6-30-04
One of my students from last quarter saw me in the lab today for the first time in a couple weeks and waved me over. She is one of my favorite students due to her devotion to her studies. She excels at everything she tries, and is usually very critical of even her best work. In short, she is quite a lot like me.

 "Hi Mark, how are you doing? Say, how did I do on my final project last quarter?"

"Well, you did get your grade didn't you?" I said, beginning to worry but knowing I'd given her an A+.

"Oh, I saw my grade all right", she said, smiling brightly. "What I'm wondering is what did you write in the online grading form?"

"What, you mean you guys actually read my online grading comments?"

"Oh yes. Mark, we all love your comments and look forward to reading what you have to say about our work. I was sure you would have some suggestions for me about the lack of a clear directional light on my fish illustration."

"No, I loved your fish. In fact, I didn't just write a comment, I wrote a short story, three or four paragraphs."

"Really! Gee, I'm sorry I missed that. Maybe I could get D. to open up the database for last quarter so I could read it."

"No, don't worry, I remember that fish so well I can paraphrase. Here's what I wrote", I said smiling at her and the six other eavesdropping students as I retold the story.

"Back when I was entering my paintings in contests for the prize money, we would all bring in our seascapes trying to capture the perfect wave. I'd labor for hours stroking in the color and usually come up with an acceptable seascape. However, there would always be someone (they usually won) who would bring in not only a stunning seascape with an excellent wave, but they would have a boat out on the horizon with full sails bowling along in the evening breeze."

"They had mastered the wave so perfectly that they were able to go far beyond a simple wave and tell a complete story about the sea, a sailboat and a stormy night of dangerous sailing."

"That's what your fish reminded me of: you had mastered my simple little fish illustration lesson so completely that you soared beyond it into the realm of imagination, creating a medieval fish with subtle textures and woven scales...and the bones in the fins...I was really impressed!"

"Well, thanks!" she said and wandered back to her computer.

As I walked into my office I reflected on all the extra time I spend on the grading process, agonizing over what to say about their work. How do you grade someone's creative effort when they have clearly poured their heart into the project, but it just doesn't cut the mustard in the highly competitive design arena?
      This particular student has nothing to worry about. She is an awesome designer and will go far. However, I have many more students who have a hard time hitting their stride. Grading their work is very challenging. They are giving it all they have, not slacking at all, but in some cases the magic just isn't there. It's hard to say anything without sounding patronizing, yet I have to say something.
       Actually, sometimes, especially if I am tired, I leave the comment section blank. As my mom used to tell me and my brother, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
       I recently spent $82 on a hard drive enclosure. When pay day rolled around I bought a 120 gig drive to put inside the firewire/usb enclosure and tried to back up my system. I'd heard Norton Ghost was reliable, but after 3 tries I gave up. The error messages it throws are written in geek-speak. I'd done my research, read the manual, watched the tutorial and just couldn't figure it out.
       I went online and did some research only to find that I wasn't the only one hating Norton Ghost. Turns out the only people who can tolerate it are the old dos users. Several reviews, and a couple magazines gave favorable reviews to a $50 utility called Acronis True Image 7.
        I whipped out my credit card, downloaded the file and installed the program. 10 minutes later it was working flawlessly. All the wizards are super clear with not a word of geek-speak anywhere. If a dialog box popped up, it was explained in crystal clear English and the choices were logical. Nothing was assumed. It was, in fact, almost too good to be true after fighting with Norton Ghost.
       I backed up two separate systems in about an hour and a half each, including verifying a clean image afterward. The drive is so big I was able to do normal folder backups also on all three machines I normally use, plus my network storage. The external drive concept beats the heck out of burning a couple dozen dvd's. It's small and portable, easily searched, plugs into any machine, and when it becomes outdated, I can simply swap it out for a new, faster bigger drive.

