I’m proud of him. Not just because he graduated but because he’s not finished yet. This is only the first graduation and he is destined for, well, if not greatness, then certainly happiness.

• 19th of May, 2012

My favorite:

.@MittRomney Found out an employee has ovarian cancer. Gave her a pair of “Avengers” tickets & a “funny” hat as a severance package.

There’s more and they’re great.

• 19th of May, 2012

My wife and parents generously bought me a Kindle Touch for my birthday. It is the only thing I really wanted.

Friend and coworker Jim was given a Kindle by a coworker in King City, and he’s just eaten it up. Coworker Heather has one, and she sings its praises often. I’ve only ever met one person who owns a Kindle who didn’t love it, and that’s Tracy, who’s weird anyway.¹

It turns out that for me, the Kindle solves a lot of problems and removes a lot of barriers to reading.

For one, the books I like tend to be physically large. The one I’m reading now, Spin, is 1.5 pounds. I requested it at the library just so I could take it to the UPS Store and weigh it on their state-certified scale. 1.5 pounds. It’s also 9.5 inches tall, 6.6 wide and 1.25 inches thick. It’s roughly the same size as the third Harry Potter book.

But let’s look at another popular book. The biggest Harry Potter book is Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The hardcover is 870 pages long. It is 9.5 by 6.5 and is 2.25 inches thick. It’s also 2.66 pounds.

Amazon says that my Kindle Touch is 6.8 by 4.75 inches and is 0.4 inches thick. The UPS Store scale put it at .46 pounds, just less than half a pound.

Now, I’ve got all seven Harry Potter and all three Spin books on my Kindle. I’ve also got all the Harry Dresden, Artemis Foul, Christopher Moore and Neil Gaimen books on there. It’s still half a pound. If I add all the works of Tolkien to it, still half a pound.

The point is that holding a book that’s almost three pounds and, when open, is almost 20 inches wide is a chore. The same book on a Kindle is a joy.

And as long as I’m on the topic of size and weight, the thing fits in my already crammed-full-of-stuff bag far better than a hardcover from the library does. And as I’m approaching the end of the fifth Harry Potter Book, I don’t have to lug the next one around in case I finish it while I’m at the DMV.

And make no mistake: I’ll have my Kindle with me when I’m at the DMV. It’s small and thin enough that if it’s not in my bag, it’ll be in my cargo or back pocket. And the next book on my list will be with me, and the next one, too.

Which is really a huge thing. The Kindle also represents instant gratification. No waiting for the time to make it to the bookstore, no waiting for the book to show up on the library hold shelf. It’s just there, up to about 3,000 of them. I know, I know, who needs 3,000 books with them all the time? If you have to ask, you’re nit-picking and nothing will please you at all. This is not the website for you.

Now, at one time, I read books on my iPhone. The trouble there is more than that it’s small, it’s also that for work and, yes, for pleasure, I spend a lot of time looking at back-lit computer screens. For all intents and purposes, I spend all day looking at a light bulb with text on it. The Kindle’s cool E ink screen is completely different. It’s much more like reading type printed on paper than it is like reading on a screen.

It’s not back-lit, so you can’t read it in the dark, but unlike a backlit screen, you can read it in the full glare of the sun.

The other big problem with the iPhone as a reading device, at least for me, is that it’s so much more than a reading device. It’s also the Internet, Twitter, Plants vs. Zombies, Bejeweled. How can I expect myself to dig in and get comfortable with a book when it’s on a backlit 3.5-inch screen that also has video games and texting?

And then there’s the weird little techie things about the Kindle that make it wonderful. Many of us already own a bunch of eBooks. Getting them onto the Kindle is easy as can be: I email them to myself.^{2 3} The added bonus of emailing the books is that they all show up in this thing called Kindle Cloud. It means that I can read my Kindle book on my iPhone using the Kindle app, and it knows where I’m at on both devices.

I know, I just sat there complaining about reading my book on an iPhone. But what if I were at a work required function without my Kindle and wanted to go all anti-social? Whip out the iPhone, it’s already got my book, it remembers my place, so I’m there. It is also good for bathroom or smoke breaks or all the things I can’t think of right now.

And it turns out I love my Kindle. I love it the way I love Field Notes and Moleskine notebooks. I love it the way I love Camelbak Better Bottles. I love it the way I love my iPod Shuffle.

Like everything else I mentioned, the Kindle is is a near-perfect thing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: When the good choice is the easy choice, we all do good. Choosing to read is a good choice. The Kindle makes it easy. It’s why I didn’t want the color Kindle Fire or an iPad for this purpose. I wanted a limited black and white device that would encourage me to read and get out the way of my reading.

I think about my friends and family and cannot think of anyone who wouldn’t benefit from and love a Kindle. Except for Blaine. Blaine’s special when it comes to tech. I still love him.

1. Actually, her main complaint is that the types of books she gets are non-fiction, like gardening books. The black e-ink screen on her Kindle isn’t what she needs for the diagrams and how-to photos. But, she said, for fiction and text, it’s great. ↩
2. Each Kindle has a unique you@kindle.com email address. You can access that at www.amazon.com/myk ↩
3. Extra bonus of emailing books to yourself: they sit there in your Gmail outbox waiting to get emailed to your wife’s Kindle when it shows up for Mother’s day. ↩

As long as I’m posting music…

• 12th of May, 2012

Devin Townsend is one of my favorite musicians. He’s makes music for crazy people, and it’s awesome.

This here is a blending of two versions of his song Hyperdrive one from the Ziltoid album and one from The Devin Townsend Project’s Addicted album. It’s weird to listen to.

• 12th of May, 2012

I went to the 30th annual Wildflower triathlon and it was incredible. I wrote a story for the local newspaper because it’s a local event that gets national coverage but little local coverage from a local standpoint. So that story’s great, but this here is what it’s really like.

