Chris

The joy of heavy objects being flung by kilted men

2006-09-18T04:03:35Z

I don't know why I take such glee in Scottish games, but I do.

The Fresno games were on Saturday, and I dragged my friend Danielle to them. She almost predicted correctly that she'd be the only black person there.

We watched guys in kilts throw "hammers" more than 100 feet, throw "stones" kind of like shotputs and throw things that looked like cannonballs with handles over bars 15 feet high.

It was a delightful time. We especially enjoyed the hammer that went flying into the crowd, causing a moment of panic when everyone tried to figure out if anyone was knocked unconscious. Or dead.

There were bagpipes and old Irishmen obsessed with genealogy and sturdy "sport kilts" which I'd totally buy if I were made of money. Because I'm not, I stuck with a soda and Scottish meat pie with gravy.

Best part? A band played "Wild Rover" as a singalong.

Final night

2006-08-11T05:25:43Z

My cat's curled up on my lap as I'm typing this, and it'll be the last time.

Tomorrow, I'm taking her in at 3:15 p.m. to be euthanized.

Spooky's still trying her best to hang in there, despite the fact that her failing kidneys are slowly allowing toxins to poison her. She's too weak to jump anywhere high anymore. She hides in closets and cabinets all day while I'm gone. She eats probably five to fifteen kibbles each day.

The only thing she seems to enjoy is interaction with me. She still cuddles and acts just as crazily co-dependent as ever. What she doesn't know is, I'm about to leave for a week on the hike, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

Basically, my cat's fragile. She could crash at any time. The very worst scenario I could imagine (for her and for me) would be having my friend put her down while I'm gone. It would suck for my friend too.

This has been a damn hard decision, and I wouldn't be making it now if it weren't for the hike. But, I don't believe she has more than a few weeks left anyway. At least I'm not taking much quality or quantity of life away from her.

Her life isn't that great right now. At least it's not going to get any worse.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2006-08-07T03:36:54Z

Behold! The Fresno Bee's John Muir Trail link:

www.fresnobeehive.com/jmt/

I've written a couple entries on the thing, and I'll be leaving for the trail a week from tomorrow (and starting hiking that Tuesday).

Recently made a Sacramento run to REI to buy last minute stuff with my co-worker Diana (who left for Yosemite today to start the project). I got way too excited about my purchase of a titanium teapot. I'm not sure why that lightweight metal makes me so freakin' happy.

Another feature of the JMT site is the weird pencil sketches they did of our heads. I think I look somewhat zombie-like. I think it's because my mouth's open.

Dying cat kicks owner's ass

2006-07-25T06:25:06Z

Spooky may be dying, but she keeps managing to draw blood every time I try to give her medicine.

There are two medicines I give her (having given up on the antacid in the dropper more than a week ago): a gel that I smear on her paw and a pill. The gel -- a potassium substance -- is supposed to make her feel better. When I get it on her, she usually glares at me. Then, she licks it off because she's a neat freak.

The pill seems to encourage her to eat somewhat. Even with it, the cat's skin and bones at this point, having lost a lot of her fat and muscle mass in the past several weeks.

And yet, my scrawny little cat manages to freak out royally every time I try to force the pill down her throat. A few days ago, she clawed me in the stomach, drawing blood. At least that time she took the pill.

Tonight, she flung her head back. Her skull hit my face, cutting my lip. I shook my head and put the pill away for the night as she stared at me, wild-eyed.

Then, the cat crawled all over me while I tried to do yoga for 40 minutes.

Sigh. I love my cat.

Kindness of Strangers

2006-07-18T05:16:18Z

I know, I can't say "Kindness of Strangers" in my head without saying it in the weird, southern belle voice from Streetcar either. But, seriously, a stranger saved my bacon yesterday.

Recap: I got up at 6, did churchy stuff at two services, headed to work for a weekend shift until 6, fed a friend's cats, bought groceries and filled my car with gas.

Once home, I babied my cat, ate dinner, did my dishes and was examining a minor hiking injury in the mirror when someone knocked on my door.

Let me repeat that. Someone knocked on my door.

Mind you, no one knocks on my door. I have few-to-no "just swing by the apartment" friends at this juncture. So, I looked through the peephole and saw it was a cop. Arp?

I opened the door, and the officer said, "Does this look familiar?" while shoving a brown thing at me. It really didn't look familiar for a second. That's because it was my wallet, but it looked like it had been run over. Because it had.

