, a beret, and large glasses with rose colored lenses. He told me two jokes in the block-and-a-half that we rode together. I didn't know the punchline to either of them. As he pulled the stop-cord to tell the driver he wanted the bus to stop, he looked over his shoulder at me and said, "How do you entertain your girlfriend if you don't know good riddles?" Oh, if he only knew....
He was replaced with a middle-aged ex-hippie looking man with a large, unkept white moustache who sat next to Chris. They obviously knew each other from the bus from the way they were interacting. The ex-hippie guy was joking with Chris and said, "Hey, Chris, no farting on the bus!". Chris immediately replied with, "Too late!!" We all laughed (except the young girl in the pea coat reading Marie Claire magazine).
Thursday, February 12, 2009
bike commuter confessional
I killed my cable a while back, and yesterday after work I rode to the cable store to return the cable box. It was raining, near dusk, the lighting in the empty store was really low, and the only clerk on duty was a middle-aged woman, sitting behind the counter in the corner. The darkness, quietness, solitude, and questions she peppered me with made me feel like I was doing a confession at church (I've never done one, so I may be taking some liberties here).
Her: "How did you get this thing here on a bike?"
Me: "I've got panniers."
Her: Blank stare.
Me: "Saddlebags. Bags that attach to the side of the bike to carry stuff."
Her: "You rode all the way over here in the rain from 38th and East Cliff?"
Me: "Yeah. It's not that far, and I don't have a choice. I sold my car a while back."
Her: "So you don't own a car." (The way she said this was interesting - verbally it came out as a statement; non-verbally it came out as a question - head cocked, chin down, eyebrows raised. She was doubtful.)
Me: "Nope."
Her: "Do you like your helmet?" (I was wearing it inside.)
Me: "Yeah. It's nice."
Her: "I bet you can ride really fast."
Me: Blank stare.
Her: "What do you do when you go on a date?"
Me: "I make her drive." Pause for effect. Then, "Just kidding. We ride bikes or drive her car. Sometimes I rent a car for a weekend to take a break from riding."
I like when people show interest, or doubt, in how I support myself on a bicycle. Although most of the questions are the same, I never get tired of talking to people about it. I guess that's the first law of bike commuting in effect (http://clayton-ryon.blogspot.com/2009/02/four-laws-of-bike-commuting.html). I need to find out a way to take this to the next level and actually *inspire* people to reduce their own dependence on automobiles. Fourteen percent of our car trips are less than half a mile...a five minute bike ride.
Her: "How did you get this thing here on a bike?"
Me: "I've got panniers."
Her: Blank stare.
Me: "Saddlebags. Bags that attach to the side of the bike to carry stuff."
Her: "You rode all the way over here in the rain from 38th and East Cliff?"
Me: "Yeah. It's not that far, and I don't have a choice. I sold my car a while back."
Her: "So you don't own a car." (The way she said this was interesting - verbally it came out as a statement; non-verbally it came out as a question - head cocked, chin down, eyebrows raised. She was doubtful.)
Me: "Nope."
Her: "Do you like your helmet?" (I was wearing it inside.)
Me: "Yeah. It's nice."
Her: "I bet you can ride really fast."
Me: Blank stare.
Her: "What do you do when you go on a date?"
Me: "I make her drive." Pause for effect. Then, "Just kidding. We ride bikes or drive her car. Sometimes I rent a car for a weekend to take a break from riding."
I like when people show interest, or doubt, in how I support myself on a bicycle. Although most of the questions are the same, I never get tired of talking to people about it. I guess that's the first law of bike commuting in effect (http://clayton-ryon.blogspot.com/2009/02/four-laws-of-bike-commuting.html). I need to find out a way to take this to the next level and actually *inspire* people to reduce their own dependence on automobiles. Fourteen percent of our car trips are less than half a mile...a five minute bike ride.
recession indicator #896
Random email from my friend Nick yesterday:
For our work, we both deal with transportation and logistics in the organic foods industry (I still want to call it a "community" and not an "industry", but I think we're beyond that now). His email got me thinking about this new economy (i.e. recession) and my job. I've never been scared about the economy and losing my job. I'm still not scared about losing my job, but I am really concerned about the economy. Got my 401K statement for the year and it lost 7% of its total value. And I do feel like the squeeze is hitting closer to home. In the last 60 days, two of my friends have lost their jobs. Another friend saw the writing on the wall and found another job about 30 days before massive layoffs at the company she left. Three weeks ago, an ex-boss with a company I worked for in Philly called me from the East Coast looking for work. Scary.
