One might think, from the absence of posts, that I have fallen into the San Andreas Fault (a mere 5 miles away) or been whisked out to sea. Such is not the case. My life has merely been completely consumed by the school program.
And on that fine note, let me complain about today's frustration: The Geodatabase.
I have no problem with geodatabases, nor am I particularly ignorant about building or designing them. However, we have a 7-week course on Geodatabases, and what to do if you've got them. On top of that is ESRI training on Building Geodatabases, and Designing Geodatabases. Today is day one of the Design course. Which, you might think, belongs in front of the Building course. And it does. Which means, that all day today and tomorrow are, essentially, review of the things we have been successfully doing for a month and a half now.
Clearly, I am not amused.
In other news, the weather is getting better, my hooligan teenager continues to give us trouble and worry, I got my taxes done (and a nice refund, I might add), and the weight of this program is beginning to truely settle on my shoulders. I feel like Atlas, holding up my academic world. With any luck, and a whole lot of work, I may yet live and not be crushed by it.
I'll see about posting more regularly, since the meatgrinder here has settled into a nice rhythm, and a moment's attention to the harsh reality of near-midlife graduate school attendance shouldn't be the death of me. The cafeteria's hamburgers will be a more likely culprit for my demise.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Trip
Readers, please forgive the great delay in getting the trip report up. I can assure you, I'm not dead, though evidence may have suggested I fell off the face of the earth.
I did keep a journal in near-real-time, and offer it now for your amusement:
7 Days, 11 States, and for a 9-5 cubicle dweller like me, it's the biggest Adventure I've done yet. The mission: get from Alexandria VA, to Redlands CA, in time to start the 2009 Masters of Science in GIS program at the University of Redlands. Government sponsored, pure pork I'm told; my workplace covers my salary, and tuition, perdiem, travel, and books are all paid from the earmark. I'll be in California most of 2009, then come home in time for Christmas next year with a shiny new diploma.The weapon: A 1992 Honda CB750 Nighthawk. No platinum-studded BMW GS, no knobbied KTM, no cheapskate KLR... this is using what you got. And the venerable honda is what I got. The route: Northern Virginia to inmate NCJ in Charlotte NC, to somewhere around the GA/AL border, to inmate DWalt in Liberty MS, to another friend's in Dallas TX, to somewhere on the TX/NM state line, to an aunt in Phoenix, into Redlands CA.
26 December, 0930, and I'm off. If you see this thing on the road, don't call the cops.
Riding down to North Carolina, and away from my family was the lowest-mileage but hardest day I think I had on the whole trip. The entire first half of the day my mind wandered, drawn back to home, and what I was leaving behind. While I recognize that I have it good, and have little to complain about, it was the hardest thing I've done in a while. It took until after lunch on a bitter cold day to finally start focusing on the road. Not focusing is a danger when you're on a motorcycle, as it really requires complete concentration.
As light began to fade, I found my hosts for the evening tucked away on over 20 acres of beautiful forest and pasture. Jay and Sally are both motorcycle people, and were happy to take me in for the night. We shared stories of family, of plans, and of tales from the road. They marveled at the leap I was taking, and I was jealous of the life they're living now. Everybody has to walk their own path.
27 December, 2008
While the night was chilly, I woke to a room warmed by a terrific fireplace and a great breakfast.
Being riders themselves, Jay and Sally followed me out of town... whether to make sure I was safe, or didn't eat them out of their pantry, I'll never be certain. Jay's mean with a skillet.
(pic courtesy of Sally on the back)
Yes, I was loaded for bear.
Today was a day for making miles. My wimp-goal was to get to "somewhere between Atlanta and Birmingham", preferable on the Alabama side. The further I go, the more time I have in Mississippi, where I have other friends. The additional motivation is that there's a line of water from the gulf coast to the great lakes on the radar, heading east, and I didn't want to get caught in it. So, the plan is, ride as far as you can today, hole up during the weather, and visit folks tomorrow.
I got clear to Mississippi, under clear skies and an open road.
Spent the night in a town called Meridian, had a steak at a local joint, and unpacked the bike in anticipation of the storm front. And boy, did it blow hard. Sideways rain, heavy winds, for several hours that evening. I am so glad to have timed it well.
