Life is too short...

...for mediocre espresso shots.


In the mornings (and sometimes in the afternoon), my drink of choice is usually a quad vanilla espresso. I used to get very dry quad vanilla cappucinos, but few and far between was the barista who could either pull the shots correctly, or (more often) get what the 'very dry' part of my drink order meant.


These days, however, I am finding that fewer and fewer baristas are even attempting to pull the 4 shots needed for my quad vanilla espresso correctly. There seems to be this popularly held misconception that pulling a shot of espresso means filling a shot glass to the line with espresso; it does not. A good shot will be about two-thirds crema and one third coffee:

Usually, though, I prefer my shots to be pulled short, that is, stopped well before the crema forms, meaning that I should only be getting about an ounce. Too many places pull the shots long, and don't pack thier coffee sufficiently - or they use the wrong beans - so that no crema forms.


There are places that I frequent that "get it", and others that don't. In the former group:

• Trabant (I go to their downtown location)
• Victrola (Beacon Hill)
• Empire Espresso
• Vivace (Both the one in Capitol Hill and the one in Cascade)
• Caffe Bella

Maybes:

• The Station (Louis makes a good quad vanilla cappucino)
• Columbia City Bakery (I can get a good quad vanilla espresso from them, but only a fair quad shot)

And, finally, the ones who don't:

• Starbucks (No surprise there)
• Cherry Street Espresso (The one barista who pulled decent shots at the Mueseum location no longer works there)
• Motore (They used to pull good shots, but the last few times that I've been there I've noticed a definite downhill slide in shot quality)

Watery concoctions that have lost their souls

This weekend, in the process of getting things back in order after my parents visit combined with making preperations for our upcoming journey to Utah, I got the chance to go to a spot that I used to frequent when I lived in Belltown, El Diablo Cafe in in Upper Queen Anne. I used to love heading up there on Sunday mornings for thier authentically brewed Cuban Coffee. Before heading into the store, however, I noticed a new (to me) establishment, Wink Cupcakes. They were closing up, so I bought Carrie a Peanut Butter cupcake and a Vanilla one for myself (Carrie proclaimed hers to be "the best cupcake that (she) ever had!"). I went into El Diablo to get my drink - a Cuban Coffee, and was a bit disappointed; whereas their Cuban Coffees used to be a rich, frothy brew full of flavor, this one was a watery concoction that seemed to have lost its soul.

Speaking of watery concoctions that have lost their souls...

I went driving around Queen Anne and, in the course, of such, got the chance to think a bit. It seems that neighborhoods here in Seattle have become clones of each other. Slowly but surely, older apartment buildings are being replaced with the brick, glass and brushed concrete of condominiums, neighborhood-specific shops are closing down, and chains, both local and national, are moving in, and the population that served to lend a genuine color to the local scenes are being replaced with haughty, bleached out yuppies, soccer moms and older professionals. My old haunts of Ballard, Greenwood, Fremont, Greenlake, Wallingford, Belltown and Capitol Hill have fallen by the wayside; Columbia City and the Central District are in the process of becomming agresssively getrified themselves, and I'm sure that someone has thier eye on Georgetown and Beacon Hill. Or not. I can only hope that the latter two communities are able to retain thier working class and (in the case of Georgetown) industrial flair for a few more generations. Or years, even.




Finally....


I've started a new blog that is dedicated to my somewhat varied (as in quality) writings. Please be warned that there is rough language on this site. Without further ado, I give to you C.A.'s Cafe!!!

The end of an era (almost)

Pretty soon after we moved into our new house here in Beacon Hill, Carrie and I bought a spiffy espresso machine (a Rancilio Silvia):

From Blogger Pictures

...and a rather run of the mill (no pun intended) Cuisinart grinder:

From Blogger Pictures

Carrie and I are both avid coffee drinkers  - we even had our first date at a local cafe; after moving in together and combining our resources, however, we quickly realized that, between the two of us, we were spending a lot of money on our one-off  trips to the cafe. We had hoped that by investing money in decent equipment up front, we could make our own coffee drinks and save money in the long run.

Problem was, we didn't have all the pieces in play. We had a pretty kick-ass machine in the Silvia, and can always get good beans, but, as Alton Brown would put it, we didnt have all of the elements of good espressso; we had the Macchina Espresso, the Mano dell’operatore could be obtained with time, the Miscela with money, and the Manutenzione kept up on, but our 15-setting  Cuisinart was incapable of delivering the Macinadosatore! We just could not get a fine enough grind of coffee that would produce a decently pulled shot.


