Adventure - Marty
Description: To celebrate Heather's 36th Birthday.
(Marty's Report):
Tip for husbands: when your wife asks you if you have something planned for her birthday, it is not a simple question, and the appropriate answer is either "Yes!" if that's the truth, or an enigmatic yet suggestive shrug if you haven't yet planned something. "No", is not the right answer.
So after failing this test, I set about planning for Heather's Bday celebration, her 36th year of life on this planet in this incarnation. At one point, mid-week before the designated Saturday, I got frustrated with her total dearth of instruction, and she let on that perhaps a meal at a belly dance restaurant would be interesting. So, what happened was:
1) Breakfast in bed: around 9am, I start cooking breakfast burritos. I hate eggs. I find the smell nauseating and the taste like yellow tasting rubber (that weird description is meant to convey the weird experience), and yet, uber husband that I occasionally am, I cooked eggs for the first time in forever. For me it was tofu, but for the birthday girl, chicken excreta. Um. But I couldn't do real sausage, so phony tofu sausage, which nonetheless also was rather nasty.
But! As an act of love, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and love the little ritual of coming in and shaking Heather awake, then setting up the folding table and bringing in courses of breakfast grub, and having a disheveled, cover strewn morning with the beautiful spring light and air coming in from our beautiful city.
So, along with the breakfast burritos, we had some coffee (Heather's ironic morning brew, given that she used to sneer at me drinking my "battery acid"), then a bowl of berries and Heather's favorite coconut water drink, with chunks of coconut pulp. We luxuriated in that, then I informed her about the rest of the day.
2) The Conservatory of Flowers: This building, which was partially destroyed in the mid-90's, and reopened a few years ago, we had never visited. One of the ironies of life in such a city, where the main tourist sites often go ignored. Even when the place is several blocks from our house. So we were determined to go, in no small part because they had a train exhibit. (In the video below you can see the inside of the place, and the pretty tepid train layout.)
It is really a remarkable place, both architecturally (apparently the rebuild after the huge wind storm destroyed it consisted of pulling down the extant half, and replicating it bit for bit in the destroyed half) and botanically. It feels like such an old world experience, genteel and curious about the big world outside of the boundaries of civilization. Totally enjoyable.
3) Hanging out with the Sharpe-Madsons: We met James, a very pregnant Robin, and the B-Dude for a picnic, out amongst the flower beds in front of the conservatory. That also was very sweet, a couple hours of munching and gabbing, and playing ball with the boy. One very sweet moment was going with the boy (my turn on watch) and going into the tunnel under JFK Blvd. (the main drag through the park), where a four piece band was playing into the tunnel from the steps on the other side. We stood there, B-Dude on my hip, watching them play through a whole song while I filmed on my phone. Benjamin is a remarkable (at times) un-squirmy two year old, and he just observed the scene and the view through the camera-recorder.
4) Castro Hair Adventure: This adventurette-ito was a response to Heather not wanting to go to the Kabuki for a massage. She rather wanted to get a hair cut, being so totally over her long hair phase. And she was determined to go to a better stylist than the $20 Chinese lady down the street who had been abducted by aliens when a child. So she found, somehow, a flashy place in the Castro and we went down there to one of these walk-up places where everyone seems over-caffeinated and mandatorily gay. I sat in a corner typing on my new mini-computer, and she got a workup from images of Amanda Tapping, an actress from the show Star Gate. I was insufficiently praising of the haircut (second note to husbands: praise new haircut), but we worked through that spat quickly, and headed off for:
5) Dinner at Marrakesh: There are a number of Moroccan restaurants in the city, and this one looked good from the website when I was hunting around. We got there, to a somewhat seedy place on O'Farrel in the Tenderloin, and entered the un-windowed storefront to find a atmospherically lit replica of a Moroccan eating establishment, with the lush rugs and metal and cushions. We were seated in a corner in the back, and went through a whole elaborate series of events in the meal, which was very good and distinct. We especially liked washing our hands in the rose water between courses.
The place is definitely slanted towards the tourist trade, and when the belly dancing began, the woman obligatorily pulled people from the audience in what would be more enjoyable if you were somewhat inebriated. I don't know if we were emanating a "go away" vibe from the corner, but she didn't venture as close as us, preying on others in the audience. It's one of those odd tourist events where pleasure and pain are structurally built into the event.
Two highlights of the dinner were, first, on the darker side, observing the trio at the next table/couch. There was a 30-something man and two young college age women, who provided us with enough ambiguity and unconsciousness to be able to spin various theories around the curiosities and shadows of human mating behavior. And then on the lighter side was a discussion about cultural meetings--the wait staff was all Moroccan or Middle Eastern--and what constitutes respect at the border lands between cultures. Heather was really affected by the conversation, but I think it gave a lot of food for thought as we get ready to go to Egypt next year.
Roundup: And that was the events marking the 36th birthday of my dear and beloved wife Heather, may she have many many more.
(Heather's Report):
Gosh, what am I supposed to say after all that?
The whole day was fun despite me not liking my hair all that much at first. I appreciate my husband's willing to cook eggs despite his dislike. I knew he didn't like eating eggs but I didn't realize what passion of grossness he has for the entirety of the egg realm. Yellow tasting rubber indeed.
I also enjoyed hanging out with James and Robin, and Benjamin, who previously did not seem to take me much into his conceptual world. It's all about Uncle Marty and that's completely fair since he's spent A LOT of time with him since he was born. I'm just now starting to develop a neural cluster in his brain and he's starting to slightly remember who I am and not shy away from me. So while playing ball and on my "watches", he was just fine with me. Marty's right, he's a fairly un-squirmy, non-complainy child.
I enjoyed the food at the restaurant and the conversation although I did have some consternation about the conversation about crossing cultural boundaries. I do not want to be rude or disrespectful when going to a different culture but I did understand after a bit of conversation that I am probably going to step on toes no matter what, coming from such a different (and although I don't think so, but I know they will, rich) life and not to be too hard on myself, especially just to accept that it will happen and that I'm not a bad person. But on the other hand, I wanted to find the rose water for home after the luscious hand washing. The belly dancing was so-so. The creepy trio next to us was... creepy.
Overall, my husband rocks!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Adventure #7 -- A Night on the Town
Adventur(ette) # 7 - Heather and Marty (well, technically our neighbors)Description: Attend a story-telling event wherein one of our neighbors was the teller of honor.
(Marty's Report):
We got an invite card some weeks back to attend the CD release party of our neighbors, Willy and Jacqueline. Willie is a folk artist and story teller with, we learned, a career going back longer than I've been alive. He gave me a couple of CD's some months back, of his story telling for adults and children, and they were riveting (particularly the tale of Pegamoose).
Now, Heather and I are not the cocktail scene set. But we were pretty sure that's what this would be. The address was a toney one up in Pacific Heights (Daniel Steele's neighborhood), around the corner from where I did my first psychotherapy internship. The owners of the flat apparently do regular concerts or cultural events, with Willy and his son being the entertainment for the evening (I thought everyone was going to know Willie, but it seemed more folks were friends/guests of the host).
We got there and I'm pretty sure were the only arrivees who had come via motorscooter--at least, we had the only helmets in the coat room. The crowd was quite genial, and very San Franciscan, hip and downbeat at the same time, but not intolerably existential (Heather and I were at one of our favorite restaurants, Q's on Clement, and above her head, embedded in a collage, was an image of two very serious people, with a newspaper caption reading: "It's hard being so existential"). We were given wine glasses with our names attached, and Heather and I had the hard stuff, fizzy apple juice. I wanted a couple of the brownie cups, but Heather insisted they were for after. Then we chatted up, prior to the performance, talking dialects with a transplanted Brooklyner.
Willy and his son played for about an hour and a half, songs moving from the British Isle to America, especially in the south. Most had grim tales told through bouncy melodies and harmonies, usually accompanied by a guitar or banjo. A couple guest musicians came on a few songs to round out the sound. They were all well done, and Willy seemed to have an easy erudition about the music, which made sense seeing as how his career is about 50 years old. He had a great folky voice, as did his son, though his son carried also a bit more soul in his vocal cords. Heather, transplanted southerner that she is, and also aficionado of contemporary arrangements of folk songs, was able to sing along to many of the songs, gathering appreciative comments after the show from some of the audience.
(Heather's Report):
Marty described the event best, I think, so I'll just come from my own experience for this one.