28 December, 2008
Time to repack the bike, and meet some friends. First, another "Jay" who lives on the Gulf Coast in Dimondhead invited me down. Jay is also a GIS geek like me, and teaches, and I've had the pleasure of meeting him on both coasts... seeemed proper to make it all three. As I drove south, a few wisps of the night's storm sprinkled me, but I am not made of sugar. All is well.
Jay and I had a visit, a hot chocolate, and then he took me for a quick little tour of the Mississippi coast, still showing the aftermath of Katrina over 3 years later. It broke my heart to see the wave of destruction, the high-water marks still visible on what homes were left, and the remnants of the foundataions of homes swept away by the storm. There are parts of that area that will never recover. But the beauty of the area explained to me why people still choose to live there.
Rememer that wisp of the storm I mentioned? Not 5 minutes after I took my leave of Jay, God decided to flush his toilet on my head. I endured the most bone-soaking rain I've ever ridden through, for 200 miles, on my way to the evening's final destination in Amite County.
If you are not familiar with the great Southern comedian, Jerry Clower, google the man and listen to some of his stories. My host for the evening was Walt Ledbetter, located just a few miles west of Liberty, Mississippi. I first met Walt last summer at another motorcycle buddy's birthday party, and Walt is one of the more interesting people I've had the pleasure to spend time with. When he's not busy on offshore oil rigs, he's hunting his land, building up his home, and raising his family to be independant and strong. The force of character in this fellow is amazing, and I was honored to meet his father, wife, children, and hunting buddies.
You see, they were out for deer that evening as I rolled in, soggy from hours of torrential rain. This is what they pull out of their forest:
And then Walt turns it into tastey little morsels. These are breaded and deep-friend backstrap fillets.
I'm sorry if you're a vegetarian, but I like what I like. And what I liked just as much as the venison, was Walt's duck. Having taken a few over the last week, he proceeded to butterfly the breast meat, stuff it with a slice of Jalepeno, and a slice of cream cheese, and wrap it with bacon. Then grill the things.
Oh, I was having such a fine time.
So I changed into dry clothes, ate, and visited with some of the south's finest until the wee hours. Despite the rain, this was one of the best days of the trip so far.
29 December, 2008
Time to make tracks again. Walt gave me directions to enjoy the route west, via Liberty Road (which I cannot praise highly enough). It was such a good trip, I forgot to take pictures most of the way, and any rider can tell you that those are usually the best roads. You find yourself engaged with the pavement, lost in the scenery, and immersed in your journey... so much that to stop and document it would spoil the experience. The gentle reader will just have to understand.
I did make one opportunity to catch the sunset as I made my way into east Texas, though, as I approached Dallas for the night.
As I threaded my way around the south side of town, I found my lodgings in the form of a friend I hadn't seen in over 5 years. He and his wife since had a son, who takes much of their time and attention, along with the dog. It was here that I would take a rest day, which was much needed at this point.
30 December, 2008
Resting in Dallas. Catching up with the family on the phone. Sightseeing in Dallas; in the space of 10 minutes, I saw the grassy knoll, and a demonstration on behalf of the Palestinian people in Gaza. Life goes on, I suppose.
31 December, 2008
Back on the road, now. I hope to make Las Cruces for the night, but getting from here to the other side of Texas is over 600 miles, longer than any day I've driven so far, including the marathon North Carolina-South Carolina-Georgia-Alabama-Mississippi day.
This part of Texas, west of Dallas, struck me as beautiful, and resembling Africa.
Then there were the wind farms. Thousands of towers, covering the landscape. I hope they're doing something for our energy needs. Interesting to look at, not sure if I'd want to live in the shadow of these things, though.
Noon: Problem with the bike.
Some thing just went wrong. Sounds like it may be the cam chain, very clanky high in the engine and I lost a lot of power. I'm on the side of I-20 westbound, just before Colorado City. An empty spot nearly 100 miles from anywhere.
The miracle of modern wireless communications means I'm on the internet, searching for bike shops, posting my trouble to the motorcycle forum I frequent, and calling around for help.
