contortions, convolutions and miscalculations: fun with gymnastics

reason for absence: view-monia.

live-blogging the washington state gymnastics finals, 2012

we're here at glacier peak high school, home of the grizzlies...and the best cafeteria view i've ever seen.

seriously, these kids have a 30-foot high wall-of-windows view, across a wide verdant valley, of the north cascades mountains. it's ridiculous. if i were teaching here, i'd hold every class in the cafeteria. if i were a student...well, i'd be arrested for impersonating a student. but if i were a student, i'd be late for every class, staring out at this ridiculous view.

we're not in the cafeteria, however, we're in the gym. it's hot in here. unlike every other metro seattle gymnastics meet ever, where you can't wear enough layers to stay warm through three hours of sitting, shifting, sitting some more...suddenly it's uncomfortably warm.

i'm not complaining.

the falcons from seattle pacific university, decked out in their usual purple and lighter purple and silver sparkles, are ready for this meet. they're peaking at the right time, competition-wise, in that they're here and there's a meet going on.

after march-in, in which the gymnasts, um, march into the gym, the host and announcer usually says, "and now everyone please rise for the national anthem." i was literally shifting into a nonsitting position in anticipation of the ritual, when the guy said, "okay, we did the national anthem earlier today, so we're going to get right to the events. gymnasts, let's move out."

i feel strangely unsatisfied and anxious now. apparently i'm a creature of habit.

the first event for the falcons is the vault. in this instance, the vault is a quick run down a blue bowling alley lane, launching off a springboard into a handstand, followed by a flop onto a four-foot-high cushion. it looks like it would be a great place for a nap, if it weren't for the constant stream of gymnasts flying around and raising a ruckus.

avery is good at this flopping. this year she's put up a string of 9+ scores in this event, setting a high standard for springboard flopping. the score is based on the average of two running flopping attempts. our girl ran fast, flopped expertly, and came away with a 9.025.

"great flopping, AG!" her mom and i didn't really yell. it's best not to distract her with that kind of unnecessary embarrassment.

in between events, there's a lot of waiting. this is particularly true at gyms that have no heat in winter and no AC on freakishly warm spring days.

we're sitting, we're sitting, we're waiting. we're sweating...and not with nervousness. must. not. doze...

holy moly, it's time for the bars. i must've dozed. avery's up! get the video rolling! focus! she's launching!

this seems like an opportune time to note that "bars" is a bit of a misnomer here. yes, technically they're competing on the uneven parallel bar apparatus, but at no time do they actually touch the upper bar. it's all-low-bar all the time for the level 4 gymnasts. which is just as well. avery is neither confident nor proficient in this event. every meet, there's some disastrous error/miscalculation/equipment failure that keeps her off the medal stand.

she over-rotates, she under-rotates, she forgets to stick the landing. this despite my excellent, season-long imitation of olympic announcers who thrill tv audiences with, "she sticks the landing!" whenever a gymnast does, in fact, stick the landing.

back to the bars. she's doing pretty well. she's neither under- nor over-rotating. she's yet to hang upside down when she should be right-side-up. all that's left is the landing...

she didn't stick the landing. she did, in fact, fall on her butt. there's gonna be a deduction for that, i'm pretty sure. and the scoreboard says...8.575. that's gonna keep her off the medal stand. barring huge, breakthrough scores on beam and floor.

where there are more events, there is hope.

nothing's happening now. the falcons have moved over to the vicinity of the beam, so we can only assume their next event is beam-related. it just wouldn't make sense to have them warm up on beam if their next event was floor. so, the team moved moved from a seated position under the washington state championships banner to the doors near the beam. then they moved to the wall next to the beam, and resumed sitting. nothing's happening.

we sit. we shift. we note, once again, that it's warm in here.

now seems like a good time to get up and leave the gym. hit the restroom. take some iphone photos of the ridiculous cafeteria view. stand by...

...and we're back. turns out, i missed the event. the falcons had, in fact, warmed up while i wasn't looking. no, i wasn't dozing. so almost immediately after i left, the team raced through their beam routines. i caught the very last one, and it wasn't avery. according to the missus, she wobbled like a weeble but did not fall off. this was not good enough for a breakthrough score. she received an 8.75.

perhaps there's a 10.0 on floor in our future. that might get her on the stand. probably not. we wait. no, i'm not leaving the gym.

********

it was a solid floor routine, but not a ten. the girl's final score on the final event of the year was a respectable 8.75.

and on the final tumbling pass, with the compulsory back handspring...

she stuck the landing.

the kate escape

you know who likes running?

my dog.

kate loves getting out of the house and away from her pack-mates. they're barky little dogs, and kate isn't much into the barking. she's smart and affable and disinclined to scurry around yapping every time a raindrop hits the house.

so, a couple times a week we gear up and head over to discovery park, a semi-sane place where people and dogs and other wildlife can go be bucolic for awhile. to forget, temporarily, that we live just a jog from downtown and jammed-up traffic and foolish urban errands.

i say, "kate, go for a run?" and she heads toward the door, waiting for her leash. she does a little dance and bursts out the door ahead of me, like a racehorse at the gate. and so we go.

i keep her on the leash most of the time, but if there aren't too many people about (i.e., when the weather sucks), i let her off to run. i wasn't sure what to expect the first time i did that, semi-worried she'd disappear into the woods after a squirrel. nope. she stays right with me, within a few feet ahead or behind. i find that very endearing.

in the park, we transition from road to paved trail to dirt trail, winding our way through woods, over hills, always in sight of water to the west. on a clear day, the olympic mountains glow crystal white across the sound, breathtaking. and so we go.

the vet says kate is built for five to seven miles of running, tops, so we keep our little journeys to 4.5 - 5.5 miles. i'm now "training" for a half-marathon in june, so on "long run" days of eight, nine, a dozen miles, i'll have to leave her home.

running alone, i wear headphones and listen to music. with kate, the headphones stay home and we talk to each other. yes, i do most of the talking, but she communicates very well...