So, we splurged yet again, and got this little beauty:

From Blogger Pictures

This Maestro is a smaller, home version of the same grinder that some of the smaller chains and one-off cafes around here use. It has 40 settings, and, sure enough, it does produce a very fine powder that allows us to pull the perfect shot of espresso.


So - why the end of an era (almost)? Well, for both Carrie and I, going out to a cafe is much more than just an opportunity to get coffee. It's a social event - a chance to get out of  the office, away from the home, and see other individuals in a nice, third place setting. We won't be giving that up completely- but we will have to adjust and make this change in our lives.

All good things...

Now that the kids are here in the world, I am stepping away a bit from the me-centric Caffeine Nation and devoting more time to C.C and the Beans, a more family-centered blog that is devoted to Gabe, Ollie, Carrie and I - and even Axia! I'm hoping that you'll see some content from Carrie there, as well. 


I decided to move away from Blogger for this one because, as much as I like Blogger, Wordpress is the better tool for blogging, I think. There are far more templates, and I have found one that fits the likes of both Carrie and I just fine. Plus, as much as I value comments, I really don't like anonymous commentary...


Here are all of the blogs  that I currently maintain:

• CC and the Beans - Family Stuff
• This Blog - runs, restaurant reviews, general musings
• The Caffeine-nation of Charlie - Java Programming stuff

You are more than welcome to follow one, two, or all three of my blogs! Of course, comments are always welcome!

Boujey, part deux

A couple of weeks ago, I (halfheartedly) lamented my own slide into the depths of the poor-man's yuppiedom that had been accomplished with the single act of hiring a cleaning service on a biweekly basis.

I still had further to go... ;)

Before the two of us started going out in 2007, Carrie had subscribed to an organics delivery service called Pioneer Organics. They were bought out by Spud! shortly after we suspended our deliveries due to our changing tastes, and the fact that we wanted to be a bit more flexible when it came to our purchasing of food (we didn't want to have to plan what we were going to eat a week ahead of time).

Fast forward two years and two (rapidly approaching) births later, and we've rethought our position on the matter. See, my schedule these days pretty much consists of getting up in the morning, going for a run, grabbing a quick breakfast, going into work, getting off at 5, coming home, getting the house (and Axia) tended to, making dinner, eating dinner, and going to visit Carrie in the hospital, getting home around ten at night. I just don't have that much time to spend on shopping and making complicated meals, especially since my weekends are spent getting the house ready for our kids.

So, we decided to, not only go back to ordering organic fruits and vegetables through Spud!, but also order entire meals through Designed Dinners. That way, all I have to do is reheat the simple meals from Designed Dinners while preparing veggies (I like to stick  to collards or chard, with the occasional bit of spinach thrown in) and starch (tonight, it will be potatoes). I don't have to spend a lot of time gathering ingredients together.

Okay, maybe not so boujey after all. Maybe the slide hasn't started even yet.

One can hope...

Boujey

I think that we’re going “boujey”.

Don’t misunderstand me. I think that the two of us – separately and as  a couple – have always had those tendencies.  We both favor Whole Foods, have more than a passing familiarity with the French Language, watch “Masterpiece Contemporary”, have plenty of foreign films in our Netflix queue, are very particular about our coffee, and could very well be outright foodies if it weren’t for the fact that neither one of us are quite that snobby.
 

See? Boujey.
 

I bring this up because when the prospect of Carrie going on bedrest transitioned from a mere possibility to an emerging reality, we decided that it would behoove us to hire a housekeeper to come to our place and give it a deep cleaning.  Now, lest you think that we’ve fully gone over to the darkside (or, as it’s known in local parlance, the East Side), we’ve not gone out and solicited a single individual and put this poor soul on call 24/7 – instead, we contacted a locally owned, environmentally company called Seattle Natural  Cleaning, and we’re having them come out every other week to clean our house.
 

Okay, not totally boujey, but close enough to make me realize that, while we don’t make enough to totally be catered to as often as we’d like (or need), we still do well enough to entertain certain possibilities that are beyond the scope of many. Insert twinges of Middle-Class Liberal guilt here.
 

In other asides, QFC sucks. For me, the selections are limited, the organization haphazard, and the stores crowded and unfriendly. There are three notable exceptions – the QFC in lower Queen Anne, and the two on Broadway. These stores are large, spacious, well-lit and somewhat pleasant places to shop. Then again, of all the QFC’s in the Puget Sound area, I imagine these three (along with the one in University Villiage) are probably the ones that are most frequented by boujey individuals. Like us.
 