I used to volunteer for the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee when I lived there with my mom. Mostly running around making sure there were chairs and such, pretty easy. The best bonus was of course, getting to sit in and listen to the storytellers ply their trade. Some Tellers sort of slide by your brain and you can't really remember their stories or performance later. Some stick with you because they tell really unique stuff and are really great performers, charismatic and with that great "stage energy" that just rolls out of them, affecting their audience. I remember this one African-American storyteller who told fantastic fairytales, mostly based on African tales although had some very funny renditions of old tales like Hansel and Gretel. He was riveting. You couldn't take your eyes and ears off of him.
So, I was all up for going to see our neighbor Willy spin yarns although I had only heard a few moments of his CD, including the infamous Pegamoose, which to me was already a mark of a good Teller, to be able to make his voice so different and so funny.
As Marty can also attest, I'm really not great in crowd situations where I don't know people and mingling with small talk is basically required. I tend to get nervous and say stupid, socially off stuff. I've been getting better the past year or so, mostly just learning how to shut up first, smile and nod with genuine interest and am slowly working on how to actually speak without getting into trouble. I've started with asking people about them. Always a good strategy and saying nothing about me or relating anything about what they are saying back to anything I know or any of my experiences. So far, this has kept me mostly out of trouble.
So I felt I did fairly well when speaking to a genial Brooklyner about accents, did not grab onto Marty and did not put my foot in my mouth. But I was still really nervous, that internal tremble I just can't seem to kick in those situations. So, overall, the social part went fine.
They started up the British Isles first and I was able to sing along with most of the songs. I grew up with a lot of this music, through Trapezoid, Birds of a Feather and contemporary Great Big Sea, among others. But then they moved into the south-east, more Appalachian songs and surprisingly, I was a bit lost. I didn't really hear much of that sort of stuff growing up. Although I was able to hum along because they do have the tendency to be a bit predictable.
On the downside, I learned that Freyda Epstein, a singer from Trapezoid, was killed in a rather horrible car accident some years ago. I was a bit stunned, especially that it happened and also that I didn't know it happened. She had an amazing voice.
Overall, I had a really good time and it reminded me of good times in my childhood.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Adventure #6 -- It's Never Too Late... To Rollerskate!
Adventure - Heather
Description: Re-Experience the childhood phenomenon of rollerskating, be able to hold hands with someone while skating, only this time getting to hold hands with one's favorite person!
View our videos at the end!!
(Marty's Report):
Well, it's been a few weeks since we had a full blown adventure. Our adventurette last week was fun, but not full tilt like this one. Because this one was a full on, balls out, freakin' blast from the past: Roller Skating, m*****ther f****er!
Heather tracked this one down, and believe it or not (I'd believe it if I were you), there are no skating rinks in SF. There's an ice skating rink in Yerba Buena, and some 4 wheel rinks out in the desolate hinterland of the East Bay (we try not to venture there too often), but nothing in the hip rockstar city that we live in. A loss.
So down we sojourned to my half-week workplace, the sad and tattered Redwood City. Now, I know what you might be saying: "But Marty, isn't Redwood City kind of a Silicon Valley North? Doesn't it have wealthy and powerful tech companies that power our economy and give us hope for the future?" Well, that's a good question(s), but whatever tech companies still cling to the shoreline like desperate rotting barnacles, they no more embody the heart of Redwood City than does the stripper culture up in North Beach. No, the heart of Redwood City, California, we found on Main Street, at the Redwood Roller Rink. Sort of a scuffed, miniature-golf-carpet, multiply-patched wood floor heart, but that's what the RWC has to offer.
We haven't been roller skating for, let's see, maybe 25 years? OK, maybe 20. I remember Corey and I going to the summer skating when school was out, at the Roller King in Roseville. We were hooked up with summer passes, and could go as we liked. I don't remember if Mom always took us, or if we sometimes went by bike. I suspect the former, because we were kind of young.
Redwood Skate was exactly like King Skate, and I think this demonstrates an underlying pattern similar to the One Peruvian Band Theory. You know the Peruvian pipe band you see at the Green Festival, outdoor markets, and tourist locales like Pier 39? There's really only one band in the whole world. It may seem like there's many, but it's an illusion, or maybe Rainforest Magic. Because if you listen closely, they are ALL playing the same music, the same songs. Really.
So in the same vein, I think that while you may enter the doors of King Skate, or of Redwood Skate about 200 miles away, both are portals to the One Skating Venue (OSV). When you exit, it somehow knows how you got there, so the illusion is that you were in a totally separate facility. But it's only an illusion.
"Marty, how can you possibly know something that on the face of things seems to implausible, no, impossible?" Another excellent question.
Redwood skate had the same accoutrement as did my beloved summer home 20ish years ago. The snack bar was the same, with the same more-or-less food-like items. The people working there had the same bemused self-reflectiveness about their working in the OSV. The indoor picnic benches were the same. The little girl birthday part: same. The disco ball and colored light ball thingy, also, identical. The only sane conclusion: the OSV.
Said truth of the OSV did not diminish our enjoyment of skating one iota. I had a great time, and got to skate hand-in-hand with my favorite four-wheeled chick in the whole world. I had a coke. We listened to music that was just the modern equivalent of what they played in Roseville. They did the Hokey Pokey! Ah, sweet...
It did take a few minutes for my body to remember what to do with its standing on 8 little rubber wheels. But once the cellular data kicked in, I was off and zooming around the track, only almost-falling once when I was filming Heather on my phone (see below for Heather's rockin' edited video and mine). Otherwise, it was a zippy and peppy graying 40 year old going around the track, not plowing into any of the munchkins at all!
I actually spent a fair amount of my time filming on my new super phone, which was fun, because Heather thinks she's probably obsessive-compulsive enough to be a good video editor. Which is great, because I find the process impossibly tedious. So I collected all manner of shots to give her a good palate to work from, and I look forward to seeing what she comes up with (she hasn't finished it as of me writing this).
Yeah, it really was quite a sweet outing. I am around, in my day-to-day San Francisco life, so many rock star people, both in terms of their amazing talents and painful conceits and egos, that to be at the OSV among folks who seemed to be Just Regular Folk, was so refreshing. Not that I have illusions of being a JRF myself. I'm lost to the neurotic seeker crowd long ago, culturally speaking. But like going back to the Central Valley, something in me is consoled by people who, if they ever thought they'd be rock stars, gently cast off that illusion a long time ago and settled with what appeared to be some dignity into the small pleasures of life.
Maybe I'm idealizing, and people are always deeper than I at first give them credit, but if nothing else this tells you my own subjective feeling at the OSV today. Simple and innocent in a way I don't get to experience very often, and therefore quite a little vacation.
(Heather's Report):
Well, I think Marty said most of it in his usual spot on fashion. I think his theory of the One Skating Venue is also spot on as I have experienced this phenomena myself.
The portal for me leads to Greenville, North Carolina. In remembrance, a completely hated town although maybe not so hugely bad when I consider all the things I did there. This was from 12 - 18 years of age, one's most psychologically formative years as one starts learning one's individual self. I played a lot of D&D, went to movies, took Tae Kwon Do and went roller skating... a lot.
The rink in Greenville looked pretty much the same as Redwood City, although perhaps less worn. This I attribute to being in existence 21 years ago and I think, quite recently built at that time. Disco balls, flashing colored lights, the music (which as Marty puts it, was pretty much starting to use synthesizers), the weird astro turf like carpeting. The floor was in great shape, unlike the worn surface of the Redwood skating rink. I think I even saw the scuffed up wood through holes in the smooth "top" material. Although it didn't seem to have much issue with catching wheels but I did tend to avoid those spots.
It was a bit weird getting on four wheels again. I have this thing about falling and getting hurt these days. I'm only 35 but I seem to have picked up some old lady fear about falling. Plus, I've always felt that I have a long way to fall, being so tall and all. At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. But there was no falling amazingly enough. I think being on four wheels in a square, rather than a line, helps a lot. I had a pair of inline skates and I remember falling a lot off of those but rarely when using the old skates, unless attempting to skate backwards. I didn't try some of the fancier things I used to do, such as crossing over feet in turns to keep speed, nor did I go super fast.
I was definitely satisfied with "strolling" around and around, musing at the quality of the atmosphere, the "speed" generated breeze through my hair (which I had done up into pig-tail style braids to increase the sense of childhood fun), the darkened lights with the disco ball and flashing, colored lights, the smell (yes, the OSV has the same smell, no matter what part of the country it transports itself to), the music, although granted it was more contemporary hip-hop, pop, rock style rather than 80's music. Like smell can transport one into long ago, forgotten memory, thus can environmental association. And I definitely had hits of this as I went round and round, my body having the sense of this experience, even if I couldn't exactly remember in my head.