I stared at it, and suddenly remembered putting the wallet on top of my car while pumping gas. Also, I remembered not remembering putting it back inside the car. Duh.

The cop told me everything in the wallet scattered, but the guy who picked it up said he thought he got it all. Indeed, there was my driver's license and bank card. My National Parks pass. My Education Writers of America membership card. A check from my mom for my birthday. And, a $10 bill. Everything.

I rather stupidly thanked the cop (who looked amused). I spent a few minutes marveling at my own carelessness. Then, I spent a lot of time feeling grateful for the honest soul who picked up my wallet for me and turned it in.

I mean, dang. I had it back in my hands so fast, I didn't know it was gone.

Crappy news

2006-07-02T06:54:17Z

So, the vet told me this week that my beloved (and codependent) Siamese mix cat, Spooky, has progressive kidney failure.

That's how I lost my last cat, Callahan, some years back in Bakersfield. So, I know what the process is like, and it's not a painful way for the kitty to go.

Still, it sucks.

In other news, it's been a fairly lazy day. The cat laid on my lap a lot. I gabbed on the phone, read the rest of "The Damnation of Theron Ware" (this is what happens when you have friends in seminary who loan you books), and did a little grocery shopping and housekeeping.

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to do layreader duties at the 7:30 a.m. worship service at my parish for the first time. I always figure I'm doing OK if I don't dump consecrated wine on the priest or catch the altar on fire with the candles.

After that, I'll be driving to the mountains and basically hiking my guts out in preparation for the John Muir Trail in August. Whoo-hoo!

Area Woman Buys Chicken and Watermelon

2006-06-25T07:19:37Z

Made the grave error last night of grocery shopping when I was hungry. As a result, I bought the following crap:

1. An entire watermelon.

2. Frozen waffles (which I've never bought before in my life).

3. Brands of shampoo and conditioner that I've never used.

4. A box of corn flakes that's so big it won't fit in my cabinet.

5. A Kentucky Fried Chicken dinner.

That last item should be noted because I bought it at almost 10 p.m. and had to drive around for, I don't know, five miles before I found a KFC. I apparently needed that particular brand of greasy chicken if life were to go on.

Well, I'm happy to report that the watermelon is good. All 700 pounds of it.

I'm feeling satisfied with myself because I summoned the will to clean my apartment today. I'm typing on a dust-free keyboard, baby.

Experienced something new on Friday: I was working out on my lunch break in the work gym, and I went to reach for a 10-pound barbell at the same time as another woman. We had a weird, "You take it...No, you take it" exchange, and I ended up getting the 10-pounder while she took the 8-pounder.

At that point, another woman began teasing us because we were fighting over the barbells, and the first woman jokingly said of me, "Yeah, she almost kicked my ass."

Upon reflection, I'm left with this question: Exactly when did I become the chick who's fighting over barbells?

Schmoozer I am not

2006-06-09T03:20:26Z

So last night, I was paid to attend an off-the-record dinner party (of sorts) at my newspaper. The guests included several of my bosses, as well as the publisher, and the senior staff of the school district that I cover.

I experienced one especially awkward moment with one of the senior staffers (who, by the way, requested and got a correction from me earlier this week on a mistake I made).

We said hi, and all seemed to be well after the correction. Then, she looked at me somewhat pointedly and said something to the effect of, "Gee, I'm just waiting on somebody to offer me some wine."

I could be wrong, but I got the impression she was telling me to go pour her some wine. I was so surprised that I just kind of muttered something and moved away. Mind you, people were already helping themselves to the bottled water next to the wine. It was a self-serve kind of thing.

After considering for a moment I figured, screw it. She wants some wine? I'll pour her some wine.

So I sidled up to her and said, "Red or white? I'll get you a glass of wine."

"White please." She said thanks when I handed it to her.

It was...bizarre. I'm so used to interviewing cops, who often tell you straight-out what they're thinking. The world of communicating with school district officials is another matter.

In other news, I'm going on vacation Saturday to visit my family in Ohio and a pal in Kentucky. I'm way ready.

Finally, I heard an ad on NPR today that listed Pabst Blue Ribbon as a sponsor. It kind of made my day.

JMT

2006-06-06T05:52:37Z

So tomorrow, I'm going to a cafe with a group of reporters. Our mission: to meet with a wannabe through-hiker who may accompany us on the John Muir Trail in a few months.

