The Bus is Crowded. Really Freakin' Crowded!

OK, so I've seen the bus crowded before. But now, my favorite bus (the 8:44 a.m. 577 from Federal Way) has been full to the point of people in the aisles for the last few times. And it's summer! People are on vacation, or at least they were last year. Maybe they're having to work more to pay for utilities. The 177, or the slightly earlier bus, isn't quite as bad, last I checked, but they are fuller than they have been. So's the 196. I am so, so thankful that I don't have to drive to work anymore. That would be three gallons of gas every two days, at best, and it would be awful.

So Much For Going Back to Jamaica Anytime Soon ....

And it's too bad, because Cheryl and I went there about seven years ago and had an awesome time -- eating jerk chicken, climbing up a beautiful riverbed, etc. But this is just horrible (and scary):

This past January, Gareth Henry fled to Canada. He is only 30, but
13 of his friends in Jamaica had been murdered. He is awaiting a decision on his
application for refugee status. He is not an effeminate man and he does not
dress extravagantly. It may seem Jamaican thugs must have a more highly
developed gaydar than most gay men, but it's more likely that it isn't easy to
keep secrets in a small island society.

It makes Bermuda look almost welcoming ... they weren't planning to kill us if our Rosie cruise stopped there: Just yell at us about how we're ruining our children's lives, etc., etc.

The Quickest Camping Trip Ever

So Cheryl bought the boys a tent. It's adorable, just big enough for them. And they decided that they wanted to camp out in it -- in our backyard -- last night. Good time for it, too, as the weather has been HOT and their room doesn't have A/C. Well, after much excitement, the reality of the whole "camping out" thing set in. They demanded lights and quiet (awesome time to be running Bobcat for hours, Neighbor With Junkyard!). They got the former. We tucked them in, and ... 20 minutes later they were in their bed. Which means they just missed the thunder, lightning and rainstorm. Perfect timing! It was a weird rain, hard and quick, like hot angry tears, and gone in minutes. This morning, it was almost like it hadn't rained at all... but our cars, which we so carefully (NOT!) washed this weekend, were dusted up. And it's still hot.

I see cruise ships!

I love a blue-sky day, and cruise ships at the pier. Of course, I'd love it more if the family and I were getting on one ... Lookslike this will be a year without a cruise. But Disney, and another Rosie cruise out of Seattle, loom.

San Diego: What a Great Vacation!

So we're just back from a trip to San Diego, and wow, did it turn out great. Really, one of the best vacations ever, and I think it's spoiled me on non-"World Famous" zoos. (The San Diego Zoo is, as we learned, "World Famous.") You feel like you could almost reach out and touch the animals. You know, if you have 10-foot arms. But it feels really close. We were closer than 10 feet to a tiger when we stayed the night at the Wild Animal Park. And then there's Seaworld, which I thought might be kinda cheesy. And it was, but it was cheesy good. And I got to feed and pet dolphins and pet rays. I love rays. There's something cool and calming about them ....

If you go to San Diego, definitely hit the zoo, and make the drive to the Wild Animal Park. Costco has a good deal on five-day tickets that allow you to go to whichever of any of those parks that you want on whichever days you want. I also recommend, if you can, that you Dine With Shamu. You'll get to be with the killer whales right in front of you, in one of their auxiliary tanks. And the trainers are right there, answering questions, etc. Awesome.

Kissing at the ballgame

Seattle made national news lately when a couple of lesbians were booted from Safeco Field for kissing. Well, we're at the ballpark now (albeit Cheney Stadium, home of the M's AAA team) so I asked Cheryl to take a stand for civil liberties and smooch me. She's shy, so, you know, no tongue. But she is REALLY shy and won't kiss me at all. And she is resentful of my phone-blogging and net-surfing. So that is two strikes against me at the old ball game.

couldn't give blood ...

So I decided to be a good citizen and offer my veins to the bloodmobile. Arteries, too. I'm a giver. But they didn't want me or my lousy 35 hematocrit. (Gotta be at 38 to give.)

Cheryl says the problem is that if unchecked I will eat crackers and spray cheese for dinner every night. Which isn't too far from the truth, though in fairness to me, I often eat broccoli for an afternoon snack. Clearly, though, I need more iron.