Officer Wood of the highway patrol stops to see what's up, and helps me by contacting a local wrecker. And while he refused to pose, he said I could use the car in the picture. Something about "not wanting to be famous on the internet." Heh heh.
There's a bike shop in Sweetwater, but they can't help at all. So I'm on a wrecker to Midland, at $1.25/mile, both ways, plus $40 hookup charge. 90 miles away. It's 70 miles back to Abilene, and nearly 100 miles north to Lubbock and 100 miles south to San Angelo. Might as well keep heading west.
Oh, I could just cry at the sight of that.
So my tow truck driver drops me off at some Travelodge in Midland, Texas, on New Year's Eve. Bike shop is closed. I called home, ordered a pizza, and settled in for the night. There was a party going on a few rooms down, must have been the only other people in the hotel that night.
1 January, 2009
I woke up and dressed in time to check out the bike shop, where I had spoken to someone on the phone the day before. I was under the impression that they would be open today. This was not the case. I shouldn't be surprised, but really... why me? Middle of nowhere, a schedule to keep, and class to start in just a few days. I don't need this.
Enter, my new best friend.
Roger is a (yet another) motorcycle friend who I've known for some years now. This network is beginning to get handy. Unfortunately he lost his wife to illness last year, but the upside is that he has a lot of free time now, being retired and mobile. At the first hint of my trouble on the road, he began moving himself in my general direction. Now, the thing to know is, he's coming from New Mexico, which is not just around the corner from where I am. Upon hearing that I was not to be moving under my own power that day, he got a uhaul trailer and started heading east. At 4pm, he made it to my hotel, and we loaded my broken beast, grabbed a bite to eat, and headed west in the hopes that the Las Cruces area might have a bike shop open on a Saturday, even though it was the weekend of New Years.
Roger is THE MAN.
2 January, 2009
We're in Las Cruces, and while there's bike shops aplenty, nobody's open who has even the most remote chance of helping me. That is, the only place that's open is the local Harley shop, and their tooling and expertise is so outside a Japanese I-4 engine, it might as well not be there at all. So we keep rolling west, and I get ahold of a place in Deming, New Mexico, that says they can help.
So we roll into this tiny little town, with a tiny little bike shop, and meet three mechanics who crack open my engine and take a look.
The news is not good.
I learned an expensive lesson today. Apparently when you run a Honda at 75mph for 5 days, things loosen up and oil blows by. It was dry. Cams were dry. Dipstick was dry. At home, commuting, this is not a problem. The single 400 mile days I've done in the past are not a drain on the system. 5 days are, I guess. The verdict was $1500 minimum for a top job and lord knows how long to do it. I put the Honda back on Roger's trailer, he's taking it home with him, and we'll either figure out a cheaper way to fix it later or part it out. I wrote a check (and thank God I had the funds at this moment to do it) for an '88 BMW K75 they had on the floor, and am back on the road headed for Phoenix.
There was some thought involved, in translating my packing system for the Honda, to the BMW... but I managed, somehow.
My hero:
Seriously. I owe this guy a lot.
So now what? I'm on an overloaded new-t0-me bike, headed west again, under my own power. I'd tossed the idea around for a while about getting rid of the Honda for something more dirt-worthy, like a KLR or KTM, but now that it's gone, I miss it terribly. I suppose the betrayal of a mechanical problem, and the forced buy of the BMW has something to do with it, but still... that was a good bike. Until it stranded me. All for the lack of checking oil in Texas on my rest day, like I should have. Expensive lesson, indeed.
As I continued west, I realized how much I missed the desert. I lived in southern Arizona for a year, and eastern Washington for 3, and love the big vistas, the dryness, and the sunsets. I was not disappointed as I crested a ridge in Arizona.
What a beautiful place.
I rolled into Phoenix late that night, and stayed with my wife's aunt and her family, who I hadn't seen in some years... but they were entirely supportive, and curious of my trip, so we stayed up late visiting, and I took my time in the morning getting out of there.
3 January, 2009
Only one day left on the road, so I was in no rush now for this whole gut-wrenching trip to be over.
