Mystery Solved: For a long time now, the anti-drip valve on my Krups coffee maker - the valve that stops coffee from flowing after the carafe is removed - hasn't worked. I'd brew a pot of coffee, and if I'd remove the carafe before the brewing was over, a steady stream of coffee would pour all over the base of the coffee maker. I looked at the valve a couple of times, but couldn't see anything wrong. I didn't put a lot of effort into solving the mystery - the coffee maker is older than my relationship with Phillip and, besides, I don't make coffee on a daily basis anymore. This morning, I took the coffee make apart to put it in the dishwasher - something I hadn't done since before the valve problem. (I'd been washing only the carafe and filter.) This morning, I realized that I'd been examining the valve only from the bottom. At the top of the valve, a tiny chunk of coffee grounds had gotten lodged in the valve - preventing the valve from closing completely.
Saturday, October 18, 2003
Friday, October 17, 2003
I don't know. Will I ever write for anyone other than myself and Writers Group? Will I ever play my djembe for anyone other than myself? Why can't I focus? I am frustrated.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
There was a letter from Kelly - a real, pen & paper letter - in today's mail. I'm exited that we're writing this way. Now it's my turn to write. The story of our ocean trip will have to be put aside for a day or two - that's fine with me.
I find it difficult to divide my effort equally between these blog posts and the other, more intense, writing I do - like writing about the ocean trip I'm currently doing. When I'm excited about one, the other slips.
Phillip has described my writing style on more than one occasion as "slices of life." Maybe that's true, but I see it differently. I like to think of my style as "studies of how things work." I think I write about motivations. My trip to Portland story, for instance, wouldn't have turned out nearly as long if I had simply recorded the things I did while I was there. Instead, I wrote about why I did the things I did. Why take a trip in the first place? Why Portland, and not Vancouver, BC? What feelings made me decide that I'd visited OMSI at the wrong time?
There are two things that interest me when I write: very small decisions that result from a great many past events all coming together, and huge, life-changing events that result from a long chain of small decisions.
Way back at Hank & Kim's party, I showed my "Seconds Chances" story to Kim, who asked me if it was the first story I had ever written. Before I had a chance to answer, Phillip told her it was. I corrected Phillip - I've written lots of stories before that one. Phillip corrected me - it was the first story I've written. That comment still nags at me. I really should ask him what he meant by it. It sounded almost like a put-down, just as the way he tosses aside the term "slices of life" does. "Second Chances" - the story of The African Singer - certainly is my best, most polished, piece, with a conventional plot and point of view. I have written some pretty awful pieces, but "Second Chances" was in no way my first piece of writing. What about "Waking Up In Ashland"? What about the trip to the hospital? What about getting to work in the snow? What about the trip to Portland?
Meanwhile, Phillip and I both seem to have both lost our passion for Blogstop ever since we returned from the ocean. I've posted two or three anagrams, and Phillip hasn't posted any. I don't know what this means.
Phillip has described my writing style on more than one occasion as "slices of life." Maybe that's true, but I see it differently. I like to think of my style as "studies of how things work." I think I write about motivations. My trip to Portland story, for instance, wouldn't have turned out nearly as long if I had simply recorded the things I did while I was there. Instead, I wrote about why I did the things I did. Why take a trip in the first place? Why Portland, and not Vancouver, BC? What feelings made me decide that I'd visited OMSI at the wrong time?
There are two things that interest me when I write: very small decisions that result from a great many past events all coming together, and huge, life-changing events that result from a long chain of small decisions.
Way back at Hank & Kim's party, I showed my "Seconds Chances" story to Kim, who asked me if it was the first story I had ever written. Before I had a chance to answer, Phillip told her it was. I corrected Phillip - I've written lots of stories before that one. Phillip corrected me - it was the first story I've written. That comment still nags at me. I really should ask him what he meant by it. It sounded almost like a put-down, just as the way he tosses aside the term "slices of life" does. "Second Chances" - the story of The African Singer - certainly is my best, most polished, piece, with a conventional plot and point of view. I have written some pretty awful pieces, but "Second Chances" was in no way my first piece of writing. What about "Waking Up In Ashland"? What about the trip to the hospital? What about getting to work in the snow? What about the trip to Portland?
Meanwhile, Phillip and I both seem to have both lost our passion for Blogstop ever since we returned from the ocean. I've posted two or three anagrams, and Phillip hasn't posted any. I don't know what this means.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Phillip called me this afternoon to tell me that the man in front of Starbucks had died, and that there was a story about him in The Seattle Times. After I hung up, Connie asked me what was wrong. I told her that a friend of ours from church had died, but that wasn't the truth.
The man (his name was Lee, but I kept forgetting that) used to be a regular member of our church. But we hadn't seen him there in many, many months. He wasn't really a friend, either. Lee was someone we were used to seeing. We'd see him at church on Sunday mornings, and we'd see him every weekday morning, standing in front of Starbucks, as Phillip and I would walk to the bus stop. Then we didn't see him at church anymore, but he always seemed to be there in front of Starbucks. He seemed to be waiting for someone. We said good morning to him a few times, but we'd always get a blank stare in return. Phillip and I both decided to not take it personally. Lee obviously had a mental handicap or two. We figured he just wasn't comfortable with social interaction.