I did remember all the old (and sometimes still current) fantasies I had when skating of wanting to become a champion ice skater or at least being very good at roller skating that I could do iceskating type tricks, jumps, spins. Basically I wanted to dance on wheels. When I did the indoor skydiving, I wanted to be able to dance in the air. That complete freedom (and confidence of self and training... and natural talent) to be able to do anything on a blade or four wheels, but to be able to do more than just dancing with feet on the floor. Dancing is cool, I grant you that! But dancing on blade or wheels or in the air, that is so much cooler!!! Plus, you can do things that you never could on regular feet. So as I zipped around, I noticed those old fantasies arising (contemporizing and remaking themselves, as always) and did feel a bit of melancholy yearning for stuff that I never did. And very likely never will do.
I don't remember if I skated hand in hand with whomever I went with, because I don't remember going alone but I don't know if I went with boys either. Or girls. But again, pretty sure I did not go alone. I remember going with my father once when he came into town. I remember that very vividly and how he would go around corners in a most funny fashion; squating down into a crouch position with arms straight out like superman and zooming around the end of the rink before straightening up again. So this time around, I got to hold Marty's hand which felt both strangely familiar and just strange, at the same time. But if I had to skate with a boy, he'd be the one.
But all in all, I enjoyed myself. It's a work out on one's legs and ankle's for sure and I would happily go again for the experience and exercise. And to hold Marty's hand in a different venue. The One Skating Venue!!!
Marty's Video (containing our interviews and skating footage):
Heather's Video (a different version with "story"):
(Note there are a few seconds of deliberate darkness after the music, there's more, keep watching!!):
Description: Re-Experience the childhood phenomenon of rollerskating, be able to hold hands with someone while skating, only this time getting to hold hands with one's favorite person!
View our videos at the end!!
(Marty's Report):
Well, it's been a few weeks since we had a full blown adventure. Our adventurette last week was fun, but not full tilt like this one. Because this one was a full on, balls out, freakin' blast from the past: Roller Skating, m*****ther f****er!
Heather tracked this one down, and believe it or not (I'd believe it if I were you), there are no skating rinks in SF. There's an ice skating rink in Yerba Buena, and some 4 wheel rinks out in the desolate hinterland of the East Bay (we try not to venture there too often), but nothing in the hip rockstar city that we live in. A loss.
So down we sojourned to my half-week workplace, the sad and tattered Redwood City. Now, I know what you might be saying: "But Marty, isn't Redwood City kind of a Silicon Valley North? Doesn't it have wealthy and powerful tech companies that power our economy and give us hope for the future?" Well, that's a good question(s), but whatever tech companies still cling to the shoreline like desperate rotting barnacles, they no more embody the heart of Redwood City than does the stripper culture up in North Beach. No, the heart of Redwood City, California, we found on Main Street, at the Redwood Roller Rink. Sort of a scuffed, miniature-golf-carpet, multiply-patched wood floor heart, but that's what the RWC has to offer.
We haven't been roller skating for, let's see, maybe 25 years? OK, maybe 20. I remember Corey and I going to the summer skating when school was out, at the Roller King in Roseville. We were hooked up with summer passes, and could go as we liked. I don't remember if Mom always took us, or if we sometimes went by bike. I suspect the former, because we were kind of young.
Redwood Skate was exactly like King Skate, and I think this demonstrates an underlying pattern similar to the One Peruvian Band Theory. You know the Peruvian pipe band you see at the Green Festival, outdoor markets, and tourist locales like Pier 39? There's really only one band in the whole world. It may seem like there's many, but it's an illusion, or maybe Rainforest Magic. Because if you listen closely, they are ALL playing the same music, the same songs. Really.
So in the same vein, I think that while you may enter the doors of King Skate, or of Redwood Skate about 200 miles away, both are portals to the One Skating Venue (OSV). When you exit, it somehow knows how you got there, so the illusion is that you were in a totally separate facility. But it's only an illusion.
"Marty, how can you possibly know something that on the face of things seems to implausible, no, impossible?" Another excellent question.
Redwood skate had the same accoutrement as did my beloved summer home 20ish years ago. The snack bar was the same, with the same more-or-less food-like items. The people working there had the same bemused self-reflectiveness about their working in the OSV. The indoor picnic benches were the same. The little girl birthday part: same. The disco ball and colored light ball thingy, also, identical. The only sane conclusion: the OSV.
Said truth of the OSV did not diminish our enjoyment of skating one iota. I had a great time, and got to skate hand-in-hand with my favorite four-wheeled chick in the whole world. I had a coke. We listened to music that was just the modern equivalent of what they played in Roseville. They did the Hokey Pokey! Ah, sweet...
It did take a few minutes for my body to remember what to do with its standing on 8 little rubber wheels. But once the cellular data kicked in, I was off and zooming around the track, only almost-falling once when I was filming Heather on my phone (see below for Heather's rockin' edited video and mine). Otherwise, it was a zippy and peppy graying 40 year old going around the track, not plowing into any of the munchkins at all!
I actually spent a fair amount of my time filming on my new super phone, which was fun, because Heather thinks she's probably obsessive-compulsive enough to be a good video editor. Which is great, because I find the process impossibly tedious. So I collected all manner of shots to give her a good palate to work from, and I look forward to seeing what she comes up with (she hasn't finished it as of me writing this).
Yeah, it really was quite a sweet outing. I am around, in my day-to-day San Francisco life, so many rock star people, both in terms of their amazing talents and painful conceits and egos, that to be at the OSV among folks who seemed to be Just Regular Folk, was so refreshing. Not that I have illusions of being a JRF myself. I'm lost to the neurotic seeker crowd long ago, culturally speaking. But like going back to the Central Valley, something in me is consoled by people who, if they ever thought they'd be rock stars, gently cast off that illusion a long time ago and settled with what appeared to be some dignity into the small pleasures of life.
Maybe I'm idealizing, and people are always deeper than I at first give them credit, but if nothing else this tells you my own subjective feeling at the OSV today. Simple and innocent in a way I don't get to experience very often, and therefore quite a little vacation.
(Heather's Report):
Well, I think Marty said most of it in his usual spot on fashion. I think his theory of the One Skating Venue is also spot on as I have experienced this phenomena myself.
The portal for me leads to Greenville, North Carolina. In remembrance, a completely hated town although maybe not so hugely bad when I consider all the things I did there. This was from 12 - 18 years of age, one's most psychologically formative years as one starts learning one's individual self. I played a lot of D&D, went to movies, took Tae Kwon Do and went roller skating... a lot.
The rink in Greenville looked pretty much the same as Redwood City, although perhaps less worn. This I attribute to being in existence 21 years ago and I think, quite recently built at that time. Disco balls, flashing colored lights, the music (which as Marty puts it, was pretty much starting to use synthesizers), the weird astro turf like carpeting. The floor was in great shape, unlike the worn surface of the Redwood skating rink. I think I even saw the scuffed up wood through holes in the smooth "top" material. Although it didn't seem to have much issue with catching wheels but I did tend to avoid those spots.
It was a bit weird getting on four wheels again. I have this thing about falling and getting hurt these days. I'm only 35 but I seem to have picked up some old lady fear about falling. Plus, I've always felt that I have a long way to fall, being so tall and all. At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. But there was no falling amazingly enough. I think being on four wheels in a square, rather than a line, helps a lot. I had a pair of inline skates and I remember falling a lot off of those but rarely when using the old skates, unless attempting to skate backwards. I didn't try some of the fancier things I used to do, such as crossing over feet in turns to keep speed, nor did I go super fast.
I was definitely satisfied with "strolling" around and around, musing at the quality of the atmosphere, the "speed" generated breeze through my hair (which I had done up into pig-tail style braids to increase the sense of childhood fun), the darkened lights with the disco ball and flashing, colored lights, the smell (yes, the OSV has the same smell, no matter what part of the country it transports itself to), the music, although granted it was more contemporary hip-hop, pop, rock style rather than 80's music. Like smell can transport one into long ago, forgotten memory, thus can environmental association. And I definitely had hits of this as I went round and round, my body having the sense of this experience, even if I couldn't exactly remember in my head.
I did remember all the old (and sometimes still current) fantasies I had when skating of wanting to become a champion ice skater or at least being very good at roller skating that I could do iceskating type tricks, jumps, spins. Basically I wanted to dance on wheels. When I did the indoor skydiving, I wanted to be able to dance in the air. That complete freedom (and confidence of self and training... and natural talent) to be able to do anything on a blade or four wheels, but to be able to do more than just dancing with feet on the floor. Dancing is cool, I grant you that! But dancing on blade or wheels or in the air, that is so much cooler!!! Plus, you can do things that you never could on regular feet. So as I zipped around, I noticed those old fantasies arising (contemporizing and remaking themselves, as always) and did feel a bit of melancholy yearning for stuff that I never did. And very likely never will do.