I did make a little time to get lunch at a place in Phoenix I'd heard about, the Heart Attack Grill. The Double Bypass Burger was nice, but the fries, cooked in pure lard, were the best I've had in this country. I won't compare them to German pomme frites, because those are just in a class of their own, but it was tasty.
As the afternoon drew on, I had more of the gorgeous Arizona and California deserts to enjoy.
And as daylight waned, I went through the wind farms at Palm Springs, through the pass at Baning, and finally into my destination, Redlands. Move-in is tomorrow, so I grab a hotel to crash for the night, and revel in the fact that I made it.
Wow. What a trip.
4 January, 2009
Move-in day, time to see my home for the next 50 weeks.
Cinderblock construction, no insulation, one A/C in the bedroom to combat the 110 degrees the summer can bring. At least there's a carport for the bike.
And the grass will never be greener than this, I fear.
That said, I have an outstanding view of San Bernardino Mountain, which is my escape place for when the weather's too hot, or the classwork demands a quick break, a little mountain paradise that's 30 degrees cooler and 7000 feet higher than here.
So there it is, my journey of nearly 3000 miles, 2 bikes, 11 states. And I made it on time, if a little over budget. I cannot thank my hosts along the way enough, nor can I throw Roger in with the rest... talk about going beyond the call of duty for a friend. It was adventure I wanted, and Adventure is what I got. Leaving the day after Christmas was hard, but I'm glad I built in the buffer days "just in case" because I needed them. Class started the day after I got into the apartment, and it's been 2 weeks of settling in now.
So as the rest of the country enjoys freezing winter weather, I give you this, a little California Sunshine from my front door.
I did keep a journal in near-real-time, and offer it now for your amusement:
7 Days, 11 States, and for a 9-5 cubicle dweller like me, it's the biggest Adventure I've done yet. The mission: get from Alexandria VA, to Redlands CA, in time to start the 2009 Masters of Science in GIS program at the University of Redlands. Government sponsored, pure pork I'm told; my workplace covers my salary, and tuition, perdiem, travel, and books are all paid from the earmark. I'll be in California most of 2009, then come home in time for Christmas next year with a shiny new diploma.The weapon: A 1992 Honda CB750 Nighthawk. No platinum-studded BMW GS, no knobbied KTM, no cheapskate KLR... this is using what you got. And the venerable honda is what I got. The route: Northern Virginia to inmate NCJ in Charlotte NC, to somewhere around the GA/AL border, to inmate DWalt in Liberty MS, to another friend's in Dallas TX, to somewhere on the TX/NM state line, to an aunt in Phoenix, into Redlands CA.
26 December, 0930, and I'm off. If you see this thing on the road, don't call the cops.
Riding down to North Carolina, and away from my family was the lowest-mileage but hardest day I think I had on the whole trip. The entire first half of the day my mind wandered, drawn back to home, and what I was leaving behind. While I recognize that I have it good, and have little to complain about, it was the hardest thing I've done in a while. It took until after lunch on a bitter cold day to finally start focusing on the road. Not focusing is a danger when you're on a motorcycle, as it really requires complete concentration.
As light began to fade, I found my hosts for the evening tucked away on over 20 acres of beautiful forest and pasture. Jay and Sally are both motorcycle people, and were happy to take me in for the night. We shared stories of family, of plans, and of tales from the road. They marveled at the leap I was taking, and I was jealous of the life they're living now. Everybody has to walk their own path.
27 December, 2008
While the night was chilly, I woke to a room warmed by a terrific fireplace and a great breakfast.
Being riders themselves, Jay and Sally followed me out of town... whether to make sure I was safe, or didn't eat them out of their pantry, I'll never be certain. Jay's mean with a skillet.
(pic courtesy of Sally on the back)
Yes, I was loaded for bear.
Today was a day for making miles. My wimp-goal was to get to "somewhere between Atlanta and Birmingham", preferable on the Alabama side. The further I go, the more time I have in Mississippi, where I have other friends. The additional motivation is that there's a line of water from the gulf coast to the great lakes on the radar, heading east, and I didn't want to get caught in it. So, the plan is, ride as far as you can today, hole up during the weather, and visit folks tomorrow.
I got clear to Mississippi, under clear skies and an open road.
