The Move-In

Finally completed the move-in to my new apartment. The bed is being delivered tomorrow and everything will finally be done. Whew! My back is aching from moving this and that and two bowling balls I didn't know I had and stuff. It's funny how when you move you take stuff out of one closet and move it into the new closet.

The gym is still there and I am still going. While I have not made peace with the treadmill, I have befriended the eliptical machine -which raises a strange math question that I thought about while working out.

Every three minutes I slightly change the workout. For the first three minutes, I do not use my hands, the next three I use the arm thingies on the machine and for the last three I hold on to the pulse reader thing and then repeat for a total of 30 minutes.

So I was thinking that I spent 30 minutes working out and did three activities over and over, so 10 minutes for each step. Since I do the steps in 3 minute increments, how can I total 10 minutes? I mean 10 does not go into 3 equally. It seems like there is a left over minute somewhere.

I think I figured out but let's see if you can. I'll tell you my answer next post.

Another stupid math thing that used to puzzle me is when I was pumping gas. Let's say I was pumping $10.00 worth of gas. At $1.00 per gallon, I would get 10 gallons. At $2.00 per gallon, I would get 5 gallons. Now, let's say gas was $1.50 per gallon - halfway between $1.00 and $2.00.

Logic says that I would receive the halfway point between 10 gallons and 5 gallons - 7.5 gallons right?

Well do the math - 10/1.5 = 6.67 gallons. I don't know - it just doesn't make sense to me.

Is anyone still there? Did you see math and your eyes glazed over and skipped to this section. Well, go back and read the math part. It's interesting! Ok on with the show. Here is my next little installment of the "Casa Fernandes Chronicles" or my working title "Beautiful Dreamer"

Outside

Access to the parking lot was made via “the shortcut”- two boards were missing in our fence. Due to some geographical anomaly which to this day I am unable to explain, the parking lot ground level was a full three feet higher than our backyard.

It was as if God himself lifted the church and its accompanying parking lot three feet higher than the surrounding ground. Either that or the Hayward fault that we heard so much about ran right through our backyard. So to access the parking lot, one had to fit through the opening of the fence and enter a piece of ground that was a no man’s land known as “the ditch”. Nothing but weeds and spiders lived in “the ditch.” The ditch separated our low land back yard from the raised level of the church parking lot. I once saw a spider with legs so long and a web so thick that I feared using the shortcut for weeks. Surely the spider would ensnare me in its thick web and eat me alive!

Once through the shortcut, the church parking lot was ours for the taking. Most lazy summer days were spent playing basketball on the parking lot. Well, our version of basketball anyway. More often than not, we didn’t have a “basketball.” We used any ball that fit in the basket – volleyball, soccer ball, four-square ball, even the occasional tennis ball was used in a pinch.

The backboard was attached to a light post that seemingly stretched several hundred feet in the sky. At the base of the light pole was a concrete base of about two feet square with a small pole at each corner to prevent cars from ramming into the tall but light light pole.

When we didn’t have a basket ball, we used to stand on each small pole and carefully hop to the next one, hugging the light pole for balance. We did this for seemingly hours on end – from corner pole to corner pole. A delicate balancing act performed daily -two feet above the ground. Since church was not in session, not too many people interrupted our adventure round and round the light pole.

One day that all changed when we were visited by an odd older man with a smile and laugh that gave him a kid-like quality and innocence. Imagine a Winston Churchill-like man with a hearty laugh and less teeth (three to be exact). That man as we came to learn was named James and he lived across the street at a curious place called Casa Fernandes. In between jolly laughs, he sang one tune over and over “Beautiful Dreamer.” We would come to learn that summer that James was indeed a beautiful dreamer.

Origin of Love

I was reading the paper (does anyone else still read "the paper"? The paper contains facts. This paper contains facts - "Pregnant man gives birth" That's a fact) I digress.

I was reading the paper and came across this ad:

"The" John Cameron Mitchell is reprising his role as Hedwig! The original Hedwig!

I went on line right away and bought tickets. So I am going!