"i need to slow down a bit."
"i'm thirsty."
"i'm going to roll in this grass now."
"i have to pee."

(note: those are the things i say to her. generally, she just says, "whatever, dude.")

kate was a rescue. she was abused early in life, and when we got her at six months old, she was like some feral creature that didn't even know she was a dog. it was the little dogs who taught her how to be part of the pack (for which i'll always be grateful...even if they are yappy little dogs).

that was two and a half years ago. people who met kate back then can't believe how much she's changed. the dog who cowered and cringed and feared every unfamiliar sound has transformed into a confident, attention-seeking biscuit-hound. "she's a completely different dog," they say, perhaps thinking such a thing was impossible.

she still doesn't like loud noises, but then again, neither do i. which is another reason the park and its quietude and expansive breathability are so appealing. also...i'm grateful for the company. much better than the headphones.

kate likes running.

and so we go.

social sherds and check-in chaff

people who disdain facebook and twitter say they're not interested in reading about the boring, inane details of other people's lives.

they don't know what they're missing.

today's not half over, and i've done enough interesting stuff to keep social archeologists busy for years. and, thanks to the magical miracle of social media, i can share all of it with my friends. wait, that's too limiting. i can share it with...the world.

the good stuff, from the get-go:

mrs. spaceneedl says the dogs need to be let out to go pee. rolling out of bed...now!

since i'm going downstairs anyway, i'll take the laundry basket with me. chores starting early!

dogs let out. stop barking, dogs!

chose to do a dark load first, followed by a white load. i am the laundry decider!

dogs let back in. suppose i should feed them. poor hungry creatures!

whew. see? the day's not ten minutes old, and look how much excitement the world would've missed were it not for my ability to update my status instantaneously, spontaneously, anywhere, any time.

already wondering what you missed in the time it took me to type the last two sentences? i don't blame you! let's find out...

fed dogs. now they're waiting by the door to go outside to poop. good dogs. wait, kate, don't eat the poop!

need coffee. should i have the coconut macadamia nut, or the hazelnut caramel? can't decide!

remembered we have coconut milk in the fridge. so, went with the hazelnut caramel. i'm the coffee decider!

wife is up and around now, gearing up to walk the dogs. dogs are excited. more chances to poop!

walking to the village now. gives a whole new meaning to "go dogs, go!"

just so you know, i'm leaving out a bunch of stuff that, frankly, is none of your business. can you imagine the quantity (and quality!) of the content if i didn't have this awesome self-filter thing going on in my brain? for example, i'm completely omitting the post about picking up three bags of poop in the back yard, and the one about hosing some poop off one of my shoes. i just don't think you need to know about that sort of sh*t. sorry!

where was i?

dogs, laundry, poop, village...oh, right.

wife wants to shop at "vixen." note: it's not nearly as racy as it sounds. this is magnolia, after all!

wife playing the "retail therapy" card. where's my retail therapy card? i don't think we're playing from the same deck!

yes, dear, those jeans look very nice on you. what? they're on sale? you don't say!

funny thing about vixen: they carry nothing for men. i'll get nothing, and like it. aren't i a good sport?!

vixen trip complete. jeans, earrings, tank top: $178. great husband status: priceless!

once again, i've left out a bunch of excellent, post-worthy stuff here. the entire stop at the bakery, specifically, will remain undisclosed and up to your imagination. but trust me, it was scintillating. "hollywood wives" has nothing on "magnolia bakers and baristas." the whole place just pulses with hot, sweet, savory, fresh stuff that's none of your business. and it happens there every day, except mondays, when they're closed, probably because they need to rest up after all that hot monkey, um, bread.

so, go ahead, scoff at the social media all you want, scoffers. but this is the last time i let you peer in at the real-time reporting of breaking news, not to mention the intimate details of the dirty laundry you can't read about anywhere else.

probably.

quadrennially yours...

february 29th doesn't come along every day, y'know.

which is good, since this year it coincides with me being sick. yes, i got the flu shot, therefore it isn't the flu. i insist. regardless, for the last 48 hours, maybe 72, my head hasn't been right. (far longer than that, you say? oh, very funny. ha. ha.)

while awake i've been sneezy, achy, dizzy, sleepy, and a couple more of the seven dwarves. while sleeping...i've had some really weird dreams.

he (disentangling from she): i'm going to have to get some sildenafil citrate to keep up with you.

she (still smiling): what's that?

he: generic viagra.

she: generic? why generic?

he: for what we're doing, cheap is more appropriate.

she: that was not nice. not nice at all.

he: you can't have tawdry without audrey.

she: yeah, well you can't have odd without todd.

he: my name's not todd.

she: my name's not audrey.

[pause]

he: i have to go.

she: me, too...

for the record, i was not the "he" in this dream. also, i don't know any "todd and audrey" couples. nor was i aware that i was aware of the generic name for viagra. who notices that kind of thing? and who has dreams like this? bizarre.

~~~~~~~~

since monday, i have experienced several episodes of back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back sneezes. much to my discomfort, and much to the amusement of those around me. to them i say one thing: snot funny. it's fortunate i wasn't operating heavy machinery during any of these sneezures.

