Way Back Whensday

What we were listening to…

5 years ago (i think this album is top-notch. i remember there being quite the debate amongst the beastie boy heads in my circle when this dropped.)

10 years ago (wow. talk about another incredible album. ten years old now, damn. if you’ve not heard this record. go find it. now.)

20 years ago (well, hell, let’s just keep with the awesomeness that is mike patton. wow. i feel old right now. john d. (who turned me on to these guys waaaaaaay back in the day and who caught mad hell for having a faith no more t-shirt before everyone else (and then when ‘epic’ came out they were all like ‘yeah, we’ve always liked this band’) and my brother, matt (the biggest faith no more fan i know), this one’s for you.)











Way Back Whensday

Way Back Whensday

What we were listening to…

5 years ago

10 years ago (one of my fave albums ever and likely to spin me off into a fugue of reminiscence for the rest of the day…likely worthy of its own write-up…man, i love this record, i heard this for the first time in its entirety on kjhk while driving home from mountain biking at clinton lake one day…i was so taken aback by the difference in sound between this record and ‘zaireeka’ or ‘clouds taste metallic’.)









20 years ago (you are welcome for this one.)

Way Back Whensday

20 years ago…

Although it really does seem like yesterday, it was actually 20 years ago this week that I moved from here:

to here:

It was no small move, I assure you, to head from a place where my skateboard got me everywhere to a place with probably 1 mile of total combined sidewalk and getting to said sidewalk was a 5-mile highway drive. (In hindsight, I should have had my father help build me a halfpipe in our backyard…)

We landed in Willow just a few days before I started high school. I knew one person: my cousin, who would also be starting as a freshman that year. Our high school had it’s opening day assembly and there I was, the definitive new kid from California. I didn’t look all that out of place: typical white boy, wearing an oversized orangeish white-washed shirt with some dog printed on it, saying something or other. (Nor was I the only kid in that shirt that day – must have been something picked up by mom at a quick pre-school-staring-Wal-Mart shopping run.) I’m sure I had on a ball cap. In those days, my head without a baseball hat was about as unlikely a sight as Don Draper without a whiskey in hand.

And I stood there, looking up into the gymnasium bleachers, a veritable sea of unknown faces, and experienced a sort of mini culture shock. Mind you, I had come from an insanely diverse place: black, white, mexican, filipino, guamanian, samoan, puerto rican, chinese, japanese…my middle school was a crazy mix of race and culture. And it was fantastic. Those few years in that truly American middle school were more formative to my sense of self and my understanding of the world then any time or place since. So I stood looking up, saw my cousin, and walked toward her. She was pleasant and introduced me to her friends. And then I took a seat and listened, the principal’s speech getting remixed in my head with Too $hort. I listened and thought about how I’d get by there, so far removed from concrete and public transportation and the ocean and all my old friends…I’d moved plenty of times before then, but the older I got, the harder the moves were.

But I got by, eventually. I met some truly incredible people, caused more trouble than I should’ve, had a fair share of high school drama and retardation, and learned to love getting lost down old, gravel roads, playing around in acres of forests, and finding swimming holes ridiculously removed from everything I thought mattered. (So much so, that I took my wife down that way to propose many moons after I moved.)

I’ve since reconnected on Facebook with damned near everybody from my Alameda life, people I was certain at the time of leaving that I’d never see again unless I made my way back to the Bay Area (which I haven’t yet…). And I wonder if that sense of longing for lost friends and places has been somewhat mitigated by technology. If that feeling I had that I had to keep a piece of my California friends within me in some way – with music, skateboards, or slang – would have been unncessary if I could have daily watched them grow up from afar, seen the photos from the parties they threw, watched them date each other, simply been a part of their daily conversations…

My kids probably will likely never know what it’s like to have to leave a friend. And I don’t know if that’s an advantage.