Spent the night in a town called Meridian, had a steak at a local joint, and unpacked the bike in anticipation of the storm front. And boy, did it blow hard. Sideways rain, heavy winds, for several hours that evening. I am so glad to have timed it well.
28 December, 2008
Time to repack the bike, and meet some friends. First, another "Jay" who lives on the Gulf Coast in Dimondhead invited me down. Jay is also a GIS geek like me, and teaches, and I've had the pleasure of meeting him on both coasts... seeemed proper to make it all three. As I drove south, a few wisps of the night's storm sprinkled me, but I am not made of sugar. All is well.
Jay and I had a visit, a hot chocolate, and then he took me for a quick little tour of the Mississippi coast, still showing the aftermath of Katrina over 3 years later. It broke my heart to see the wave of destruction, the high-water marks still visible on what homes were left, and the remnants of the foundataions of homes swept away by the storm. There are parts of that area that will never recover. But the beauty of the area explained to me why people still choose to live there.
Rememer that wisp of the storm I mentioned? Not 5 minutes after I took my leave of Jay, God decided to flush his toilet on my head. I endured the most bone-soaking rain I've ever ridden through, for 200 miles, on my way to the evening's final destination in Amite County.
If you are not familiar with the great Southern comedian, Jerry Clower, google the man and listen to some of his stories. My host for the evening was Walt Ledbetter, located just a few miles west of Liberty, Mississippi. I first met Walt last summer at another motorcycle buddy's birthday party, and Walt is one of the more interesting people I've had the pleasure to spend time with. When he's not busy on offshore oil rigs, he's hunting his land, building up his home, and raising his family to be independant and strong. The force of character in this fellow is amazing, and I was honored to meet his father, wife, children, and hunting buddies.
You see, they were out for deer that evening as I rolled in, soggy from hours of torrential rain. This is what they pull out of their forest:
And then Walt turns it into tastey little morsels. These are breaded and deep-friend backstrap fillets.
I'm sorry if you're a vegetarian, but I like what I like. And what I liked just as much as the venison, was Walt's duck. Having taken a few over the last week, he proceeded to butterfly the breast meat, stuff it with a slice of Jalepeno, and a slice of cream cheese, and wrap it with bacon. Then grill the things.
Oh, I was having such a fine time.
So I changed into dry clothes, ate, and visited with some of the south's finest until the wee hours. Despite the rain, this was one of the best days of the trip so far.
29 December, 2008
Time to make tracks again. Walt gave me directions to enjoy the route west, via Liberty Road (which I cannot praise highly enough). It was such a good trip, I forgot to take pictures most of the way, and any rider can tell you that those are usually the best roads. You find yourself engaged with the pavement, lost in the scenery, and immersed in your journey... so much that to stop and document it would spoil the experience. The gentle reader will just have to understand.
I did make one opportunity to catch the sunset as I made my way into east Texas, though, as I approached Dallas for the night.
As I threaded my way around the south side of town, I found my lodgings in the form of a friend I hadn't seen in over 5 years. He and his wife since had a son, who takes much of their time and attention, along with the dog. It was here that I would take a rest day, which was much needed at this point.
30 December, 2008
Resting in Dallas. Catching up with the family on the phone. Sightseeing in Dallas; in the space of 10 minutes, I saw the grassy knoll, and a demonstration on behalf of the Palestinian people in Gaza. Life goes on, I suppose.
31 December, 2008
Back on the road, now. I hope to make Las Cruces for the night, but getting from here to the other side of Texas is over 600 miles, longer than any day I've driven so far, including the marathon North Carolina-South Carolina-Georgia-Alabama-Mississippi day.
This part of Texas, west of Dallas, struck me as beautiful, and resembling Africa.
Then there were the wind farms. Thousands of towers, covering the landscape. I hope they're doing something for our energy needs. Interesting to look at, not sure if I'd want to live in the shadow of these things, though.
Noon: Problem with the bike.
Some thing just went wrong. Sounds like it may be the cam chain, very clanky high in the engine and I lost a lot of power. I'm on the side of I-20 westbound, just before Colorado City. An empty spot nearly 100 miles from anywhere.