~~~~~~~~

in other news...

the president of the california fish and game commission, daniel richards, recently traveled to idaho, where he hunted, killed, and ate a mountain lion. he couldn't do these things in california, because they're illegal there.

apparently dozens of california lawmakers have called for daniel's resignation, saying his actions aren't consistent with his position with the state. he has declined to quit, essentially telling the lawmakers to go fuck themselves. i may be slightly exaggerating that last part.

legally, daniel is correct. he participated in a legal (in idaho) activity, broke no laws in doing so, and seemed to really enjoy it. good for him.

me, i have no quarrel with hunters, mostly because they carry guns, and people with guns are dangerous. what i've never been able to understand, though, is why so many of them get so much joy from killing.

i bet they wouldn't enjoy it so much if the quarry were shooting back. which is kind of what's happening in afghanistan, where u.s. military personnel recently burned several copies of the koran.

this was bad form, and a bad idea, in that it set off riots and killings in that country. recognizing the danger that riots and killings pose to u.s. forces, barack obama apologized to the afghan president, and told him it wouldn't happen again.

unless of course one of the gop candidates wins the presidency in november. then there'll probably be koran burning parties at the white house every week.

rhetorical query: if afghan troops, occupying america for the last ten years, were burning bibles willy nilly, what do you suppose the reaction amongst christians would be? someone should ask the gop candidates that question, i think.

~~~~~~~~

disconcerting moment of the day: a tweet from someone named megan calhoun (@social moms) showed up on my twitter feed today. the tweet said, "I'm happiest when ________ (fill in the blank)."

the disconcerting part: i couldn't fill in the blank.

~~~~~~~~

grotesquely overrated: filling in blanks.

quietly underappreciated: weeding out the daily surfeit of choices.

~~~~~~~~

note to the lovely mrs. spaceneedl: i don't know if you bought it, or i bought it, or if it was a cruel gift with purchase...but we have to promise~~promise!~~each other never to buy this institutional-grade toilet paper again.

~~~~~~~~

seen today on facebook: "Collective sob ladies...Davey Jones has passed away. How come I always got stuck with peter?"