6-27-04
Rootless is the best word I can think of to describe how I'm feeling this morning. There is nothing I want to do. It's not sunny outside, so there is no inspiration to go painting. I don't have a climbing partner today and they are predicting thunderstorms in the mountains anyway. I don't absolutely have to do anything work or home related, hence I find myself and my cup of flavored coffee sitting at this keyboard typing out meaningless words.
        It's a Sunday in late June. Since I've written last I started the new quarter at school and have a bunch of attendance forms and lesson plans I should be filling out and or creating, but on this Sunday morning I just don't feel up to the task.
       Last weekend we had someone call up about our minivan advertisement on autotrader.com. He called about noon and wanted to drive down from Seattle and meet us at the Tacoma mall at 3 pm. We'd not had a call in a month or two and spent the next hour frantically washing it off and cleaning out all the junk from the storage pockets.
       I've not been able to find the title but spent 45 minutes methodically going through folders where I might have accidentally miss-filed the vital paperwork for selling the old beast.
       I was unable to find it and we drove in with both cars hoping he would be willing to buy it and deal with the title later. They showed up about 15 minutes late but it was no problem as we entertained ourselves estimating the fat to skinny person ratio of people walking into Krispy Kremes.
       The buyers were a friendly couple with 4 kids who showed up in a rented 2004 Ford Explorer. The husband, a house painter, told me that they had recently sold their SUV to get out from under the high car payments and needed something immediately that had 6 seats.
       They bickered briefly over who would drive as I climbed in the back seat to await developments. As he drove he asked me the standard questions: Was anything major wrong with the car, how low would I go on the price, etc., etc. I answered his questions with reasonable honesty.
       For a car with 169,000 miles, it drives perfectly and currently has no problems. Sure, it could use more power but it's been that way since day one. A three liter engine is not enough power to pull that 7 seat minivan up a steep hill in a hurry, especially if the seats are full. Still, the smaller engine gives it decent mileage (for a minivan) of between 16 and 21 mph.
       It has had some minor transmission problems, but the last mechanic did a full flush and additive treatment that seemed to fix that, and we've not noticed any drive train problems for 6 months.
       He goosed it around the block, breaking violently enough to scare me in the back seat as he narrowly missed rear ending the car ahead. His wife cackled in the front seat but seemed used to his erratic driving. After jewing me down $50 on the price he pronounced himself ready to buy. He pulled up in the parking lot beside Sue and his kids and his wife held out a hand full of one hundred dollar bills ready to count them into my hands.
      We were so close to selling the car I could smell the ink on the green backs but I told her I had to explain a little problem with the title. We didn't have it. The bank that gave us the loan on the car was still listed as the legal owner. We paid the car off 5 years ago, but for some reason I couldn't find the title. I didn't know if the bank sent it to me only to be lost in my filing system, or the bank had never sent the title due to an error on their part.
       I saw alarm in the husbands eyes and realized we had blown the sale. He refused to take the car and part with his cash saying that there were legal ramifications, despite my reassurances that we did own it free and clear and we could work out the title issue later. We arranged to meet the following Monday at the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to sort out the details.
       He was a no show of course, but I drove down to Sound Credit Union where the loan officer gave me all the paperwork. They had indeed forgot to send me the title probably because they couldn't find it in their files. They gave me a signed and notarized "release of interest" form along with a "lost title" form which Sue and I signed and had notarized within a couple hours. We went to the DMV only to be told that a new title would take 5 weeks to arrive in the mail, but we wouldn't be able to sell the car until it arrived because we had to give all the bank papers to the DMV. The DMV clerk told us that the signed and notarized "Lost Title" form was as good as a title anyway and we might as well simply sell the car as is and let the new buyer wait the 4 weeks for the real title to arrive in the mail.
       What is really sick about trying to sell the car is that it still looks like a $19,000 ride. It's long and shiny, carries 7 people in comfort and ease anywhere we want to go. It's up to date on it's maintenance, has never failed to start and best of all, it has air conditioning. I've never had it before this car and thought it was a joke. Time, however has proven me wrong. I love that cool air.
       Call me decadent and lazy, but if you have to drive in hot weather in a stuffy metal box on wheels, air conditioning is worth it's weight in gold. I went online this morning looking for pricing on used 96 Windstars. Looks like a high mileage car like ours is worth about $2000 despite the perfect body and reliable drive train. We've got it priced at $3000. No wonder we've not had a lot of offers.
       I told Sue it was worth three grand to me as a dependable commuter so why sell it? She railroaded me into listing it, hence the bogus asking price. Ah well, such are the compromises in a long lasting marriage. I've bought an external fire wire/USB 2.0 hard drive enclosure for eighty bucks. Now I have to find a dependable hard drive to stick in there to do system back ups. Maybe I'll combine a shopping trip with a painting trip, the sun is out.