The miracle of modern wireless communications means I'm on the internet, searching for bike shops, posting my trouble to the motorcycle forum I frequent, and calling around for help.
Officer Wood of the highway patrol stops to see what's up, and helps me by contacting a local wrecker. And while he refused to pose, he said I could use the car in the picture. Something about "not wanting to be famous on the internet." Heh heh.
There's a bike shop in Sweetwater, but they can't help at all. So I'm on a wrecker to Midland, at $1.25/mile, both ways, plus $40 hookup charge. 90 miles away. It's 70 miles back to Abilene, and nearly 100 miles north to Lubbock and 100 miles south to San Angelo. Might as well keep heading west.
Oh, I could just cry at the sight of that.
So my tow truck driver drops me off at some Travelodge in Midland, Texas, on New Year's Eve. Bike shop is closed. I called home, ordered a pizza, and settled in for the night. There was a party going on a few rooms down, must have been the only other people in the hotel that night.
1 January, 2009
I woke up and dressed in time to check out the bike shop, where I had spoken to someone on the phone the day before. I was under the impression that they would be open today. This was not the case. I shouldn't be surprised, but really... why me? Middle of nowhere, a schedule to keep, and class to start in just a few days. I don't need this.
Enter, my new best friend.
Roger is a (yet another) motorcycle friend who I've known for some years now. This network is beginning to get handy. Unfortunately he lost his wife to illness last year, but the upside is that he has a lot of free time now, being retired and mobile. At the first hint of my trouble on the road, he began moving himself in my general direction. Now, the thing to know is, he's coming from New Mexico, which is not just around the corner from where I am. Upon hearing that I was not to be moving under my own power that day, he got a uhaul trailer and started heading east. At 4pm, he made it to my hotel, and we loaded my broken beast, grabbed a bite to eat, and headed west in the hopes that the Las Cruces area might have a bike shop open on a Saturday, even though it was the weekend of New Years.
Roger is THE MAN.
2 January, 2009
We're in Las Cruces, and while there's bike shops aplenty, nobody's open who has even the most remote chance of helping me. That is, the only place that's open is the local Harley shop, and their tooling and expertise is so outside a Japanese I-4 engine, it might as well not be there at all. So we keep rolling west, and I get ahold of a place in Deming, New Mexico, that says they can help.
So we roll into this tiny little town, with a tiny little bike shop, and meet three mechanics who crack open my engine and take a look.
The news is not good.
I learned an expensive lesson today. Apparently when you run a Honda at 75mph for 5 days, things loosen up and oil blows by. It was dry. Cams were dry. Dipstick was dry. At home, commuting, this is not a problem. The single 400 mile days I've done in the past are not a drain on the system. 5 days are, I guess. The verdict was $1500 minimum for a top job and lord knows how long to do it. I put the Honda back on Roger's trailer, he's taking it home with him, and we'll either figure out a cheaper way to fix it later or part it out. I wrote a check (and thank God I had the funds at this moment to do it) for an '88 BMW K75 they had on the floor, and am back on the road headed for Phoenix.
There was some thought involved, in translating my packing system for the Honda, to the BMW... but I managed, somehow.
My hero:
Seriously. I owe this guy a lot.
So now what? I'm on an overloaded new-t0-me bike, headed west again, under my own power. I'd tossed the idea around for a while about getting rid of the Honda for something more dirt-worthy, like a KLR or KTM, but now that it's gone, I miss it terribly. I suppose the betrayal of a mechanical problem, and the forced buy of the BMW has something to do with it, but still... that was a good bike. Until it stranded me. All for the lack of checking oil in Texas on my rest day, like I should have. Expensive lesson, indeed.
As I continued west, I realized how much I missed the desert. I lived in southern Arizona for a year, and eastern Washington for 3, and love the big vistas, the dryness, and the sunsets. I was not disappointed as I crested a ridge in Arizona.
What a beautiful place.
I rolled into Phoenix late that night, and stayed with my wife's aunt and her family, who I hadn't seen in some years... but they were entirely supportive, and curious of my trip, so we stayed up late visiting, and I took my time in the morning getting out of there.
