Incompletionism

Incompletionism (n): The practice of beginning tasks, completing the majority of the work, and leaving a small portion of the work, such as cleanup tasks, undone.

Sometimes it's hard to finish a task. Take our bedroom remodel. It's "done", but it's not. There's one three-foot length of baseboard that I somehow forgot to nail to the wall, and there are a few things that need to go on the wall. I've been calling the project "done" for months now, but it's not.

In the case of the bedroom project, the excuses are easy. There's no sense getting the hammer, nails, and nail set unless I'm also going to hang pictures. But to do that, I'd have to make sure we have enough picture hangers. And then I'd need to make sure that my wife--the one who has a vision for the room--is around so that we can figure out where to hang things. If I wanted to be diligent, I could look at the dependency graph, realize that my first step is making sure we have picture hangers, and just do that. But for some reason, I haven't yet.

Or take doing laundry. Is the laundry done when every load is clean and dry? Clean, dry, and folded? Or clean, dry, folded, put away, and the basket back to serving as a hamper? For me, it's hard to take any answer but the last. I'm actually pretty good about laundry, unless it's getting terribly late. Maybe a better example is washing dishes. I tend to leave those tough-to-wash items for later. And are the dishes really done if the drying rack is full of clean, dry dishes getting dusty?

Incompletionism can creep in at work, too. Software engineers proverbially dislike documentation, so documentation tends to be left incomplete or unpolished. Sometimes, because nobody has asked about a task, it's easy to assume it's unimportant and leave it undone.

The problem with incompletionism, for me, is that it takes away flexibility, which I value highly (*). Knowing that I have a not-quite-done bedroom project and a mostly-done bathroom project makes me reluctant to start a new remodeling project in the basement. Knowing that I have to put away a basket of laundry before getting started on this week's dirty clothes makes me reluctant to get started. Knowing the drying rack is full of dry dishes means I have to work at putting them away before washing more dishes makes any sense at all.

My incomplete projects need to be finished. When I start a new project or task, I need to finish it, including the cleanup. And I also need to show grace to those who aren't as bothered by incompletionism.


(*) My MBTI type ends with "P", which leads to a lot of "J" behaviors to ensure the flexibility that my "P" nature desires. But at the same time, it's probably my "P" nature that leads to incompletionist behavior.

First Icebike of Winter 08-09

I haven't biked much lately. I have some lame excuses, like a new job and winter arriving. Lame. So with my wife out of town (presumably having a lot of fun with a few friends shopping in Minneapolis), blustery winds, temps around 20, and snow that hasn't been completely cleaned off the roads since Wednesday (*), conditions were perfect for a ride.

After a quick breakfast and some hydration, I dug out my cold-weather gear. This is my original post-college cold-weather biking gear, illustrating my contentment with things that work, my general lack of interest in shopping, and why you try to keep me away from anyone you want to impress. My base layer is a Carhartt thermal undershirt and some off-brand thermal long underwear. I also wore some smartwool socks. Sensible so far?

On the bottom, I then add some thick gym shorts. I discovered serendipitously that they do a great job of insulating sensitive areas that would otherwise suffer from the funnel effect created by my torso and thighs. Plus they're nice padding. Over the gym shorts go my sweet teal sweatpants.

The top gets layered up with a purple long-sleeved t-shirt. I put an orange t-shirt over that for visibility. And let's be honest, that color combination just makes me look good. To keep my head warm, I use a stocking cap. Because I've never gotten around to buying a balaclava, I also wear a purple turtle-fur (synthetic fleece) neck and face warmer.

My fashion sense is amazing enough to make women faint and strong men weep.

The sensible way to ride a loop on a blustery day is to ride into the wind first. Fight the wind while you're fresh; let it help you after it starts to wear you down. Unfortunately, the roads and river aren't quite arranged nicely enough for that to work out today. So I started off at a nice clip with the wind at my back.

It didn't take too long to settle into riding on the mostly-packed snow. Once I remembered how to handle the mushy wheel-pushing sections, I was doing well. It also didn't take long to remember that the front brake needed to be used sparingly.