I got in at all because Keith Schmidt, who owns K-Man, my bike shop, has been involved in Wildflower for at least 20 of its 30 years of existence. He pulls a lot of water at Wildflower, and he asked the powers that be if I could have a press pass and, bam, press pass. I took my press pass to the registration table and, bam, comped entry to the Olympic race. I can’t thank Keith enough for that. It was a life-changing thing, as you’ll see, and it never would have happened without him.

And you know, had Keith not had the parts and wherewithal to help me put together my bicycle, I wouldn’t have had a bike to ride and the whole thing would have been moot. So really, he got me in and he made it so I had the gear I needed to perform at all. So I think I’d damn well better put a K-Man logo on my bike, hadn’t I? Yes, I had better, and I will wear that sticker with a heart full of pride and gratefulness.

Now, Wildflower is actually three triathlons in one big event. On Saturday, there are two races: the shorter mountain bike course and — and I swear they say it with the capital letters — The Long Course.

The mountain bike course isn’t really a mountain bike course. I get the distinct impression that it’s a sort of entry-level course, but to make things interesting, it’s on fire roads and other unpaved roads. It’s a ¼-mile swim, 10-mile bike ride, and 2-mile run. No problem, sounds like fun.

The Long Course, however, is sort of the holy grail of Wildflower. It’s a half Iron Man: 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride — road bikes, on paved road — and a 13.1-mile half-marathon run.

As Cassandra and I drove in on Saturday, the Long Course racers were still on the road. We saw this obese woman on a bike struggling up a hill and we were both pretty flummoxed. I remember Cassandra asking why somebody in that condition would do such a grueling race. The only thing I could think is she just had no idea what she was getting into. “Twelve mile run? I dunno. Sounds easy. It’s 12 miles from here to to the KFC and that doesn’t seem too far. Are you gonna finish those fries?”

She ended up finishing dead last. But, credit where credit is due, she finished. I estimate that about 80 people did not finish. One of the people who did not finish came all the way from Scottsdale, Arizona, to not finish; another person came from Souix Falls, South Dakota; another from Indianapolis, Colorado, Wyoming, Virginia, Ohio, you get the point. That’s gotta suck enormously.

“Hey, Laura Garrity! Welcome back to Wilson, Wyoming! How was the race? Did you win?”

“[mumble mumble].”

“What? Laura, you took a week off work and flew out to California! You shipped your bike! How’d you do? Was it worth it?”

“I didn’t finish.”

“But you spent like $2,500 just to get there! Did you get injured?”

“[mumble mumble].”

“What?”

“No, it was just too hard.”

Yeah. Eff that. So good job to the fat lady Jennifer Maninch from Monterey, California, who finished last.

I stayed the night in K-Man’s camp, near their huge display area. Well, only like half of it was display. The rest was the most impressive temporary bike shop I’ve ever seen. All the workers said they hadn’t yet come across a problem they couldn’t fix. That’s pretty impressive.

One very cool thing that happened was when Steve Hodgson, the guy who’s in charge of North County Physical Therapy, lent his bike to a guy who flew in from Oregon to do The Long Course. The guy’s carbon-fiber bike frame broke minutes before the race. So Steve lent him his bike and the broken guy finished. True, he had a dead $3,000 bike frame, but at he got to do what he came here to do. That was a beautiful thing to me. I always had a good impression of Steve, but this really put his goodness on display for me. I think very highly of him now. It’s no wonder he was part of Keith’s crew.

I got to spend time with my bike friends Steve Anzel and Jesse Buerster and that was a ton of fun. Those guys are great and they make me want to try BMXing out.

Day two is the day of the Olympic course. A 1-mile swim in the lake, a 25-mile road ride, and a 6-mile run.

It was gnarly, and this is where my story really starts.

First, the line to the porta-potties was comically long. It made me grateful that some people I know but will not name liberated one from the big long line and sequestered it behind the territory line. That was pretty cool, though I deeply regret not being part of the Moving of the Porta Potty. Next time.

My bike is not great, but it was affordable and it is mine. I build my own bikes, generally because I can afford $50 at a time for parts but can’t afford a $600 entry-level bike. That is because, in part, I work for a stupid company. But, and this is not hyperbole, my resume is open in another window as I type this. I am determined to own a brand new bike within two years and I can’t do it where I’m at.

But what’s cool about it is it’s my bike. I know every inch of that thing. I made or scrounged every last part. I run my own cables.¹ And check this out: there are custom-made parts on my bike. My dad, as I have mentioned before, is the bracket king, and there are two incredible brackets on my bike thanks exclusively to him.

And, also, there’s a big long story about the brakes. It’s not a very interesting story if you’re not a super bike nerd, so I won’t get into that here. Suffice it to say that my dad is responsible for my brakes working well, working at all, and being damn splendid. So I’d better put a “I ♥ My Dad” sticker on my bike right next to my K-Man sticker, hadn’t I? Yes, I had better.

But there were at least three bikes significantly less good than mine on the track. Here is one of them. It’s got friction down-tube shifters which isn’t a deal-breaker, but the tape falling off the handlebar sure is.

There was also what looked like a converted Diamondback POS with a cruiser-style handlebar on it. I passed that guy though he started about an hour before I did. That was gratifying. “Ha! Passed that guy!” And I saw at least two high-end but full-suspension mountain bikes. Too heavy, a terrible choice.

Now, each racer gets a number. That number gets stuck to you and written on you and pinned to you. That number corresponds to an area in the giant staging area, and that is your spot where you get to keep your stuff. So before the race started, I dropped my bike on the bar, and arranged my bag with my biking shoes and socks, running shoes and socks, and kept my insulated water bottles hidden in the shade of my bag from the sun. And, thank you Camelbak, all my water was still icy cold when I got to it, even my running water bottle, after nearly 3 hours of siting out there.