I don't remember if I skated hand in hand with whomever I went with, because I don't remember going alone but I don't know if I went with boys either. Or girls. But again, pretty sure I did not go alone. I remember going with my father once when he came into town. I remember that very vividly and how he would go around corners in a most funny fashion; squating down into a crouch position with arms straight out like superman and zooming around the end of the rink before straightening up again. So this time around, I got to hold Marty's hand which felt both strangely familiar and just strange, at the same time. But if I had to skate with a boy, he'd be the one.
But all in all, I enjoyed myself. It's a work out on one's legs and ankle's for sure and I would happily go again for the experience and exercise. And to hold Marty's hand in a different venue. The One Skating Venue!!!
Marty's Video (containing our interviews and skating footage):
Heather's Video (a different version with "story"):
(Note there are a few seconds of deliberate darkness after the music, there's more, keep watching!!):
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Adventure #5 -- Union Square Adventurette
Adventurette - Marty
Description: Go forth into the depths of the San Francisco jungle (Union Square) and observe the native and imported fauna and flora.
(Marty's Report):
After being out for the day, eating at Old Jerusalem down in the Mission and then picking up the car from its little overnight at the mechanics, we got back and did a serious dose of cleaning. That time was mostly taken up by the bird cages, what Bill from "John From Cincinnati" referred to as the "poop machines," and then some miscellaneous chores and making holes in the walls (a shelf, and Heather's frames that have been sitting in the hallway for a month).
Then after getting up from my evening meditation, I suggested: 1) Going out to the ocean to watch the sunset; or 2) Going to watch the crowds down at Union Square. Option 2 was both of our choices.
So off on the scooter and shooting down Geary we arrived at the newly-dark Union Square, one of the few places in town that actually feel like a city. We poked around in Game Stop for a few minutes, and talked to a sweet young geek, sharing sighing anticipations of BioShock2 (out in the Fall!), and then headed up the street to watch a street band.
Here's Heather watching the band, whose lead singer looked and sounded, and played songs from the playbook of, Jimmy Hendrix.
Heather thought I was at least as uber a drummer as the bands traps handler. I humbly agree. The trio was a rough looking bunch, and didn't sound half bad.
Then up to the cafe within the huge Borders Bookstore, at the corner of Union Sq., which was filled with late night (8pm) readers and computer tappers. With no place to sit, we headed out onto the street, and found an elevated spot at the other corner of the Square, overlooking the band across the street, and the apparently co
ked-out street drummer, one of these class of dudes who bring their bits of metal and pickle buckets, and do 16th notes endlessly on their different "instruments." It's fun the first couple minutes, like most drum circles, and then you realize that the dude is not listening to himself or to the universe. Sort of a drum machine without the perfect spacings.
Here's our spot (my new uber camera has a cool nighttime setting, on the right here). Several tourists accosted us to take their picture next to one of these big heart sculptures that have popped up around town the last few years. This one was done in a sort of graffiti
ti style, with a bunch of odd stuffed bunny, a pink one of which seemed to have a hand growing out of its head, that was flipping off the heart's admirers. We sat and drank our coffees there, and watched what Jim Morrison from the Doors used to call the Soft Parade, then went back and bought a stack of books on Egypt, and rode home.
And here's some videos of our adventure(tte):
(Heather's Report):
Never mind this photo. Marty chose it. I didn't have coffee out at Union Square, I swear it, even though it may look like it. I've sort of made a pact not to drink coffee past three pm. And this was way past my bedtime. Marty's gotten all phone-happy with his new uber phone, which I have to admit, is slightly cool, although I found the fact that it has a 5 megapixel camera in it to be quite amazing. Although I really shouldn't, this day and age, they could probably fit a 12 megapixel cam in your eye.
So, onwards to the adventurette, although I don't really see it as a mini-adventure. Full on, baby! I've always liked people watching, especially in a diverse city such as San Francisco. And the beach is damn cold anyway. So off we flew to Union Square, racing the light sinking out of the sky (so after 7pm!) but didn't beat it, thus Union Square in the dark. Well, as you can see from the photos and video, it's not exactly dark as Union Square is lit up probably all night long. Lots of people frequent the area until the late closing shops shut down.
So we went to some of those shops ourselves, Game Stop, natch, because we're gaming nerds, then the bookstore, because we're book nerds. And we needed stuff on Egypt. So drinks, I got some chocolate thingie without coffee and we went out to sit on the square where it was getting a bit chilly, hence my whack hoodie. We got a lot of requests to take pictures of tourists in front of one of the cool art hearts around the city, one parked in Union Square in front of us. We listened to the crazy drummer and the pretty good street band. Although Marty could have taken the drummer in a drum-off any day.
Description: Go forth into the depths of the San Francisco jungle (Union Square) and observe the native and imported fauna and flora.
(Marty's Report):
After being out for the day, eating at Old Jerusalem down in the Mission and then picking up the car from its little overnight at the mechanics, we got back and did a serious dose of cleaning. That time was mostly taken up by the bird cages, what Bill from "John From Cincinnati" referred to as the "poop machines," and then some miscellaneous chores and making holes in the walls (a shelf, and Heather's frames that have been sitting in the hallway for a month).
Then after getting up from my evening meditation, I suggested: 1) Going out to the ocean to watch the sunset; or 2) Going to watch the crowds down at Union Square. Option 2 was both of our choices.
So off on the scooter and shooting down Geary we arrived at the newly-dark Union Square, one of the few places in town that actually feel like a city. We poked around in Game Stop for a few minutes, and talked to a sweet young geek, sharing sighing anticipations of BioShock2 (out in the Fall!), and then headed up the street to watch a street band.
Here's Heather watching the band, whose lead singer looked and sounded, and played songs from the playbook of, Jimmy Hendrix.Heather thought I was at least as uber a drummer as the bands traps handler. I humbly agree. The trio was a rough looking bunch, and didn't sound half bad.
Then up to the cafe within the huge Borders Bookstore, at the corner of Union Sq., which was filled with late night (8pm) readers and computer tappers. With no place to sit, we headed out onto the street, and found an elevated spot at the other corner of the Square, overlooking the band across the street, and the apparently co
ked-out street drummer, one of these class of dudes who bring their bits of metal and pickle buckets, and do 16th notes endlessly on their different "instruments." It's fun the first couple minutes, like most drum circles, and then you realize that the dude is not listening to himself or to the universe. Sort of a drum machine without the perfect spacings.Here's our spot (my new uber camera has a cool nighttime setting, on the right here). Several tourists accosted us to take their picture next to one of these big heart sculptures that have popped up around town the last few years. This one was done in a sort of graffiti
ti style, with a bunch of odd stuffed bunny, a pink one of which seemed to have a hand growing out of its head, that was flipping off the heart's admirers. We sat and drank our coffees there, and watched what Jim Morrison from the Doors used to call the Soft Parade, then went back and bought a stack of books on Egypt, and rode home.And here's some videos of our adventure(tte):
(Heather's Report):
Never mind this photo. Marty chose it. I didn't have coffee out at Union Square, I swear it, even though it may look like it. I've sort of made a pact not to drink coffee past three pm. And this was way past my bedtime. Marty's gotten all phone-happy with his new uber phone, which I have to admit, is slightly cool, although I found the fact that it has a 5 megapixel camera in it to be quite amazing. Although I really shouldn't, this day and age, they could probably fit a 12 megapixel cam in your eye.So, onwards to the adventurette, although I don't really see it as a mini-adventure. Full on, baby! I've always liked people watching, especially in a diverse city such as San Francisco. And the beach is damn cold anyway. So off we flew to Union Square, racing the light sinking out of the sky (so after 7pm!) but didn't beat it, thus Union Square in the dark. Well, as you can see from the photos and video, it's not exactly dark as Union Square is lit up probably all night long. Lots of people frequent the area until the late closing shops shut down.
So we went to some of those shops ourselves, Game Stop, natch, because we're gaming nerds, then the bookstore, because we're book nerds. And we needed stuff on Egypt. So drinks, I got some chocolate thingie without coffee and we went out to sit on the square where it was getting a bit chilly, hence my whack hoodie. We got a lot of requests to take pictures of tourists in front of one of the cool art hearts around the city, one parked in Union Square in front of us. We listened to the crazy drummer and the pretty good street band. Although Marty could have taken the drummer in a drum-off any day.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Adventure #4 -- Flying!!