This JMT assignment means I would be paid, by my employer, to hike and then write about it (things I normally take vacation to do). Still can't get over that.

Here's the thing about tomorrow: a web reporter from our paper is coming to this meeting with four reporters and some photographers. So, our unsuspecting through-hiker wannabe will probably get more than she's expecting. Like, she may be filmed and have the video plastered all over our website. When did newspaper writers become whores? When did I become a whore willing to do blogs and online video?

Hmmm...yeah, it was when I heard the words "hike and get paid."

The best part is, I'm ironing a new outfit right now that I'll be wearing tomorrow so I look decent in case the video does end up online.

I find this newfound streak of vanity amusing, especially because I'll eventually be photographed during a week when I can't shower or even get a decent change of clothes. Go figure.

Master! Master! IT'S ALIVE!

2006-06-04T07:07:17Z

Yeah. It's kind of been a while since I've updated this puppy.

After scrolling through my old entries and noticing the variety of beers I mentioned, I believe I was drunk an estimated 75 percent of the time I used to post on this blog (which wasn't a blog back then because no one said "blog" yet).

Now here's the really scary question: will I be less coherent in my posts now that I don't do the booze anymore? That would be a sad, sad thing.

Latest in my life today: went on a lovely hike in the Grant (Sequoia) Grove of Kings Canyon National Park. Sweated a lot. Paid too much for a calzone and enjoyed it greatly. Realized at about 9 p.m. that I hadn't eaten enough before/during/after the hike when I found myself ravenously ordering food at McDonald's and snarfing it down in the parking lot. Fries without ketchup = EXTREME HUNGER!

In other news, I'm tired. G'Night.

3 Horses

2003-09-24T09:31:25Z

is the name of the inexpensive Dutch beer that I'm drinking right now. The stuff sells for about four dollars a six pack and is surprisingly decent for the price.

Today has been a ridiculously productive day. Got my car serviced/washed. Cleaned out the inside of said car. Did laundry. Worked a regular newspaper shift. Worked out. Made an appointment for a haircut in the morning. Cleaned out my desk at work. Re-organized my computer desk shelf at home. Made a stack of CDs I plan to trade in. Ironed a shirt a day early, for God's sake.

Now I'm updating this bloody journal that I've barely looked at since May.

I must have some horrible, personality snatching disease.

That, or I'm about to do NaNoWriMo again. Damn them.

Hullo

2003-05-07T10:38:16Z

I'm so behind on updating this thing that I'm not even going to worry about it.

Most recent development of note: just returned from a cross-country trip in a 1977 VW Bus that myself and two friends donated to a rather cultish group of hippies in northern California. It was my vacation, and it was worth every shivering, sleep-deprived moment.

Highlights: scared Mormons, learned to never again drive through southern Wyoming, slept multiple times in said VW bus, got to see rain in Death Valley, was introduced to the Horror that is Jolt Espresso, got stranded in Reno because of a snowstorm, beat up friends with bamboo swords, and wore the same jeans until the men in the white suits came for them.

The trip inspired me to buy Cannibal the Musical on dvd when I got home. I am stupidly pleased with this purchase.

Only one murder while I was gone, I hear. And, just found out I won a 3rd place Oklahoma investigative reporting award from a series of stories I wrote at my last paper. Life is good.

Overloading on Morbidity, washing dishes and other business

2003-01-28T11:53:55Z

Am relaxing with a Pete's Wicked Ale and waiting for two loads of laundry to finish drying. Besides those, I balanced the checkbook, took out the garbage, cleaned off the dining table, worked out, did the dishes and bought a boatload of groceries. I'm basking in domestic afterglow.

Last week, I actually managed to overdose on true crime. This is rather rare, but after reading about a strangling and rape in 1978 on work hours and about profiling of famous murders during my off hours, I got a hard core case of paranoid insomnia. In spite of that, I finished off the profiling book. It was stupid, but I was set on completing the damn thing.

I think I'll move to something a bit lighter next time like a hiking book. While trying not to think about Cary Stayner, mind.

The fates aligned on Saturday to give me a really high bowling score at a co-worker's birthday party at the alley. I have historically been a crap bowler and have no explanation for this.

May explore the world of Everquest this weekend. A friend of mine likened it to crack addiction. We'll see.

Good tidings

2003-01-16T07:31:35Z

Just found out that I got a union-negotiated raise today, something I never thought I would say as a journalist. Yay Newspaper Guild!