I bought a pair of triathlon shorts and a cool new jersey from an Arroyo Grande company. Triathlon shorts are like biking shorts, but the padding is a bit smaller so they’re not uncomfortable to run or swim in. The jersey matches my bike and is a fine thing.

I hung out with a guy named Dan who was in my class and we started together. I put sunscreen on his back for him because  he couldn’t reach. I told him, “look, I’m happily married and am not hitting on you. Let me help you out. You’ll thank me later.” I didn’t say “nohomo.”

We entered the water and things immediately got horrible. My goggles are total crap, it turns out, because they fog up like crazy. They’ve never been an issue at the gym pool because the gym pool is clean and going the right direction is easy because there’s a huge, high-contrast black line on the bottom of the pool to follow. Fogged goggles? Big deal. The huge black line is, like I said, high contrast and easy to follow. There is no such thing in the lake. And since all of your visual cues are out of the water, fogged goggles and no prescription spectacles means I was essentially swimming blind.

So ostensibly, it’s a .93-mile swim, but I swear I swam 1-¼ miles just in going the wrong direction. Lifeguards in kayaks had to point me in the right direction at least three times. I swam great, I had a strong stroke, and it took me the wrong way. It was super frustrating, though the actual act of swimming was pretty easy. The wetsuit kept me buoyant, so that was killer.

I finally got the hell out of the lake and threw my goggles away in disgust. I headed up the unswept ramp, slowly struggling to peel the wetsuit off as I went. Eventually I got the damn thing off, got the shoes and socks on, got the jersey on — I was smart and had packed the pockets with gel nutrition ahead of time — and headed out. Only to find I’d lost my little anklet sensor thing. So I had to go get a new one. They were pros about it, and I only lost about 30 seconds, but I felt stupid. I found out later I’d taken the sensor off with my wetsuit and it just sat there with my bag.

The first mile of the bike ride is a pretty intense hill. I’m very pleased to say it wasn’t a big deal for me. Keith had told me ahead of time to just take it slow and not burn out on it, and that’s exactly what I did. Plus, I’m really good at the whole bike thing and the hill thing, so I just motored up and it was cool. Going up the hill, I saw a volunteer from the Cal Poly triathlon team that I swam with at Cuesta College. It was good to see him, but heading up the hill, I lacked the breath to shout at him. I regret that.

The rest of the ride was just awesome. You know why the SuperBowl of track and field is held in North County? Because it’s beautiful, that’s why. I live where people vacation. I remind myself of that when I’m grumbling about my entry-level paycheck. “At least I live here,” I think to myself.

It was rolling hills and gorgeous. I made three stops on the bike ride. One was because I just had to pee. My dad reminded me later that his Triathlon friend, Dave, says triathletes wear black shorts so you can’t tell when they pee in the saddle. That may be true, but I was only racing myself and nobody else, and I’m not down with peeing my pants.²

I also stopped to pick up a $20 bill somebody had dropped, and again to snag a $15 CamelBak water bottle. I emptied it out and threw it into a pocket on my jersey. Damned if jerseys aren’t one of the best tools a cyclist can own.

As I headed into the staging area, I saw my wife and mom on the right and it made me so happy. It really is hard to overstate how good it felt to get cheered on by people who love me. Thinking back to how it felt, I’m not ashamed to say I’m getting a little teary-eyed as I sit here at my desk. It felt that good.

And then the run. I’m good at running and I’ve been practicing my hills, but nothing could have prepared me for this. That one hill at the beginning sucked, the hill that immediately followed it sucked, and the big big super big hill with no end in sight super dammit sucked all the way to the moon.

But there were lots of volunteers with water and, in some cases, hoses to spray us down with. I poured water on my head at each opportunity and got sprayed down, but things got bad when water got into my shoe. Wet socks suck for running in. It wasn’t a deal breaker and I don’t think it slowed me down very much, but lesson learned. No more getting sprayed.

At the end of the race, Jesse and Steven were there cheering with a big sign that said, “It’s a boy!!!” That was more incapacitating then the wet socks. I was nearly incapacitated with hilarity! My parents were also there, and I loved that, too, all over again. But during the race, we were kind of like ships in the night. Next time, I will bike and run with my iPhone so my family can track me on Find My Friends.³ It’ll mean they can go chill out in the shade for most of the bike ride, but when I’m 5 miles away, they can fight their way up to the front so we can scream and point at each other. I’ll also make sure they bring beer. For them, not me. Well, not for me immediately, but probably after a while.

The thing was great. It was a great event, a lot of fun. It was hard, but I had lots of good nutrition throughout the whole thing, and I wasn’t torn up after. Even my knee was fine, thanks to the relative shortness of the run and all my knee braces. And it was great having my wife there for the whole thing. She was wonderful support and it was so good seeing there at the transitions. And she’s a good looking woman, so it’s nice to have her around anyway. But she said that she used my press pass to head down and prep my shoes for me while I was on the bike ride. I didn’t even notice at the time, but I know it’s true and I’m positive in retrospect it cut down on some frustration.

Wildflower was awesome. I’m planning the next one. I’m planning the changes and up grades to my bike (cheapest ones first). I’m shopping for goggles and anti-fog solutions. Maybe rubbing coconut oil on the inside of them. Coconut oil fixes everything, after all.

Next year, I’m doing the mountain bike course on Saturday and the Olympic course on Sunday. Then, no matter how long it takes me with fogged goggles and stopping for $20′s, I’ll have honest-to-goodness bragging rights. That’s important.

Creig P. Sherburne, #6030.

Class: Male, 30 – 34

Overall time: 03:38:44

Overall rank: 1,314 out of 1,929

Class rank: 193 out of 234

Swim: 39:38

Bike out: 53:05

Bike in: 50:43

Bike overall: 01:43:48

Run: 01:03:37

Run pace: 00:10:15 per mile

1. Ok, so I run my own cables, but I often need help adjusting them. I don’t quite understand derailleur cable tension. It’s mystical. ↩
2. That’s only half true. I’ll happily pee my pants if there’s booze and illegal kinkiness going on. Hi, mom! ☺ ↩
3. I will not take my iPhone with me on the swim. ↩

The following is from a Robert Charles Wilson book called Spin. It’s a very cool book that I thoroughly enjoy reading. But this part gave me pause. It addresses human history in the context of Earth’s history.