For our work, we both deal with transportation and logistics in the organic foods industry (I still want to call it a "community" and not an "industry", but I think we're beyond that now). His email got me thinking about this new economy (i.e. recession) and my job. I've never been scared about the economy and losing my job. I'm still not scared about losing my job, but I am really concerned about the economy. Got my 401K statement for the year and it lost 7% of its total value. And I do feel like the squeeze is hitting closer to home. In the last 60 days, two of my friends have lost their jobs. Another friend saw the writing on the wall and found another job about 30 days before massive layoffs at the company she left. Three weeks ago, an ex-boss with a company I worked for in Philly called me from the East Coast looking for work. Scary.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
the four laws of bike commuting
I made a choice 16 months ago to sell my car and fully support myself on a bicycle. I was inspired by a book (How To Live Well Without a Car) - the premise of which was "If you can get to work reliably without a car, you don't need one." I molded my life around this premise. Luckily I live and work in Santa Cruz so getting to work without a car is not difficult. The rest of my daily routine - surfing, yoga, mountain biking, and food gathering are all within a 4-mile radius of my home. I am 106 steps from the ocean for surfing; I am four miles from the yoga dive; I am a 45-minute bike ride from epic trails; and I am less than one mile from New Leaf. For the past 16 months, I have definitely learned how to live well without a car.
Supporting myself on a bicycle for 16 months has taught me a lot about myself. So far, I have distilled those learnings into my "Four Laws of Bike Commuting."
1. Have fun.
(share pictures of funny stuff you see on your rides, talk to people, wave at fellow bicyclists, slow down and look around, explore different routes)
2. Be prepared.
(know your ride and how to fix it, stay in tune with the weather, have emergency cash stashed somewhere on your ride, carry extra lighting and batteries, make sure people know where/when you are riding, buy a bus pass for days when you need to rest, buy the best gear you can afford, invest in a RoadID (http://www.roadid.com/), know that you will eventually be struck by an oblivious driver, know and obey the rules of the road and respectfully stand up for bicyclists' rights when you are on the road)
3. Don't bitch.
(you made a tough choice that most people will never understand - keep your chin up, always)
4. Don't ask for help when things get hard.
(don't let people bail you out of adverse conditions unless your welfare is at stake)
I can write these rules because I have broken all of them. I have ridden for days where I was having no fun at all. I have been stranded because I didn't have the tools or knowledge to fix a mechanical issue. I have complained about the choice I made, and questioned why I sold my car. I have slept in on a cold, dark, rainy morning hoping my aweseome girlfriend would offer take me to work. And in the end, I was the most grateful and had the most fun when I followed all of these rules.
Supporting myself on a bicycle for 16 months has taught me a lot about myself. So far, I have distilled those learnings into my "Four Laws of Bike Commuting."
1. Have fun.
(share pictures of funny stuff you see on your rides, talk to people, wave at fellow bicyclists, slow down and look around, explore different routes)
2. Be prepared.
(know your ride and how to fix it, stay in tune with the weather, have emergency cash stashed somewhere on your ride, carry extra lighting and batteries, make sure people know where/when you are riding, buy a bus pass for days when you need to rest, buy the best gear you can afford, invest in a RoadID (http://www.roadid.com/), know that you will eventually be struck by an oblivious driver, know and obey the rules of the road and respectfully stand up for bicyclists' rights when you are on the road)
3. Don't bitch.
(you made a tough choice that most people will never understand - keep your chin up, always)
4. Don't ask for help when things get hard.
(don't let people bail you out of adverse conditions unless your welfare is at stake)
I can write these rules because I have broken all of them. I have ridden for days where I was having no fun at all. I have been stranded because I didn't have the tools or knowledge to fix a mechanical issue. I have complained about the choice I made, and questioned why I sold my car. I have slept in on a cold, dark, rainy morning hoping my aweseome girlfriend would offer take me to work. And in the end, I was the most grateful and had the most fun when I followed all of these rules.
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