Tree Girl

So moving out of our house was not so much fun. There was cleaning galore. You should have seen the ridiculous multiple page list of our responsibilities. It included items like cleaning behind the oven. This, by the way, was something that neither the previous tenants nor the rental company had done. It was quite evident by the accumulated filth that my wife cleaned from behind said appliance--filth that obviously predated us.

Anyway, we left the house exceedingly clean both inside and outside. This included hours of weeding* outside and lots of cleaning inside. This was based on two very important reasons: 1) our belief you should leave a place in at least as good of condition as you found it and 2) the fact that we wanted our entire security deposit back.

All this to say that my favorite part of the entire marathon cleaning event may have been the removal of Garrett's swing from the back yard tree. Lori's dad had climbed the tree and affixed the ropes. When it came time to get the ropes down, it was Lori who climbed to undo her dad's project.



I have to say that I volunteered to adventure up through the branches, however, my wife who knows my general fear of heights, decided that she should be the one to scurry up into the foliage.
I have to say that I was proud of my wife. I don't know many other mothers who climb out onto brances to untie knots and rescue ropes. Garrett was impressed. Then again, Garrett wanted to climb the tree as well. Of course, he's related to his mom, who is related to her dad.

Black Friday

Today is that day when shopping meets crazy sale meets absolute mayhem.

I've always thought it was kind of fun to watch people go absolutely nuts. Of course its also extremely pathetic. You know the spirit of Christmas shouldn't be typified by two suburban housewives playing an obscenity laden tug of war over tickle me elmo or whatever else is the toy of the year.

As such scenes aren't far too common, I was listening to the radio today and heard a sound clip from the archive of about cabbage patch dolls mania from 25 years ago. One lady who lost out on her search proclaimed angrily, "what am I supposed to tell my kids, that Santa ran out?"

My thought was, "How bout you don't get everything you want you sniveling little brat. Enjoy your Barbie doll and sweater from grandma. If you aren't grateful for those gifts I'll take them back and donate the money to the community food closet."

OK, probably not the most sympathetic response, but when did we raise kids that they should expect to get WHATEVER they want WHENEVER they want. I'm guessing 25 years ago, juding from the clip. Maybe if we had taught delayed gratification, thankfulness, and patience we'd be a little better off today in 2008.

Because, as I listened to the radio things got much worse. You've probably heard the story by now. I Wal Mart employee in Long Island was trampled and killed by an unruly mob of shoppers. If you haven't read the story and need to read it yourself to believe it it's here. A witness said the people acted like "savages." I don't know but maybe that's an insult to savages. Apparently as police tried to clear out the store, people tried to continue shopping, unfazed by the dead man. One person responded, "I've waited here all night I'm not leaving."

Something about this scened doesn't exactly ring, "Peace on earth, good will to men."

Sometimes I hate people. That's really doesn't bode well for me in my line of work.

Apparently the anti-Christmas spirit is contagious.

They will know you are my disciples by . . .

. . . your mean right hook?

Seems to me that isnt' quite what Jesus said to his followers. Nevertheless it seems to be the mantra of the religous sects occupying the holiest place in Christendom, the Church of the Holy Seplechure.

Maybe you caught the news story if not you can read it here.

Short version of the story is the Armenian Monks and the Greek Monks got into a brawl over who was allowed in whose area or something. Punches were thrown. Arrests were made. The Israeli police had to be called in to break up the fight.

Anyway, six different Christian sects lay claim to various portions of the church. They don't get along. They're all to busy fighting over their little piece of the pie. This quote from the article proves the point:

The Israeli governement has long wanted to build a fire exit in the church, which regularly fills with thousands of pilgrims and has only one main door, but the plan is on hold because the sects cannot agree where the exit will be built. In another example, a ladder placed on a ledge over the entrance sometime in the 19th century has remained there ever since because of a dispute over who has the authority to take it down. More recently, a spat between Ethiopian and Coptic Christians is delaying badly needed renovations to a rooftop monastery that engineers say could collapse.

I'm sure that Jesus is not pleased. This does not seem to reflect the Man I read about in the Bible, it doesn't seem to be in line with his teaching. I'm sure it's incidents like this that helped contribute to Dan Merchant writing his book: Lord Save Us From Your Followers.

I'd be doubled over laughing over the situation if it wasnt' so sad.

A change in the air

The other day we elected a new President. He ran on a platform of change. I really wish that Mother Nature wouldn't have bought in so wholeheartedly, and immediately changed the weather from autumn to winter. My wife was less than amused. She wrote a blog-letter to our state bemoaning the current situation. You can see it here.

On the other hand, my son and golden retriever were thrilled. They couldn't wait to go out and play in the cold white splendor. Here is a picture of the two of them.

The cat, on the other hand, agreed with my wife. He was less than thrilled. He spent his days indoors dreaming of spring.