[Jason] used to have a parlor trick to demonstrate this idea. “Stick out your arms,” he’d say, “straight out at your sides,” and when he had you in the appropriate cruciform position he’d say, “Left index finger to right index finger straight across your heart, that’s the history of the Earth. You know what human history is? Human history is the nail on your right-hand index finger. Not even the whole nail. Just that little white part. The part you clip off when it gets too long. That’s the discovery of fire and the invention of writing and Galileo and Newton and the moon landing and 9/11 and last week and this morning. Compared to evolution we’re newborns. Compared to geology, we barely exist.”

Here’s the book on Amazon (as cheap as $0.21), Kindle, and the iBookstore.

• 9th of May, 2012

This here is what I’m doing this weekend. Enjoy your movie!

• 5th of May, 2012

It’s like my dad says: I don’t work just for the money, but I won’t work without it. Today was one of those non-money things.

• 4th of May, 2012

My dad is the bracket king. If you need something that will hold something to something else, he is your man. His brackets are made to last and have, in at least one instance, outlasted both the thing and the thing it was bracketed to.

He designed and made a bracket to hold a water bottle cage to the front of my bike, and it is killer.

The part is only half complete, which is almost unheard for my dad. He tends to either never finish projects or not let a project out into the world until it is both finished and perfect. But I need it for this weekend and need to get a ride in with it in place, so there it is, functional yet unfinished. And that’s the beauty of this particular bracket. It is functional and attractive today, but after my triathlon, it will be functional and gorgeous.

There’s another bracket in this photo, though you can’t see it. It’s holding the brake in place, lower than the hole in the fork would allow. On both of these projects and hundreds of others through the years, my dad makes art that, because it’s done right, most people never notice.

So it’s not hyperbole to say that my dad’s existence is a constant, yet almost silent reminder of the differences between a machinist and an artist.

I am lucky and so, so proud to have him on my team.

It’s stinking rad. I absolutely want this shirt.

I almost feel bad linking to Mitt’s store. His store has nothing of worth and his logo looks like a dook.

(Via my friend, Erica Hall.)

• 2nd of May, 2012

I am the proud new owner of a Glyph+ by Studio Neat. It is an iPhone tripod mount, and it is splendid. It looks like this.

At the top is the ingenious little box all the parts came in. Next is the Glyph itself, the only thing you really must have. The next part is called a Serif, and that secures the iPhone a bit more, making it so you can tilt it on its side or hold it upside down. When it’s not in use, the Serif fits inside the Glyph for storage. The little silver bit screws into the tripod bolt-hole, allowing you to secure it to your keyring or bag or whatever. I think it’s invaluable.

Here. Let me try to show you how it works. The following is, for contrast, my wife’s white iPhone in the Glyph with the Serif on a tripod taking a photo of my current Field Notes book. I love everything in this. Maybe I should have included beer. And a liger.

Now, here’s the deal. It’s a tripod mount. Big deal. Except that it’s a superb, even perfect, device. It is the right size, shape, even texture. It’s a joy to use, and it has freed me from my Canon DSLR, freed me to be able to use my iPhone’s camera full-time.

I’ve never been able to fully understand the Canon. When using that camera I am, at best, an amateur. Sometimes the photos come out good enough to use.

Which is why I’m so excited to use the iPhone 4S. That thing knows me. It knows what I want in a way I never knew how to get from Canon. And it’s significantly smaller and lighter and I’ve got it with me everywhere anyway, so it’s not like I’ve got to lug around another big chunk of equipment everywhere I go. I could take up a tiny portion of the space the Canon took up with a Kindle, and I’m positive I’d get more out of it.

Now, there’s an argument to be made that the the Canon simply takes better pictures. The counter-argument, obviously, is that maybe it does take better pictures, but I don’t.

The Glyph has also allowed me to get away with a much smaller, cheaper tripod, rather than the big heavy number I used with the ol’ Canon. When I could be bothered to use it, that is. It was big.

Here’s a practical application for the Glyph. I write for a publication that is, I am told, a wine lifestyle magazine. I do not earn enough money to actually partake in the wine lifestyle, so I think it’s comically, infuriatingly, stupidly unfair that I have to keep doing work for it, but that’s how it is until I can quit and work for somebody for whom trickle-down economics don’t work so effectively. I pray for the day I can get paid to empty trashes and mow lawns instead. It’s not like I can earn less money doing it.

Sometimes working for this high-brow magazine means taking some pictures of wine. This is really about the only upside to the work I do for the magazine. I ask winemakers for wine so I can photograph it and they give it to me. At present, I have a $52 box of wine at home, and that’s rad. Here is is, in case you were wondering.

I took that photo, and a bunch more like it, and then another batch for some reason, with my iPhone 4S and a Glyph.

Bonus! I am drinking my third glass of that there wine as I’m writing this. I actually write better this way!

Here’s the setup for that photo. The white paper is newspaper end rolls. The tripod probably cost $15. The Glyph and Serif make it so I can upend the camera iPhone without fear of it falling down and shattering into a million pieces.

Friend Nik will notice the horrible damn Microsoft coffee mug on the far right of the bench. That cup sucks. I use it ironically, but the coffee I drink out of it, I drink unironically.

A thing about the Glyph which I don’t love is it is yet another excuse for my job not to pay me even half of what I am worth. Since I can buy a relatively inexpensive little tripod mount for the phone I’d have anyway since I’m an Apple fanboi and I can turn the newspaper’s waste into a photo studio, they powers that be pass the savings on to themselves! So everybody wins! Except me! Except I do win a little, cuz I’ve got a Glyph, and it’s not just good for work.