Sigh.

Why don't I just come out and say it?

Some of you may be wondering why I choose to post the latest news regarding the pregnancy and kids on my blog than posting it straight to Facebook (if you are being directed to here from there) or email (likewise). The answer is simple, but it may be a little off-putting to people.

In my life, I've gotten to know - with varying degrees of familiarity and intimacy - lots of discrete individuals. Many - even within my family - are just acquaintances, some are genuine friends. I (understandably, in my mind at least) prefer to share the deeper details of my life with the latter. Believe it or not, I really don't want just anyone to know that much about the comings and goings of my own life.

Yet, in setting the bar above which friends leap and below which acquaintances slide easily, I do realize that it's not only my own estimation of the intrinsic value of my relationship to another that counts - it's the happy intersection between that and the estimation of the reverse as held by the other that determines the whole.  In more germane terms - I can put the details about my life out there - but how willing are people to actively seek them out, given an easy trail to follow?

Hence - my blogging about the pregnancy, and other issues.  I'm more than willing to let others know what is going on, and invite them continually into my circle of friends. Whether or not they take a step forward on their own, and follow the links (or, even better, elect to either subscribe to or follow this blog) is another matter entirely.

Ahora descienden de mi caja de jabón de.

Cold Turkey...

It was almost a disaster.

Carrie and I had planned on grill-roasting our turkey. I had gotten the turkey prepped, cleaned, rinsed, brined, rinsed again, and set on a nicely preheated, cleaned grill with woodchips for smokiness.

Then it happened.

We ran out of propane - at 3 in the afternoon - on Thanksgiving.

*sigh*

I would like to be able to say "luckily, Lowes was open until 4, and, after much heroic effort and mad-dashing down Beacon Hill, I made it to the store with 10 minutes to spare, and I was able to trade in my existing propane tank for a new one, and all was good." Alas, such was not to be the case. No place that sold propane was open in Seattle, and Carrie and I hastily re-jiggered the course d' cuire, and our Thanksgiving dinner was only an hour delayed.

Everything turned out great  - the appetizers set the stage nicely, the turkey and stuffing was moist, the green beans, cornbread and beets were delicious, and the desert was fantastic.  We spent that meal doing something very un-Thanksgiving-like - watching season three of Deadwood - but to each their own ;)

I spent most of the day after doing projects around the house, attempting to strike items off of the ever-growing list that, inevitably, every homeowing husband finds awaiting him. Lest you think that I do these things grudgingly, however, know that I'd much rather work for our gratification in our own house than someone else's in an apartment - or not at all, even, since the results of my efforts work to enrich our lives directly. Also, before you get the impression that the list is solely a "honey-do" list, let me also add that many of  the items on it were directly contributed by me.

Nibbana

I just learned last night that a classmate of mine died recently. She was only a few months younger than I. In truth, even though I do remember having sparse interactions with her twenty years ago, I didn't really know her that well, and, strangely, that makes her death a bit more poignet for me.

Had I known her better, I could regret her passing properly, and perhaps have something a bit more meaningful to offer in the general forum where her friends, family and acquaintances  congregate. As it is, however, I am finding that death hits uncomfortably close to me - which it has done on rather few occasions within memory - and instead of feeling either sadness or nothing, I feel oddly transitional, and almost in denial about my own mortality.

In that sense, therefore, I have this (probably selfish) wish that I either had known this person better or not at all; the former so that I could properly first commiserate her death and then celebrate her life and have both acts convey respect and relevance; the latter so that, just as I do with the many other passing of individuals who are faceless to me, mournfully recognize the abstract concept of the shuffling off of yet another person from this world whilst remaining supremely aware of my own existence - and, for yet a short while longer - blissfully ignorant (or willfully in denial) of the certain alternative. Having slightly known this person, however, I can only, in reality, accomplish but shades of either stance whilst wishing to fully realize one or the other.

On the other hand, perhaps such imperfect ambivalence is but a part of the human experience, and it's out of an overblown sense of my own importance coupled with a denial of the absurd being that I occasionally am that leads me to feel that I need to fully express one stance - intimate regret  - or the other  - distanced acknowledgment. There is a grey line where Yin and Yang meet, and - for but a short while - we all live there, whether we do so consciously or not. Both a desire for the security that I get from certitude and my forgetfulness of how transitory this state of being truly is may be what's causing me to deny the legitimacy of my own feelings in this matter. In that case, I'll happily take my cue from wiser people than me, who have fallen in physical form, but risen anew in memory, and live as such, translated and transformed, until this day. That is the blessing that I wish is bestowed upon my fallen classmate, and is a desire that I have for myself one day.