i have no further comment on this post.

~~~~~~~~

the end of the beginning

this is it.

unless something really interesting happens (let's hope not), this is the last blog post of 2011.

the last one by me, anyway.

i know several people who, for an assortment of very good reasons, did not enjoy their 2011. "i can't wait for this year to be over," they say, hopeful that adding a digit to the calendar will bring better results. or at least some breathing room.

i hope it works.

of course, 2011 wasn't bad for everyone. the 1%, for example, got richer. sure, the 99% got poorer, but the tide may be turning. the 1% really hate that prospect, which is in itself a good thing. #occupy 2012.

the spaceneedl family managed, once again, to keep heads above water. that too may change in 2012, when the missus quits a job she can no longer tolerate and goes in search of a new career. while i'm not eager to be poor, i'd rather be poor with a happy wife than comfortable with an unhappy wife (because, really, there's no being comfortable with an unhappy wife).

besides, i am fortunate in many nonmonetary ways. for example, i have the great good fortune to work with some of the most fiercely intelligent women i've ever met. they amaze me every day...plus, they make me laugh, for which i'm very grateful. i live with a couple females who fit that description, as well. the older one continues to be my best friend, as has been the case for many years. the young one continues to keep me wrapped around her little finger (and every other fiber of her being), as has been the case for all of her eleven years.

i do know a few intelligent males, but they're fewer and farther between. maybe it's because men are rumored to think of sex every sex seconds (which would certainly make concentration difficult, if that were true, which i'm sure it's not). i happen to live with an intelligent young male who tries hard, every day, to convince me he's not very bright. so far, i'm not buying it. but for the record, he is very persuasive.

collectively, we are healthy, we have enough to eat, and we have a roof over our heads. this makes us far more fortunate than many. we are grateful for our good fortune, and empathize with those who are not so lucky.

moving on...

at the end of last year i did a review of my itunes downloads for 2010. it was cathartic, and served to remind me that not every idea that pops into my head is a good one. yes, i needed the reminder. this year, instead, i offer the following random observations on the pop culture i stumbled across in 2011. make of them what you will. but try the wine...

movie of the year: (tie) "the help" and "midnight in paris"

album of the year: low country blues, gregg allman

song of the year: "god loves me" melissa mcclelland (2009)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5T2_NAbtTZE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

wine(s) of the year: (red) 2008 tres picos garnacha; (white) 2009 chateau montelena chardonnay

chocolate of the year: coconut milk & caramelized ginger 55% dark chocolate (madre chocolate, honolulu) madrechocolate.com

best fitness-related decision of the year: stop playing basketball, start running. for real. as a demonstration of this zeal, today i was about to blow off running. late, a thought occurred to me: "LAST CHANCE TO RUN IN 2011 !!!" that got me moving. three and a half miles as the sun w
set over the olympic mountains.

best running shoe ever: new balance baddeley 890 (bought on a whim for $45.00 at nordstrom rack)

top projects for 2012: finish "the rally," start "the midlife wife." also, goad brenda into starting "deadwood SD" (or maybe "secrets of deadwood." still thinking about that one)

that's it. bring on 2012.

and don't make me regret it.

ajax, au revoir

bubba's days are running out.

he's 20, see, which is old for a cat. it's hard to say if the liver failure or the kidney failure will get him first.

what is certain, in the meantime, is that bubba's light is dimming. his back legs no longer work very well...a far cry from the smoothly athletic stunts he used to pull, like leaping from the bathroom counter to the top of the door. or flying up the trunk of a large pine just ahead of two pursuing dogs. he was a sight, back in the day.

these days, bubba doesn't stray far from the space heater near his bed. his eyes are clouding, and his coat is perpetually full of mattes, despite the fact that i brush him every day. he's tired, mostly, and you can't really blame him. we should all be doing so well when we're the equivalent of 100 years old.

still, it's a little heartbreaking. some days, if i'm overly tired or stressed or otherwise out of sorts...it's a lot heartbreaking. we've been together a long time~~and though i can see a future when he's no longer around, that prospect doesn't feel real, or possible.

denial is a remarkable thing.

there are other, parallel endings imminent. for the wife of a good friend. for an uncle in hospice. strangely, there are more just outside our orbit. they resonate here, adding to the disquiet.

time slips through our grasp, not like sand or water, but like hard radiation, desiccating everything it touches.

and the simple, obvious, inescapable fact is this: at the end of the day, no one gets out alive.

surf and smurf

at low tide there's thirty feet of sand between the seagrass and the line where the waves reach, falter, and retreat. in that expanse, tiny, translucent crabs skitter sideways, back and forth, occasionally disappearing into the holes they've dug. there must be some purpose to their nonstop activity, but whatever it may be is indecipherable.

further out, into the waves, the girl is on a short board, working in the gaps between the swells. every so often she, the board, and a wave connect in a long, frenzied ride to the sand. spent, the wave slides back dejectedly. the girl, meanwhile, gathers her board and sprints back into the fray.

the low waves are often taller than she is, but she is relentless. she drives into them, dives through them, dances between them. her energy matches theirs, surpasses it, until she emerges in the relative calm behind the breakers. in the surf, her movement is purposeful and powerful. her arms and legs are strong beyond her years. in the waiting green water past the sand bar she is watchful, impatient, eager to throw her board into another headlong rush toward the beach.

a muscular wave rises behind her, and the girl launches herself into the midst of it. she and the board accelerate down and ahead, into an uproar of spray and sand.

at the end of each ride she smiles, rises, and turns. again. again. again. the churning water batters her. she is unperturbed. the waves, in turn, are implacable, innumerable, inexorable. everything they touch they inevitably wear down.

eventually the girl picks up her board, absorbs yet another wave, and hesitates. she shakes it off, turns and walks out of the surf. she is smiling.

behind her, on the horizon, a two-masted schooner moves smoothly, gracefully, at full sail. between clouds, the sun catches the white canvas, turning it incandescent for a long minute.

gradually the sails sink below the horizon, then disappear.

running on...

looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
i don't know how to tell you all
just how crazy this life feels
i look around for the friends that I used to turn to
to pull me through
looking into their eyes I see them running too
running on, running on empty
running on, running blind
running on, running into the sun
but I'm running behind

~jackson browne


i still don't like running.

but i'm hating it less, recently. especially today.

the difference? for one, this morning my daughter ran with me.

it was the inaugural "run the bluff" 12k/5k event held in our very own neighborhood. i ran the 12k~~she and a friend ran the 5k.

the day started rainy and cold, but improved by race time to chilly and misty. the precipitation stopped for the start, but restarted before the finish. which is to say, we got wet.

