I write about myself because I can.

Monthly archives for September, 2006

Wake from your sleep

Sep29
2006 Written by Andrew

Criminey, it’s 4:30 AM and I’m wide awake.  I’ll make up before my alarm goes off fairly regularly and either be prepared to hit the snooze alarm right as it goes off or just shut it off right before it sounds, but 4:30?  My alarm’s not scheduled to go off until 6 AM.  It’s going to be a very, very long day methinks.  I don’t have to be at work for another four and a half hours, so I’ve got plenty of time to do the dishes and whatnot before I leave.

The sad part is that I was so tired when I went to bed last night at 10:15 PM, I was yawning before ten when I was on the phone with someone.  I thought for sure I’d sleep like a rock due to my run after work and only a small amount of caffeine throughout the evening.  I guess not.

But hey, I suppose I can’t be too upset, it is Friday after all.  After today, I have two whole days to do nothing, should I so choose.  This week has just flown by, and I’m really not sure how.  It seems like it was just yesterday I was lamenting that it was only Monday, and now I have a weekend to look forward with a paycheck to cushion me and beautiful weather ahead.  I haven’t decided if I’m going to go for another long run this weekend yet.  I think I’d enjoy it, and I’m sure my body could handle it, but I’ve really been tearing the hell out of my feet.  I know they just need some time to heal, but at the same time I want to keep up a regular schedule.  I might try the same half-marathon I did last weekend if the weather will indeed be nice, otherwise, I’ll just do a “short” 10k like I’ve been doing during the week.

Someone asked me the other day what I like to besides cooking and running, and I actually had to stop and think.  What do I like to do?  I know the things that I enjoy, but I just haven’t had time for any of them lately both with the new work schedule I’ve been on as well as the amount of running I’ve been doing.  During the week I’m getting home from work at 6 PM, and I pretty much just start dinner a little after that, which leaves me with a few hours in the evening to do whatever.  If I go for a run, I’m not starting anything until at least 7:30 PM.  I haven’t been doing a whole lot of complicated cooking lately because it’s just me who gets to reap the rewards of the work.  On the weekends I have a bit more time to do things, but if I go for a long run in the morning then I’m pretty much wiped for the rest of the day and I don’t want to do much else.  I don’t ever want to become one of those people who goes to work, comes home, has dinner, and then goes to bed, but man, it’s looking that way.  I’ve got to get back on the earlier shift so I have even just that extra hour in the evenings.  Either that or suck it up and just do some more stuff, because I’m falling into one hell of a rut.

I’ve thought about going over to the Portland Rock Gym one of these days and taking a rock climbing class.  I did some indoor rock climbing when I was in the 6th grade and I remember enjoying it, and I’m certainly in better shape now than I was then.  Probably a bit expensive, but worth trying out once or twice.

It’s too early for me to be up, and now I can’t think of anything else to say.  And frankly, there’s nothing happening in the world yet this morning.  I’d go back to bed, but I’d just lie there for an hour with my eyes open, so instead I’ll find some other way to entertain myself for the next three and a half hours before I leave for work.

As I said, it’s going to be a long day.  But it’s Friday, so it’ll all come out OK in the end.

Posted in General, Running, Work

Early morning intruder

Sep25
2006 Written by Andrew

My feeling of security in this neighborhood was greatly shaken when I discovered a couple of weeks ago that my car had been broken into and rifled through, so imagine my feeling when I woke up this morning and discovered someone in my apartment.

I could hear them, firstly.  I heard someone rustling around in the general direction of the living room, but I was too out of it to determmine where exactly they were.  Kitchen?  Computer room?  Firstly, I was a bit dumbfounded how someone managed to get into my apartment without alerting me since it’s quite obvious when someone comes up the front stairs to say nothing of the hall stairs.  Secondly, I knew that the distinctive pattern of shadows and a mind already bent on telling impossible stories has a tendency to mold some of my kitchen shadows into a person, so much so that several times after I first moved in I sat bolt upright and scared the hell out of Erika when I claimed someone was in the apartment.  I didn’t want to be humiliated again, so I wanted to make absolutely sure this time.