6-22-2004
This is the end of the 6 day break between spring and summer quarter. I've been having some success at living a normal, non-computer based lifestyle for a few days. Saturday I got my windsurfing gear out of storage to see if it was still usable. Surprisingly, all the sails and gear looks as good as ever and I was able to rig up and lift the sail in the back yard.
        It must have been an entertaining sight seeing me standing on my board, balancing the sail against the light summer breeze...on the grass. Looking up at the clean lines of the sail against the blue sky brought back many memories of long days down on the Columbia river, bouncing across the tops of 3 foot white caps at 20 knots.
       Both kids have expressed an interest in trying windsurfing this summer. Lisa wants to sail at the lake, but I think we will drive the 8 minutes down to the spit which has better wind and safer beaches. Even if you totally blow it down at the spit, the wind simply pushes you back onto the beach. Many is the time my tired body simply gave up and allowed the wind and waves to wash me back to shore like so much waterlogged driftwood. Because the spit is so long, I simply left the board and sail on the beach, walked up to the car and drove down to pick up the gear. (The road runs along the sand spit.)
       Sunday Sue, Lisa and I drove up to Paradise and slogged up through the 6 feet of snow to my standard painting viewpoint where I painted another of my many mountain paintings in about 4 hours. I'd set up on a 10 foot boulder sticking up out of the snow to keep my feet warm, but because it was a block off the main trail I only had two tourists come by to bother me while I worked.
       The painting went very well considering it was my first painting since last fall. It helped that I just spent 11 weeks teaching drawing. I found myself listening to my own lectures as I worked. "Empty your mind of all distractions, let your eye follow the edge and move your pencil along simultaneously trusting that your hand eye coordination is perfect. Ignore the critic in your head and let the magic of the drawing take over your mind."
       I had the usual awkwardness as I went from the finished black and white value drawing to color, but overall I'm reasonably happy with the painting. More importantly, the doing was so pleasurable that I really don't care about the finished product. In fact, I've not even looked at it since I packed it up at 6 pm Sunday evening and walked down to the car over the snow covered meadows with Lisa.
        She and Sue had visited me twice during the afternoon of painting but I'd assumed they were down at the car with their feet up. I'd become so used to being alone in my little snow covered viewpoint that I was startled to hear someone hiking up the snow nearby. When I turned around, there was Lisa, all by herself, hiking up to see how her old dad was doing...seeing as how it was father's day and all.
       Yesterday, Monday, Mark L. and I drove up to exit 38 for an afternoon of climbing. Since it was a weekday we were able to get on any route we wanted and stayed on easy stuff all day. I love days like that, cruising the gravy routes staying well within my comfort zone. It's kind of like playing a game of tennis, except you have to be very alert as mistakes on the cliff can have dangerous consequences.

6-14-2004
Clint graduated from high school yesterday at the Tacoma dome. Academically he was number twenty something in a class of 300, but to his extended family: Sue and I, my mom and dad and Sue's mom and dad he was number one. I took about 20 pictures after the ceremony using my Canon G5 and a new Quantaray flash.
       The officially approved Canon flash costs over $200. It's supposed to enable one to control the flash from within the camera. Because my funds are limited, I did some research online, talked to a few salesmen and decided to take a chance on a much more bare bones external flash sold by Kit's camera.
       It has the Canon contacts but has to be manually told the film speed and a couple other stats of the shot. It has the old fashioned sliding scale where you find the distance in feet, then look across the scale for the correct aperture setting. Getting the right sync speed on the shutter was confusing at first because this camera allows any shutter speed up to 1/250th with the flash.
      I settled on 1/200th and found through experimentation that an f stop setting of 5.6 was good for a distance of 8 feet, depending on ambient (room) light. I've done a lot of flash shooting with my old all manual Pentax paired with a manual Flash and learned that one simply has to find a good combination of shutter speed and aperture, tape it to the flash and stick with it. Who needs a $300 flash when some old fashioned thinking allows a $60 flash to work beautifully?
        Clint and his two friends pictured above left for a few days of filming and riding bmx in Canada today. Both Lisa and Sue needed cars to get to work so I was left with my bicycle. Before Clint left for his trip he drove me to the Tacoma side of the Narrow bridge from where it is an 80 minute pedal to work.
       Because I'm still on the Ethiopian diet (one hard boiled egg and a fruit bar until dinner), the ride home was challenging. It was a lovely day for a ride, excepting the stiff westerly breeze, but the lack of food hit me hard after I crossed the Narrows coming home. There was an unexpected uphill freeway off ramp that seemed to go on forever.
       It has just been opened, and as tired as I was, it seemed to stretch for miles, far steeper than any off ramp had a right to be. Each pedal was an agony, I guess you could say I "hit the wall" there for a while. Dogged persistence kept me upright, plus the knowledge that a fully stocked Fred Meyer grocery waited in the parking lot minutes ahead.
       When you are fasting, there is something supernatural about the smells of food in the air. I must have pedaled by 60 restaurants, hamburger joints and bakeries on my way home today. Rather than being torture, they were actually a treat to smell.
        My nose gets more sensitive when I am fasting, almost going into a bloodhound mode. I pedaled by a block long Langendorf bakery in South Tacoma where they must have been baking bread. The smells coming out of the bakery just about sent me to Nirvana. I know I can't eat anything, but nothing stops my bloodhound nose from becoming one with the pure smells of tasty food cooking in an oven. Ummmm. Simple pleasures for a simple (hungry) man.