U.S. Healthworks - a "Like" story

Let me begin by saying that I have no doubt that places such as U.S. Healthworks exist for a reason, and I'm sure that, for many people, the level of care that they receive there is more than adequate to meet their needs. I'd also like to say that I normally dnn't consider myself to be an elitist when it comes to the level of medical help that I feel that I deserve.

That having been said, my visit recently to the USH facility on Denny was creepy, to put it mildly.  The receptionist wasn't the sharpest tack on the posterboard, and kept touching her hands to her face - which I think is a no-no when you are working in a doctor's office. The office itself was unkempt, but nowhere near as disheveled as the MDA (I'm assuming that's some sort of medical assistant) who took me back to the room. Hirsute, overweight, unshaven for probably about three days, dressed in tattered scrubs, and wearing beat-up tennis shoes, I was almost tempted to think that I was - well, on Scrubs! The highlights of my interaction with him: he taking a strange slip of paper from a desk drawer and silently thrusting it towards my mouth, leaving it to me to decipher that said piece of paper was really a disposable thermometer; and him cranking the air pressure to about 300 psi so that he could take my blood pressure. Note to the nurse: after having squeezed my arm from my body, it's bound to be low.

At the very least the doctor herself seemed to be competant at what she does.  But the sheer level of heat in the office was so great that I almost got sick a couple of times, and she had to ask me if nausea was part of my symptoms. Nope - I'm pretty sure that me departing the Sahara in July will help to alleviate this sickness that I'm feeling...

Ah, sigh, such was my experience with Urgent Care in the great state of Washington.  I left with many memories, but - more importantly - I left with prescriptions in hand.

The way things are...

The past twenty years of my life have been spent pretty much going from place to place, never settling in any one locality for more than three years or so. That cycle has been broken a little bit ever since my move here to Washington state, but the nigh-inevitable effects have always been there, and persist to this day: close friendships which may have been formed in one place fade to mere relationships, then silence after I move away, and – given my own rather introverted personality - I am slow to form new ones in my new locale. Meanwhile, my family – on both sides, never the closest or most affectionate bunch – remains pretty much where they were when I left Maryland two decades ago, content to stride in place in both location and life; not that such is necessarily a bad thing, but simply just how things are.

I offer the above preamble to highlight what is probably my biggest fear when it comes to my own impending fatherhood: for the most part -and for the foreseeable future – Carrie and I will be undertaking the wonderful journey that is parenthood pretty much alone. We have a few wonderful friends out here in Seattle, but for many days, it will be the two of us, doing what we can to give our children the love, attention and support that they need and deserve.

This realization saddens and terrifies me in its awesomeness, but it also, strangely, heartens me as well, for there are people upon whose munificence we can occasionally count, and this will (hopefully) motivate my Carrie and me to seek out others who can become friends to us, and whom we can become friends to as well. In this, I see opportunities for a truer appreciation of those who are around us, and who will be, and the expansion of our currently small circle of friends.

That is a good thing!

Fra l'inferno e l'inverno

Well, after another six-week summer here in Seattle, I'm looking at the weather forecasts for the rest of the month, and all I'm seeing is either cloudiness or rain, with highs in the 50's and 60's. If it wasn't the case before, it is now: summer in Seattle  is over.

I'll miss the warmer days and the sun and the opportunities to take many walks, no doubt, but I'll not shed any tears over the heat waves and being stuck in a place that has no AC, that's for sure.

This summer's passing is a bittersweet occasion for me. The beginning saw Carrie getting pregnant with twins, our getting our very first house together, my return to Maryland to see friends that I'd not laid eyes on in two decades (as well as family and friends that I had seen on a more frequent basis over the years), my return to running, and two very momentous birthdays for Carrie and me.

However, the upcoming fall is not without its treats. In a few days, we'll be flying back to Utah to spend more time with my in-laws, finding out the gender(s) of our children, and (hopefully with the help of my sister-in-law) finishing up the ever-present painting project that has consumed so many hours of our lives, as well as finally getting our mess of a studio organized and getting the kids room put together.

Ever since my copacetic autumnal experiences in Maryland, I've come to believe that fall,  is my favorite season, since (for me) it represents  the change from the youthful eagerness of summer into the staid introspection of winter; not so much a sea change as a easy transition in which (at times) elements of both its seasonal bookends are present.