I listened to the intruder in my apartment, walking around and doing whatever they were doing.  I didn’t see any lights on or flashlight beams.  I could even see the distinctive shadows in the kitchen that look like a person, but I didn’t hear any sounds coming from there.  After a minute or two, I heard the shuffling footsteps approaching my bedroom and I saw a woman walk in.  My determination to remain silent and motionless were somehow trumped by my fear and pounding heart, and I could barely choke out a muffled and frightened “Who are you?” in my grogginess.

And then somehow, I forced my eyes fully open.  The figure standing in front of the venetian blinds in my bedroom vanished in front of my eyes, and I was suddenly fully aware of my surroundings.  There was no one in my apartment; it was completely silent.  I’d been asleep the whole time, but my eyes had been partially open (a la Dan, apparently) and so I’d been looking at the darkness of my apartment and yet still dreaming.  I was cognicent enough to see the shadows that play hell with my mind from time to time when I open my eyes in the middle of the night, but out of it enough that I literally hallucinated an entire experience at 5:20 AM this morning.

I’ve had vivid dreams before, but man, that one takes the cake.  I don’t remember ever having a dream overlay itself on top of reality in quite the same way.  I also don’t remember the last time I was so afraid, particularly not realizing that I was completely asleep and dreaming.

Here’s hoping I sleep through the night and are awakened by my alarm tomorrow morning.  I think I deserve it.

Posted in General

Oh man

Sep24
2006 Written by Andrew

Onion rings, wine, Caesar salad, more wine, bread, New York strip steak, garlic mashed potatoes, more wine, cheesecake, and a glass of very, very good port.  That’s exactly what I wanted for dinner.

Posted in Food

Twelve-and-a-half Mile

Sep24
2006 Written by Andrew

My legs hurt. They’re going to hurt tomorrow, I’ll wager.

Around mile nine and a half of my half-marathon this morning, my iPod’s battery ran dry and I was forced to jog sans music for the last three miles. That wasn’t really a big deal since the music is mostly just to pass the time, and to be honest, one of the reasons I started running in the first place was that I enjoyed the feeling of hearing myself breathe, my heart pounding, and the sound of my feet hitting the pavement. I also like having some time alone with my thoughts without the bombardment of signals that I normally crave, but as it turns out, I don’t have a whole lot of thoughts at 9 AM on a Sunday while I’m pushing my body further than I ever have before. Kind of a shame, really.

I ended up keeping myself occupied by noting the mile markers steadily marking progress towards OMSI. Not very exciting, but to be honest, there wasn’t much to look at on the east side path–it was wooded on one side and industrial on the other. The westbank path isn’t in nearly as good of shape, but at least you can see the river the whole time.

I spoke on the phone yesterday afternoon to Heather D. and we caught up on things, which turned into bitching about the trials and tribulations of dating in this modern world. I was bemused by the fact that a third person (including myself) in as many days declared their hatred for dating, and all three of us somehow saw that as a faux pas. The more I think about it it, though, dating just plain sucks. When I play by the rules I don’t feel like myself and that I’m somehow compromising myself. When I break with protocol, people act like it’s the end of the world. “Oh no, he didn’t wait three days!” That’s crap. And what is it with threes and dating? You’re supposed to wait three days after you get someone’s number, three days after a date, and then of course there are two separate and completely opposite three-date rules that I shant delve into. We’ll just say that one is good and one’s bad.

When I was about 18, I called a girl I’d gone out on a date with the night before and she said she was really glad I called, and that she thought that whole three day thing was really dumb. I don’t even remember why I called her, actually, but it was more innocent than she assumed. I think I’d forgotten to give her something or something like that. I wasn’t even aware of any three day rule. Still, I keep hoping that I’ll encounter someone who thinks that they’re being shackled by the so-called “dating rules” enough to break them like I enjoy doing. If I have a good time with a woman, I’ll tell her as much. It’s not about rushing into something, it’s just being nice. If someone had a good time with me, I’d hope they’d tell me in less than three days.

Of course, Heather actually did commit some dating faux pas’s…pas’? Pass? How do you spell the plural of “faux pas”? Anyway, some things you don’t talk about on a first, or even third date. Some things you don’t talk about with the person even when you’re deep into a relationship. I didn’t tell Erika about everything that happened between Heather and I until we were six months in (and had consumed most of a bottle of wine between us) and she hadn’t asked because she knew how much it still bothered me. But that’s neither here nor there.