I can also use it to watch Invader Zim with.

Now, I’ll admit that as yet, I’ve not had the opportunity to actually use this feature in any way other than demoing it for this here photograph, but I think the potential here is huge. Hands free video chatting — and you know what that means! — and, um, well, maybe that’s it. Video chatting and watching TV on a tiny little screen. I guess I could maybe hook up a bluetooth keyboard and type a bunch of stuff, but that seems expensive and stupid to me, so I don’t even know why I bother bring it up.

And, look, that’s enough. The Glyph is a splendid little device that does two things and does them really really well, and for not very much money. If you have an iPhone 4/S that you use to take pictures with or watch TV on, I think you’re doing yourself a major disservice not owning one of these little things your own self. Also, the guys who made the little device have the coolest contact info page I’ve seen on the Internet in a long, long while.

Here’s that link again. It’s time for another glass of $52 per box wine. So this is Creig, signing off. Good night and good luck!

So a guy in Seattle is trying to sell his teal 1995 Pontiac Grand AM GT, AKA, “Jesus tap-dancing Christ.” The ad is spectacularly good. Here is a taste:

Thing is, it’s a Craigslist item, so it’ll probably go away some time. But that’s alright. I saved the ad the guy built and am preserving it here. Forever. (Via Jim.)

• 25th of April, 2012

A compilation of pickup lines by my best friend Rob Delaney. Here is an example. Many of the rest are not safe for work, but it’s just text, so there’s plausible deniability.

- “You got a pretty mouth” is a creepy pickup line. Instead, try “You look like you could give a donkey CPR.”

It’s a public service, really.

• 24th of April, 2012

Camille Debreczeny for Inside Bay Area:

At Monte Vista High, a large public school with more than 2,000 students, I would guess I am one of about 20 kids who ride bikes to school on a regular basis. I can hardly even blame the other 99 percent of the student body for sticking to their cars, because my fellow bikers and I are the objects of perpetual harassment.

I’ve had the air let out of my tires, my gears messed up and my reflector stolen. The basket on the back of the bike serves as a trash can. When I’m biking home after school, strangers will take the time to slow down their cars and yell out the window at me in mocking tones.

Such inconveniences and insults may seem minor, but the effect over time is an awful feeling of insecurity. And I know from talking to other bikers that they’ve had similar experiences. Why do people feel the need to behave so maliciously?

All of that, despite the obvious truth and double-standard.

So which is it? Cyclists are heroes fighting against foreign oil and terrorists, or pariahs?

This kind of intolerance and idiocy is taught by parents who should know better. Get your kids good bikes they want to ride and you’ll save money in health care, gas, and insurance. They’ll live longer, healthier lives and maybe they’ll shut up and be all around better people. (Via Erica Hall.)

• 24th of April, 2012

File under “I want one of these.”

(Via Jim Culbreath, who has the space and time to build one; I’ll help.)

• 23rd of April, 2012

Among other things. And why not?

(Via Logan “You’re Fired!” Moy.)

• 23rd of April, 2012

Today is Sunday and I didn’t wake up to an alarm.

That’s a big deal because yesterday, Saturday,  I set my alarm and woke up early so I could go do one of the hardest 5K runs I’ve ever done, ever. It was the local Firefighter’s Association’s fundraising run, and it was delightfully difficult. Only about a third of the run, maybe less, was on flat ground; the rest was in a place called Stadium Park, and it was steep and rocky and traily and horribly good.

I walked up some of the hills and galloped down some of the others. I don’t know what my final time was, but out of about 120 people, I was 45th.

I’ve been practicing my hills in anticipation of this run. On Tuesday, I thought I was doing pretty good, hill-wise. Trouble is, this run wasn’t a little hill, it was a monster. At one point — and I swear it started out as coincidence — I decided I’d quit running and hike up as quick as I could instead, I did so behind a couple of good looking women, and that helped out my gumption.

Elsewhere on the course, experience gained by hiking with Blaine and Christopher came in really handy. People were running down the steep, rocky hills in self-made switchbacks, or otherwise going down really really slowly, picking their steps, arresting their descent. I threw myself down those hills and made up a ton of time with the weird galloping gait developed on hikes with my hiking brethren. So thanks for that, gents!

I got to the bottom of the hill and was all set to turn right and head home, but the paramedic(!) at the bottom directed me to the left, back up another hill, instead. I thought that was singularly unfriendly of him. I made a mental note to remember his name and punch him later, but I forgot.

In the end, I finished the race and did pretty well. Here’s a map, as tracked by Nike + GPS on my iPhone.

I ran to the race — well, slowly jogged, really — as a warmup and that was good. Without it, I’d have warmed up on the trail, and that’s a great way to come in in the bottom 50 percentile. But since I’d run to the race, when I’d done all the socializing I wanted to, I walked home and found I was locked out of the house. My dad came and unlocked it for me.

After a shower, I headed over to my dad’s house to finish assembling my road bike. It’s a 1973 Peugeot and it came with a bunch of heavy, horrible steel parts on it. I took all those off and replaced them with new stuff or stuff from a crashed Motobecane — a high-quality bike from the same era — and the thing is pretty damn splendid. I’ve even got integrated shifters on the thing, thanks to Keith at K-Man Cyclery. It’s why he’s my bike shop.

The big project yesterday was putting on an in credible new front brake. With integrated shifters, the brake cable puts a lot of pressure on the brake itself. New brakes were designed with that in mind and are able to deal with it better than the old, classic brake I  had on there the day before. The advantage is the new one looks better, stops the bike better and feels smoother. I can’t wait to get the back brake on there, too.