this seems like a good time to mention that 12k is 7.456 miles. if you're cruising the highway at 65 mph or so, it's nothing. it's 7 minutes of your life that you don't notice going by at all.

if you're running those 12000 meters, however, it takes a lot longer. and me, i noticed every mile.

i noticed that it's easier to run with several hundred people than to run alone. i noticed i'm not the only one who struggles on long uphill climbs. i noticed it's impossible to drink water out of little paper cups when you're running, and trying to do so will empty the cup all down your front. and onto your shoes.

i noticed that i don't like people passing me. and after the first several minutes of sorting things out, no one did. the faster people stayed in front of me, and the slower people stayed behind me. i mean, obviously.

a couple people tried to pass, but after i tripped them and told them to stay on the ground, they lost interest.

kidding.

but really, between mile one and mile seven, no one passed me. i was feeling pretty good about this...right up to the point, with a half-mile to go, where the twenty-something mom (and her child) blew past me with the baby jogger. the moment was deeply symbolic of something, but i'm not sure what.

anyway, i ran, i finished, i didn't fall down, i didn't have a cardiac event. which means it was a very good day.

the girls, meanwhile, had an even better time.

did i mention, they're ten years old and were running their first race? they are, and they were. totally nonchalant about the whole thing, running ahead of me for the first several hundred yards (even though we started together).

they finished 80th among the 171 girls/women running the 5k. the average finishing time was 36:00 minutes, they finished in 34 minutes.

they got their picture taken and their names announced as they crossed the finish line. the only thing missing was al michaels saying, "do you believe in miracles? yes!"

ten years old.

crazy.

**********************

update: several hours later, i'm tired. mostly from two hours shopping with the missus, i think. though it's possible the running may be a contributing factor.

the girl, conversely, is unfazed. smiling, wearing her event t-shirt, her race bib number pinned to her bulletin board.

we're talking about running the "seattle jingle bell walk/run" in a couple months.

it may actually be possible to enjoy running. who knew...

**********************

results:

bib number: 1813
age: 10
gender: F
location: Seattle, WA
overall place: 131 out of 248
division place: 11 out of 19
gender place: 80 out of 171
time: 34:18
pace: 11:03

Number of Finishers: 248
Number of Females: 171
Number of Males: 77
Average Time: 36:00

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

bib number: 190
age: 50
gender: M
location: Seattle, WA
overall place: 89 out of 338
division place: 8 out of 15
gender place: 62 out of 127
time: 1:02:49
pace: 8:26

Number of Finishers: 338
Number of Females: 211
Number of Males: 127
Average Time: 1:12:14

true, but not comforting

dad: ...well, it sounds like you've got everything under control.

me: no, nothing is ever really under control. but i don't think we're in any immediate danger.

dad: okay. have a good weekend.

one ticket to paradise

the missus is going to hawaii.

without me.

hypothetically, if one of us is obliged to travel someplace fabulous on business, the other should be able to tag along without breaking the bank.

the hotel, after all, is paid for. as is one airfare.

business dinners dramatically reduce the cost of meals, so all that's left to cover is round-trip airfare for one.

well, that and the cost of leaving the children behind.

they're too young to stay home alone, and too high-maintenance to pawn off on neighbors. flying the grandparents in for a few days adds significantly to the bottom line. and we haven't yet mentioned the current cost of flights to hawaii, which is enough to make your ears bleed.

bla bla bla. i'm not going.

instead, i'm considering this great alternative, which is totally within the budget.

so, make it one ticket to paradise, please, and three tickets to tornado alley...

mediterranean err

it was all going to be so perfect.

at the confluence of a milestone birthday and a milestone wedding anniversary, the missus and i were gonna fly, sans children, for a fabulous two-week holiday in spain and france.

or spain and italy. or france and italy. or, really, any one of the countries mentioned above. details were still sketchy, but the plan was mutually and enthusiastically endorsed.

the idea was to get away, just us, to someplace we've never been. someplace steeped in history. rich in culture. marinaded in exquisite local wine.

and just for fun, since we were going to be there anyway, we thought we might look around a bit and find ourselves a new forever home. one promising a more reasonable cost of living. a more civilized work-life balance. warmer temperatures. and maybe a water view.

inside of two weeks we were going to find the one spot on earth that offered all of those things (actually, we would've settled for one or two), fetch the children and the dogs, and never look back.

i mean, how hard could that be?

then the middle east happened (thanks hosni! thanks muammar!), and the price of jet fuel went exactly the way you'd expect. not coincidently, airfares to fabulous mediterranean destinations went the same way. and suddenly, for the price of two tickets to barcelona or marseille or rome, we could drive the whole family to yakima a couple dozen times at least.

important geographic note: yakima isn't anywhere near spain. or france. or italy. and while we have nothing but respect for the town and the entire yakima viticultural region, we did not envision it as our milestone celebration destination.

already we're talking about postponing our trip until late summer or fall, betting that the price of petroleum products will decline heading into winter. it's a sucker's bet, we realize, but it's the only one we have at the moment.

in the meantime there's a small but finite possibility that the missus will be required to travel for business in april to...wait for it...hawaii.

we're equally foolish to bet on that one, but it's important in this life to have something to hope for.

it was all going to be so perfect. the grandparents were going to spend quality time with the children and the dogs, costs were going to be manageable, and everyone was going to live happily ever after.

then, poof. time for plan b.

which is to say...there's always yakima.

holy hannah

billy ray is bummed.

his life has gone south, literally and figuratively, and he's not certain why.

but he's pretty sure the devil is involved.

Billy Ray Cyrus says the Disney TV show "Hannah Montana" destroyed his family, causing his divorce and sending daughter Miley Cyrus spinning out of control.

He said the Cyruses and their six children were all baptized before leaving Tennessee for Los Angeles to inure themselves against evil and he believes Satan is attacking his family.

the devil, presumably, wasn't involved when little miley was riding the wave of disney stardom, raking in cash for the cyrus family. or, you know, maybe he was.

because, really, who could've predicted that a few years of celebrity, money, and uncritical adulation would adversely impact a young girl and her family in ways not akin to sunshine and bubble gum?

no, this outcome was not about bad choices and questionable parenting. heavens, no. this is a clear-cut case of bedevilry.

"It's the way it is," Cyrus said. "There has always been a battle between good and evil. Always will be. You think, 'This is a chance to make family entertainment, bring families together...' and look what it's turned into."

family entertainment. didja ever watch the show, billy ray? i mean, you must have...you were in it. remember? you played the clueless father of the disneyfied princess, who played dear old dad like a mystified chump. her character was full of adorably mouthy sarcasm and yours was full of mumbly bumbling.