Heather said that she’d taken a trip to eastern Colorado a couple of weeks ago just to get away for a bit, and it got me thinking that maybe I should go away for a day or so one of these weekends. It’s not like I’m overworked or under a whole lot of stress, but it would just be nice to get away from Portland for a night. I’d love to find someplace on the coast where I could sit in my room and look out the window at the waves crashing against the beach, preferably timed during a storm so I don’t feel guilty for not making the most of my time away. I could sit and watch the ocean for hours. Of course, it may end up being like my run today where I find that I really don’t have a whole lot to think about. Now that would be a shame.

Dinner’s on tonight at Ringside. That’s where I wanted to go last year for my birthday, but I couldn’t get reservations in time and so I had to settle for the Hall Street Grill. I think I probably would have wasted a trip to Ringside last year, anyway, because come Sunday I was still feeling sick from the previous Friday night out with Zak and his wife after work. I got really sick that night, and on Sunday I was still hesitant at consuming alcohol. I haven’t been to Ringside in a couple of years, though, and I’m really looking forward to a steak and some onion rings. Some things are always good. I even convinced my Dad to pick me up tonight, so I neither have to drive nor pay tonight. Excellent.

I moved back to my flannel sheets now that the weather is getting cooler, and I have to say, I slept like a baby last night. By far the most comfortable night’s sleep in awhile, probably since…well, since I switched sheets. I had to buy the cotton sheets when the weather got too hot for flannel, and while my flannel sheets weren’t expensive at all, I sure love them. I keep thinking to myself that I should spend the money to get some really nice sheets, but 400 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets have nothing on flannel. They’re so soft. The way I figure, investing in a nice set of sheets really won’t be worth much until I have a bedroom and a bed that I’m proud of, in any case. Besides, if I can comfortably make do with $15 Target flannel sheets, more power to me.

Laundry time. Gotta wash some clothes for dinner tonight. Almost time to take another Advil, too.

Posted in Family, Food, General, Running

Saturday musings

Sep23
2006 Written by Andrew

I assured someone recently that I wasn’t going to brag about my culinary skills or running endurance, and yet, somehow both those topics were broached in conversation. Unintentionally, I managed to blow away the self-confidence of a total stranger, too. As I’m having lunch yesterday and describing my running route to a friend (the bridge-to-bridge waterfront jog I’ve been taking recently), a woman from a nearby booth who apparently had been eavesdropping asked me how long it took me to run the route. I told her around 45 minutes, but I appended it by saying that was two laps.

“Wait,” she said, “how long does one lap take you?”

“I dunno, maybe between 20 and 25 minutes?”

After she did the mental calculations, her ego seemed to deflate a bit since I guess it took her about 45 minutes to an hour to do the same route. I decided to not speak up about my 7:16/mile time at Pints to Pasta.

And I know, enough with the frickin’ running already.

My family’s been getting a little frustrated at my lack of communication regarding birthday plans. Frankly, I have no idea what I’d like to do, and it wasn’t until my Dad called last night and suggested either Ruth Chris or Ringside that I had really even given it much thought. I picked Ringside, and he said he’d try and get reservations. That’s certainly better than last year when I had to make my own birthday reservations. That wasn’t entirely fun. I have plans on Monday to go out with some coworkers after work for some drinks, but coincidently, that has nothing to do with my birthday. A bunch of us had been trying to organize a get-together and I suggested Monday so that it wouldn’t be too near a coworker’s farewell drinks-after-work on Wednesday, literally completely forgetting about my own birthday. I’m really, really hoping that my birthday goes unnoticed at work simply because I’d prefer that Monday’s Happy Hour drinks just be about coworkers relaxing and being social and without me at the center of things. This may not be as easy as it sounds, though, because at least one person at work knows about my birthday, and while she’s not coming out on Monday with us she’s good friends with some of the people who are.

If I come in to work on Monday and find “Happy Birthday” stuff all over my desk, I’ll know the game is up. On the bright side, it might mean that people will buy my drinks on Monday. After all, isn’t free stuff what birthdays are all about? Your own, at least. My family goes nuts every year trying to figure out what to get me since I don’t talk much about things that I want, and the things I typically do mention are too expensive for a birthday. HDTV, MacBook, etc. This year, though, I did tell my parents that I could use some furniture. My bedroom is a joke. I have a dresser, a bed on a metal frame, a rug, and a TV-tray acting as a nightstand. Nothing on the walls. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s been mostly a question of finances. Sure, I could have gone out to Target and bought some particleboard furniture, but I’d prefer to have something a little nicer these days. I could use a couple of real nightstands, a rug pad, a nice bed frame (with headboard!), some stuff to hang on the walls, and then maybe I’d feel like my bedroom was a real room.