Adventure - Marty's Dad, Steve
Description: Experience indoor sky diving, wherein one can experience the free-fall aspect of diving without the death part.
Check out our video at the end!!
(Heather's Report):
Steve, Marty's father, got it into his head that he wanted to go do some indoor skydiving and invited us along, his treat, which was extremely, very nice of him. He came down Friday and we hung about, going out to eat Indian food at my favorite place, Tasty Curry in the Inner Sunset and then to the Planetarium at the new Academy of Arts and Science. I hadn't been to a planetarium in years and years and so it was great fun to go and allow myself to be all girlish-kid delighted in the whole thing. Plus I love astronomy so double bonus!
The next morning, fortified by scrambled eggs and veggies and my usual Marty-brought-Mocha, we launched in separate cars (since it would be easier for Steve to drive back to Sacramento from the East Bay) towards Union City, around a 45 minute drive. Okay, I don't think I even knew of Union City existing in California. Maybe I'd heard of it in other states. But, yes, we do indeed have a Union City, which I didn't see much of since the building for iFly (yeah, really) was right off the highway. But it sort of smacked of Fremont where we bought Zippy, lots of Mall-like installations, like those big groupings of outdoor shops (meaning not like a whole indoor mall) - theater, various restaurants, Best Buy, Borders, Michael's Crafts, that sort of thing. These places always seem to have a vaguely depressing quality to me, a separation of community, which must exist somewhere in the area but is not inherently visible.
The building itself was oddly shaped and much smaller than I thought it would be and for some reason, taller, which doesn't make sense because you'd need tall for a giant vertical wind tunnel, right? I guess I wasn't sure what I was expecting. But it was a narrow rectangular building, long on front, thin on the sides. The observation/launch deck was the second floor, the blue part, while the tunnel ran right up the middle of the building from what looked like underground to the very top. That squarish part in the middle of the open part is the tunnel. Apparently it took about $8.5 million dollars to build the entire thing, I think it was said about $6.5 million for just the wind tunnel. These tunnels are a fairly new design, safer and apparently the best for simulating free fall. Apparently even the military adopted it over their old design they use for training their jump troops. Skydivers also use it to work on free fall flight skills for competitions as well.
And then of course, there are the folks like me, Marty and Steve, coming for the "oooh, indoor skydiving!" bit. Most have never been close to jumping out of an airplane, so this is a fun, safer and cheaper option for folks like us. Well, Steve has jumped out a perfectly good airplane about 30 times and Marty and I did a tandem jump a long time ago. I vividly remember that jump. One, I have a fear of flying so the old tin can with wings we took off in was extremely scary to start with. Two, yeah, jumping out of a... well, not perfectly good airplane, but it was keeping me in the air so that was good to me. Three, the absolutely incredible nausea from having the adrenaline caught up in my torso after the chute went off and cut off the blood flow to my legs (apparently adrenaline needs the entire body circulatory system to process through). Not to mention the abject fear throughout the whole thing.
But this seemed much safer. No plane to start with. A large mesh where the instructor stood to adjust your basic flight stance. Someone to control the wind speed. No falling to one's death if the chute doesn't go off. Well, I guess if the power went out you might be in trouble but I imagine there are back-ups and back-ups of those. So I went forth mostly willingly. The only thing I was worried about were all the warnings that you shouldn't go in if you've ever dislocated your shoulder or had other severe shoulder injuries. I tore my rotator cuff in my left shoulder years and years ago kayaking in college (in the pool no less, after I was tired from learning rolls over and over, pulled up with my paddle when I should have hip snapped). I've never even really been bothered by it after it healed up until about a couple of months ago when I notice that my shoulder has been bothering me. Years and years later, for no apparent reason. But hell, I was willing to risk it.
So I flopped forwards into the air tunnel. My first little "flight" was just getting used to the environment, having the instructor stabilize me in my "free fall" posture. I felt I caught on fairly quickly. Marty and his dad thought I wasn't having fun but that was just because I was concentrating on all the instructions before hand and trying to adjust "on the fly" as it were. I felt completely fine with the experience. However, when I got out though, I was shaking all over and my legs were jelly. I attribute this to a body memory of the original tandem jump I did and that fear stuck in my body. It took almost the entire round of other people going for their first and second rounds to be able to calm myself down. But by the time I got up for my second round, I was feeling fine and eager.
The second time around, the instructor gives more time to stabilize on your own and then takes you by an arm and leg and whoosh, up you fly into the top of the air tunnel and down and up again and then with a wild spin in the air. By that point, I was howling with laughter and wanted to go again about five more times. We got to watch our instructor do some crazy stuff in the chamber. Folks might say oh whatever and poo poo it but you have to have some damn fine control to do the stuff he was doing in a confining cylinder like that. Full on dives to the "floor" with a last minute stop over the mesh, that sort of thing.
By the time the day was over, I wanted to take on a career as a body flight instructor. Or a sky dancer. Even though my shoulder was having some problems and I had dreadlocks in the wisps of hair that were poking through the helmet. I'd go again in a heartbeat. They do teach you how to do extra stuff the more you go. You can even train to be an instructor through various programs. I probably wouldn't end up doing that but I am interested in flying upside down on my head.
(Marty's Report):
So today was indoor skydiving day. Yesterday was Hangout With Pop and Heather Day, which was just as good as floating on a 100mph column of air in the boondocks of the East Bay (Union City, anyone? Does anyone not think it's somewhere near Daly City?)
Dad came down yesterday afternoon. We had planned for a 1:30pm meeting at my house, after Heather and I met with our couples' therapist. (I think we've done probably 3 1/2 years of couples therapy, with maybe four or five therapists, and it's really paying off. I wouldn't want to be married to anyone else.) But apparently Mom, having been thrown off Grandpa not being able to go (he had to sit on a grand jury), but nonetheless kicked him out at 10am, after cooking him a breakfast so he couldn't make excuses about how long it was taking to prepare the cereal. So Dad got to sit in his car on our street for a few hours, drinking coffee and watching the goings ons of 4th ave.
Heather had gotten tickets to the Planetarium, so we went to our favorite Indian joint (Tasty Curry, best Indian in SF, well, at least the nicest proprietor), where we had a big old table full of nan and entrees, and dosed ourselves up on highly sugared and caffeinated chai. That's one of my favorite parts of the place, the big tub of free chai.
We took a quick tour of the natural sciences museum--Heather's getting tired of my criticisms, so I tried to keep them at a minimum--hitting the aquarium (my favorite are the alligator gar, though the leafy sea horses are ridiculously cool) and the living roof, then going to the planetarium show ("Fragile Earth"). We agreed that the best part was when it simulated the whole room rising up through the roof of the museum, and swooshing around the roof, then lifting up and off over the city and finally into the heavens. I'd seen it before, though, so I allowed myself to drift off... or tried to, because Heather kept squeezing my hand each time I twitched (signaling a switch from waking to sleep state, apparently a common sign for me), so the show became a bit like a sleep deprivation torture.
Then we hung out at home and, as my Gpa likes to say, "hooted and scratched." We covered the bases, from movies to nuclear power to our parrots (a hard topic to avoid when they are laughing and chortling in the background, or on your head). Then we watched "Serenity," which Dad hadn't seen before, though for Heather and I it was perhaps our fifth view through. It's funny how with most films, once is enough, but with some, you can watch over and over. And it is an odd quirk of my character that the one's I love over and over are the genre films (I've watched "Live Free or Die Hard" about five times). Shrug.
Boy, it was cold last night! We slept on the futon in Heather's room, and got the cold air from the window seeping down on our heads. I said to Heather in the wee hours that it felt like camping.
Then today we got up at about 8am, and Dad and I went for the coffee run while Heather began some cooking behavior (what a good wife!). More hooting and scratching around the kitchen table--and I must say, I love have guests around, most of all in the morning. There's something deeply soothing and reassuring to me about having folks poking around in the AM, and with whom you can reconnect after a night of being dissolved into the dreamtime.
We headed off in separate cars (Dad was leaving after the adventure), and made our way down through the Peninsula, then over the San Mateo Bridge to Union City. I don't think, if we'd not gone to "skydive" there, that I might have even known that UC existed, not to mention actually having gone there. It reminded me of, well, every other American suburb I've ever been to. Except with a place where you could parachute on a big fan.
I told James Thursday about this upcoming adventure, and said there was an option to do the flying without the grate that covers the fan, the Super Adventure Option. He understands my humor, and was not afraid.