Now, the brake thing would never have happened without my dad. I helped him in a couple small ways, but he built the part that lowered the brake enough that it can actually be effective on the rim of the wheel. Actually, he built the part years ago for a my wife’s first pile of crap bike, now retired. We found that part and modified it for this project, so that’s really cool in a sort of “what goes around comes around” kind of way. He also figured out why that brake was made the way it was. He also long-term-loaned the brake to me; he was going to use it on a bike that doesn’t exist, so I don’t feel too bad about ripping him off.

All that’s left is some fine-tuning of the drivetrain. If I’d worked on the bike instead of running a 5K, I imagine I’d have gotten the bike totally ridable yesterday. Alas, it was not to be.

There’s still work to be done, but I’m feeling heartened. I think I’ll be ready to ride the thing 25 miles after a 1-mile swim and just before a 6-mile run in two weeks. Probably.

News.Com.Au reports.

The Judge ruled that “if the applicant had been injured while playing a game of cards in her motel room she would be entitled to compensation” and the fact that the woman was engaged in sexual activity rather than some other lawful recreational activity while in her hotel room does not lead to any different result.

What a way to win. (Thanks, Aaron.)

• 19th of April, 2012

It’s a great app, made by the folks who made RipIt. It’s designed to make ringtones and other tones for iOS devices and it’s so easy my mom can do it.

It costs $12.96 through the website, so 99¢ through the Mac App Store is pretty cool. Go get it. You’ll thank me later.

• 17th of April, 2012

It seems more and more California winemakers are making wine with marijuana built in. The author of the article said it smelled like weed. To me, that’s a huge detriment. Stuff that smells like weed smells terrible. Still, now that it’s been pointed out to me, it seems pretty obvious. (Thanks, Hilary.)

• 17th of April, 2012

It got up to 89 degrees by 12:30p. That’s miserable running weather if you ask me, a guy who generally runs at night.

NY Times:

On Sunday, organizers had urged runners to consider deferring to the 2013 race, but few did, according to race officials. Marc Davis, the marathon’s communications director, said more than 98 percent of the 22,853 official entrants who picked up bibs started the race. More than 3,800 official entrants did not pick up bibs, and 427 entrants picked up bibs but did not show for the race. They may be eligible for a spot in next year’s marathon. A Red Cross official, Kandi Finch, said she was stunned that more people did not defer, adding, “I don’t know how people can train for this kind of heat.”

I also don’t know how people can train for that kind of heat. It seems dangerously stupid and uncomfortable to me. (Thanks, Christopher.)

• 17th of April, 2012

I judged an apple pie contest yesterday. The local appliance store, Idler’s, hosts an annual contest and as a reporter for the local newspaper, I got to be a judge.

Actually, my boss Heather was supposed to judge, but she double-booked herself, so, taking one for the team, I agreed to sample all the home made apple pies in her place.

There were 20 entries, but clearly one winner. Me. Because I got to sample 20 apple pies and that is awesome.

There was a bunch of criteria for the judging. There were three criteria just for how the thing looked. Then, when tasting, I had to judge based on the top crust, bottom crust, filling, the apples themselves, and the overall taste.

Now, this is obviously going to turn into a quick round of “What Can’t Creig Complain About,” but before I get into that, I want to make it clear that apple pie is fantastic. I love apple pie. Apple pie is one of those things, like beer, that is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy. Here is a list of things that apple pie is as good as. In alphabetical order.

• Beer
• Bicycles
• Boobs
• Ligers
• Motörhead¹
• Pixar movies²
• Pizza
• Puppies

Now, most of the apple pies were really good. There were only a couple that were just bland and unfortunate, but nothing was actively bad.

What was bad was knowing I was going to head in at noon and begin eating a ton of apple pie. Last year, editor Heather was a judge and I covered the story, so I kinda knew what I was getting into. I feel like there’s just no way to prepare one’s self for eating that much apple pie.

What I did was just not eat beforehand. I wanted to go for a three-mile run, but life got in the way of that. So I just drank coffee and waited. Twenty pieces of pie at noon was my breakfast.

My method for tasting 20 apple pies was to have two small bites of each. One would have apples and the top crust, one would have apples and the bottom crust. I would, occasionally, have a third bite if I needed to try something again. Which isn’t to say I took judging seriously; it’s an apple pie contest and is totally subjective.

And you know, it’s a weird thing. Apple pie is like beer, boobs, ligers, Motörhead, Pixar movies, pizza, and puppies in that there’s no such thing as overall perfect, but there are dozens of types of perfect for each thing.³

I guess the deal is how I define “perfect.” To me, perfect means there’s nothing I would do to change it. It’s exactly right exactly the way it is. Which means a spicy pie made with Granny Smith apples can be perfect and so can a sweet pie made with Fuji apples.

I sat next to a woman who works in the ad department at The Tribune, the big county-wide newspaper and a woman who works in the ad department at The New Times, the alternative culture newspaper. I was a little out of place being an editorial guy for a small newspaper, but that’s never stopped me from talking too much before, and dammit, it didn’t stop me this time. I think we all had a good time, though.

When I got all done sampling every apple pie, my eyeballs were wobbling in their sockets from too much sugar. I thought that maybe I would go to the gym and lift some weights or maybe go for a swim to work some of the sugar off, but ended up going for a run instead. Why? Because I felt like if the sugar rush wore off and I fell asleep, being in the water would be a bad idea. Same if I dropped weights on my head.

So instead, I did a five mile run and made a major improvement on my previous run. Wednesday, I went for a six-mile run and averaged 10:08 per mile. On my sugar-inspired run, I averaged 9:12 per mile, almost a full minute’s difference. It’s hard to know if that was a function of running one mile less than before, simply running better than before, or being powered by apple pie.

That night, after my run, Cass put on a little gathering for family and friends. I drank a beer and ate sausage, home-made salsa, cheese sauce and a vegi burger without a bun. My body got a little confused. By the time it was bedtime, my body had no idea what was going on and wasn’t going to sleep. I stayed up reading my book and drinking a protein shake until my body and I had reached a truce.