Turning 27 is an interesting personal milestone for me. When I was little (we’re talking single-digit age little, here), for some reason I picked 27 as how old I’d be when I’d get married. Now mind you, this was long before I knew anything about marriage as an institution, before I knew anything about relationships, even long before my first kiss. I don’t know why I picked 27, but always in the back of my mind has been that memory of 27 years old as when I’d get married. I’ve never even had any intention of fulfilling it as an adult. Being single at the moment, it’s looking unlikely that little childhood milestone is going to come to pass unless I pull a Britney Spears and get hitched in Vegas to some childhood friend.

And geez, I just realized something. It seems like I just graduated college even though it was three whole years ago, but when that same seemingly-brief amount of time passes I’ll be turning 30. I can’t possibly turn 30. I’m a 26-soon-to-be-27-year-old kid. Sure, I may have a full-time job at a company I like working for, a place where I live on my own, and I’m not living paycheck to paycheck anymore, but I sure as hell don’t feel like an adult. What, exactly, is the entrance into adulthood besides being able to legally buy booze? Marriage? Children? Forget that. If I got married, I’d feel like a married 26-soon-to-be-27-year-old kid. If it’s some mental thing, I’m still waiting. I may act like an adult on occasion, but I hardly think I’m becoming one anytime soon.

Today is the first full day of fall, which means that in a matter of weeks my driveway is going to be covered again with leaves. Considering I only got the last of last fall’s leaves out of the driveway mere months ago, it might turn out to be a long fall and winter. Hell, the trees next to my house started dropping their leaves a month ago. I should move my car and do some sweeping today. House maintenance is something I can never bring myself to do willingly, and I usually only do it when it’s absolutely necessary. I love fall, though, because I tend to like colder weather a little more, I can smuggle up under a blanket with a cup of tea and read a good book or watch a movie, and I can’t forget the $70 gas bills that are on their way from heating my uninsulated apartment. Stupid gas company. Fall is definitely my favorite season, though. I miss being able to sit outside like I can in the spring and summer, but I always feel happier in the fall. It’s inexplicable.

So is why I’m sitting here at 9 AM on a Saturday morning. I should be doing something, but I can’t think of anything to do at the moment. Maybe I’ll shower and see if I’m inspired to do something with my day, or whether I’m going to sit here and wait for something interesting to happen to me. I sure hope it’s the former of those choices. Ah, my sister just asked if I want to get lunch. That’s a start.

Posted in Family, General

I guess I'm a runner?

Sep20
2006 Written by Andrew

I described myself for the first time as a “runner” the other day, and I’ve figured out that describing one’s self as someone who “jogs” and “a runner” elicit two very different reactions from people. With the former, people give you a response of “Ohhhhhhhh” and a look that reminds me of dawning comprehension. They might have jogged a bit on a treadmill, they know what it’s like. When you call yourself a “runner,” though, you get a response of “Ahhhhhhhh” and a look like you just unzipped your body and revealed yourself to be an alien. Really, what’s the difference? Distance, I guess.

So, the Race for the Cure went very well. I finished in around 22 minutes, but I didn’t get an exact time since they didn’t have a clock running at the finish line. I asked the time, but the only person I could find with a watch gave me a time of start + 24 minutes, and I knew that couldn’t be right since that was last year’s time. Given the time I found out today for Pints to Pasta, I should have killed at the Race. For P2P, I ended up with a time of 45:07, averaging 7:15/mile. I have to say, that’s damn good for a 6.2 mile course. I placed 24th in my age group and 138th overall out of 1000 runners. I was pleased at my time, but I wasn’t ecstatic that the runner who finished 3 seconds ahead of me was 10 years old. I don’t even remember that. Was I that out of it? I was beaten by 3 seconds by a 10 year old girl?