About four miles into the ride, I slowed down for the stop sign on Park Place at Rockwell Drive. "It's a bit icy here, so take it easy on the brakes," I thought, "especially the front. No, easy on the front!" Just as I started easing up on the front brake, the wheel started to slide. Fortunately, I got my foot down enough to ease into the fall, and gloves plus ice plus cold-weather clothes made for a barely-perceptible impact.

I hopped right back up, got back on the bike, and within a half mile, turned onto Cimmie Ave and into the wind. It was slow going. My speed dropped from 17-20 to about 13. I turned right onto Council Street. The first hundred yards weren't bad. The right lane in front of the post office was virtually unused, so my mountain bike tires grabbed nicely. But just past the post office, the road drops to two lanes. My plan was to turn onto Northbrook and head into Hiawatha. I looked back, saw a car, judged the distance to Northbrook, took a deep breath, and moved into the car tracks. Twenty seconds (or so) of hammering up to 20mph, I made my turn, just before the car caught up. I don't mind sharing the road, but I don't like being an inconvenience.

The ride along Northbrook through Hiawatha on Emmons St was an uneventful ride into a headwind. It was toward the end of Emmons St that my toes started to get cold. Luckily, I was only 15 minutes or so from home, and it was crosswind or tailwind almost the entire way.

As I passed Aegon, I did a quick check on warmth. My hands (under normal winter non-biking gloves) were almost too warm--starting to sweat after turning away from the headwind. Head-to-waist I was just fine. My legs, especially in the knee and inner-thigh-below-gym-shorts areas were cool, but not cold. Not bad. My water bottle was mostly frozen, but there's not much to do about that.

When I got home, I discovered that my toes were damp. They must have sweated or something (maybe snow melted in after I fell?). Then riding into the headwind cooled the sweat off. Either I should ride with something besides old tennis shoes on my feet, or figure out a better wind-guard.

Before I forget, even though you'll probably never read this--to the person (dude/dudette status unknown) in the Jeep (or Jeep-like vehicle) that gave a cyclist plenty of room on 42nd St near Aegon: thanks! I appreciate it.

I missed my bike. Getting back on was fun. I'm going to have to start biking to work again, and avoiding the lame excuses.

Important stats:
11.45 miles in 48:58
Winds 20-25 ENE, gusts to about 35, 20 degrees Fahrenheit
No roadkill
1 fall, no damage to self or bike
1 nice Jeep-ist


(*) After last winter, I can understand the city taking snow removal and salting/sanding easy. And in all fairness, there was a nice icy glaze Wednesday that would be tough to remove.

Green Tomato Chili

My entry in this year's ABF chili cookoff is Green Tomato Chili. It's not Chile Verde, which is based on tomatillos. It's slightly inspired by chile verde, but mostly inspired by the mountain of green tomatoes that I picked before frost killed my tomato plants. In the interests of counter space, I turned most of them into sauce while they were still green.

And what better way to use the sauce than for a chili cookoff?

• 1 quart green tomato paste (the sauce got pretty thick)
  
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 lb pork
• Several diced green tomatoes
• Several stalks celery, chopped
  
• 1/2 cup lentils, washed and rinsed
• 1 can (8 oz) Great Northern beans
• 1 4 oz can green chiles
• 1 mild green-colored chile pepper, unlabeled at the grocery store
• Sliced pickled jalapeno peppers to taste
• 1-2 tbsp dark chocolate
• Cumin, Paprika, Oregano, Chili Powder to taste
• Water as needed (to dilute tomato paste into sauce and for lentils) (about 4c)

This was entirely experimental, and most of my ingredients were selected on the basis of color (preferably green, followed by brown and white, followed by pretty much everything else).

Two years ago, Steve and I collaborated on a chili entry, aiming exclusively to win the "Most Unusual" category. I'm aiming at that category this year, but I'm also not actively trying to avoid winning the "Best Overall" category, for a change.

Better Sound, through Sight

Of all the things that differentiate sound guys (1), one of the biggest factors in a successful live performance (2) is awareness. A brilliant technician with great ears, but without constant awareness of what is happening on stage, will eventually mess something up.