The Seattle Times article said that Lee was a year older than me. He died suddenly in the house on Capitol Hill he shared with his mother and siblings. Lee had autism. The article called him the friendly face on the corner. It called him a popular Broadway character. The article told about how he would stand in front of Starbucks and talk to people passing by. He'd tell them the news of the day. He'd ask them about their lives - Lee had a knack for remembering details people told him. Lee had made a lot of friends with the employees of Starbucks, Safeway, and QFC. I never knew any of this. The article said that all three stores were displaying memorials for Lee. I saw one of them when I stopped by QFC this evening.
Phillip and I are wondering, however, why Lee would never talk to us.
The man (his name was Lee, but I kept forgetting that) used to be a regular member of our church. But we hadn't seen him there in many, many months. He wasn't really a friend, either. Lee was someone we were used to seeing. We'd see him at church on Sunday mornings, and we'd see him every weekday morning, standing in front of Starbucks, as Phillip and I would walk to the bus stop. Then we didn't see him at church anymore, but he always seemed to be there in front of Starbucks. He seemed to be waiting for someone. We said good morning to him a few times, but we'd always get a blank stare in return. Phillip and I both decided to not take it personally. Lee obviously had a mental handicap or two. We figured he just wasn't comfortable with social interaction.
The Seattle Times article said that Lee was a year older than me. He died suddenly in the house on Capitol Hill he shared with his mother and siblings. Lee had autism. The article called him the friendly face on the corner. It called him a popular Broadway character. The article told about how he would stand in front of Starbucks and talk to people passing by. He'd tell them the news of the day. He'd ask them about their lives - Lee had a knack for remembering details people told him. Lee had made a lot of friends with the employees of Starbucks, Safeway, and QFC. I never knew any of this. The article said that all three stores were displaying memorials for Lee. I saw one of them when I stopped by QFC this evening.
Phillip and I are wondering, however, why Lee would never talk to us.
Monday, October 13, 2003
I like crows. They are my favorite birds. Sure they're scavengers, but that's their job. They're beautiful birds. I like to think of them as smart. However...
I saw a small group of crows attacking a paper dish this morning on my way to work. It was one of those square dishes like fish and chips are served in. Obviously, there was something tasty still stuck inside. Suddenly, one of the crows grabbed the paper dish and flew off to a nearby rooftop. He set the dish down to eat alone. Of course, the other crows flew up to the rooftop to join him. He flew the dish to another part of the roof, and the other crows followed him. (I don't think all crows are "he." I just think this one was.)
Did this poor crow forget that other crows can fly? Did he really think that the other crows would leave him alone with his prize once he was on the roof?
I saw a small group of crows attacking a paper dish this morning on my way to work. It was one of those square dishes like fish and chips are served in. Obviously, there was something tasty still stuck inside. Suddenly, one of the crows grabbed the paper dish and flew off to a nearby rooftop. He set the dish down to eat alone. Of course, the other crows flew up to the rooftop to join him. He flew the dish to another part of the roof, and the other crows followed him. (I don't think all crows are "he." I just think this one was.)
Did this poor crow forget that other crows can fly? Did he really think that the other crows would leave him alone with his prize once he was on the roof?
Sunday, October 12, 2003
I spent most of yesterday selecting the best 67 photos from our trip, and then Photoshopping them to a good 4X6 printable resolution, and correcting for odd colors, dust spots, and red eyes. Then I spent nearly two hours in frustration trying to upload those 67 photos to PhotoWorks. See, I've created several online albums with PhotoWorks before, using their software plug-in with my Netscape 4.7. Now I find that the plug-in isn't available for Netscape 7.1, and it apparently doesn't work anymore with Netscape 4.7. After trying various solutions, I finally followed Phillip's advice and used his Internet Explorer 6 - which uploaded the photos just fine, just like it used to with Netscape.
I strongly suspect that this is yet another case of circular corporate logic. It goes like this: Most internet customers use Internet Explorer. Therefore, it's a waste of time to make software compatible with Netscape. So, most customers choose Internet Explorer because there's too much software incompatible with Netscape. It reminds me of something Don read in Writers' Group this afternoon. He wrote a piece about a workshop he'd been to about making churches accessible to the handicapped. Don met a pastor there who commented that it was an academic question, since there were no handicapped people at the pastor's church, so there was no point in making it accessible. Don then asked the pastor if he'd ever wondered why there were no handicapped people in his church. (By the way, Don prefers the term "handicapped.")
I had nothing to read for Writers' Group today. I brought the journal my parents gave me for my birthday to the ocean, and it came home with me unopened. I just haven't been motivated to write. I thought this morning about selecting something from this blog, but I wasn't motivated to do that, either. The Writers' Group, however, motivated me to write about the trip.
I strongly suspect that this is yet another case of circular corporate logic. It goes like this: Most internet customers use Internet Explorer. Therefore, it's a waste of time to make software compatible with Netscape. So, most customers choose Internet Explorer because there's too much software incompatible with Netscape. It reminds me of something Don read in Writers' Group this afternoon. He wrote a piece about a workshop he'd been to about making churches accessible to the handicapped. Don met a pastor there who commented that it was an academic question, since there were no handicapped people at the pastor's church, so there was no point in making it accessible. Don then asked the pastor if he'd ever wondered why there were no handicapped people in his church. (By the way, Don prefers the term "handicapped.")
I had nothing to read for Writers' Group today. I brought the journal my parents gave me for my birthday to the ocean, and it came home with me unopened. I just haven't been motivated to write. I thought this morning about selecting something from this blog, but I wasn't motivated to do that, either. The Writers' Group, however, motivated me to write about the trip.