After the Race on Sunday, I decided I wasn’t really all that tired, so I had some water, ate a banana, and took a 5k jog home. I know. I’m a loon. It felt good, though, and without even telling people that I’m a runner, I got those martian looks from the people walking across the Hawthorne Bridge to the 5k walk portion. Each one had an identical look one their face like “Is he running? Again?” Pretty funny, actually. But on the run around the river before I got to the bridge, I passed several other runners doing exactly what I was doing, and we all gave each that knowing half-smile and nod as we passed. We were all, after all, all wearing our race for the Cure t-shirts.

That extra 5k, I think, was when I realized that I’m not someone who jogs, but I’m now a runner. Yesterday after work (since I couldn’t find the strength to motivate myself to run before work), I went for a run and lapped the Hawthorne/Steel Bridge loop twice, ending at around 6.5 miles. A year ago I was struggling to run 5k a couple of times a week. 6 months ago I was stuggling to run 4.5 miles a few times a week. Now I can easily do 10k a couple of times a week. I rock. This weekend I’m going to try for a bridge-to-bridge jog of Hawthorne to Sellwood and back. That will put me at 10 miles, which will be my longest run ever. If I feel good when I reach the Hawthorne Bridge on the way back, I’ll push up to the Steel Bridge and back for an extra 2.5 miles, putting me within spitting distance of a half-marathon, which I could then run formally next month.

I was going to save that until next summer, but what the hell? I’ll give it a shot.

My new manager started on Monday, and while I don’t relish the idea of having another layer of management above me and moving ever closer to living out my nightmare in a corporate environment, he seems like a nice guy. Personable, friendly, funny, and someone I can pass off the administrative stuff to. I don’t do a whole lot of it now, but any drop in my workload is appreciated. I’d love to move past the day-to-day stuff that takes up most of my attention these days and move back into long-term projects that are far more interesting. There’s still some questions regarding his technical ability and management style, but I’m more than willing to give him a chance.

Tonight I went over to the Barley Mill McMenamins for dinner, a few beers, and to read the new Willamette Week cover to cover and decided it must have been fate I was there. I came across a tiny ad for a concert by who I thought at first glance was Radiohead, and I thought to myself “Radiohead? In Portland? Sweet!” Turned out at second glance, though, that it was Radiodred. Clever wordplay. I turned the page and continued reading. About 10 minutes later, a song came on the stereo system that I recognized, but I didn’t know the band who was performing. I asked one of the servers, and she told me the album was called–get ready for this–Radiodred. Turns out that Radiodred is a reggae cover of Radiohead’s album “OK Computer.”

I read sometime last year that “OK Computer” had been voted the Best Album of the 90′s or some nonsense along those lines, and so out of curiosity with my limited experience with Radiohead (one song, to be exact) I…er…acquired the album. I didn’t like it at first, but I’ve listened to it about 15 or so times subsequently, and each time I like it more and more. By now, it’s almost up into my top five recorded albums of all time. I’d place it alongside “Dark Side of the Moon” and “The Wall” in terms of concept albums that worked really well, except that “OK Computer” has no unifying theme or story like Pink Floyd’s work does. Kind of a shame, really. Mind you, it’s not a bad album in any way, but that would have made it better. To me, at least.

Anyhow, tickets are $12 for a reggae cover of “OK Computer.” That’s worth $12 to me. I wish I’d found out about Luther Wright & The Wrongs’ bluegrass cover of “The Wall” when they were in town last, so I figure I should get on board this one.

I watched the entirety of the first seaosn fo “24″ over the last couple of weeks, and I must say, I was impressed. I knew it was going to be good since the executive producer/creator of the show was the executive producer/creator of the show “La Femme Nikita” that I always liked, but I’d set my expectations low since, you know, it was on Fox. They’re notorious for either A) having bad shows, or B) killing off their good ones (“Arrested Development,” “Wonderfalls,” “Firefly,” “Futurama,” etc.). Who knew they’d have a good show and support it? Season 2 is ready to go, too. I also have season 2 of “La Femme Nikita,” too. Decisions, decisions!