As a sound guy, a big goal is to be unnoticed during the show. The sound guy isn't on stage. You might be scrambling behind the mixer, overcoming all kinds of unexpected obstacles, putting on a truly virtuoso performance. The highest praise you could ask for is that the audience would never realize there was a single problem. If someone says, "easy show, eh?" you've done very well.

The best-rehearsed "performances" I run sound for are weddings. Worship services, concerts, meetings, and seminars tend to have last-minute changes. Last-minute, in this context, really means something more like "okay, next thing on the schedule is the solo vocalist--wait a second, the band isn't supposed to be starting up!" People forget program orders, or just forget to tell the tech crew when they change things. Sometimes, the tech crew doesn't even get a program.

In situations like that, the best tool a sound guy has is his eyes. If the sound guy keeps his eyes on the stage--stays aware of what the folks up front are doing--surprises and scrambles won't turn into anything the audience notices.

Awareness of what's being said up front helps, too. Instead of just listening to the mix an adjusting levels, listen to the words. Regardless of what the schedule says, the MC is usually right. Following the MC's lead can give a sound guy a very valuable few extra seconds.

The job of a sound guy is to make sure the audience can hear "the show", and keep the show from being interrupted by sound problems. Your eyes are a big part of avoiding awkward moments.

"Thanks, everyone, for being here..." [Puzzled look at microphone] "Thanks, everyone..."
[Sound guy notices; unmutes channel, and slowly begins to fade up as the speaker continues.]
"...here, and enjoy the show!"
[Audience starts wondering if they'll be able to hear anything.]

(1) Sound guys, audio guys, sound engineers--whatever you call them. The term does not exclude female sound-people, but really, doesn't "sound-people" make you think of Star Wars?

(2) Well-rehearsed shows are probably not as affected. If your digital mixer can run your two-hundred-ninety-first performance of Oklahoma without your involvement, feel free to take a nap.

Voice of the Voiceless

I meant to get this posted about two weeks ago. Oops.

Back when I was self-medicating for a sore throat, I did something pretty stupid. I overused my voice. Not just talked a bit too much. There was a pretty good worship set at Watershed, and hoarse-voiced me sang along. Then the next day my voice was nearly gone. I couldn't talk above a whisper. And as I recall, that was a pretty social weekend. There was a housewarming party for some good friends, and a meeting at church. The housewarming party was probably the nail in the coffin. Who What Where is a great game, but the little bit of talking it requires put my voice over its limit, and it took a week off.

For nearly a week, I couldn't talk. In a dire emergency, I could have whispered or maybe squeaked out a few words. Work wasn't too bad--I already had an assignment to work on, and the questions I did have I could IM or email. There was some good-natured teasing, but that was fine with me. I was supposed to teach in my ABF at church, but that obviously couldn't happen. My excuse was that I was too dumb to teach. Heh, heh. (And thanks to my last-minute substitute who did a great job of filling in!)

The difficult part of being voiceless was at home. I could nod and mime. For anything complicated, I had to write or type. Ubuntu comes with a text-to-speech program called espeak, which helped a bit. But typing is still slower, and it was made more frustrating by being treated differently. My dear wife felt the need to respond to my typing (or text-to-speeching) by taking my laptop and responding in kind. She felt like she was yelling when she was infinitely louder than I could be.

It was nearly a week before my voice came back to the point where it was usable. It didn't take long for me to start taking talking for granted again. But I do think I learned something about isolation, compassion, and treating people the way they want to be treated.

And I learned that even though I don't talk much, I really don't like being deprived of the option.

Self-Medicated

When it comes to being sick, I'm actually pretty much a sissy. If I'm good and sick, I like to be taken care of. But I'd rather just not get sick. Sometimes, all it takes is informing myself that I'm not going to get sick. Sometimes, it's not that easy.

I think whatever it is I caught sneaked home from school with my wife. Unfortunately, it wasn't good at sneaking. It clogged her sinuses and gave her a sore throat (real subtle there, germs), and then went to work on making her cough. And while I was sleeping, defenseless and angelic, it sneaked across the pillow and jumped me.