I want to see this business, we call show.

Ch-ch-changes

Thank you David Bowie. Things are a-changing. Jen is having a boy, Pam is hitched. Congrats to both of you - really the four of you - ok the five of you including the little fetus.

Changes for me? You betcha. Not as dramatic or life altering but some changes are coming my way. I think that life goes in cycles and for me it has been 5 year cycles. I changed jobs every 5 years for the past 15 years but no job change this year.

First, my car kinda died. Not really died but failed the smog which is a death sentence for cars. It was going to be $1500 to bring it up to snuff and I didn't want to pay on an old car. A car I loved and enjoyed but alas, it was time to put it down. So I switched to a Mazda. It's a cute little sport-ute. A 2007 CX7 - a lease return but really cute. Here is a pic of one - mine is black

It's cute. I am also moving to somewhere else. A secret location - can't share the details but I am moving hopefully to a place with less window smashing goodness. It is actually back to the same place I used to live in San Leandro - on 143rd Avenue. So that's a change. I'll probably move next week or so.

So new car and a new place to live. Same job and everything else. Same battle getting to the gym on a regular basis. Still loathing the treadmill - I curse your rusty innards!

I went to the gym on the Monday after New years and it was packed to the rafters with people. There was an hour wait to get to a treadmill. It reminded me of the first day of Chabot. Tons of people with new clothes working around kind of disoriented and two weeks later they are gone. Gyms must love New Years and peoples' resolutions. The crowds have already dropped off a bit. Ah well, maybe next year.

Plans for 2009

The New Year is always a good time to make plans. I guess you can make resolutions too but resolutions seem so concrete and unyielding. Plans are more elastic and change with you. I guess some resolutions are just plans anyway. "I plan to go to the gym more often." It is a resolution and a plan. Either way it will probably fail.

Ok gotta stop for a minute. As I was typing this, I realized I was channeling Andy Rooney. Go ahead and read that first paragraph in the style of Andy Rooney. It fits! I guess Andy was the first blogger in history.

Anyway, I do have a plan for 2009. I want to write a story based on childhood memories and incorporate somehow the Casa Fernandes crazy people. I am not sure how it all work but I have the first few paragraphs of the story. Let me know what you think:

You kids! Either in or out! In or out! It’s a beautiful day – go play outside! And close the door – you weren’t born in a barn!”

I never understood why one’s birthplace would have anything to do with the ability to open or close a door. If I were born in a barn, why would I want to leave the door open? I would think that being born in a barn would be kind of drafty and I would want the door closed.

In fact, I had no knowledge of barns at all at the time. I don’t think I had even been in a barn much less born in one. The only barn I can recall as a kid was the Fisher Price Barn made out of tin. But I digress, Mom wanted us to go play outside and we obeyed her animated orders. Notice how Mom only speaks in exclamation points.

Outside - for my brother, two sisters and I – was quite expansive. We had an empty field across the street. The weeds would go wild in the summer and almost on cue would catch fire every summer and provide several minutes of excitement. On the other side of the back fence of our house was a large church and the parking lot of the church was closest to us. When cars weren’t parked there, the parking lot had a half court basketball court and seemingly miles of red hot molten black tar on which to play. We chose the parking lot over the field more often that not.

The church parking lot was a much better option than my Dad’s suggestion “Go count cars on the freeway.” Although I contemplated taking him up on this suggestion several times, I never actually went through with it. I always thought it would be funny to go back to my Dad and say “92”.

“Whaaat? 92 what?”

“I counted the cars on the freeway and counted 92.”

“I think there are more cars on the freeway than that.” He would reply.

“You never specified how long to count cars. So I got up to 92 and thought I would come back and let you know how many I counted.”

“Ah. Great. Go back outside before your Mom sees you. And close the door! She thinks you were born in a barn, you know.”

End Scene. Once back on the parking lot, we would meet James, the first crazy then somehow introduce the others - Mr. Touch, the General, Lola.

That is all for now. The story will get fictional but retain the characters and be based on actual events.