Speaking of good TV, I’m happy that Aaron Sorkin is back on TV and writing again. His absence since he and his friend who directed most of the episodes left “The West Wing” a few years ago has been noticed. I stopped watching the show when they left because I knew that the show wouldn’t be a shadow of what it used to be without them at the helm. The show tanked, the network tanked, and now he’s back on NBC writing a series about a team of a genius writer and director called back to a network they got fired from to save the flagship show and thus the entire network from failure. How poignant. I tip my hat to you, Mr. Sorkin. Not only did you get NBC to come to you practically begging to do a show, but you then created a show that lets you thumb your nose weekly at the failings of the network that gave you the boot in the first place. In short, “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” is not to be missed.

I was accused today of being verbose, so perhaps I’d best leave it there.

Posted in Beer, Geekery, General, Movies, Work

Pints and pasta

Sep12
2006 Written by Andrew

Pints to Pasta went beautifully. Better than I thought it would.

I bumped into a coworker here on Friday who works at our Seattle office and was in town for the weekend, and found out she was planning on running the race, too, and when I told her I had new socks and a new shirt to wear, she let me in on a little piece of runner’s superstition: never wear anything new to a race. So, in order to “break in” my new gear, I went for a shortish jog on Saturday morning so that my new shirt and new socks would be “used.” Didn’t wash ‘em, either.

I got up at 6 AM Sunday morning, had myself a bowl of pasta and some water for breakfast, then drove to the finish line at the Old Spaghetti Factory in SW Portland. Even at 6:45 AM, the place was already filling up quickly, so I parked, got my number and t-shirt, and took the shuttle up the starting line. The race began way up at the Addidas headquarters in NE Portland, so I wandered around, stretched a bit, and took in the campus while waiting for the race to begin. About 10 minutes before the horn blew, all 1004 of us squeezed towards the starting line, and then at 8:02 we took off. I immediately remembered from last year’s Race to the Cure that even though I have a pretty good pace, the competitive runners will pass me, and so for all 10k I had faster runners dogging and overtaking me. It’s a little frustrating, but I passed enough people that it didn’t hurt as much.

Around mile 5, I was getting pretty winded. I’d really been pushing my pace for the first 7 or 8k and going quickly, and running is as much about your mind as it is your body. But I made it! My goal was to finish in under 45 minutes, though I crossed the finish line with a time of 45:10 or so. Ten seconds! If I’d had a timer on my wrist, I could have pushed myself just a little further on that last stretch and come in ten seconds earlier, but I probably would have paid for it later.

After the race, we got all sorts of free stuff–water (obviously), sports drinks, granola, water bottles, trinkets, coupons, Jamba Juice, and best of all, free pasta and free beer. Well, pasta and two free beers. I’ve had beer at 11:30 AM with lunch before, I’ve had beer at 1:30 AM while still out drinking before, but I’ve never had beer at 9:30 AM. Especially after running 6.2 miles. I sat with my coworker, drank my two beers, took off around 10:45 after the awards, went home, showered, changed, and promptly crashed on my bed. I guess two beers and 10k make for a tiring day. I was pretty useless for the rest of the day, too, but since I didn’t have anything else to do it wasn’t a problem. I watched a few episodes of the first season of “24,” drank a beer I’d been saving, and then went to bed. I accomplished everything I wanted/needed to before 9 AM, so I wasn’t feeling guilty about that.

All in all, I was pretty proud of my accomplishment. I ran twice as far as last year’s Race for the Cure, and did it less time than my 5k time doubled. The overall winner came in with a time of 29:53, but there’s no way I could ever match that kind of time. I’m just proud that I finished and did so within a hair of my goal time, even if I didn’t make exactly.

There was a flyer on my car for the “Run Like Hell” half-marathon in October, and part of me considered signing up, but I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be running 13.1 miles this soon. Maybe if I could do it once before race day I’d consider it, since I know I can do 9 miles or so pretty comfortably already. I’ll get back to you on that, but chances are I’ll keep running longer distances and just do the big half-marathon that takes place next summer. Or maybe–just maybe–I can push myself to the very limits and get a time of under two hours for the half-marathon in October. I could live with that.

Friday night I met my Dad up at his office after work and then we took the Portland Streetcar over to Bridgeport Brewery and sampled their new “Hop Harvest” beer that they were giving out samples of. Maybe “samples” is the wrong word–they were free half-pints as long as the first keg was still pouring. So we sat, drank beer, at some pizza, and talked about random things. Good times.