3 January, 2009
Only one day left on the road, so I was in no rush now for this whole gut-wrenching trip to be over.
I did make a little time to get lunch at a place in Phoenix I'd heard about, the Heart Attack Grill. The Double Bypass Burger was nice, but the fries, cooked in pure lard, were the best I've had in this country. I won't compare them to German pomme frites, because those are just in a class of their own, but it was tasty.
As the afternoon drew on, I had more of the gorgeous Arizona and California deserts to enjoy.
And as daylight waned, I went through the wind farms at Palm Springs, through the pass at Baning, and finally into my destination, Redlands. Move-in is tomorrow, so I grab a hotel to crash for the night, and revel in the fact that I made it.
Wow. What a trip.
4 January, 2009
Move-in day, time to see my home for the next 50 weeks.
Cinderblock construction, no insulation, one A/C in the bedroom to combat the 110 degrees the summer can bring. At least there's a carport for the bike.
And the grass will never be greener than this, I fear.
That said, I have an outstanding view of San Bernardino Mountain, which is my escape place for when the weather's too hot, or the classwork demands a quick break, a little mountain paradise that's 30 degrees cooler and 7000 feet higher than here.
So there it is, my journey of nearly 3000 miles, 2 bikes, 11 states. And I made it on time, if a little over budget. I cannot thank my hosts along the way enough, nor can I throw Roger in with the rest... talk about going beyond the call of duty for a friend. It was adventure I wanted, and Adventure is what I got. Leaving the day after Christmas was hard, but I'm glad I built in the buffer days "just in case" because I needed them. Class started the day after I got into the apartment, and it's been 2 weeks of settling in now.
So as the rest of the country enjoys freezing winter weather, I give you this, a little California Sunshine from my front door.
Friday, December 26, 2008
On The Road
The bike is packed, the kids have been hugged, and I'm on my way. I'll travel across Virginia today, into North Carolina, and stay with a motorcycle buddy and fellow metalsmith. If the drive goes well, I'll be there by dinnertime.
No turning back now.
No turning back now.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Packing Sucks
It's 2am, and the day before Christmas. I was supposed to have my stuff in the mail by now, and it just hasn't happened yet. Chief among reasons, the laundry isn't all done yet.
The bike is ready, the office is learning to live without me, and my kids are focused on Christmas... and the pains of last week are diminishing, a bit.
I just need to get a dozen boxes to UPS in 8 hours, have lunch with a colleague, and then I can chill out for another day and a half. Then it's time to hit the road.
Now let's hope the weather gods smile upon me...
The bike is ready, the office is learning to live without me, and my kids are focused on Christmas... and the pains of last week are diminishing, a bit.
I just need to get a dozen boxes to UPS in 8 hours, have lunch with a colleague, and then I can chill out for another day and a half. Then it's time to hit the road.
Now let's hope the weather gods smile upon me...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Murphy Lives
The to-do list is not shrinking.
In fact, it's growing.
I have 11 days until I leave, and I'm not sure everything will get done by then. The kids are getting riled up, I'm stressing out, and there was nearly a foot of snow on my intended route this week.
I'd ask if it could get worse, but I already know the answer.
... keeping my fingers crossed...
In fact, it's growing.
I have 11 days until I leave, and I'm not sure everything will get done by then. The kids are getting riled up, I'm stressing out, and there was nearly a foot of snow on my intended route this week.
I'd ask if it could get worse, but I already know the answer.
... keeping my fingers crossed...
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Preface
I have been handed a golden opportunity. A free ride, so to speak, to get a Masters of Science degree in my field, Geographic Information Systems (GIS). It is a 50-week long program, away from home and hearth, leaving my kids behind, walking away from my career for a year, all for the sake of higher education.
I'm thrilled. No, really.
It is a bittersweet experience. I won't likely get promoted just for having the degree, which is the first question everyone's been asking me. It will make me better at my job, and will be an enriching experience, no doubt... but it comes at great sacrifice. I spent a year away from my wife while I was in the army 16 years ago, and it was a living hell. I drank, fell in with a bad crowd, and almost destroyed who I was and our marriage. I'm not looking forward to being alone for so long.