Yup, I woke up with a real sore throat Tuesday. After a quick mental groan, I started my ultra-health regimen: drink water like a camel. I lost count of how much water I went through. The cup I use at work holds about 20 ounces. When I went for a refill--which happened at least once an hour--I'd fill it, drink half of it before heading back to my desk, and top it off again. How much water did I drink? Well, I happened to weigh myself after guzzling water just before bed. After only water and carbon dioxide losses overnight, I weighed nine pounds less in the morning. Yikes.

Even with the water to keep my immune system working hard, my throat was bothering me, especially before bedtime. We've got sore-throat spray, which does work well. I decided to skip it and go with a more natural approach: honey. I don't know how it works, but a spoonful of honey was excellent at soothing my throat, so I could sleep.

Last night, I headed for bed worried that I'd have to call in sick tomorrow, after less than two weeks at my new job. This morning, I woke up feeling great. My throat is still a bit sore, but my head was (and still is) clear. So here's to hoping that I kick this tonight, and tomorrow I'm able to properly take care of my still-getting-over-it wife (whom I medicated with actual medicine, because she was sicker than I was).

Ending a Busy Week

It's been quite the busy week. Some of it was good--I am no longer an unemployed bum (I am now an employed bum)! Some of it was bad (between work, short daylight hours, and some other things, I didn't have the time to make up for my lack of automotive expertise, and paid someone else to replace my alternator--though the lead-up to that is an entertaining story for later). And now I'm tired.

I just realized how insidious busyness can be. When I get busy (in that harried sort of way), I very much look forward to sitting down and relaxing. But I usually try to squeeze some relaxation in before I am actually done. In the end, I deprive myself of both long-term peace of mind, and of real rest.

Now to get the laundry folded, and get some sleep. That's the perfect end to this busy week.

Where I Rode on My Summer Vacation

I decided that the best thing I could do to take advantage of my last weekday of being an unemployed bum would be to hop on the bike. A few minutes with Google Maps was all I needed to work out a route.

For the first few miles, I enjoyed the cool, hazy morning. Then I realized the haze was actually cleverly-disguised humidity, and that's why I was so sweaty on such a cool morning. My legs also felt less-strong than usual, which wasn't a particularly auspicious start.

I rode east through Cedar Rapids, into Marion, heading for the east edge of the metro area. My route covered some roads I have never been on before, with some very fancy houses. I'm not talking about suburban McMansions--these were the real thing, with manicured lawns, private ponds (in Iowa, they'd call them lakes), and at least one gazebo bigger than my living room.

After I crossed IA13, riding on Mt. Vernon Road, I realized I was riding into a headwind--that was a big part of why my legs weren't moving me as fast as I expected. Fortunately, starting a loop by riding into a headwind usually means a tailwind on a later part of the ride (this is something I usually end up doing wrong--I end up starting with a tailwind and finishing into a headwind, every bit as accidentally as getting it right this time was).

One of my favorite things about riding into Mt. Vernon along its very own road is seeing the roof of Cornell College's chapel in the distance. It's much more picturesque than a road sign saying "Mt. Vernon 2 Miles", but just about as accurate. The haze this morning gave it a soft, ghostly look--I really need to start carrying a camera on rides.

There was one "errand" I wanted to do in Mt. Vernon. After I finished that, I climbed the hill to the visitor's center on 1st St. The water fountain was still turned on, even a month after Labor Day. A full water bottle and an eaten apple later, I was headed north on Springville Road (no prizes for guessing where that leads).

The wind was at my back and the hills seemed to mostly be downward, so I covered the ten miles to Springville quickly. Traffic was light and the road was in great condition for biking--I recommend it. Because I wasn't looking into the sun anymore, the haze went from bright and shimmery to barely noticeable. The yellowing soybeans actually looked very pretty. Maybe it's because it's a colorful change of pace from the dark-green fields of midsummer. Even though I make plenty of Iowa jokes, I do enjoy riding through landscapes that look like Grant Wood paintings.