Past the fall, for me, though, lies even greater occasions. Our kids will be born next year, and I may see fall supplanted by winter as my favorite, since it will be the season of the birth of our children.  That is the event that I am most looking forward to!

...and the painting continues...

It seems as if the painting will never end...

I went into this weekend with the intention of fully finishing both the trim in the living room and the entire hallway; however, after having spent most of the day putting two coats of primer and finishing 3/4 of the hallway prior to running out of paint, I had to concede (yet again) that this entire endeavor was going to take a while.  Things are getting done, though, and I should feel grateful for that.

This morning (Sunday), after my run around Greenlake, Carrie and I went to Cyndy's along Aurora for breakfast with her long-time friend, John. We then went shopping for maternity clothes, and became grreatly preturbed that two of the three major department stores in Northgate - Macy's and Nordstrom - didn't even have a maternity section (the young lady at Macy's that we asked didn't even know what "Maternity" meant!!!), leaving JC Penny's the only department store there that did indeed have a section.  Of course, we went to Target and Motherhood, but there selections seem to be limiting after a while.

Oh - and my run...

One of my goals for this year has been to do the entire inner Greenlake run without stopping. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but I did it! Seeing as how I ran 2.15 miles a couple of days ago, and 2/74 today without stopping, I'm thinking that running  the 2 miles from the light rail station to my house should be no problem whatsoever at this point.

Life as it is...

A couple of weeks ago, Carrie and I finally took the plunge, made the trip to Lowes, and bought a plethora of painting supplies in the vainglorious assumption that we would be able to prime and paint over 1000 square feet of wall space in a single three-day weekend. Expansion bolts, cheap hardware, generally shoddy shelving and curtain rod installation and time spent on masking and edging said 1000 square feet of wall space quickly brought our rather high hopes skidding earthwards,  and that was before a scary and tense night in the hospital brought on by Carrie going into the initial stages of appendicitis and her recovery from such.

We had spent the next week laying low while Carrie recovered from her surgery, and, as she took her tentative first steps to a life which is for now normal (meaning that she, as the mother of twins, can only be expected to not feel sick or unwell roughly the same percentage of the time as  Carrie-the-not-expectant-mother-of-twins could be expected to feel sick or unwell), we enlisted the aid of friends to help us in our endeavours.

Thankfully, many of them came through for us, and for the past couple of weeks at least two of them have been helping us prime and paint our living room, and prime (at least the high-hiding prime, since the previous owners chose a rather bold colour palette that I can best describe as "Mexican Taqueria"). However, we had to once again readjust our expectations of many things downwards. We were able to get a single coat of paint on the living room walls, we didn't get any trim work done, and the hallway and kitchen are still crying out for attention. Meanwhile, we've decided to re-paint the kids room a slightly less aggressive shade of green (one that does not induce epileptic seizures in otherwise un-challenged individuals), and we've come to the conclusion that, since neither one of us does this for a living, we should opt on the side of sanity and cut ourselves some slack when it comes to how the paint looks on the walls.

So - add a slowly progressing painting project into the many things that we as new homeowners need to get done.  I was going to seal the deck and prune the trees, but the former can wait while it's too late for the latter. I've got to put my personal efforts into "acquiring" a set of sawhorses (Lowes or that nicely-placed set in the common alleyway behind our house will suffice), taking the doors down, resanding them both, refinishing one while repainting the other, and  - oh - the Baby Project awaits.

But it's all good. I mean, I feel much more satisfaction doing these things as a homeowner and knowing that we're investing our time and hearts into something that we'll get the emotional benefit of for as long as we choose to have it rather than doing the same in an apartment and having to get the owner's permission to effect our desires upon our living space. Regardless of how long this process takes - I'll be holding that thought in my heart.

In other news...

A couple of weekends ago, I injured my foot while gallivanting about our backyard sans footwear (a folly I normally from which I normally refrain). I spent the next week or so healing, and then after my drive down to Oregon to attend a training seminar, I spent the next couple of weeks knee-deep in housework. This morning, for the very first time in three weeks, I ran my usual route.


View Larger Map

I made it from Orcas to Mrytle to Graham - 1.5 miles - without stopping,but the uphill grade on the way northwards from Myrtle back to Orcas, proved just a bit much for me, and I had to walk for a couple of blocks before running the rest of the way back to Orcas. Still, I think that I did rather well for not having ran for the past three weeks.

Concerning running:

I've a couple of personal challenges that I'd like to take on before the year lets out:

• A lap around Greenlake (Inner): About 3 miles
• A lap around Seward Park: I think that this is around 2 miles
• Going Northward on Queen Anne Ave.: Not very far (maybe a mile), but all uphill.
  