We got to the place, which was a custom built facility out front of a standard later-model shopping center, and went in to register. Eventually, after watching the earlier crews float around, we got into flight school, a quick video, then suited up and entered the chamber. They sealed up the doors and turned the fan on, and off we went.
I was nervous, as usual in these situations, more for the embarrassment factor than any fear of harm. Which is a little silly, given my minimal investment in being a good indoor flying, uh, person, but there it was. So I stepped up to the door after pop had did his turn, and it was tense such that the instructor kept trying to get me to take the right posture. It looks on the video that I eventually did, then after a minute he took me to the door and I climbed out.
The sensations were so strong in my body, like every cell and organ had gotten a little dose of adrenaline and was kind of humming inside with it. Then there was the wait for our second turn, where the instructor took us floating up higher into the wind tunnel, which was pretty cool. Though time did seem to slow down, so the minute that went by very quickly sitting on the bench, kind of slowwweddd down when you were actually doing it.
And that was that! We'd done it, we'd not fallen to the (almost) fate of Charlie and Grandpa in "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" (when they almost floated up into the fan with the super bubble gum). Heather had pulled her shoulder, which she injured years ago, and I popped my right shoulder, which is still a bit achy.
Dad, the stalwart Northern European descended dude, survived just fine.
(Here's the video of the flights. Dad is in red, Marty is in green, and Heather is in yellow.)
Description: Experience indoor sky diving, wherein one can experience the free-fall aspect of diving without the death part.
Check out our video at the end!!
(Heather's Report):
Steve, Marty's father, got it into his head that he wanted to go do some indoor skydiving and invited us along, his treat, which was extremely, very nice of him. He came down Friday and we hung about, going out to eat Indian food at my favorite place, Tasty Curry in the Inner Sunset and then to the Planetarium at the new Academy of Arts and Science. I hadn't been to a planetarium in years and years and so it was great fun to go and allow myself to be all girlish-kid delighted in the whole thing. Plus I love astronomy so double bonus!
The next morning, fortified by scrambled eggs and veggies and my usual Marty-brought-Mocha, we launched in separate cars (since it would be easier for Steve to drive back to Sacramento from the East Bay) towards Union City, around a 45 minute drive. Okay, I don't think I even knew of Union City existing in California. Maybe I'd heard of it in other states. But, yes, we do indeed have a Union City, which I didn't see much of since the building for iFly (yeah, really) was right off the highway. But it sort of smacked of Fremont where we bought Zippy, lots of Mall-like installations, like those big groupings of outdoor shops (meaning not like a whole indoor mall) - theater, various restaurants, Best Buy, Borders, Michael's Crafts, that sort of thing. These places always seem to have a vaguely depressing quality to me, a separation of community, which must exist somewhere in the area but is not inherently visible.
The building itself was oddly shaped and much smaller than I thought it would be and for some reason, taller, which doesn't make sense because you'd need tall for a giant vertical wind tunnel, right? I guess I wasn't sure what I was expecting. But it was a narrow rectangular building, long on front, thin on the sides. The observation/launch deck was the second floor, the blue part, while the tunnel ran right up the middle of the building from what looked like underground to the very top. That squarish part in the middle of the open part is the tunnel. Apparently it took about $8.5 million dollars to build the entire thing, I think it was said about $6.5 million for just the wind tunnel. These tunnels are a fairly new design, safer and apparently the best for simulating free fall. Apparently even the military adopted it over their old design they use for training their jump troops. Skydivers also use it to work on free fall flight skills for competitions as well.And then of course, there are the folks like me, Marty and Steve, coming for the "oooh, indoor skydiving!" bit. Most have never been close to jumping out of an airplane, so this is a fun, safer and cheaper option for folks like us. Well, Steve has jumped out a perfectly good airplane about 30 times and Marty and I did a tandem jump a long time ago. I vividly remember that jump. One, I have a fear of flying so the old tin can with wings we took off in was extremely scary to start with. Two, yeah, jumping out of a... well, not perfectly good airplane, but it was keeping me in the air so that was good to me. Three, the absolutely incredible nausea from having the adrenaline caught up in my torso after the chute went off and cut off the blood flow to my legs (apparently adrenaline needs the entire body circulatory system to process through). Not to mention the abject fear throughout the whole thing.
But this seemed much safer. No plane to start with. A large mesh where the instructor stood to adjust your basic flight stance. Someone to control the wind speed. No falling to one's death if the chute doesn't go off. Well, I guess if the power went out you might be in trouble but I imagine there are back-ups and back-ups of those. So I went forth mostly willingly. The only thing I was worried about were all the warnings that you shouldn't go in if you've ever dislocated your shoulder or had other severe shoulder injuries. I tore my rotator cuff in my left shoulder years and years ago kayaking in college (in the pool no less, after I was tired from learning rolls over and over, pulled up with my paddle when I should have hip snapped). I've never even really been bothered by it after it healed up until about a couple of months ago when I notice that my shoulder has been bothering me. Years and years later, for no apparent reason. But hell, I was willing to risk it.
So I flopped forwards into the air tunnel. My first little "flight" was just getting used to the environment, having the instructor stabilize me in my "free fall" posture. I felt I caught on fairly quickly. Marty and his dad thought I wasn't having fun but that was just because I was concentrating on all the instructions before hand and trying to adjust "on the fly" as it were. I felt completely fine with the experience. However, when I got out though, I was shaking all over and my legs were jelly. I attribute this to a body memory of the original tandem jump I did and that fear stuck in my body. It took almost the entire round of other people going for their first and second rounds to be able to calm myself down. But by the time I got up for my second round, I was feeling fine and eager.
The second time around, the instructor gives more time to stabilize on your own and then takes you by an arm and leg and whoosh, up you fly into the top of the air tunnel and down and up again and then with a wild spin in the air. By that point, I was howling with laughter and wanted to go again about five more times. We got to watch our instructor do some crazy stuff in the chamber. Folks might say oh whatever and poo poo it but you have to have some damn fine control to do the stuff he was doing in a confining cylinder like that. Full on dives to the "floor" with a last minute stop over the mesh, that sort of thing.
By the time the day was over, I wanted to take on a career as a body flight instructor. Or a sky dancer. Even though my shoulder was having some problems and I had dreadlocks in the wisps of hair that were poking through the helmet. I'd go again in a heartbeat. They do teach you how to do extra stuff the more you go. You can even train to be an instructor through various programs. I probably wouldn't end up doing that but I am interested in flying upside down on my head.
(Marty's Report):
So today was indoor skydiving day. Yesterday was Hangout With Pop and Heather Day, which was just as good as floating on a 100mph column of air in the boondocks of the East Bay (Union City, anyone? Does anyone not think it's somewhere near Daly City?)
Dad came down yesterday afternoon. We had planned for a 1:30pm meeting at my house, after Heather and I met with our couples' therapist. (I think we've done probably 3 1/2 years of couples therapy, with maybe four or five therapists, and it's really paying off. I wouldn't want to be married to anyone else.) But apparently Mom, having been thrown off Grandpa not being able to go (he had to sit on a grand jury), but nonetheless kicked him out at 10am, after cooking him a breakfast so he couldn't make excuses about how long it was taking to prepare the cereal. So Dad got to sit in his car on our street for a few hours, drinking coffee and watching the goings ons of 4th ave.
Heather had gotten tickets to the Planetarium, so we went to our favorite Indian joint (Tasty Curry, best Indian in SF, well, at least the nicest proprietor), where we had a big old table full of nan and entrees, and dosed ourselves up on highly sugared and caffeinated chai. That's one of my favorite parts of the place, the big tub of free chai.
We took a quick tour of the natural sciences museum--Heather's getting tired of my criticisms, so I tried to keep them at a minimum--hitting the aquarium (my favorite are the alligator gar, though the leafy sea horses are ridiculously cool) and the living roof, then going to the planetarium show ("Fragile Earth"). We agreed that the best part was when it simulated the whole room rising up through the roof of the museum, and swooshing around the roof, then lifting up and off over the city and finally into the heavens. I'd seen it before, though, so I allowed myself to drift off... or tried to, because Heather kept squeezing my hand each time I twitched (signaling a switch from waking to sleep state, apparently a common sign for me), so the show became a bit like a sleep deprivation torture.
Then we hung out at home and, as my Gpa likes to say, "hooted and scratched." We covered the bases, from movies to nuclear power to our parrots (a hard topic to avoid when they are laughing and chortling in the background, or on your head). Then we watched "Serenity," which Dad hadn't seen before, though for Heather and I it was perhaps our fifth view through. It's funny how with most films, once is enough, but with some, you can watch over and over. And it is an odd quirk of my character that the one's I love over and over are the genre films (I've watched "Live Free or Die Hard" about five times). Shrug.