At Springville, I turned east, towards home. Right at the Linn/Jones county line, the road turned to gravel. It was well-packed, though. No problem. And certainly better than trying to ride along US-151 (4-lane, heavy traffic, 65mph limit, sketchy shoulders in places). As I turned this way and that, always turning square corners along the Iowa checkerboard, I found myself on progressively looser gravel. It was somewhere on Marion Airport Road that my legs started to complain.

Gravel is tough on a ride like this. It's rough, so you really want to use your legs as shock absorbers. The alternative is to use your backside--the small chunk of it actually touching the seat--to absorb bumps, and that's definitely not recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists. Its roughness also slows you down, so maintaining speed takes extra work. And it's loose, so power gets wasted rearranging rocks (mostly shooting them backwards, although one did entertainingly get tossed nearly straight up to land on my handlebars) instead of moving you forward.

So there I was, riding on a gravel road, nearly out of water, at least ten miles from home. A zig, a zag, and a few miles later, I was on another gravel road, entirely out of water, and riding past the Marion water tower. "Water, water, stored up there, nor any drop to drink," I thought. I considered trying to fill my bottle from the massive drainpipe jutting from the side, but decided that might not be the best of ideas. Besides, I could see my next turn, onto pavement.

By the time I turned onto pavement, I'd covered probably eight miles of gravel, most of it loose. My quads were getting ready to go on strike. My plan was to just head straight home. I almost stuck to that plan. I stopped at the Bowman Woods pool to eat the peanut-butter granola bar I'd brought with. Blood sugar wasn't the problem, but I hoped the combination of quick carbs and protein would appease my legs for another half-dozen miles. I stretched a bit, then got back on the road. Almost there.

As I rode through Marion and then along Boyson Road into Cedar Rapids and Hiawatha, I thought about seeing if any of the stay-at-home moms (and the SAHM-to-be) I know who live close to my route would be willing to fill up my water bottle. Actually, I know they would. I decided not to, though, because (a) I didn't really want to impose, (b) I didn't want to interrupt anything that might be going on, like naptimes, (c) if I stopped, it'd be that much harder to get going again, especially if I stopped and nobody was home and (d) I was probably not entirely rational, so stubbornness won out. But I did mentally wave and say hello as I rode past (so hello to J, D, and H).

I finally got to the trail, and headed home. I wasn't sure if I was up for the "sprint stretch", but I held 18+, and kicked it up to 20 before the turn. I was happy I could do it, but my legs screamed at me. Rough ending, but it really was an enjoyable ride.

And man, it felt good to get hydrated and stretch out a bit.

Important stats:
52.85 miles in 3:23:26 (about 4 hours counting breaks).
2 roadkill raccoons
1 roadkill possum
1 roadkill skunk
4 unidentifiable roadkills, one of which was feathered
1 non-roadkill woodchuck that just stared at me from a schoolyard

Carpe Diem

Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon.

For the first time in years I had a "summer vacation." It wasn't a kid's summer vacation, all carefree playing with friends--although I did occasionally complain about boredom. It wasn't a high-schooler's summer vacation, filled with working to save money during the day and hanging out with friends at night. It wasn't a college student's summer vacation, going back home to work or taking trips to far-off places.

It wasn't the vacation I would have chosen, either. It wasn't voluntary. It didn't mean fewer responsibilities. It meant more. I was still responsible for providing for my family, but without a job to do so. So after a few days spent enjoying temporary freedom and surveying the job-posting landscape, I started working hard at getting a job.

Even so, I did have free time during the day. I may not have made the best use of that time, but I certainly enjoyed the idea of having it.

But now, my "summer vacation" is over. On Monday, I start my new job. I'll be making more than I've ever made, and getting better benefits than before. That's nice; it's a good thing. But I will miss my summer vacation. I didn't want the forced unpaid vacation in the first place, and it stretched on way too long. But it's still ending too soon.

Today is my last day of "freedom" before I return to what gets called normal life. I want to use it well. Does that mean doing the good, practical things I can do? Finishing off a project that's best done on a warm day? Logging a few dozen miles on the bike? Doing that bit of "school shopping" I should take care of? Reading the last 700 pages of Alaska? Sleeping? Gardening? So many choices!

Choosing is going to be terribly difficult. Maybe, just maybe, I'll pick up the phone and say "Mom, I'm bored." Because that's way easier than choosing.