Turns out my car wasn’t entirely fixed by the jumpstart I got the other night, so I replaced the battery. Seems to work OK now, but I’m pissed that I had to spend the money to do so. I guess a new battery is better than a new window or whatnot, but at least my insurance would have covered that. So how come with health insurance I can get reimbursed for medicine when I get sick, but with car insurance you can’t get reimbursed when something breaks or dies in your car? You know, alternator dies or something. Seems to be a similar insurance model, so why doesn’t it work that way? Grrr. And I spend way more per year on car insurance than I do on health insurance, too–ignoring for the moment that my premiums are picked up by work.

I spent my Saturday afternoon and evening with my ex-girlfriend Katie, just talking and catching up. I haven’t seen her for a year now, haven’t really spent time with her in longer than that, and it was good to see her again. She and I have had our differences, including a period of time I didn’t talk to her for more than a year, but she really is a different person than I knew five years ago when I refused to speak with her. She’s been going through a pretty rough time lately with her health, personal life, and job, so I’m sure she was happy with the company.

I changed my work schedule so I’m now working from 9-5:30. Makes for very leisurely mornings since I’m still getting up at 6 AM, but it also means I have to start running in the mornings since if I try it at night, it’ll be dark by the time I get home shortly, then after a run and I clean up it’ll be 7:30 or so. That’s pretty late to start dinner/start my evening, so I’ll just get up at 6 AM, take my run, go back, clean up, and go to work. I did that this morning, and though I was pretty wiped when I got to work, it wasn’t anything a cup of coffee couldn’t fix. It also gives me a whole hour to myself from 4:30 to 5:30 when I can play music loudly while I work…or in this case, write. Either way.Right. 5:25, and I’m out of here. I’m taking the bus up to NW Portland and meeting a friend for a few beers at the Laurelwood Public House, which I haven’t been to before. I’ve had their beer and enjoyed it, so I’m looking forward to the source of the stuff. Happy Tuesday.

Posted in Beer, Erika, Family, General, Work

I feel so used

Sep06
2006 Written by Andrew

In the last week, I feel like I’ve been used and abused by the dregs of humanity. It was about time, I suppose.

First, I discovered that the email feature of my website had been hijacked and was being used to send spam to people, and so I simultaneously got a few emails from my hosting provider telling me they’d encountered a good deal of email coming from my account, and then not long after that I started getting a few angry emails from people since my name and email address had been on the spams. Eek. So, until further notice and I can get the thing straightened out, I’ve completely disabled the function that emails people when I write a new entry. Like most other sites on the Internet, you’ll just have to check back once in awhile for the time being.
Secondly, on Sunday as I got into my car to go up to the grocery store, I discovered that my car had been broken into. Nothing taken (nothing to take, unless they really wanted my stock stereo and CD player, but I suspect they were looking for cash or something easy), and nothing broken from what I could discover, but whoever did it somehow ran down my battery during the break-in, and so nothing worked–my alarm, my lights, you name it. I was afraid that they had cut some electrical wires and it would require work, but after calling for a jump from my insurance company (tough to get a friend to jump my car in its position in the driveway) I was pleased to find that it was just a run-down battery. I charged it up, and so it should be OK now. I have lots of practice with dead batteries after driving the Mustang for years.
I was really looking forward to going to the store Sunday night, too, as I was going to make myself a reward dinner. See, Sunday I did a jog I’ve been meaning to take since I moved here last fall: I crossed the river and jogged along the waterfront. Since I’ve been jogging regularly and for good distances this year, I decided to push myself as far as my body could take it, and I jogged all the way down to Willamette Park and back. That’s a good, eight, maybe nine miles, besting my personal record by at least two miles. I had some brand new running shoes to help me on that route, and my body felt pretty stiff the rest of the day, but it was totally worth it.