Boy, it was cold last night! We slept on the futon in Heather's room, and got the cold air from the window seeping down on our heads. I said to Heather in the wee hours that it felt like camping.
Then today we got up at about 8am, and Dad and I went for the coffee run while Heather began some cooking behavior (what a good wife!). More hooting and scratching around the kitchen table--and I must say, I love have guests around, most of all in the morning. There's something deeply soothing and reassuring to me about having folks poking around in the AM, and with whom you can reconnect after a night of being dissolved into the dreamtime.
We headed off in separate cars (Dad was leaving after the adventure), and made our way down through the Peninsula, then over the San Mateo Bridge to Union City. I don't think, if we'd not gone to "skydive" there, that I might have even known that UC existed, not to mention actually having gone there. It reminded me of, well, every other American suburb I've ever been to. Except with a place where you could parachute on a big fan.
I told James Thursday about this upcoming adventure, and said there was an option to do the flying without the grate that covers the fan, the Super Adventure Option. He understands my humor, and was not afraid.
We got to the place, which was a custom built facility out front of a standard later-model shopping center, and went in to register. Eventually, after watching the earlier crews float around, we got into flight school, a quick video, then suited up and entered the chamber. They sealed up the doors and turned the fan on, and off we went.
I was nervous, as usual in these situations, more for the embarrassment factor than any fear of harm. Which is a little silly, given my minimal investment in being a good indoor flying, uh, person, but there it was. So I stepped up to the door after pop had did his turn, and it was tense such that the instructor kept trying to get me to take the right posture. It looks on the video that I eventually did, then after a minute he took me to the door and I climbed out.
The sensations were so strong in my body, like every cell and organ had gotten a little dose of adrenaline and was kind of humming inside with it. Then there was the wait for our second turn, where the instructor took us floating up higher into the wind tunnel, which was pretty cool. Though time did seem to slow down, so the minute that went by very quickly sitting on the bench, kind of slowwweddd down when you were actually doing it.
And that was that! We'd done it, we'd not fallen to the (almost) fate of Charlie and Grandpa in "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" (when they almost floated up into the fan with the super bubble gum). Heather had pulled her shoulder, which she injured years ago, and I popped my right shoulder, which is still a bit achy.
Dad, the stalwart Northern European descended dude, survived just fine.
(Here's the video of the flights. Dad is in red, Marty is in green, and Heather is in yellow.)
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Adventure #3 -- Pinnacles Park
Adventure - Marty
Description: Go rock climbing in the park of Pinnacles and not die.
Photos by Marty (Lichen shot by Heather)
(Marty's Report):
This was my outing idea, going down to Pinnacles National Monument and climbing. It entailed getting up early. That means sacrifice for my wife. Which means coffee.
Description: Go rock climbing in the park of Pinnacles and not die.
Photos by Marty (Lichen shot by Heather)
(Marty's Report):
This was my outing idea, going down to Pinnacles National Monument and climbing. It entailed getting up early. That means sacrifice for my wife. Which means coffee.
So after my morning sitting, I was off to Javaholics for Heather's "I'll get up early if and only if I am greeted by a single shot mocha with whipped cream", and true to her word, she did not grump when greeted with said mocha. I got the gear together while she abluted, and then by 7:30 am, we were off. (It was to be 7am, but I kinda figured that might be impractical.)
Basically, to get to Pinnacles, you get on 101 south, and stay there till your reach a dumpy, prison-supported town called Soledad, and take a left. Then you drive through the cow pastures and fields, down a 1 or 1 1/2 lane road, till you reach the gate. And there's Pinnacles.
But before that, we were driving. And what that generally means with Heather, is music. In this case (not all cases), her music.
Now, to say that music is meaningful to Heather is to vastly understate the issue. And to say that me mocking one of the poppy songs was skillful was to vastly overestimate my intelligence. Which is to say that we had a spirited (ahem) discussion about the relative vs. absolute value of music, and came to a roughly amiable conclusion that we were both sorta right. Which allowed us to finish our adventure without scars.
So, back to Pinnacles. It's a really beautiful place, though modest in comparison with California's wonders. Apparently it was an old volcano, long worn away, leaving jagged rock faces, and low but steep hills separating the park into its West and East sides.
We were planning to do some light top-roped climbing, and geared up in the parking lot, something I haven't done in years. Clanging with carabeeners and water bottles, we identified the route to our first rock and headed off. And walked along and along a
nd up, trying to identify where our target was hiding, baffled by the map from the ranger station and the climbing book. We went up and up, almost (it turns out) to the dividing ridge that would have taken us over to the East side of the park, before realizing that we'd almost surely missed the rock. And by that point, Heather was wiped out. I've been doing a lot of gym time, so my stamina's pretty good, but Heather was in forced-march mode. But a good trooper, not bitching too much.
We were planning to do some light top-roped climbing, and geared up in the parking lot, something I haven't done in years. Clanging with carabeeners and water bottles, we identified the route to our first rock and headed off. And walked along and along a
nd up, trying to identify where our target was hiding, baffled by the map from the ranger station and the climbing book. We went up and up, almost (it turns out) to the dividing ridge that would have taken us over to the East side of the park, before realizing that we'd almost surely missed the rock. And by that point, Heather was wiped out. I've been doing a lot of gym time, so my stamina's pretty good, but Heather was in forced-march mode. But a good trooper, not bitching too much.
I shot some pictures, and then we decided to head back down, creating a scenario in our heads based on the television show and game, Firefly. We didn't get that far: there's an old dude who tells Mal and crew that he knows where a fabled lost Alliance ship went down, and needs information that Mal doesn't know he has to find the ship. Thence commences adventures, at which time they find the treasure laden ship, which was also carrying a neuro-toxin, which old dude wants to use to poison an entire Alliance planet (he was one of the rebels who lost the war of independence with the Alliance). Thence commences a Moral Quandary for Mal, who presumably chases down the old dude and stops him.
So. After that, we got down to the parking lot, and realized that where we had intended to go (it's not so hard to do a good map!) was just a short walk down the other direction of the same path. So we scrambled around there, me looking for a good top rope spot, but by that time motivation and energy had drained off, so we headed off home.
One thing that sticks with me, though, is how still and quiet it was out there, unlike in the city where there's always a buzz. I'm not sure I'll need to go back soon, but it was a good jaunt.
(Heather's Report):
Marty's right. I don't wake up well. But usually, if my husband will go through the trouble of bringing me a coffee, I can go through effort of not being grumpy. So I was able to hold my tongue, allow the coffee to kick start my veins and shower, which also helps in the wake up process.
The drive down was pleasant, pretty in its own way, of driving through continuously decreasing in size and financial level towns and argued somewhat about music. Marty was driving but I had usurped the radio with the iPod plug-in and was DJing. Marty's also correct about me and my music. Don't be hatin'. So we "discussed" this vigorously, in which, ending said conversation, it did seem that we reached the same point. Maybe. I was probably right, whatever it was we were discussing.
Pinnacles is quite pretty, large jagged mountains rising up from the level ground, almost like those jagged, rippled waves of mountains on the Hawaiian coastlines. We got our maps and such and after staring at the one given to us by the Ranger and the one in the climbing book, were pretty sure where to go and off we went. Well, we walked. And then we started really walking and then hiking as the trail started going up and up, even starting into switchbacks. I think the only photos I took were of the lichen here, so wonderfully red. The rest of the park was beautiful, yes, but the light was shit.
I'm not in good shape, I'll admit that right off the bat. I'm carrying about an extra 30 pounds that I really don't need, I eat crappy and I don't exercise. So, I really wasn't ready or up for this sudden trek. I had my doubts about even being able to climb at all once reaching our destination. Not due to the trekking (although that did end up being the case for me), but due to the fact that I haven't rock-climbed in years, nor have I ever done it outdoors. Marty taught me in the local indoor climbing gym years ago. This will actually be the second time we've gone out into the wilds to climb and the second time that, having gone out into the wilds to climb, that we didn't actually do any rock-climbing.
But it was indeed beautiful. I love mountains. These weren't my good old (read, very, very old chronologically) mountains of the Appalachian chain, rounded by the years, covered with luscious forests and all deep green, but rocky, jagged peaks, rugged with scrubby plant life. It had such a different quality from those mountains I used to be used to. And I could tell these were younger mountains, there wasn't that "weight" that you get on the East Coast with those velvety mountains.