11 September 2009

Amidst the cacophony of words both more eloquent and coarse than mine, in the fray with those both more sage and less discrete, I shall add my thoughts regarding this day.

As an American, I feel a sense of loss over those who had died, a sense of rage over those who seek to do us harm, and a sense of fear that, the fact being that there are some amongst us who have and still seek to politicize the events that happened on this day eight years ago to justify their own narrow-mindedness, we have lost the humility, perspective, gregariousness and moral high ground that we so proudly bore as Americans in the weeks following the tragedy.

As one who was once a member of this nations military, I still feel shocked and humiliated that, for all our mighty weaponry and high technology, we were unable to prevent the actions of a dedicated few who harmed - and hated - so many.

As a Spiritual Person, it angers me to know that there are those who use faith without insight to justify their evil deeds, and it saddens me to know that there are those amongst us who can casually disregard the one sacred tenant held by all Great Faiths:

• Buddhism: " One who, while himself seeking happiness, oppresses with violence other beings who also desire happiness, will not attain happiness hereafter."
• Judaism: "That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow."
• Islam: "Hurt no one so that no one may hurt you"
• Christianity: "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets."
• Hinduism: "One should never do that to another which one regards as injurious to one’s own self."
• Confucianism: "Never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself."

May this day be forever one of insight, reflection and renewed dedication of, not only one American to another, but of one faithfiul citizen of the world to all others.

!@Twitter

One of the frequent misconceptions that some may have about me when it comes to blogging is that this is something that I do every day, or maybe even several times a week. Sometimes this is true, but - more often - I find myself with free time during which I can compose several different posts and then save them in draft form; I can then push my drafts to "published" status a few days later, and still be able to contribute something of meaning every day - or at least on a far more frequent schedule than would be possible if I were only posting whenever inspiration struck. I also believe in only posting thoughts that are substantial meaning that a fair bit of time and effort has gone into formulating, polishing, and transcribing them; this,to me, usually requires more than 144 characters ;)

Oh - and about the title -

For those of you who aren't scripters or programmers, I usually lapse into boolean jargon when saying that "something" is equal to (or isn't equal to) "something". In other words, if I wanted to say that "me blogging all the time at work" is equal to "me looking for a new job soon", I'd put it like this:

Me blogging all the time at work == me looking for a job soon.

I use the double-equals sign ("=="), since in most programming languages, "==" is a statement of equivalence, while "=" is assignment. If I wanted to take a placeholder, call it "a", and then assign it a value of "2", I would say this:

a=2

This convention should be familiar to anyone who has taken high-school algebra; "a" would be called an "attribute" while "2" would be the value assigned to attribute "a", just as 3.14 is the value assigned to Pi (Π), which is also a constant, or value that never changes.

I digress. If I wanted to assert that "a" did indeed already equal "2", I would say this:

a==2

the mathematical equivalent:
a ≡ 2

Conversely, if I wanted to assert that "a" does not equal "2", I would say this:

a!=2

the exclamation point ("!") being a sign of negation in many languages. In mathematical terms, it would be the same as:

a ≠ 2

A few more:

"a" is equal to either "2" or "3":

a == 2 || a == 3
a ≡ 2 ∨ a ≡ 3

"a" is greater than "2"
a > 2 (same in both)

"a" is less than "2"
a < 2 (same in both)

"a" is less than or equal to "2"
a <= 2
a ≥ 2

"a" is less than or equal to "2"
a <= 2
a ≤ 2

Okay - I think that I'll stop now... :)

The complicated narrative of a simple life

It occurs to me that lately, I've been "phoning it in" by posting little mini-vignettes related to mashups that are wrapped in a malleable gossamer façade mimicking sincerity, structure and substance. While such may make for a numerically impressive post count, it's ends up being inconsequential at its core.

But what to do when inspiration for the great missive of worth is lacking? Does one simply and blithely accept that, on this day, the muse is elsewhere, and, resigned to such a faith, elect to wait for her return, upon which ideas shall flow as a great river from the soul to the fingertips, whereupon they will be transcribed in binary form into the great ether that we call the World Wide Web? Or rather, does one, desiring not to lose the essential shell of ones art (even though it be hollow for the instance), commit ones and zeroes to their apportioned space, knowing that this particular sequence may be as insubstantial as the physical weight of the means of transmission? To do the former invites a sense of rarity, and, consequentially, disinterest on the part of the reader due to too great a temporal span between conveyances; to do the latter almost foreshadows a sense of desperation on the authors behalf, and for a surety generates an unwelcome noise-to-signal ratio heavily imbalanced to the favour of the former, thus creating disinterest on the part of the reader due to the general disinclination to constantly separate dross from gold whilst sifting through streams of literary conceit.