Pete

I've been thinking back to High School a little bit this last week. I suppose such reminiscing might produce a series of related blogs. Then again, as often as I blog, maybe not.

It seems to me, that, even as we get older, there is a little part of us that is always back in high school.

I don't know what about that period in our lives is so defining. Maybe its just nostalgia, looking back to when things seemed simpler and easier. At least, maybe that's how it is for those of us who enjoyed that period of our lives. I know some people who hated those four years, and are glad to have left them in the past. Maybe it's different for them. I don't know.

Anyway, when I go the news last Wednesday that one of my former classmates had died, I think it kind of brought "high school Troy" out from the recesses of my mind. I like him. He's younger, more optomistic, full of possibilites, he's a lot less jaded and still has a touch of innocence.

What can I say about "Pete?" He was a year older than me. I remember him first and formost as a friend. He was a football player. He loved football. It really was a pity that his physical gifts weren't greater in that area. Don't get me wrong he did well on the high school team. As well as you could on our (at that time) dysfunctional football team, but he reminded me a little of Rudy, more heart than ability.

Pete was an overacheiver, he was loud, and crude (he told legendary lunchtime stories which are not fit for reprinting). You couldn't have attended my high school those years and not known who Pete was. He was also a loyal friend. Of course he did have some idiosycracies. Like the time he and Steve (anothe HS friend) went golfing and place bets $1 for each hole won. Steve came out ahead by 10-15 dollars. Pete tried to pay off his debt by offering him one of his old T-shirts. Steve was like, "Dude, I don't want your shirt. I want the money you owe me." Pete's answer was something like, "This is a good shirt. its worth at least the money i owe you." Steve's reply was the same as the first time.

Pete loved fishing, he loved the outdoors.

Steve & Pete were the ones who masterfully planned the Senior Class Prank I was associated with. It was amazing. Its a story for another time. A story that doesn't really translate well into subsequent decades, but for its time period . . . well, still one of my favorite High School memories.


I don't think that I'd seen Pete in over ten years, maybe fifteen, when I got the call. I know he had been a teacher in Alaska, he had a law degree, he was teaching in Eastern Oregon, he had even written a book.

It's just not the way things are supposed to end, ya know. Not at all the way I pictured things to turn out when I was still a high school junior and the entire world was in front of us. Pete was supposed to live forever. We were all supposed to live forever. It definitely wasn't suppopsed to shake down this way.

My prayers are with his family.

Anyway I read the newspaper article a few days back. It's probably pointless reading unless you knew Pete. It made me sad.

http://www.eastoregonian.info/main.asp?Search=1&ArticleID=84525&SectionID=13&SubSectionID=48&S=1

I think in the reading I became just a little more disconected with who I used to be, and my memories of back then lost little more of their innocence.

Stupidity in Nike & San Francisco

(Original Article followed by UPDATE at the end)

I'm not a distance runner. I only follow Track & Field during the Olympics every four years. So, I can't believe I'm commenting on a story about a Marathon.

Some things are just to stupid to explain, like when the fastest runner in a race doesn't win. It's especially stupid when a person runs the race according to the rules. The fastest runner wins, get it? Apparently the San Francisco Marathon & Nike didn't get the memo.

In case you didn't catch the original article, here's the link:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/10/21/BAUC13L3GQ.DTL&nopu=1

So here's the deal. The city of San Francisco & Nike look like idiots. This is because the woman who ran the fastest time wasn't allowed to win. Arien O'Connell wasn't allowed to win because she wasn't in the "elite" group. She didn't consider herself an elite competitor. Makes sense, after all the recent Olympic winner ran a half hour faster than O'Connell's time.

The organizers say she should have declared herself elite. I think maybe none of the other runners should have been allowed to be declared elite.

In other sports when their are separate heats or flights, it doesn't matter if you aren't in the fastest group. Fastest times still win/advance.

I could go on and on, I'll just let you fill in the blanks.

I want to finish this by saying I have always loved Nike. Nike is based in Oregon and grew up as a company as I was growing up as a person. I love the quality of the product. That said, Nike used to be about the athlete. They used to be for those outside the establishement. Now, it appears the company is about red tape, the establishment and bureacracy. Bill Bowerman and Steve Prefontaine might be rolling over in their graves. Shame on Nike. Shame on San Francisco.

I hope Jon Hendershott from Track and Field News Magazine.writes a cover article about the ridiculous city and ridiculous company who screwed up this race.

As far as I'm concerned, congratulations Arien O'Connell

UPDATE:

Apparently Nike has realized the error of its ways and recognized Arien O'Connell as "a winner" complete with prize money.

The link follows:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/10/22/BACI13MAIT.DTL

Kind of appropriate that a company named after the goddess of victory would want to recognize the actual victor.