Yeah. Right. Like I want to be the bored, boring kid. I'm going to go get me a good answer on Monday for the "What I Did on [the last day of] My Summer Vacation" essay.

Summer's End Ride

Summer is coming to a beautiful end in Iowa. The cold, wet weather last week had me worried that the season for long wandering rides had slipped away. My worry turned out to be spectacularly misplaced, because this whole week has been in the mid 70s and sunny, the kind of days that make you wonder why so much of the summer was spent indoors in the air conditioning.

And of course, one of the best things to do with a beautiful summer's end day, when one is unemployed and has free time during the day, is to take a bike ride. I rode north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. I stopped briefly at the old depot museum in Center Point to refill my water bottle, and continued on the trail to Urbana.

For some reason that I have never figured out, the Center Point-Urbana section of the trail is always a slow ride for me. It's not the scenery. Is it the trail surface? The grade? Prevailing winds? Large insects that aggressively impart unwanted backwards momentum to cyclists? At any rate, I was happy to take a break at the trailside park in Urbana, refill my water bottle, and munch on the apple I had brought (honeycrisp, from Wilson's Orchard...mmm!).

Urbana was the "top" of the loop. It's also the place I left the trail for the road. I followed 32nd Ave (W26?) south out of town. A few miles from town, the road crosses the Cedar River. Piles of sand, mounds of brush, and tree trunks hint at the record flooding from earlier this summer, without being obvious. After a long climb (for Iowa) out of the river bottom, I passed 59th St., then turned toward Center Point on 59th St. Trail--which turned out to be unpaved. I passed 33rd Ave., briefly joined up with 33rd Ave. Drive (giving directions around there must be entertaining), and caught some sweet, sweet pavement on Lewis Access Road.

By this point, my legs were getting tired. I haven't ridden as many long rides as in past years, and I could feel a wall coming. I spun along comfortably into Center Point (yup, again) and stopped at a gas station for a source of well-balanced nutrients. Seriously, I even compared nutrition labels. The candidates? King-sized Snickers, in regular and almond. The almond won, for no particular reason. But like I said, I did compare the labels. I also discovered that Almond Snickers bars taste pretty good. In the interest of science, I will have to see how they taste when I am not craving a quick sugar boost.

The depot museum was only a few minutes from the gas station, so I swung by there for a water refill. That meant I was in the home stretch. Good thing, too, because my legs weren't too excited about the rest of the ride, especially on the crushed limestone trail. And because of union rules, that meant that other hard-working body parts (such as the ones that gently cushion most of me from seat-bounces) were allowed to complain.

With various lower-body parts complaining, the thirteen miles to Hiawatha were slower than the rest of the ride. I was able to ignore the complaining long enough to wonder why the trail was suddenly busy around Lafayette (four oncoming bikes, not together, fairly evenly spaced about a minute apart--very strange). Then the complaining started again. Honestly, toward the tail end (heh, heh) of some longer rides, I start contemplating hanging up the bike for a while. That doesn't last long. I've been back for an hour, and I'm already looking forward to riding again.

After some emergency negotiations between union and management ("Ouch! Less ouch, please!" "It's only another 20 minutes" "No, less ouch now!" "How about I throw in some pavement within five minutes?" "Deal!"), I got to the paved section of the trail, thankful for pavement and that thinking, memory, and perception are all non-union.

I had enough left in my legs to speed up to 20 along the straight, flat stretch just before home, and hold 20 until the turn. Just enough. And now it's lawn-mowing time!

Important stats:
55.74 miles in 3:32:33 (about 4 hours counting breaks). (*) (**)
1 roadkill raccoon
1 roadkill woodchuck
2 chipmunks I nearly ran over

* If the speed or distance seems low, my only bike is a mountain bike, with trail tires, one of which needs to be replaced. I'm dreaming of a nice road bike someday...
** Oh, if only I'd managed to cut off 0.19 miles and ride for another 60 seconds. Then I'd have 55.55 miles in 3:33:33. Such numeric joy, so close...