20 years ago…

Beer Review Poem: Boston Brewing Company’s Samuel Adams Blackberry Witbier

After Seamus Heaney’s Blackberry Picking

Mid-July, given heavy rain and sun
for a full week, the blackberry wit would call.
At first, just one, a glossy brown bottle
passed others, stout, pilz, IPAs quite a lot.
You drank that first one and its undertone wasn’t too sweet,
unlike thickened wine: which brewer’s blood was in it?
No taste remains upon the tongue and it lusts for
more. The better ones passed up and that hunger
sent us out for milk-stouts, saisons, wits with bite
that brewers crafted and wet grass bleached our boots.
Small head, golden color and barely a fruit-tinged nose
we drank and drank until the bottle was empty,
until its tinkling bottom had been uncovered
to little bubbles, and in the fridge another bottle waited
like a bored soldier. Our noses weren’t peppered
with blackberry, nor pleased with this wit-non/wit.
We craved more berries in the mouth.
And when the tasting was done we thought it bland,
A sub-par brew, cluttering our cache.
Slightly warm, the brew was blah too. Out of the fridge
the fruit still vaporous, the wit no more bold.
I almost felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
that this the lovely idea couldn’t decide what it was.
With each wit I hope Sam Adams succeeds, I’m concerned they will not.

Beer Review Poem: Boston Brewing Company’s Samuel Adams Blackberry Witbier

Continuous Glucose Monitoring: Week One

One week done and gone while constantly monitoring my blood sugar levels. There’s been some goods and bads, but so far, I’d have to give the Freestyle Navigator two big syringes up!

Monday morning I cycled in to work. The adhesive for the sensor/transmitter did not like the heat/humidity and my skin’s reaction to them both. Couple that with where on my abdomen I’d placed the unit, and I had a feeling the thing wasn’t going to last out the bike ride home. And I was right. Halfway back I started to feel an itch and little pricks on my belly on every right-side up-pedal. When I got home I had to rip the thing off, it was itching so bad. This is what I found beneath:

eek

Repeated stab wounds!

Here’s what the sensor looked like unsheathed:

sharpie

I was pretty ticked off. The sensors are supposed to last 5 days. This one lasted 3. And those mofos ain’t cheap. But, this was my first attempt at attaching one, so maybe I did something wrong. I’m still in experimental mode.

I attach the next sensor a little bit higher and on the other side of my abdomen. I also attach an overbandage, which the manufacturer recommended if the sensor adhesive alone wasn’t enough. New sensor in place – tight as can be this time thanks to the overbandage – and 10 hours later I’m back to cyborg. Interestingly enough, the sensor readings and my finger-prick readings were much more aligned with the second sensor, with deviations only about 10 mg/dl in either direction.

Come ’round to Thursday when I’m ready to bicycle to work again. There and back, no real issues. I can pedal without feeling pinched and though I can see the sensor adhesive beginning to come unattached, the overbandage remained snug.

Then, yesterday, my abdomen begins to itch like mad. I can’t take it so once again rip off the sensor before it’s due to expire (this one lasted 4 days). This is what I found underneath:

eekeek

So this time I had the damned thing on too tight and the edges caused some blistering. Washed down with some peroxide, soap and water. Rethunk my strategy. I don’t think a sensor on the abdomen is gonna work during cycling season. Fair enough. So this morning, I attached sensor three to the back of my arm:

cyborg arm

It is difficult to take a photo of the back of your arm by yourself. This is the most comfortable placement position so far. Throughout the day I even forgot a few times I had it attached.

And, 10 hours later, here I am back to being continuously monitored. And I like it. Over the week, I’d grown quite used to using the device’s reporting features to view my 2, 4, and 6 hour BG trends and using those reports to plan for things to come. The low blood sugar alarm is worth it’s weight in gold. This week I confirmed that, for the most part, I have pretty good control. My sugars tend to spike late-morning (for what reason I’ve yet to corner) and that 30-60 minutes of moderate daily exercise is indispensable for maintaining any control (the days I didn’t have time to exercise clearly show erratic up and down trends). And this is nothing I didn’t know already – but it’s nice to see and to gather the data for mining it down the road for even more gains in control.

Continuous Glucose Monitoring: Week One