hanna montana is part of a disney roster that portrays kids as worldly-wise and adults as dolts. not coincidently, the sassitude demonstrated by today's disney kids is imitated with charming precision by kid-viewers (or maybe that's just at our house).

is this the kind of "bringing families together" family entertainment you were referring to, billy ray? was the devil responsible for that expression of family values, or did you maybe just need some different writers?

but no, that might've turned off the fans, not to mention the money machine. and no one wanted that. surely a divorce and an out-of-control-spinning daughter is a small price to pay to feed the hype.

billy ray's gq interview reads like he's still the dumbfounded dad. he doesn't know how it all went wrong, only that it did and that it's his fault. or the devil's fault. or some combination thereof.

random metaphysical question: if the family's troubles were, in fact, the devil's handiwork, isn't billy ray off the hook?

since we're looking askance at disneyfied pop culture, we'd be naive indeed not to consider the possibility that the gq interview, and the attention it's generating, is well-planned. that billy ray's parenting philosophy includes the timeless classic, "any publicity is better than no publicity."

in which case we'd have to conclude that in the battle of good and evil, miley's dad has met the enemy...and it's wearing a mullet.

business travel is glam, v.2

she's back.

after a week of glamorous business travel, retrieving the missus from the airport felt like picking her up from a hospital. jet-lagged, sleep-deprived, bleary-eyed, she seemed fragile as a fabergé egg.

earlier in the week she reported that her hotel in fabulous reading, berkshire, UK resembled a low-end days inn. twin beds, one of which sagged pitifully in the middle, and a restaurant whose most popular item was cheese and butter sandwiches on white bread.

twenty-some hours on airplanes crossing 16 time zones, all in the cause of catering to some auditors whose job it is to audit things. the very idea is teeth-numbingly eye-blinkingly farcical.

but let's not take our eye off the ball, shall we? the important thing is she's home, she's well, and she's resting comfortably. and all she missed while mollycoddling auditors was a couple of gymnastics practices, a couple swim team practices, several jaunts back and forth to schools, a ski club trip, dogs digging up landscaping, several decent meals lovingly prepared by her devoted husband, and three hours in the ballard swedish emergency department.

we thought the girl might've had a case of acute appendicitis, see, but it turned out to be, um, not-appendicitis. still, the excitement was palpable.

anyhoo, she's home. and swearing there will be no more trips this week. so we've got that going for us.

business travel. it's fandamnglamorous.

the glamorous glamour of business travel

the missus is going traveling again.

and again. and again.

it's the latest development in drug development, and isn't it fabulous?

hint: no, it is not.

this time it's a week in the UK, a splendid place in winter, if you don't mind hideous weather and the travel alert to u.s. citizens reminding them of the high level of terrorist threat, including the potential for attacks on public transportation systems, aviation, and other travel infrastructure.

in a strange confluence of coincidence and irony, transportation systems and travel infrastructure are the very instruments required for business travel. so as if the jet lag and wrong-sided driving and meetings and tea carts weren't annoying enough, the missus is advised to maintain a high state of vigilance and security awareness regardless of her jet-laggedness.

also, she's flying coach. because that's company policy and, really, who needs to be rested and coherent on a trip that's so important it requires one's presence on the other side of the globe? no, better that the indispensable executive be exhausted, dehydrated, sneezed-on and borderline deep-vein thrombosed.

there's an eight-hour difference between seattle and london. if conventional wisdom is correct, getting a body recalibrated to local time takes a day per hour. which means her body clock will be upside-down the entire time she's there. and on her return she will feel normal again just in time to get on another plane.

business travel to fabulous ports of call.

is it not fabulous?

hint: see above.

walmart cares...but not about you.

walmart wants you to know, it cares.

it wants you to believe it cares about you, dear customer, and your family and your high cholesterol and the cardiovascular disease steadily, stealthily wrapping its cold fingers around your heart.

important note: walmart doesn't care about any of those things. what it cares about is that you keep buying the cheap, sweatshop-made, environmentally rapacious products that pump up its bottom line.

"Walmart is getting on Michelle Obama's bandwagon, announcing Thursday that it will start selling healthier foods.

"The four-year plan, which company officials announced in Washington with the First Lady, includes reducing salt and sugar as well as eliminating trans fats in packaged foods. Officials for the world's largest retail chain also plan to cut the prices of fresh fruits and vegetables — and will build stores in low-income neighborhoods where consumers have few choices to buy food beyond gas stations and convenience stores."

according to a 1994 article in the american journal of public health, trans fats cause 30,000 deaths a year from heart disease. and we've known since 1988 that trans fats are correlated with a "...large increase in coronary artery disease."

meanwhile, according to the la times, "Walmart has more than 140 million customer visits each week." which means over the years the company that cares has pumped its toxic products into billions and billions of its customers' arteries.

"In outlining the changes, officials said they plan to reformulate thousands of packaged foods by 2015. Their goals include reducing sodium by 25 percent and added sugars by 10 percent, and removing all remaining industrially produced trans fats and partially hydrogenated oils."

the information that trans fats kill people has been around for a generation. why did walmart wait so long to care about its customers, one might reasonably ask. is it because they just recently heard the trans fat news, or is it something else? tsk, silly questions!

what's most likely is that the friendly, caring, concerned walmart team recently decided they could make a different kind of killing by tinkering with their product mix, with the expectation of reaping ridiculous profits whilst still ridding the country of its small businesses. and if their little experiment doesn’t meet ROI expectations, it can die, quick and quiet. genius!

"In Washington, consumer advocates praised the news. 'I applaud Walmart for using its marketplace muscle to move the food industry in a healthier direction,' said Michael Jacobsen, president of the Center for Science in the Public Interest.

"'This announcement will virtually eliminate artificial trans fat in packaged foods and help spur food manufacturers to cut the sodium in their products over the next several years,' he added. 'Those two moves by Walmart ultimately should save thousands of lives each year that might otherwise be lost to heart disease or stroke.'"

excuse me, michael, but isn't this a bit like praising the gila monster in the chicken coop for passing up the high-cholesterol eggs?

sure the chickens are all dead, but the risk of heart disease is greatly reduced. yay, gila monster!

and by the way, michael, doesn't walmart sell cigarettes and other tobacco products? yes, yes it does. and isn't it true that cigarettes kill 400,000 americans every year? yes, yes it is. just sayin', mister walmart cheerleader.