Garden-Variety Dinner

With the cooler temperatures and the rain over the past week or so, it's felt a lot more like late fall than the calendar claims. That meant dinner tonight could blend summer and fall food items, and still feel right.

In the summer, hot stick-to-your-ribs substantial food just doesn't feel right. In the fall, salads and raw vegetables lose their appeal. Tonight, we had meatloaf--a fall favorite at my house--along with an improvised salad from the garden. I picked a few green beans, pulled a carrot, and decided to pull a beet as well. The beet greens were the base of the salad. The carrots (thin-sliced) and beans went on top. On a whim, I cut the beet into chunks (about the size of canned bamboo shoot chunks) and threw that on top.

As it turned out, the beet plus the beet greens was a little too earthy. Now that I think about it, everything in the salad except for the green beans had an earthy quality. I guess that's what I get for improvising without thinking. And I even forgot the salad dressing, which may have helped. Oh well. My wife suffered through it, probably because she had meatloaf to distract her.

Dessert will also have a dash of gardeny goodness. We're going to try adding some garden mint leaves to our chocolate milkshakes. Mmmm....

Nighttime Bike Riding

Like most people, I log most of my biking miles during the day. But sometimes, I get an excuse to ride after dark, and it's oh-so-enjoyable.

Tonight, I rode across town instead of driving, knowing that when it was time to come home, the sun would be long-down. I was looking forward to it.

Maybe riding on the road at night should be scarier. I actually like it. Cars sneaking up from behind give themselves away as their headlights drown out mine. And I suspect my lights and the motion of my reflective ankle straps makes me more noticeable than I am during the day. My legs are used to absorbing the bumps from a rough road, so the bumps I can't see until too late don't bother me much.

My favorite part, though, came when I got to the bike trail. As soon as the trail separated from the road, my headlight went off. The city light was more than enough to keep me from splashing into the overgrown pond that passes for a lake in Iowa. Not far past the lake was the nearly-straight wooded section of trail (*). It's a fast section of trail during the day. At night, with the trees blocking most of the city light, it's still fast. I love the feel of zipping along in the near-dark, legs pumping, eyes and ears searching for anything on the trail ahead.

8.5 miles; about a half hour. And about half of that was with my headlight switched off. It was great.

(*) Really, this trail seems to be an attempt to bio-diversify Iowa. Besides the lake section and wooded section, there is a prairie section, a scrub brush section, a city-lawn section... Someday, an enterprising Iowa Tourism Board official will glass the trail in, call it Biosphere 3, and wait for the tourism dollars to roll in. Hey, it beats corn!

Red Ripe Tomatoes

It was hot out yesterday. Upper 80s, sunny, humid.

Turns out, it was perfect. Yesterday was the day for the first handful of ripe cherry tomatoes from the garden. Yesterday was the first day this year I was able to bite into a sun-warmed cherry tomato and remember why I take care of those spindly, thirsty little seedlings when it's still cold out.

My tomatoes are a bit late this year. I started the seeds plenty early, but didn't put any of the plants out before the pre-flood rain started. After the pre-flood rain started, it was weeks before the ground was dry enough to work. These plants finally made it into the garden around the start of July, which is why the very first tomatoes are finally showing up in September.

The larger tomatoes are almost ready, too. I think the furthest-along slicing tomatoes (Big Beef) are just starting to tint orange. And even though the Romas I can see out my office window are still green, there are dozens of them on just one plant.

I love the part of the year when my tomato plants are loaded down with ripe fruit, ready to pick. That's why, even though today's cooler weather (under 70, in Iowa, in early September?) feels great, part of me is wishing for yesterday's bright, hot, humid weather. The tomatoes love it.

Marginless

I've missed living a marginal life lately.

No, wait. That means something different entirely.

Lately, I've been living without margin. More accurately, my life has filled the margin that I left. Not receiving a paycheck has eaten into my financial margin. Some caretaking at home has consumed any time and energy margin I had. And that's added up to reduce my emotional margin.

Without margin, it's harder to get through a day, let alone get through it well. When a morning with an hour's margin set aside for relaxation and methodical preparation for later activities becomes urgent last-minute errands and a just-barely-late arrival for the later activities, I arrive unfocused. I'm not fully there.