Furthermore, I'm about to go home for a long weekend to see my family. It's been cold there in the negative numbers, I hear, and nothing could make me happier after years of stupid Texas and California winters.

Have decided to add a brightly colored can that says "Booze" to the decorations on my desk. It contained alcoholic soda pop. I bought it in Russia a few years back.

This can will add to my Spider Jerusalem action figure, assorted Homies figures, Dia de Los Muertos icons, bleeding skull candle, plastic jackalope bank, strip of crime scene tape, snake head keychain, firing range target complete with machine gun bullet holes, chunk of an old car that I totaled, fedora from the filming of "Seabiscuit," name tag from the NaNoWriMo "Thank God It's Over" party and photos of family members.

I love my desk.

SWAT

2003-01-11T11:11:15Z

I'd like to break open a Hollywood secret: SWAT Team callouts are really boring.

I've known this for some time. Because SWAT Teams don't want to lose any of their heavily-armored members, they have long, long, long procedures that they follow. That means hours and hours of cautious standoffs with barricaded maniacs.

Fortunately, the SWAT callout tonight only lasted about an hour. The guy surrendered, and I got to actually eat dinner. I was happy.

I should probably go on a hike tomorrow, but I lack the motivation to do so. The idea of sleeping late, ordering a pizza, sipping on beers, reading true crime stories and watching dvds all day is really appealing, though.

I've been a little rut of depression lately (various factors contributing), and I know just sitting around probably isn't the solution. Then again, I never feel like just sitting around. When I do, I let myself. I think it keeps my head from exploding the rest of the time.

Callahan

2003-01-09T05:40:02Z

Had to get my cat put down today.

Callahan's kidney failure got mighty bad in the past few days, and the vet said it was pretty much time. He went peacefully.

If I ever worry that my crime reporter's heart has hardened too much in the future, all I'll have to do is remember what a mess I was today over a purring orange mess of bones and fur. I miss him.

Happy Frelling New Year

2003-01-05T06:49:03Z

New Year's was uneventful this year. Lastyear , a friend broke her leg after an all-night party. This year, I worked, had a few beers and went home.

Part of that, of course, is because I have been on evening shift five days a week. That'll take the spark out of a night.

Did have a relatively successful New Year's Day bash filled with pork, kraut, beer and 10 other journalists. And card games. Good times.

Just finished a six episode marathon of the Sailor Moon drinking game on the phone with other geeks. It was quite tame, all considered.

My cat is asleep on my lap again. He's pretty crippled up. I'm afraid it won't be his kidneys or his cancer that'll do him. It'll be a day when his back legs don't work anymore, and I'll have to put him down when he's not in any pain--just immobile. I'm dreading that day, and I know it's coming pretty soon.

Covered a murder-suicide Christmas night. I'll never forget that family weeping in its pajamas, cursing me for being there, crumbling to the ground with wreaths on their front door.

Went on a beautiful seven mile hike today in the southern Sierra. Walked through high desert and snowdrifts to my knees, smelled pinion trees, got a hell of a spider bite and felt the warm, welcome burden of my pack on my back. Beautiful.

Recovery, and the Evil of Spider Jerusalem

2002-12-19T10:11:38Z

I'm kicking back at home, sipping a black russian and eating cold red beans and rice. Things are pretty much back to normal.

George departed yesterday after his almost-month visit in California. George missed his plane. This is unremarkable because of the Evil of the Plastic Spider Jerusalem doll.

To understand the evil, you need two bits of information:

1. I have a history of purchasing objects that seem to possess magical properties. The best example of this is the stuffed wompa doll I gave to Mel that caused snowstorms. Just trust me.

2. I have long craved the Spider Jerusalem action figure, and I broke down and bought it in San Francisco last weekend.

For anyone familiar with Transmetropolitan, Spider is an outlaw journalist who causes great mayhem.

Mayhem began almost immediately after I bought said Spider. I accidentally ran a red light and got photographed by one of the light cameras within 10 minutes of buying the thing. When I pointed the doll at Mel back at the house, she immediately began dropping things all over.

"It's the Spider," I said.

"Don't give it power!" she yelled at me.

Two days later, George missed his plane. As he sat fuming in the car and we tried to figure out a way to get him back to Oklahoma, I glanced at him and said, "You know, I'm kind of afraid to say this, but what part did the action figure have to play in this?"

His eyes got very wide, and he breathed, "Oh, damn."