In this blog, I will likely not discuss the intimate details of my family troubles, or the academic content of my education, but rather the every-day experiences that give it all color and verve. Like, enjoying a single classroom for a whole year, with instructors coming to you. Better pick the right chair on day one. Or, living with your classmates in the same campus-owned apartments all year, sharing the same coin-op laundry and swimming pool.
I am not the world's most sociable person. Survivor contestants have to put up with each other for 39 days, there's a great prize at the end, and you can vote off who you don't like. I will not get rich, must endure for 341 days, and nobody gets voted out because they copied your idea or crapped in the pool. The Myers-Briggs personality test asks a question, "When you attend a party, do you mingle freely with the guests, or hang by the wall?" I always want to write-in a response, "What party?" So consider this blog a social experiment in me shedding inhibition, and exercising my inner-extrovert.
The worst part about this golden-egg moment, is the timing. I leave home the day after Christmas. For a father of young daughters, I cannot adequately convey the suckage this represents. My middle one, who is nine, now associates Christmas with me leaving, and convulses in tears if she dwells on the thought for more than 2.8 seconds. I'm certain things will improve once I'm gone, and we have cell phones and web video chats to keep in touch with, and I have big plans for a late summer bash in the works... but none of that makes up for a father leaving his children behind. The only salve I have, is that other fathers have left their families for myriad reasons, and mine is of the noble sort. The lesson here, is that education, especially on someone else's dime, is in fact that important. So is leaving a family to go earn a living that drags them up from the depths of poverty, or tries to strike out a brighter future for them. I can only hope, that in the end, it will be worth it from my children's perspective. At least I'm not dumping them for a Vegas Showgirl or a mid-life crisis because I "can't handle it." Those unmanly men disgust me, and I have no pity for the shame they bear.
Next, I will describe my preparations prior to departure, the trip itself, and ultimately the experience at school. I hope you enjoy the ride.
I'm thrilled. No, really.
It is a bittersweet experience. I won't likely get promoted just for having the degree, which is the first question everyone's been asking me. It will make me better at my job, and will be an enriching experience, no doubt... but it comes at great sacrifice. I spent a year away from my wife while I was in the army 16 years ago, and it was a living hell. I drank, fell in with a bad crowd, and almost destroyed who I was and our marriage. I'm not looking forward to being alone for so long.
In this blog, I will likely not discuss the intimate details of my family troubles, or the academic content of my education, but rather the every-day experiences that give it all color and verve. Like, enjoying a single classroom for a whole year, with instructors coming to you. Better pick the right chair on day one. Or, living with your classmates in the same campus-owned apartments all year, sharing the same coin-op laundry and swimming pool.
I am not the world's most sociable person. Survivor contestants have to put up with each other for 39 days, there's a great prize at the end, and you can vote off who you don't like. I will not get rich, must endure for 341 days, and nobody gets voted out because they copied your idea or crapped in the pool. The Myers-Briggs personality test asks a question, "When you attend a party, do you mingle freely with the guests, or hang by the wall?" I always want to write-in a response, "What party?" So consider this blog a social experiment in me shedding inhibition, and exercising my inner-extrovert.
The worst part about this golden-egg moment, is the timing. I leave home the day after Christmas. For a father of young daughters, I cannot adequately convey the suckage this represents. My middle one, who is nine, now associates Christmas with me leaving, and convulses in tears if she dwells on the thought for more than 2.8 seconds. I'm certain things will improve once I'm gone, and we have cell phones and web video chats to keep in touch with, and I have big plans for a late summer bash in the works... but none of that makes up for a father leaving his children behind. The only salve I have, is that other fathers have left their families for myriad reasons, and mine is of the noble sort. The lesson here, is that education, especially on someone else's dime, is in fact that important. So is leaving a family to go earn a living that drags them up from the depths of poverty, or tries to strike out a brighter future for them. I can only hope, that in the end, it will be worth it from my children's perspective. At least I'm not dumping them for a Vegas Showgirl or a mid-life crisis because I "can't handle it." Those unmanly men disgust me, and I have no pity for the shame they bear.
Next, I will describe my preparations prior to departure, the trip itself, and ultimately the experience at school. I hope you enjoy the ride.
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