The bus tunnel - claustrophobic

So here is the view from the bus, while in the downtown Seattle bus tunnel. I think I have been in it before (before it closed to tweak the tracks for light rail), but I don't remember it being so claustrophobic. Odd that it strikes me that way 'cause I love subways. Maybe it is that I am used to buses out in the great wide (albeit trafficky) open.

The trains are gonna be cool. I see them doing practice runs andlong for the day when they'll come to Federal Way.

Back to the Future for Newspapers?

I remain interested in my former business ... not by actually reading newspapers printed on newsprint (ick), but by looking at them online, and in the boxes next to my bus stop. And by following the stories of the industry's contraction -- but not, I believe, demise. And big-time newspaper smartie Norman Pearlstine agrees, according to the Silicon Valley Insider:

Speaking to an audience of media execs at the Argyle Executive Forum, Pearlstine said he he believes the news business is going back to the end of the 19th century,
when a city like Chicago had 28 local papers, all small and privately owned.
Pearlstine doesn't believe the newspaper business model will support the kind of long-form, investigative journalism that many of the top reporters and editors have spent their careers pursuing.Case in point: The Washington Post's recent 17,000-word, four-part series on IED's in Iraq. Great story, Norm said, but probably better positioned as a book, or a premium download for Amazon's (AMZN) Kindle. "There might be 50,000 people in the world who want to read that story, but not the ones advertisers want to reach," he said.

Ouch. It's hard to take comfort in a scaled-down, scrappy future when you're in the middle of it all. I feel for my friends trying to carry on, knowing that their future probably looks like this:

A newspaper in Madison, Wisconsin, just took the step that many newspapers will
be forced to take over the next decade, many sooner rather than later: It shut
down its print business, fired a third of its staff, and restructured its
business to focus exclusively online.

Said newspaper is The Capital Times: http://www.madison.com/tct/ Pretty cool site, actually.

Disneyland "Captain Jack" Tells All ...

So one of the highlights of our Disneyland trip in December was coming across a "Captain Jack" at the Pirate's Lair (formerly known as Tom Sawyer's Island). He was funny and cute, though no Johnny Depp. But who is? And though I was surprisingly giddy to see him, and we joked about how Auntie Cathy should/would jump him, we behaved ourselves. But not everyone does, it turns out. A former "Jack" let us in on his world via LA Magazine -- it's a great read -- and that world definitely included come-ons (and more):

Disney wanted us to tone Jack down, so they put us through an acting class to discover reasons why Jack walks and talks the way he does. Obviously he is based on Keith Richards, who’s always messed up, which is why they came up with the class. “Don’t be flirtatious,” they told us. “See women as
trouble.” And they said as far as alcohol goes, don’t even mention drinking.
But the Pirates of the Caribbean song is all about drinking, and they’re
drinking all along the ride. So I eventually broke that rule, because it
would have taken me out of character. When parents took pictures, I’d say,
“Everyone say ‘rum,’ ” and the parents loved it. The kids would just ask,
“What’s rum?”

I wondered if that Jack was our Jack. Uh, no. For one, our Jack said "Say treasure" not "Say rum" when we took photos. For two, our Jack didn't look like this:

The above Jack -- the one featured in the article -- is now working outside the restrictive embrace of Disney, albeit wistfully. And I'm thinking he's doing well.

F-bomb has people paying attention to TV news (for a sec)

I have to laugh at the breathless coverage around the fleeting use of the f-word during a news promo featuring two old vets who I'm guessing are kind of sick of each other. One of them, Sue Simmons, said something many people have said: "What the fuck are you doing?" to her colleague, who was seemingly not paying attention to the task at hand (promoting the night's newscast). Apparently she didn't realize they were live.

What's funny is that the journalist who wrote this story no doubt works in an environment rife with "fucks." (The word, not the people ... OK, maybe both.) At least the newspapers I worked at were like that. Now I work for a respected Web retailer surrounded by people who went to MBA school and have engineering degrees and it's very different.

What's not funny is that Sue may be fired. That would be wrong, wrong, wrong. It was one TV news (or as my kids call our local news, "Seattle problems") is not so pristine a territory that it has been somehow sullied by a swear. In fact, it's increasingly irrelevant. Sue may lose her job because no one's watching. She shouldn't lose her job over this fuckin' thing.

What the heck DO I believe??

OK, so I'm on the hook for some public speaking at church, not really on my own, but as a part of something called Pentecost Voices. What this means is that I need to come up with a minute and a half worth of statement about, you know, my beliefs. Which is harder than it seems. I considered hymns, as I've felt as though some of them are revealing my truths. But I couldn't think of which ones they were at the time. I also considered Bible verses, but none seemed right.