More margin isn't the answer. Even if I had decided to wake up an hour earlier this morning, the last-minute errands would still have come up at the same time. Too much margin leads to boredom and fear of committing to activities. That's just as destructive as no margin.

There doesn't have to be an answer. Yesterday and today, I have lived at the edge of the margin I gave myself. I know I can't sustain that. But having that margin has been exactly what I needed, with absolutely nothing to spare. That's what it's there for. Margin is enjoyable and comforting when things go according to plan, but it exists for those times when the best laid plans go astray.

And so I have made plans for tomorrow, hoping to accomplish all kinds of things. But whether my plans survive their encounter with reality, I am going to try to live a deliberate, significant, decidedly non-marginal life tomorrow.

Do Stuff

One of the nice things about being temporarily unemployed is having hours of free time. My wife is at work. My friends are at work (whether "work" or working at home, taking care of their houses and kids). Hours of free time, to do what I want to do.

Before I had this free time, I looked forward to evenings, weekends, holidays, and vacations. Those were my chance to have free time. "When I get the time," I'd say, "I can finally..." I don't even remember all the things I wanted to do. Bike rides, working around the house, really taking care of the garden, re-developing some musical skill, starting a blog, organizing, tinkering, personal programming projects, reading... Most people probably have lists like that. Vague lists in their heads of things they'd really like to do, if only the time was available.

And for me, it is! Not that being out of work is entirely--or even mostly--a good thing, but it gives me that free time that I wanted for so long.

Sometimes, wanting is better than having. Before I had this free time, I could imagine all the things I'd like to do. Imagining doing things is much easier than actually doing them. There's no preparation, no clean-up, and any tedious parts are done in a mental fast-forwarding flash.

Now I have days mostly free. I still have some constraints. Finding, reading, and evaluating job postings takes some time and mental effort. Applying for jobs, following up on applications, and things like that have eaten huge chunks of some days. Besides that, I generally want to stay within reach of the telephone in case someone calls to offer a job. But my days are mostly free.

What have I actually done with my free time? To be honest, not much. It's been more than nothing. I've read some, written some code, cleaned gutters, and done some painting (of the non-artistic variety). Why the disconnect between my imaginary free time, during which I did all kinds of things, and my actual free time, which has been lacking that spark of intentionality?

I have some ideas, and at least one of them is probably right. None of those reasons is anything particularly difficult to overcome. And regardless of how I overcome the obstacle to intentionally using my free time for something worthwhile, the goal is the same: use my free time for something worthwhile. Don't waste it, just because it's not rare and precious right now.

In short, this is the challenge: Do Stuff.

Irons in the Fire

On August 6, 2008, my job quit. Express Auto Delivery stopped operations and turned me into an unemployed bum.

A few days of being an unemployed bum is great. Rest and relaxation, taking care of little things around the house, and generally not doing much of all was a nice change of pace. Weeks of being an unemployed bum, though, is a bit of a drag. And my wife likes it less than I do, as illustrated by a mostly-lighthearted conversation from last Friday:

Wife: I'm tired of being the breadwinner around here.
Me: But I baked bread today. [which is true, two loaves of wheat bread]
Wife: I'm tired of bringing home the bacon.
Me: But even if I get a job, you'll still have to go shopping.
Wife: But I'm tired of buying the bacon.
Me: You shouldn't steal bacon.
Wife: [the look]

But things are looking promising. My employer prior to EAD has made me an offer to come back. I've had first-round interviews(*) with a hospital system and with an insurance company. And today I got set up with an interview for a position with the avionics company that pretty much every engineer I know works for or has worked for.

So I've got some irons in the fire. It's exciting having so many great possibilities open. I hope to get two interviews and get an offer for both of them, but that'd just be icing on the cake. I also hope to have time and weather conspire to let me take a nice all-day bike ride before I start the new job, whatever it is.

(*) First-round interviews are chats, in person or over the phone, with HR folks or recruiters, in order to make sure that you pass the Turing test and are not obviously an axe-wielding psycho. And now that I've typed that, I feel like I need to have an axe handy for my next phone screen...