The question need not be anything less than trinary in nature, for, where inspiration may be lacking, possessing a certain grammatical and syntactical acumen may suffice, and, in part, serve as an adequate apparition for the true nature that the author indeed aspires to posses and display. When such a course is followed, it is hoped by the author that the reader willingly mistake such empty rhetorical flourishes for genuine belabored thought; such an endeavor could be assisted and enhanced by pre-pending a lofty title to the post in question, therefore generating an expectation of a certain loftiness in the mind of the reader - one that can only be dispelled by a certain close reading that demands more of an investment of time and mental facility than most are wont to spend. In this case, said author should be amiable enough to, at the very least, define his post as being nothing less pretentious than a complicated narrative of a simple life, sow the fertile grounds of his space with high words and phrases, and bid the reader a fond adieu, with the assurance that, perhaps next time, something of true worth shall indeed find its way into a land that is not to be.

Sum XL

Audjourd'hui, j'ai 40 ans.

Today, I turn 40.

I greet this fact with a mixture of sadness of the inevitable loss of some years, and a sunny, cheerful optimism at those which have yet to come.

When I was in my late teens, twenties, and thirties, I could still cling to the increasingly slippery illusion of being a young man - an illusion that may have been more factual in the beginning, but, as the years wore on, less so.  Still - as far as youth goes, to be a teen is to be naive; to be in one twenties is to be gaining life experience; and to be in ones thirties is to be at the very pinnacle of youth.In one's forties, however, the entire "youth" thing begins to be stripped away, leaving behind the scars and ailments, physical, emotional and spiritual, that time brings. Ones own self is no longer the vessel of almost infinite potential that it once was - instead, in the transitory years between youth and old age, the self becomes that which is being closer to being fully realized, the house that is now being built upon the foundation that has been lain, the poem that is being written from the phrases assembled.

I've heard it said that "forty is the old age of youth, while fifty is the youth of old age". So maybe I should quit worrying about becoming an old man for another decade. Yet, even if forty is to be the old age of a rather prolonged youth , I'd have to face the fact that, mathematically, if not in strict terms of life's being, that I'll be facing my own "middle age" soon enough, when I'll be looking ahead at fewer years than I've left behind (lest I possess a certain mightiness, this could already be the case). Any sort of carefree abandon with which I approached my life has to be discarded- yet, the greatest sadness for me may be that, in my more formative years, I've not been carefree enough.

In my teens, I faced the strict and stifling rigours of an enforced, regimented, extremely conservative religious lifestyle under the suffocating, fundamentalist tenants of the Jehovah's Witnesses faith. In my early twenties, I was in the United States Navy, where, one week after my twenty-fifth birthday, I was stricken with a paralysis on my left side that I would later find out was my very first attack of Multiple Sclerosis. In my mid-twenties and early thirties, I was balancing the needs of a marriage that would eventually fail (due to both my own admitted lack of emotional context and my ex-wife's over-abundance of the same) with the demands of a higher education. In my mid to late thirties, I was flirting about with relationships that would eventually go nowhere while attempting t0 make sense of the "real world". Now, as I enter my forties, I am happily  married to a wonderful, witty and beautiful woman who is soon to be the mother of my children, we have a new house, and have fully embarked on our wholly adult lives as a singly joined couple. It may seem, upon slight rumination, that I have forgone some of the inevitable - and healthy - wanderlust of youth for the inevitably(supposed) forgone certitude of adult life.

Yet, upon further reflection, I wonder if this is such a bad thing.  True, I've not experimented with relationships, careers, lifestyles and places as much as others may have - but then again, I think that my personality and self-confidence has always been such that, even after a rather cursory examination, I've been fairly certain of those which I've found to my liking, and those which, while romanticizing some discrete aspects of (for a surety), I've rejected pretty wholesale as being non-conducive towards the vision of my future self that I've fostered and done my best to bring about over the years.  I can say for a fact that, while I've not been as flighty or eager to undertake some obligatory ritualistic quest to dispel the geas of incertitude as others have been in the course of "finding oneself", I've done so fairly early in life (or at least by now), and I pretty much like what I see.