Then I had my brainstorm. Back in the day (meaning 1951), legendary journalist (and fellow Washington State University alum) Edward R. Murrow did a series of essays featuring some famous people and some not-so-famous people. At first, I went with Murrow's intro, though it was more of a state-of-the-world thing -- dead-on, sadly, still .. but not quite right.

We hardly need to be reminded that we are living in an age of confusion—a lot of us have traded in our beliefs for bitterness and cynicism or for a heavy package of despair, or even a quivering portion of hysteria. Opinions can be picked up cheap in the market place while such commodities as courage and fortitude and faith are in alarmingly short supply.

So I went with Helen Keller instead. I wanted it to be a woman. And I wanted it to be someone who said what I wanted say, but better. Thanks, Helen.

Faith reinvigorates the will, enriches the affections, and awakens a sense of creativeness. Active faith knows no fear, and it is a safeguard to me against cynicism and despair.

A childrens' theater question

OK, so I am seeing my first childrens' teater production. Specifically, the Seattle Childrens' Theater production of Richard Scarry's Busytown. I am psyched for it. I love live Theater, and look forward to sharing it with my boys.

But what I was wondering was whether or not there are actors who aspire to this, or if it is something they end up doing. OK, just saw that it is an Equity production, so that indicates something good.

What Wonder Woman Means to Me ... And About Me

So the other day, after getting my eyes checked (I'm increasingly gray-haired, but years away from bifocals, thanks!), I stopped by the local Rite Aid to see if they had any NASCAR cars. They didn't. But they did have a 10-inch Wonder Woman action figure. She's the new, old-school version ... animated, but in a retro/deco style. And I bought it, which was reminiscent of the old-school me. And when I told Cheryl about it a couple days later, her first thought was to ask me if I was unhappy with my life. At first, I was taken aback, but then I realized that when she last new me I surrounded myself with totems of female empowerment as ... what? Escape? A source of strength? A distraction? (Well, that was true when it came to the obsessive collecting component).

Now, however ... well, once again I am impressed with Cheryl's insight. I'm definitely feeling some stress right now on the work front (big changes a'coming) and on the home front (we're thinking about a remodel) and it would certainly be helpful to be superhuman. But for the record, I am not unhappy. I'm just ... daunted. Which is where my my girl Diana comes in (that's Wonder Woman's real name).

Yes, I started a NASCAR fantasy league

So, my obsessive nature has eased somewhat. Somewhat. But it will occasionally reveal itself when I do things like sign up for a NASCAR fantasy league (www.pepsiracing.com). It's only natural, I guess, that my obsession with finding new race cars has extended to picking weekly winners. The main thing I need to do, however, is make sure that I don't let things get out of hand, like back in the early '90s, when I tried to collect every single female action figure. I had Laura Linney (from her for-some-reason un-Oscared role in "Congo.")

I LOVE Sound Transit ... So Why Did It Diss Me???

OK, so lately I've been catching the 5:52 bus home (specifically, Sound Transit route 577, which I have chosen over Metro's similar 177 because Sound Transit has a Web connection). The 5:52 is a later ride than I'd like to be getting, but stuff happens. Tonight, though, I actually tear myself away from the desk in time to catch the 5:35 bus. And it goes RIGHT PAST ME. I started complaining loudly to anyone who would listen, and one of those people was a black guy who said "Yeah, I hate it when they do that." I was immediately chastened, 'cause it was only my first (and hopefully last) time. Does that still happen? Do people of color get passed by like that on a regular basis, or is there just the occasional, equal-opportunity diss? I think I know the answer, sad to say.

And as you can probably tell, I am still bitter, though the driver of the 5:52 bus (which did stop) gave me a genuine and satisfying apology on behalf of Sound Transit and I'm much calmer now. Though I'm still missing my boys' T-ball practice and all the comedy that goes along with that.

What every Passover observance needs . . .

A bag o' plagues. Saw this at Party City tonight and marveled at the willingness to sell anything.

That's freakin' snow on my car!

Yes, it is snowing. Almost a week after Easter. The kids are thrilled and I am incredulous.

Palm Sunday, of course

Sometimes Chas likes to grab my phone...

and take pix of himself. I can't blame him for choosing such a gorgeous subject.