6-7-2004
Went for a long bike ride today by myself. This is my day off when I usually do a lesson plan or work on freelance projects. Because this is finals week, my students are doing all the work for a change and I get a true day off. I have some freelance projects but they're all currently in holding patterns.
      Sue had driven off with my road bike, so I rode Clint's 21 speed mountain bike, without my tools and pump, also in Sue's car. It was almost liberating, not having any back up equipment. If I got a flat, I'd have to walk it. The roads were quiet, and I found myself humming an old Jackson Brown tune as I pedaled along the empty country roads.
       I've been fasting for three days, at least during breakfast and lunch. I'm still eating dinners, just nothing else. I'm enjoying getting to know hunger again. We live in such a plentiful society, most of us have forgotten what hunger feels like...at least I know I had. Being active and hungry at the same time reminds me of climbing in Leavenworth when we would go all day on an apple and a bottle of water.
       Hunger makes you focus and brings a rare clarity to the mind. My pedals took me up all the steep hills I normally ride, but instead of turning back, I continued on and rode west on poleline toward the water. This allowed me to combine what are usually two separate rides into one long one.
       Because I was on my own, I stopped at the cemetery near Victor to walk around and read the gravestones. The oldest one I saw was from 1920, but I could tell there were stones from much earlier, just not cleared out of the underbrush. I thought about my old best friend Paul as I walked through the cemetery. I don't know where he is buried, probably somewhere on Vashon Island where he lived most of his 45 years.
       When dad took us out for dinner last weekend we passed a cemetery and I asked him if that was where his mom was buried. He said no, kind of irritably and I could tell he was still a bit ticked that I hadn't come to his moms funeral ten years ago. If I had, I'd know where grandma was buried. I wouldn't mind visiting her grave...never done it. I can remember going windsurfing the day of her funeral. I was on a 9 day vacation and refused to interrupt it for a funeral.
       Oh well, so what if I'm a piss poor momma's boy. I grieved in my own fashion and didn't want to hear all the malarkey about how she was happy in heaven with the angels. She was a missionaries' wife, but mellowed over the years and didn't really care whether we believed or not, she was just happy to see us.
       Clint calls this mickey mouse diet the Ethiopian diet. I know it probably won't work, but at least it reminds me that food isn't always the answer, and can actually be the problem. If you're hungry, stick some food in your face...so easy to do here in bountiful America and look at all the fat people.

6-4-2004
My workload has dropped off quite a bit as we approach finals week. Because I've given the final lecture of the quarter to all 5 classes, now I simply have to show up each day and answer questions as they work on their finals. The part of the job that makes teaching so stressful (spending 10 hours building an eight page lesson plan on my day off) is over, at least until the next quarter starts in a couple weeks. My freelance clients are also quiet now for various reasons and I find myself with time on my hands.
       The weather has fallen into a distressingly familiar pattern of rainy weekends and sunny weekdays. This has been going on for 3 weeks now. The timing is uncanny...I'm not religious or superstitious, but I have to wonder if someone up there doesn't like us.
        We bought Sue a new bicycle for her birthday. We've needed another bicycle in the family for quite some time now. When we ride the gravel powerline road behind our development (Poleline road) I've always had to pedal my 1974 ten speed roadbike. The skinny tires make for a challenging ride on the washed out boulder field called Poleline road.
       Still, I enjoy the company and either Sue or Lisa go with me frequently enough that buying another bike seemed justified. I've had my eye on bicycle prices for about six months and figured a used bike would be the best bet. Many people are switching to aluminum framed bikes these days so there are tons of old chromoly bikes around. Unfortunately we'd either have to prowl the yard sales or drive to Seattle where there are some big used bicycle stores.
        Neither option sounded attractive, especially considering that our local bike store had new ones for the same price as a good used one, and Old Town Bikes offers free lifetime tune ups when you buy new.
       I've been fighting the weight battle familiar to people who sit in front of computers all day. I was 150 in my prime, but I've ballooned to 170 this week. 170 is easily 10 pounds of fat on my 5' 9" frame. I've decided food is the enemy. I'm trying to become one with hunger. I'll starve this damn weight off. I lost 5 pounds this week, but that could easily pack back on in a day.
       I think the basic reason I'm fat is that I eat too much food for this inactive lifestyle. Never mind that I'm in excellent aerobic shape and pedal steep hills 3 times a week with ease. I simply consume more fuel than I burn. I've shaken this paunch before and I'll do it again.

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