Thar Might Be Pirates

Apparently my house is crawling with scurvy pirates looking for plunder. There's a wee one about pillaging and searching for burried treasure. He says things like "Yo Ho" and "Arrgh!" I'm afraid to cross him, lest I be forced walk the plank or might find myself being keel dragged from his piratey vessel.

Now this certain pirate doesn't have a peg-leg or a parrot. He doesn't have tattoos or natsy battle scars, but he does have a fierce scowl that can cause the salitest old sea dog to shake with fear.

Then again, he doesn't want gold or stolen mayan treasure. He's more interested in pilfering a Capri Sun juice box from the pantry or chapstick from the bathroom. His eye patch and hook are just a fashion statements, and his most notable acts of cruelty are attempting to ride the Golden Retriever like a pony.

I suppose if this is the depths of is wanton behavior, I won't have to go reporting him to the port authorities. I dont' exaclty want him put in irons. I kind of like having him around.

A gray and rainy sort of heaven.

I spent last week in Oregon. Most people think of Oregon and immediately picture gray clouds and rain. Truth be told, this sterotype does have some basis in reality. Though actually this only applies to the western half of the state. Nevertheless, even if it weren't true, Oregonians would perpetuate the myth to keep the state to themsleves. I digress . . .

Instead of being dreary or depressing, I find the clouds to be relaxing, contemplative. Its perfect for sleeping in, reading a book, or going for a run. I love what the rain does. It makes everything green, it grows moss and ferns, it makes rivers and creeks. Scenery comes with a price. Along the Southern California coastline this price is financial (and of course dealing with crowds and traffic). In Oregon the price is paid by enduring rainy winters and sometimes springs, and sometimes autumns. Anyway, I love it. I don't know what it is, I guess you live there long enough (I grew up there) and it gets in your blood.

For several years I lived in California. On those rare days when it would rain I would often go outside and stand and allow the raindrops to fall on my head. For those moments, I felt like I was home.

Now I live in Utah. Most of my family is still in Oregon. The rest of it is in San Diego. We don't get to see each other near as often as we'd like. We were always very close. We still are. It's just now that this closeness is separated by distance. Anyway, this last week we were all back together to celebrate my mom's birthday. It was a great trip. It was great to be home. It was even better to be with family. It was so much fun to catch up while watching our spawn play together. Can't believe how quickly the years have gone by.

Incedently, the word gray is peculiar. It is correctly spelled "grey" and "gray." I try to vary my spelling so as not to show favoritism to either option.

For my wife

This is for my wife, a die hard Charger fan, who is in mourning.

It's pretty obvious that two blown calls led to two touchdowns for the Broncos. Thus, the final score (to me) is San Diego 38 Denver 25 Officials 14. Two bad it was two teams against one.

That's not saying that the officials were cheating, just that they were inept when it mattered most. That's not saying the Broncos were bad. They played a very good game. HOWEVER:

1) The fumble that led to the first touchdown was clearly NOT A FUMBLE. The receiver was down by contact before the ball came out. The replay machine (mysteriously) wasn't working for two minutes, thus play stands as called on the field. This is not the opinion of a San Diego homer, I'm a Seattle fan. I would write a blog on the Seahawks dismal start but it is, presently, still too painful.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY,

2) Cutler's fumble at the end of the play was ruled an incomplete pass. It was clearly a fumble recovered by San Diego.

To quote Trent Dilfer on Sportscenter, "I wish I had something clever to say but I don't. Wow. That was clearly a fumble. You'd think with replay and everything we have in place you could get that call right."

I looked for the referee's name on NFL.com. I couldn't find it. I wanted to tell him he might want to read a certain persons blog so he could be warned: A certain person I know might be coming to his house to punch him in the face.

It's really a sad thing to see a great match-up marred by bad officiating. Makes me remember Superbowl XL. Think I've let that go? Of course not. I'm a Seahawks fan.

About my blog.

This is my blog. I'm not writing with the expectation that I will be entertaining a horde of readers. I am writing for my own purposes and entertainment. Any comments I make will be biased, based upon my random observations, and, at times, make completely no sense to anyone except the writer. So if you wish to check in from time to time, feel free. Just keep in mind that there are probably several million more engaging writers blogging in cyberspace. Of course my wife and other family members may enjoy some of my posts, but really I writing this blog for myself.

Just one more thing. Obviously the title of this blog is in reference to the Trojan War. When you grow up with the name "Troy" and have a natural interest in history such an allusion is completely natural. There is no deeper hidden meaning. I do, however, wish to point out that my realization that Helen was the queen not princess of Sparta. I also realize that she went willingly and was not stolen (except perhaps from her husband). Nevertheless, for the subheading, I still think "stolen princess" has a much better ring to it that "runaway queen." You can disagree if you like.

Well that's it. Welcome. I'm happy to be joining the blogosphere.