the funny thing is, even if walmart makes available every manner of lowfat, low sodium, high omega-3 option and alternative, many of the store's clientele will take one look at the healthful array and say, "uh, no. none of that organic stuff for me and my family. that's for elitists and socialists and french-speakers. we like head cheese. pork rinds. gahddam beef byproducts! that's what's for dinner at our house!"

butbutbut...isn't it a good thing that walmart is offering healthier products, no matter how cynical and self-serving its motivations might be? sort of. if manufacturers can be pummeled into incremental product improvements by the threat of walmart's economic hammer, great. if, as a result, millions of walmart customers improve their unhealthy diets the tiniest bit, better still.

but if it's just another way for the company that doesn't really care to increase its clout--enabling it to continue its ravening, unethical, inhumane business practices--that's not so good.

clever PR campaigns and facile solutions to real problems are no reason to get all warm and snuggly with the corporate lizard.

small talk

"she was a gymnast, you know."

"who?"

"the girl in arizona. the one who was killed."

"yes, she was."

"she was nine years old, and a third-grader. she was the same level gymnast as me."

"i see."

"i saw her picture. she was pretty."

"yes, she was."

"she did ballet and played baseball and swam."

"yes, babe. she did."

"why did that man have to shoot her?"

[pause]

"daddy?"

"yeah, babe..."

"why did he have to shoot her?"

"i don't know...[sigh]...he's mentally ill."

"what does that mean?"

"it means...[sigh]...it means there's something wrong with his brain."

[pause]

"grandpa don lives in arizona."

"yeah, he does."

"is he gonna be okay?"

"yes, he'll be fine."

"how do you know?"

"these things don't happen very often. the chances of it happening to him are really small."

"does it happen here?"

"not very often."

"she was a lot like me."

"i know, baby. i know."

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tight christmas

mrs. spaceneedl loves her some christmas specials.

from it's a wonderful life to charlie brown to white christmas to the grinch, this time of year she's all about parking in front of the tv and shushing everyone so she can hear the lines we all know by heart.

which is fine by me. we have too few traditions tying us together at our house. it's comforting to have a handful that we can point to and say, "this is what we do, for no other reason than this is what we do." it might not make sense to sit and watch reruns we've seen dozens of times, but then again, what really makes sense any more?

maybe, one day, the little needls will have their own families and their own traditions, and maybe they'll gather to watch fred claus or elf or bad santa or, you know, whatever passes for holiday programming 20 years from now. it would be nice, though, if they shushed their kids so they could hear one or two of the old school shows, because they're a reminder of a simpler time in their lives. a time when holiday movies weren't full of snark and cynicism and sentiments that make you furrow your brow and think, "wtf?"

watching white christmas this year, it occurred to me that, despite its status as an all-time holiday classic, there's no way this movie gets made today. even if you could resurrect bing and danny and rosemary and vera-ellen.

unless you were making "zombie white christmas," i suppose.

made today, white christmas would have to feature robert downey, jr. as the cia chessmaster whose people love him because of the hilariously varied ways he kills hapless terrorists. will smith and kanye west would reprise the bob wallace and phil davis roles...of course you'd have to change those names. i mean, can you imagine will smith playing "bob wallace" and kanye west playing "phil davis"? and the two of them singing "count your blessings instead of sheep"?

on second thought, that'd be kinda funny.

as undercover operatives posing as r&b artists in new york, the two of them find themselves assigned to the badlands of south dakota, battling caribbean pirates on a quest for lost incan treasure. while in sioux falls they stumble across a promising sister act performing old school christmas songs at a holiday inn express. the haynes sisters, portrayed by taylor swift and katy perry, are desperate to get out of the dakota lounge circuit and land a recording contract, so they concoct a variety of hijinx to impress wallace and davis.

meanwhile, downey has cleverly allowed himself to be captured by the pirates, who have taken control of an icbm silo. downey promises to help them aim the missile at the moon, which legend says will reveal the location of the treasure. instead, he disables the warhead and reprograms the missile to topple the main towers broadcasting fox news.

simultaneously, romantic sparks are flying between west and swift, causing smith and perry to furrow their brows and think, "wtf?"

the four get caught up in a snowmobile chase between, over and through the countless ice fishing houses on lewis and clark lake. hilarity ensues as pirates, drunken ice fishermen, and walleyes fly across the screen at high speed.

i don't want to spoil the finale for you, but it's a big fight scene/dance number involving the five heroes, a bunch of confused fishermen, and a plethora of pirates and wenches played in cameos by an army of international celebrities.

at some point the entire cast gathers to sing a rap version of a certain holiday classic, renamed "tight christmas." afterward everyone grudgingly hugs and goes their separate ways.

a series of sequels is a given.

can you feel it? i got chills. it'll be huge.

mrs. spaceneedl just rolled her eyes at me. it doesn't feel like a classic to her.

she'll change her mind when the screenplay contract is signed and the first check hits our bank account.

that'll be tight.

filling station

through timeless words
and priceless pictures
we'll fly like birds
not of this earth
and tides they turn
and hearts disfigure
but that's no concern
when we're wounded together
and we tore our dresses and
stained our shirts
but it's nice today
oh, the wait was so worth it...

~ jason mraz

from the front end, ten days can stretch beyond the horizon, full of plans and promise.

but the fact is, ten days is only 240 hours, and they pass in the blink of an eye.

especially if you fill them up with life.

for example, you could roll out of bed at dawn every one of those days, because that's when you wake up and find you're ready to get your day rolling. however improbable you might've found that prospect on the front end.

and because it's already warm, you might throw on shorts and a t-shirt and walk a couple miles along the beach as the sun comes up, watching the sky change from purple to pink to orange.

you could pass a couple dozen people, who invariably smile a little smile and say a quiet good morning, because they too are experiencing something simple and clean and timeless and therefore profound.

your new routine, which in no way resembles your old routine, might include coffee that smells like coconut, and a bowlful of something healthy that includes actual coconut.

later, your day might find you out on the electric-blue water, hovering over an ancient volcanic crater or a fossilized coral reef covered with contemporary coral. you splash overboard with a tiny cylinder of portable atmosphere, putting a world of distance between you and your regularly scheduled programming. from the boat to the bottom is a matter of a few dozen feet, but the quiet that settles over you feels like a warm embrace of miles.

it's like swimming in the world's biggest tropical fish tank, pulsing with color. until you see the enormous sea turtles paddling around you, which could never fit in a tank. the honu are either mildly curious or completely indifferent to your presence in their world. they drift away in all directions, leaving much more of an impression on you than you made on them.