Pretty much. Yes, there are aspects about myself that I would like to change (the tendency to be overly maudlin may be amongst them); however, for me, that is a proud announcement brought about due, not to any regrets that may have come with the sense of a profoundly (or even mildly) wasted youth, but rather, to the wisdom gained with the passing of the years. I've learned many valuable lessons over the years, through which I've gained said wisdom, and I'd not trade it for the exuberance of youth if the choice were ever presented to me. Chief amongst these lessons is this: treasure the people around you, and the life that you live, for both can be taken away in the blink of an eye. In my attempting to put those words into practice, my life has become fuller with each passing year, with the promise of better experiences to come. This is the key to my optimism.

Graduating college, getting married (again), having a kid, buying a house - all those were accomplishments that, in my life, are taking place belatedly, at least when one compares my life to the "norm". However, I'm pretty hopeful that I'm going into these things, not just with the best of intentions or sunny, wide eyed hope mixed with a dash of almost prayerful faith or driven by my own brand of graceful determination, but also girded with the experience that four decades on this verdant - azure orb has granted me, and with a firmer sense of appreciation than I - who might have earlier felt "entitled" to certain things -  would have had before. As an old friend newly-found recently said to me, "You may be going through some things at 40 that others have been through at 20 or 25 - but just think how much better you'll be those things now than they were back then - or even are today!"

And...

I know that, having an ailment such as Multiple Sclerosis, which can  can both shorten ones lifespan and greatly lesson ones quality of life, I'm fortunate that I made it this far in the relatively good shape that I'm in with a pretty full range of motion. You never truly appreciate the gift of walking, moving or speech until they are gone, if even for but a little while.

So now I'm fully enconsed within what a friend at the birthday party last night calls "dulce cuarenta" (it just so happens that this man was born in the same, year and hour as I was!). "Sweet forty" indeed - I like that. Thinking of my fortieth birthday as being the start of a newer, more hopeful era in my life fills me - surely - with both a serene joy and a calming optimism. Each year may be yet one more year towards my own eventual journey to the undiscovered country - but while I'm still a tenant of this one, I am determined that each year shall also be a better year, full of faith in my own perserverance, a genuine hope for a better tomorrow, and love for those around me who truly matter.

Cooling...?

Last night - well, all day yesterday - was pretty bearable when compared to the previous week or so. The temperatures kissed the nineties and promptly went down as the evening set in. Walking around town wasn't the sweat-fest that it had been, and even the portions of our house that lay outside of the kid's room (where we have installed the by-now-famous Ghetto AC) was noticeably cooler. We'll probably be keeping the mattress in the kids room for the next couple of days until the rest of the house airs out, but things look to have finally cooled off. Maybe now, I can stop grousing about the heat!

Hot!

Yesterday was another hot-as-hell day. The temperature hit the triple-digits (it ended up hitting 105!). I had to go to Belltown to pick up my glasses, and then off to downtown to pick up a birthday card for Carrie. Even though I forewent walking in favour of taking public transit, I was still a sweaty mess by the time I made it back to the office an hour and ten minutes after I left. Luckily, Carrie and I had made plans to go out for her birthday / Twin baby day, so a little bit after I got home (and chilled out in out Ghetto AC' - hooked - up room), I went outside to turn the AC on in the Prius for about ten minutes so that it would be bearable to sit in, then off we went.

Okay.

I can imagine some people saying "Hey, didn't you grow up on the East Coast? Those summers must make these look like fall!"

Well, yeah, I did grow up in Maryland, and Maryland summers - especially central Maryland summers - tend to be long, hot and humid. There are, however, a couple of vital differences between the long, hot and humid summer in central Maryland that I experienced growing up, and the six weeks of hell that passes for a summer that I'm going through here in Seattle as an adult, the first being A/C; No matter how hot it was outside, one could always duck inside one's residence for relief. A/C around here is the exception instead of the rule.Sweating wasn't that bit of a deal since one knew that as soon as one got inside, the sweating would stop after a bit. Not so here.

And then, there is acceptability. When I was a machinist in Maryland, there wasn't really an issue with me showing up at work dripping with sweat at any time, since that was pretty much a given thing. As a white-collar worker here in Seattle, however, such is not the case, and a rather stupidly unrealistic decorum is expected to be maintained at all times, no matter how hot it may be outside. And - I'm sorry to have to say this - but guys get the short end of the stick when it comes to being able to dress comfortably and cooly during hot weather. It'd be nice to get away with wearing tank tops and non-bifurcated clothing at work without getting stared at. But I don't think that I'll be the trailblazer in an utilikilt any time soon.

That's my "heat" rant for the day:)