We saw a coyote on our way out of the park, which Marty got a shot of out the car window. He didn't notice us at first but then realized that vehicle normally buzzing by had slowed down and those strange creatures inside were staring at him. He stayed still for a few moments, both creatures, canine and sapien, regarding each other with curiosity until he (or she, actually, since I couldn't tell you) had enough and took off into the brush. And we took off towards our urban brush.
Need more nature, yes indeedy.
And all in all, Marty and I seem to be getting better at this whole "Travel Together" thingie. Or at least these little "mini" adventures are helping.
(Heather's Report):
Marty's right. I don't wake up well. But usually, if my husband will go through the trouble of bringing me a coffee, I can go through effort of not being grumpy. So I was able to hold my tongue, allow the coffee to kick start my veins and shower, which also helps in the wake up process.
The drive down was pleasant, pretty in its own way, of driving through continuously decreasing in size and financial level towns and argued somewhat about music. Marty was driving but I had usurped the radio with the iPod plug-in and was DJing. Marty's also correct about me and my music. Don't be hatin'. So we "discussed" this vigorously, in which, ending said conversation, it did seem that we reached the same point. Maybe. I was probably right, whatever it was we were discussing.
Pinnacles is quite pretty, large jagged mountains rising up from the level ground, almost like those jagged, rippled waves of mountains on the Hawaiian coastlines. We got our maps and such and after staring at the one given to us by the Ranger and the one in the climbing book, were pretty sure where to go and off we went. Well, we walked. And then we started really walking and then hiking as the trail started going up and up, even starting into switchbacks. I think the only photos I took were of the lichen here, so wonderfully red. The rest of the park was beautiful, yes, but the light was shit.I'm not in good shape, I'll admit that right off the bat. I'm carrying about an extra 30 pounds that I really don't need, I eat crappy and I don't exercise. So, I really wasn't ready or up for this sudden trek. I had my doubts about even being able to climb at all once reaching our destination. Not due to the trekking (although that did end up being the case for me), but due to the fact that I haven't rock-climbed in years, nor have I ever done it outdoors. Marty taught me in the local indoor climbing gym years ago. This will actually be the second time we've gone out into the wilds to climb and the second time that, having gone out into the wilds to climb, that we didn't actually do any rock-climbing.
But it was indeed beautiful. I love mountains. These weren't my good old (read, very, very old chronologically) mountains of the Appalachian chain, rounded by the years, covered with luscious forests and all deep green, but rocky, jagged peaks, rugged with scrubby plant life. It had such a different quality from those mountains I used to be used to. And I could tell these were younger mountains, there wasn't that "weight" that you get on the East Coast with those velvety mountains.
We saw a coyote on our way out of the park, which Marty got a shot of out the car window. He didn't notice us at first but then realized that vehicle normally buzzing by had slowed down and those strange creatures inside were staring at him. He stayed still for a few moments, both creatures, canine and sapien, regarding each other with curiosity until he (or she, actually, since I couldn't tell you) had enough and took off into the brush. And we took off towards our urban brush.Need more nature, yes indeedy.
And all in all, Marty and I seem to be getting better at this whole "Travel Together" thingie. Or at least these little "mini" adventures are helping.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Adventure #2 -- We Got Woo'd At the Zoo
Adventure - Planned by Heather
Description: Celebrating Valentine's Day at the wacky SF Zoo Annual "Sex Tour."
(Heather's Report):
For Valentine's Day, we went to the zoo, natch. I mean, where else would you go in San Francisco for Valentine's Day other than a sex tour at the local zoo?!? This description is from the registration website about the event:
"Be you Penguin, Primate or Possum…you are cordially invited to celebrate a San Francisco Zoo original 20th Annual Sex Tour/Woo at the Zoo with Jane Tollini. Come join us for new animals, new positions, new kinky
information, ins & out, ups & downs of animal sex, all animals A to Z including U.
(Marty's Report):
A fun morning at the zoo. Lots of simple carbs and sugar, and I treated myself to a decaf, in a life now more or less coffee free. As with Heather's post, the woman was one of those larger-than-life presenters, tailor-made to put a bunch of upper-middle class San Franciscans at ease with talk of vaginas and penises.
Description: Celebrating Valentine's Day at the wacky SF Zoo Annual "Sex Tour."
(Heather's Report):
For Valentine's Day, we went to the zoo, natch. I mean, where else would you go in San Francisco for Valentine's Day other than a sex tour at the local zoo?!? This description is from the registration website about the event:
"Be you Penguin, Primate or Possum…you are cordially invited to celebrate a San Francisco Zoo original 20th Annual Sex Tour/Woo at the Zoo with Jane Tollini. Come join us for new animals, new positions, new kinky
information, ins & out, ups & downs of animal sex, all animals A to Z including U.
Heads & tails above flowers & candles; no better way to impress your Valentine; and if that is not enough…get up-close with an animal encounter! "Woo at the Zoo" also features a romantic brunch including; mimosas, French toast station, scrambled eggs, pastries, chocolate covered strawberries, fresh fruit and a delicious surprise. The special evening events will include; beef tenderloin, herbed couscous, sautéed spinach w/ pine nuts & golden raisins, salad and chocolate dipped strawberries. Reservations are required as this “sense”ational event sells out each year."
This was basically as advertised although I thought at first that we were going to wander the zoo and see animals mating! Although I guess in February, that would be rather... chilly. And a little raunchy for other zoo visitors. So we ended up in a large conference room where Jane Tollini, the very funny zoo-keeper presenting the "tour" presided over a slide show. When we arrived, having chosen to attend the brunch time rather than dinner time, other keepers had animals out for our up and close examinations, such as a large white rabbit, a baby alligator, a porcupine, a tortoise, we think we remember a sloth that had brain damage, and a very large raptor (type I'm blanking on). We got to touch most of them, excepting the raptor, of course, since it wasn't hooded and would likely take your hand off. I'm a very touchy-feeling type person and I just wanted to smear my hands all over bird and feathers but of course, stayed back per his keeper's instructions. We (or at least, I) ate French Toast and various offered by buffet bits, and had a mimosa.
The presenter, Jane Tollini, a large woman who spoke in a raspy, possible smoker's voice, was a keeper at the SF Zoo for a very long time and previously worked with the penguin enclosure, and had one of those personalities that is pretty much suited to present a tour about sex, funny, confident, with that sort of "fake" tipsy quality and obviously had done this presentation a lot of times. She encouraged the room in a booming voice to partake freely (and frequently) of the free champagne offered, "Drink up! Get more! This is good stuff!" I found her immensely fun right off the bat. That sort of "fun" type of presenting tends to put folks at ease, or at least me. Especially in a room full of adults with a topic that can cause even adults to "titter nervously".
After being wined and dined, so to speak, she launched her slide show, which previously had just a picture of a sexy silhouette and the phrase "I got woo'd at the zoo!" which of course, I pointed out to Marty the obvious joke there... I got WOOD at the zoo. Heh. She did indeed start out at A and go to Z, although even before A, went through special terms that we might need to know about reproduction in the animal world. I learned more about penises and the various types wandering around this good Earth than I ever thought I'd ever know in my lifetime. Huge, small, spiky (yes, barbed!, which I have no idea of why Nature would be so cruel!), able to retract, extend, etc. By context of the topic, of course, I learned more about animal sex than I'd ever thought I'd know as well. As well as specific animal sex. Okay.
We had some good laughs, taking a break for, gosh, more booze (I forwent this time and Marty doesn't drink), before launching into the last half of the alphabet. I'm unfortunately writing this about a month later (Marty and I have made commitment to write our adventure posts right after our adventures), so I don't remember the specifics of the various animals presented and their specific sexual adventures, like pigs being able to have extended orgasms or some such. Sorry, folks, disappointing, I know!
After the presentation was over, we got cool mugs and wandered around the zoo for a little bit but it was grey and overcast, threatening to rain so we didn't stay out long. All in all, it was a fun Valentine's Day adventure!!
(Marty's Report):
A fun morning at the zoo. Lots of simple carbs and sugar, and I treated myself to a decaf, in a life now more or less coffee free. As with Heather's post, the woman was one of those larger-than-life presenters, tailor-made to put a bunch of upper-middle class San Franciscans at ease with talk of vaginas and penises.
My favorite--though the presentation was fun--was definitely the live animals. The bald eagle was an amazing and frightening bird, especially with a beak that I've seen destroy rabbit bones, about a few inches from its handler's face. We got to touch an alligator, and a porcupine, and a rabbit. I love them!
Then we went off and wandered around the zoo, including to the place where the young man had been killed by a tiger. That's always a little eerie, especially after seeing the cute-as-sin otters.
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