I no longer think I am in danger of my body rebelling and choking me out with itself, but it’ll be a while before I have another slice of apple pie.

1. Apple pie may be American, but Motörhead is not. ↩
2. Except Cars 2, obviously. ↩
3. For instance, Motörhead has at least three perfect albums. You though you had me there, didn’t you? ↩

What a splendid service. My favorite is the one that converts ebook formats, but it’ll also do videos so they’ll play on your smart phone and other irritating things like ODT or WPD to DOC. Wicked useful.

• 11th of April, 2012

It’s just that kind of morning.

• 7th of April, 2012

States in which marrying your cousin is ok are in green, sort of ok are in yellow, not ok are in red. According to CousinCouples.com:

So there’s more than 30 million people in the U.S. and you’ve gotta marry your cousin, but same-sex marriage is still an issue?  Everybody’s stupid. (Thanks, Ken. Nohomo.)

• 6th of April, 2012

A very good look at the phenomena of bands re-recording old songs and even entire albums. The author, Cynic,¹ brings up a lot of good points, and no genre of metal is left alone.

Iced Earth (perhaps one of the few bands who’ve made it unscathed through multiple vocalists) took this approach on “Days Of Purgatory” by recording an album of first era songs with definitive vocalist Matt Barlow at the helm. Necessary? Not really, especially given the bad-ass Greely versions; but not particularly offensive or unwelcome either. The same might be said for the band’s 2008 Barlow versions of Ripper Owens songs like ”The Clouding” or 2011 re(-re!)-recording of the bands opus “Dante’s Inferno” – this time featuring Stu Block.

In the end, I don’t believe he came to a real conclusion, but did bring up a lot of food for thought. In general, I like re-recordings, especially if they’re live. Honestly, the more different they are, the better the new version is to sit with me, for the same reason I don’t like covers that sound just like the original. Bring something new or don’t bother.

1. “Cynic” has to be his real name, right? ↩

• 4th of April, 2012

You wouldn’t think a place like this would be outgoing enough to have such a friendly website.

• 4th of April, 2012

The YouTube description reads:

A film of Biblical Blasphemy.
The most Sacrilegious film in human history.
Written, Directed & Produced by Ira Hunter
Filmed in one continuous shot this movie was the winner of the Scrapshots Film Competion.

Pretty horrible little film. So poorly done. Everything about it sucked. When I was 14, I’d have loved it. Embarrassing.

• 3rd of April, 2012

I ran 61% of the Buzz Marathon and when I’m honest with myself, I don’t think that even in the best of times, my knee has more than 18 miles in it. I can bench press my body weight and it only took about six weeks for me to realize that goal. I’m riding my bike to work three days a week.¹

My next goal — a 100-mile bike ride — is unachievable until I’ve spent about $125 to finish building out my road bike. And what with one thing and another, there’s no ETA on that project.

And in the meantime, I’m doing nothing.

I want to gain 10 more pounds of muscle. I want to have that physical excellence. But I don’t have a clearly defined goal and have lost my way. I get to the gym and I don’t lift weights till my muscles are fatigued and I’m finished, I lift weights till I’m bored and then quit. It’s pathetic and worthless.

So what goal? 5K races are a joke since, on the one hand, I’m not very fast, but on the other, 3.1 miles is really only half a decent run for me. Triathlons? I’ve got the bike issue still. A goal weight? The simple truth is I don’t know enough about diet or weight lifting to make that work yet.

The worst part about the situation is how not exercising affects my attitude. But inertia keeps me from doing anything.

Compounding matters is how I’m not gaining any weight. I’m not getting fatter because I’m aware of the issue, so am eating more fruits and veggies, but eating less overall. So physically, I’m not getting any worse. It makes inertia settle in even more.

I know this is a very un-Creig post, but I don’t know what to do. I know I need to get better. I need to get out and do something, but I need a goal or a partner or some inspiration, and I just don’t have it.

Put another way: “But this isn’t a for-real suicide thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things.” —Marla Singer

1. My tasks at work require that I drive on Mondays and Fridays. ↩

This streams on Netflix:

A single mother leaves her special-needs son in the care of her boyfriend and his friend, who cruelly abuse the little boy. But a killer dressed as the Easter Bunny sets out to avenge their demented crimes.

• 2nd of April, 2012

I often look around me and wonder where the hover-cars are, and then I learn that another science fiction concept is a reality. This time, it’s the first major step toward author Stephen Baxter’s soft screens.

The new plastic display has a resolution of 1024×768 and is six inches across the diagonal, which is comparable to the Kindle and Nook. Because it’s made of plastic and not glass, though, the LG display is half the weight (14g) and 30% thinner (0.7mm) than a comparable, glass e-ink panel. Existing e-book readers need to be thick (and heavy) to protect the glass display, but LG is promising that its display is a lot more rugged. The press release says that the plastic display survives repeated 1.5-meter drop tests and break/scratch tests with a small hammer, and that it’s flexible up to 40 degrees from the mid point.

 Baxter’s soft screens are a lot like iPads, but with the consistency, though not the heft, of one of those lead gowns they make you wear when getting X-rayed, and they come in any size you want and can get draped over chairs or pinned to walls.

I’ve had Kindle-envy ever since learning about the Kindle Touch — not to be confused with the Kindle Fire — and this just makes me drool in anticipation of the next generation devices. (Via Kottke.)

• 31st of March, 2012

• 30th of March, 2012

Rize of the Fenix. Yes.

• 29th of March, 2012

Google Docs now offers web-based spell checking, including content-aware suggestions and even pop culture terms. Since it’s all server-side software, the updates happen automatically for all users without their knowing or seeing or doing anything.

I think this serves to illustrate the dinosaur-ness of Microsoft Office.

• 28th of March, 2012

NPR:

One of the country’s athletes won a gold medal yesterday at an international shooting competition in Kuwait. At the award ceremony, Kazakhstan’s winner stood atop the podium, placed her hand over her heart and stood for her country’s national anthem.