So, I possess an evil object now. I think I'll perch him in the bizarre newsroom Christmas tree. That'll piss him off. Heh heh.

On a side note, I liked Two Towers.

I am the living dead

2002-12-03T07:29:01Z

Wow, I'm tired.

Highlights of the last 10 days or so:

• Sitting on Santa Monica beach at 3 a.m. watching the ferris wheel lights on the pier.
• Getting lost in Inglewood looking for the beach at 1 a.m. and later laughing crazily at Inglewood's high murder rate.
• Taking a trip to the Bay that resulted in staying there for approximately 27 hours before driving back to Bakersfield.
• Attending the San Francisco NaNoWriMo Thank God It's Over party which included a ghetto neighborhood, "Funk Soul Brother," free beer after midnight, a clothesline of literary achievement, a chance meeting with a man whose screen name is "Cranialsodomy" and an interview/impromptu marriage proposal with the guy who started NaNoWriMo.
• A really big, really good salad and really good cup of coffee at Intermezzo in Berkeley.
• A committment to be an extra in the feature film "Seabiscuit" just so I can get a free fedora. This was inspired by watching "The Big Sleep" for the first time and is too long of a story for me to go into right now.
• New and improved workout routine.

OK. I don't feel like writing any more.

The Bowie Slice

2002-11-29T03:33:00Z

Just finished the novel. HA.

Yee Haw

2002-11-26T12:51:57Z

Passed 41k words on the NaNoWriMo novel just now, and it feels damn good. The paltry 9000 words I have remaining feel small and simple now.

George, my houseguest for the next three weeks, suggested a new ritual for my book. He thought I should do two shots for inspiration and then beat on something. We decided hacking at a bundle of firewood with a machete would suffice.

And I must say, I'm quite satisfied with the results of tonight's writing session. Perhaps I'll make the two shots-one hacking part of the process for my three remaining 3000-word writing sessions.

Frell

2002-11-23T12:28:40Z

I've just created a talking coffee cup in my NaNoWriMo novel that plays an important role in warning of the coming alien invasion. Its warnings will save children from being kidnapped and put into giant hamster balls for another planet's amusement.

I really need some sleep.

Road to hell paving

2002-11-22T11:45:11Z

I had the good intention of coming home and working on my novel two hours early so I'd get done around now instead of when I'm really going to finish for the night (the neighborhood of 4 a.m.).

Instead, I began reading Coraline by Neil Gaiman. My friend Mel bought it for me, and once I picked it up I was doomed and read it through. Damn you, Neil.

I wanted to get up early tomorrow to make some phone calls to friends and family. I believe I will try to accomplish this by setting my clock radio to the most annoying station possible and sitting it far across the room so I have to get out of bed to shut it off.

Herm. We'll see if that really works.

Am happy! because a news story I feared would receive a figurative anal raping at the hands of my editors received only a figurative slap. Almost a friendly slap, at that. Hooray for editors, at least today.

OK. Time to hop back into the mind of a serial killer who's obsessed with Henry Lee Lucas (the murderer) and Journey (the band).

The novel

2002-11-21T11:56:30Z

Just passed the 30,000 word mark on the bad November novel this evening (morning for the rest of the free world, I suppose). I'm hoping to maintain a hectic pace that will result in about another 10,000 words in the next three days.

After that, my longtime hiking/road tripping/drinking buddy George will be visiting me for something like three weeks. Because I've been writing in 3,000 word chunks, I'll only have to write for about three sessions after he's arrived to finish the book successfully. That should be pretty possible.

I'm relieved I worked myself out of the "Punky Brewster fighting the forces of darkness" sequence in the book. I fear it went on a bit too long, but I have no intention of cutting even a bit of it.

Mulder moment

2002-11-20T12:13:12Z

I went to an editorial board meeting today. This is important because myself (a lowly reporter) sat in with all the big wig editors and the chief of police to hear their ramblings.

I actually entered the meeting late because my boss ordered me to pull a bunch of numbers. Everyone glared at me when I walked in.

I settled down, embarrassed, and then I thought, "It's just like those 8 billion meetings that Mulder always walked into late, drawing the ire of the FBI big wigs."

Then, involuntarily, I had an image of myself being dragged out of the room in my khakis and white dress shirt and brown jacket, i.d. badge askew, screaming, "You can't HANDLE the truth!"

And I decided being late wasn't so bad after all.