another day might find you clinging for life to the side of a volcanic ridge, high above a tropical valley floor. your position is made more precarious by the early morning fog and mist swirling around you. each step is an opportunity for a foot to slip. every reach up is a chance to lose your grip.

photos never do justice to the steepness of this climb, or the consequences of an uncontrolled descent. you don't really get it until you're 10 or fifteen minutes up. that's when it hits you that if you fall, you die.

you keep going up, because the thought of not finishing is unacceptable. in fact, the goal is to get to the top quicker than the last time. for no particular reason.

when you get there, you catch your breath but you don't really celebrate. because you know that the trip down is actually more difficult, and now it's raining. en route, how many times does your foot slip off its designated step? four? six? how does that shot of adrenaline feel, every time?

after what seems like hours, you reach the bottom safely. and you're already thinking about repeating this foolishness on your next visit. which means you're an occasional adrenaline junkie, and therefore not very smart.

ten days seems like a long time, except on day nine. that's when you realize how pitifully short it is. and in a time-warped moment of clarity you can see ahead to a day you might be at this place again, after the children have grown and gone. you think back to this trip, when they were here, running around acting like children...and you wonder where the time went.

you feel that moment with perfect lucidity, and find it dusty and sepia toned. it's not adrenaline you experience then, but something else moving and powerful.

ten days is only 240 hours. and they pass in the blink of an eye, whether you fill them up or not.

better to fill them up with something. if you're lucky, it could be something timeless and priceless.

and so worth it.

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none-too-friendly skies

we're flying tomorrow.

which means we'll have to go through security at seatac airport.

i really hope nobody tries to grope us.

* * * * *

i haven't packed yet. but really, how long can it take to throw some shorts, t-shirts and a swimsuit into a carry-on bag?

besides which, this day-before was full up with last-minute busy work. from the coffee shop to the hardware store to the barber shop to the dive shop to the fred meyer to the post office back to the hardware store to the grocery store and finally, home.

where there was still plenty more to do.

* * * * *

whoops, forgot the bakery and the book store. and the eyeglass repair place.

* * * * *

the forecast was right: it's turned cold in seattle. and windy. this is not a happy combination. wind chill factor is not something i want to deal with. current temperature, 37. feels like: 32. dew point: 23. which means it could get damn cold tonight. forecast for the next three days: snow flurries developing. highs in the 30s. lows in the 20s.

seems like a good time to be leaving town.

* * * * *

movie tonight on comcast channel 650: "how do i look?"
movie on channel 651, same time: "coyote ugly"

* * * * *

crystal mountain and mount baker ski areas are already open. skiing this season is going to be amazing. and, unlike last year, i get to participate. working-from-home snow days also looking promising.

* * * * *

so, i've downloaded "50 first dates" from itunes. why would i do such a thing, you might ask? because it was shot on oahu, that's why. many of the places we'll be going to featured prominently in the movie. sealife park, where adam sandler's character worked. chinaman's hat, near where forgetful lucy lived. kaneohe, waimea, waimanalo...oh, i also thought the movie was pretty funny. i plan to watch it on the flight over. assuming we get past the gropers.

* * * * *

also shot on oahu: "from here to eternity," "tora, tora, tora," and "pearl harbor."

"jurassic park."

the opening shots of "gilligan's island."

"hawaii 5-0."

"lost."

if you like that sort of thing.

* * * * *

10-day forecast for honolulu:

high: 82
low: 71

repeat, 10 times.

*****

we're flying tomorrow.

why am i still awake and typing?

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four orders of good to go

"if you never did, you should. these things are fun, and fun is good."

~ dr. seuss


we're t-minus one week to oahu.

the prospect is so good, it's hard to keep in the here and now.

we're constantly recalculating the minimum required to stay functional any given moment, so as not to interfere with our pre-trip prep and general euphoria.

which is to say, we're making plans. oh my, yes.

plan a: scuba diving. the boy is on the brink of scuba certification, and so four dives off southeastern oahu are scheduled and paid for.

these dives will differ dramatically from his experience in puget sound, where the water is 50F year-round. he'll be able to see, for one thing. there's not a lot of light around here these days, so visibility is about six feet. in the bright midday sun off oahu, we expect to be able to see most of the way to san francisco. which will be good...we'll be able to see the dorsal fins circling us.

there will be surfing. the rest of the family took lessons in maui a couple years ago, and they're ready to give it another go. shoot, i may even try it myself. you haven't really lived, after all, until you've been hit in the head with a surfboard or nibbled experimentally by a shark.

speaking of nature's perfect predator, there will be an excursion in a shark cage. last time, sailing out of haleiwa, the boy and i spent 25 minutes within touching distance of a swarm of galapagos sharks. they looked impressively predatory, but word on the boat was that they're bottom feeders. which means they may bite you in the ass.

other sharks sometimes seen on these trips include tigers, gray reef sharks, and pelagic hammerheads. all are described as "aggressive to humans." but we'll be, you know, in a cage. what could possibly go wrong?

10 more very good things to get giddy over in oahu (in inverse order from top to mid-list, then in reverse...)

1. ten days of highs in the mid 80s, lows in the mid 70s.

2. running five miles, barefoot, on kailua beach.

3. açai extravaganza bowls from lanikai juice.

4. grilled shrimp with rice from the lunch truck across the street from keneke's family bbq in waimanalo.

5. hiking up to the lanikai pillboxes.

6. climbing the ha'iku steps.

7. paddle surfing to the mokoluas.

8. jumping off "da big rock" at waimea bay beach park.

9. thanksgiving at the beach.

10. endlessly, pointlessly contemplating how we can stay and live the island life.

and...(this list goes to eleven)

11. duke's on sunday.

these things will be fun, and fun is good, while it lasts. to that end, we'll invoke the corollary that if a little fun is good, more is better.

music playing happy songs
everybody's getting along
dancing in the sunshine
sipping on that rose wine
good times will set you free
oh, this is the place to be
on the beach at waikiki
that's where you'll find me
here on the south side
beach boys paradise
duke's on sunday
duke's on sunday
duke's on sunday

~ henry kapono

* * * * *

update: this just in from the national weather service, for western washington...

... A CHANGE TO MUCH COLDER CONDITIONS IS POSSIBLE FRIDAY INTO NEXT WEEKEND...

COLD AIR IS EXPECTED TO DEVELOP OVER WESTERN CANADA DURING THE UPCOMING WEEK. THERE ARE STRONG INDICATIONS THAT CHANGES IN THE WIND FLOW ALOFT TOWARD THE END OF THE WEEK WILL ALLOW SOME OF THIS COLDER AIR OVER WESTERN CANADA TO FILTER INTO WESTERN WASHINGTON FRIDAY OR SATURDAY.

WEATHER GUIDANCE ALSO SUGGESTS THAT THERE IS A RISK OF SNOW... OR MIXED RAIN AND SNOW SHOWERS OVER PORTIONS OF THE AREA FRIDAY OR SATURDAY.

the fun just does not stop.



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