Oops. Listen to the two-minuite soundbite. So good.

• 26th of March, 2012

As of this post, I weigh about 163 pounds. I want to gain some weight by lifting weights. I want to weigh about 175 pounds instead.

The trick to gaining weight, I’m told by the health experts I talk to on a regular basis for work, is pushing my muscles to exhaustion and then giving them protein. In practical terms, I do that by lifting weights at the gym and then drinking shake made from protein powder and eating high-protein foods. In this method, I’ve gained about seven pounds since I started paying attention.

Now, I’m really happy with that progress. I look and feel a lot closer to the way I want to. But I want more. And that’s where the trouble comes in.

I go to work full-time and I have a family and I enjoy working on bikes and watching movies. There aren’t enough hours in the day to get it all done.

One day last week, it occurred to me that I could spend a lot more time in the gym if I were a single guy without a family.

“If only I didn’t have a daughter whom I love and want to spend time with,” I thought to myself. “If only I didn’t have the twins’ bikes to work on! If only I weren’t the charming, good looking, slightly dirty old dog I am, I wouldn’t have snagged and gotten married to a woman I enjoy being with and doing things with! If only!”

But then I realized the grass is always greener on the other side. I can prove it. Only one of the following statements is true. Let’s see if you can figure out which.

1. When I was in my early 20s and lived on the beach, I went surfing every single day.
2. When I was in my early 20s and lived on the beach, I played video games every single day.

If you guessed statement 2, you guessed right! Good job.

So if I were a single guy, able to go to the gym every single day, would I? Probably not. I lack the motivation. After all, a giant part of why I lift weights at all is my daughter. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again and that’s not an apology: Because I am her model for what a man is, I have a responsibility to raise the bar.

Some day more than 20 years from now, I don’t want her to settle for a guy any less good than I am, and I want the guy I am to be unreasonably good. I want other men to look like limp parodies of men in her eyes. That way, when a good, high quality dude comes along, he really will be a good, high quality dude.

And to me, part of that is being strong and healthy and fit.

The other thing is that when I go to her school functions, the other dads are all fat and unwell. I don’t want to be fat and unwell. I want to make them feel kind of bad knowing that our kids are in the same grade and they could, if they tried, bench-press their own weight.¹ It’s just that they don’t.²

So would I run, swim, bike, or lift weights if I didn’t have a wife and a daughter to do it for? It’s unlikely. Well, sort of. I’d probably do a lot of mountain biking. My bike would be better than it is and I’d ride the hell out of it. But pay to go to the gym where I lift up heavy things and then put them back down in exactly the same spot with a net gain of zero? That’s stupid.

Mind you, I’m not complaining. Not at all. All things considered, I reckon I got to where I got because of how and when I got here. I’m never going to look like a super hero. There just aren’t enough hours in the day for me to do that. But I can look like a super dad. I hope it doesn’t backfire some day.

1. Excellent. I managed to shoehorn the body weight thing into this essay. ↩
2. Statistically speaking, you don’t, either. You really should get on that. ↩

Great design, great characters. This takes all the menace out of them, though. Look at the Spy Vs. Spy feet. Still, delightful.

As an aside, did you know these guys were inspired by The Scream? (Also, if this post means nothing to you, you please start watching Doctor Who.)

• 21st of March, 2012

My wife is watching Gray’s Anatomy as I write this.¹ Despite having the Misfits in my ears, I catch snippets, and I form opinions.

Part of watching a show is suspending disbelief, buying into the show and how people behave and all that. But there’s nothing like half-watching a soap opera you’re not interested in to show you exactly how stupid everything is.²

If soap operas are to be believed, everybody in the world is between the ages of 23 and 39 and very attractive. Except for a token old black guy; and he’s there mostly to impart wisdom. He’s like Yoda. Here, he’s second from the right.

All women wear their long hair down. All men have a little bit of stubble, which makes them look more rugged and manly. But since most razors are not raised 1/16 of an inch above your skin, so that perpetual stubble is a little hard to explain.

Also, huge groups of coworkers hang out together, feeling both empowered and silly at the same time, in a wheat field. I don’t know about you, but the people at my job do not love each other nor wheat enough to do either of those things.

The other thing is the speeches. Everybody in these shows get a speech and the other characters listen. I wish real life worked that way. I’d monologue all over the place, and everybody would have to listen. That’d be incredible! Also, when monologuing, nobody ever screws up, stumbles over their words. Nobody ever says, “and what about that one time, at the place, the water, the penguins, the aquarium! What about at the aquarium?! In Monterey!”

No, they always have exactly the right word the first time and the person getting argued against always sits there and waits with rapt attention while the first person says their piece. That’s really something. Everybody I know — myself included — is much better at interrupting than at listening.

All in all, I wish I were on a TV show. I’d be really handsome, never have to shave, I’d always be at peak health and earning-power and the only real worry I’d have is what drama is going on at work. And even then, the drama’s OK because I’d get to hang out with my coworkers in a wheat field being silly every now and again.

1. Cassandra: ”You make fun of my show but at least it’s not reality-show bullshit. And I’m not so into it that I have to pay for cable. What, you’re writing this down? You’re a jerk!” ↩
2. Mind you, I’m not being critical of my wife. I love her dearly and am not actually passing judgement on her or anybody else for this. It’s part of the culture of America. And I watch zombie movies and listen to Ministry with headphones, so it’s not like I’m faultless. ↩

One-piece cranks technically work and they’re cheap to make, so bike manufacturers continue to use them.

I bought a used bike for my kid that was otherwise of decent quality. While the bike still has the one-piece crank installed, it won’t for long. I found a conversion kit that allows the use a standard sealed bottom bracket and I found an attractive, aluminum crank that’s small enough to go along with it. That’s pretty exciting.

We’ll probably throw some purple pedals on while we’re at it.

• 17th of March, 2012