My reward dinner was going to be homemade pizza and some beer (it was actually going to be pizza, beer, and a cigar if I could make it to Willamette Park and back, but I had to stop running on the east side of the Hawthorne Bridge when I felt a blister forming, so I left it at just pizza and beer), but since I didn’t have enough time to make my pizza after calling the police and my insurance company, I ended up going with my sister to Vincente’s pizza on Hawthorne. They make some of the best pizza in my neighborhood, I’ve decided. It’s tough to have bad pizza, mind you, but there’s just something different about theirs. Slightly sweeter crust.
My long jog, though, was practicing for my Pints to Pasta run next weekend that I’m psyched for. After last weekend, I know I can do the distance and not be totally destroyed for the rest of the day, and with my car fixed I can now get to and from the race on Sunday. Heck, since I was able to do eight or nine miles, the next step up for me is to adjust to that distance and then push it up slightly so maybe next year I can do a half marathon. My long-term goal is to do a full marathon, I’ve decided, though I’d like to adjust to running longer distances over a longer period than just training for it, running it, and then sitting back and congratulating myself. Am I crazy? Probably, but I know people who jog less than I do who’ve done the Portland Marathon, so I just need to make sure that my body can handle long distance before I start pushing it too far.

I did read an article about a guy who ran 50 marathons in 50 days, but I don’t think I’ll ever have a desire to push my body that far.

http://www.50in50in50.com/

Actually, if I hadn’t stopped for awhile in Willamette Park, I’m not sure how far I could have gone in one stretch. I felt pretty good, and that hardest part was starting again after resting for 15 minutes or so and drinking a little water. I was disappointed that I didn’t make it all the way back to my apartment and had to stop and walk a mile or so from it, but some good did come out of it. I passed an Italian restaurant on Hawthorne that I’d never seen before, and after looking it up they have a really nice menu, excellent cuisine from the reviews I read, and best of all they offer some cooking classes that I’m investigating. I’d love to take some cooking classes. There’s actually a place just down the street from me that offers classes as well, but I haven’t been able to find a schedule and pricing information yet.

Last Friday I decided I was in a mood to go out, and since I couldn’t round up anyone to have a drink and some cheap Happy Hour food after work, I went home, changed, and went out to have some dinner and drinks at a place I passed last week on the bus called 9 Muses Acoustic Tavern. They just opened a month ago, and they have a full bar, a kitchen, and nightly music shows. Decent beer on tap, cheapish food, and live music–perfect combination. Don’t worry, I didn’t go alone. Right before I left I got a call from one of my old coworkers and so I met her there and we had a few drinks and listened to some music. I’m definitely going back there again, maybe this weekend. I mean, it’s in walking distance from my apartment, and I’ll take a place with music over a place without music any day.

I guess I probably shouldn’t go Saturday night, after all, I’m getting up early and jogging 10k Sunday morning. I don’t think my body would appreciate that if I did it the night after having a few pints of beer and some fried food. I could probably do it without too many problems, but I always feel so bloated after I drink beer. I find that quite odd since alcohol saps a lot of water from your body, and so wouldn’t I feel less bloated? One of the little mysteries in a life of a beer lover.

Speaking of beer (and you knew it was coming eventually), on Labor Day I went over to my Dad’s house for dinner and stopped by the infamous John’s Marketplace on my way over there. I ende dup with an odd river/tree theme with the beers I picked out: Rogue Juniper Ale and Siletz Spruce Ale. Yes, both are brewed with berries from the respective trees, so they each have an interesting taste to them. Nothing I’d buy a six-pack of, but then again, I so rarely buy six-packs, that distinction I use to justify how good a beer is might be completely moot for me by now.

Friday my Dad and I are going to the Bridgeport Brewery after work and attending the tapping of their newest beer: Hop Harvest. Sounds promising–after all, the best beers are hoppy and bitter. Dad and Andrew at Bridgeport! Just like the good old days. Too bad it’s not the good old Bridgeport. I took a friend from out of town there about a month ago, and after I’d explained how it used to look and feel with all the brick and wood inside, she could see why I disliked it now. It’s all metal and glass. I feel like I’m drinking in an art museum, and I can’t get comfortable in an environment like that. I’m much better in a pub-type place.

And speaking of pub-type places, I’ve been informed that a new McMenamins is opening up this fall in North Portland. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to a new McMenamins, so I might have to make this one #40 on my list. It’s a renovated Chapel, actually, and though it was once upon a time used as a crematorium as well, the ovens are gone. To quote my original news source for this information, that would have made for some pretty cool pizza ovens. Maybe a little creepy at first…but not enough that I couldn’t eat my pizza.

Now, off to accomplish soem things before bed. Later.

Posted in Beer, Family, Food, General

About me

Early 30's, Portlander, professional geek, runner, cook, beer drinker, beer brewer, gamer, occasional blogger.
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