chollaball.net

Cafe society shudders!  George Braque laughs! Museum curators gnash their teeth since they must now display that picture of the dogs playing poker!  Chollaball wallows in his overpriced liberal arts education!  This was a tragic loss to the art world, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Why do you write or paint or create, if you are not getting paid?  For yourself? For attention and self-esteem?  The inevitable answer is some of both, otherwise why bother having a website when you could just have a diary?

The creative undertaking must be personal, but the appreciation and attention adds to the satisfaction for me, not because I need validation, but because the idea becomes more powerful when its appreciated by others like-minded. The audience, even if anonymous and never encountered, inspires me to surround the kernel of creativity with rigor and discipline and honesty, to make the glimmer of a good idea into a nice piece of work, to achieve by the struggle for quality the genuine catharsis we seek when we create.

Recently I have written some fantastic posts, and kept them private.  The writing and research and sincerity are among the best I’ve ever done.  Its been essential to keeping me from totally losing my shit.  And I want to share it. Some things however, shouldn’t be public. This is not my day job, and often on the internet there is nothing to gain and much to lose.

After he became wildly successful, did Picasso need an audience? Maybe his puppy was all the audience he needed.

This post is a proxy for those I can not publish.

She’s also managed to turn herself over, hurl herself out of a bouncy chair, and get her legs caught in the sides of her crib.  So pants-straps and bumpers have worked their way back into the rotation.  Lacking thorough documentation, I can’t tell if Alana is on pace with G in her physical development.   But it seems that this is where things suddenly started to evolve and G morphed from blob to personhood.  I feel like I have not invested as much time in Alana’s physicality as I did with G.  A constant worry is if we are preparing her for health and success as responsibly as we did with G, or if her physicality will be doomed by the curse of the youngest.   Every time I plan on increasing my efforts on her behalf, I get bored with her poditudality or distracted by G.

Beckie must have been reading my mind, since she set up the bouncer the same day I started writing this.  We have a vid of G from July 10, and she is well ahead of Alana.  But a lot can happen in 2 weeks.

Angry and scared with some new-found knowledge of AZ’s “Zero Tolerance” Per Se law, I wrote this letter to Ethan Nadelmann of the Drug Policy Alliance.

Hello Dr. Nadelmann and Team,

I am sure you do not remember me, but I was an undergrad student of yours at Princeton in 1992.  Your class was one of the best I attended, and I have followed the DPA closely for almost 5 years.

I recently learned about a law in Arizona (where I’ve lived for almost 15 years) that merits re-evaluation.  If a person is found with any metabolite of marijuana in their system while driving, they can be convicted of DUI.  The drug could have been active weeks before.  The law is documented below in Arizona Revised Statute 28-1381:

http://www.azleg.state.az.us/ars/28/01381.htm

My nightmare scenario is this: I get rear-ended with my kids in the car.  The officer runs my record, sees I have a ticket for running a red-light (AZ also leads the nation in photo-enforcement cameras), profiles me as a problem driver and orders a blood test due to the accident.  It comes up positive due to pot smoked weeks prior, and now I face felony DUI for being under the influence with minors in the car.

I am opposed to driving under the influence.  But this law is practically carte blanche to turn usage into DUI.  AZ has the toughest DUI laws in the country and a very red\Mormon\family-values population that makes a jury trial a very scary proposition.

I have written my representatives about this law.  But the political climate in AZ is not friendly towards any easing of DUI or marijuana laws.  Unfortunately, most of us only find out about these laws after attending Traffic School due to photo enforcement, and by then we are labeled as criminals in denial.

I hope this unfair and punitive law gets the attention of your organization, and would appreciate any suggestions for raising awareness and opposition to it.

Keep up the good work!

I also wrote to State Senator Chuck Gray and Representatives Kirk Adams and Rich Crandall.

I’ve lived in District 19 for 9 years, and recently attended Traffic Survival School due to a photo-enforcement ticket for running a red light. I learned some great lessons about becoming a better driver and the tremendous harms DUI causes on our roads. I am now more firmly than ever opposed to DUI. But I disagree with ARS 28-1381, sections A-1 and A-3. These clauses make it a criminal DUI if one is impaired to the slightest degree, or one has any metabolite of a restricted substance in one’s system. Again, I am completely opposed to DUI, but these laws are too restrictive to personal freedom and turn sensible law-abiding people into criminals. The notion that a .01 BAC due to one beer during an hour-long dinner, or a vicodin weeks earlier from a dentist appointment could result in a DUI is very unsettling. Responsible consumption and responsible use of prescription drugs is legal and should not put a law-abiding person at risk for the tremendous penalties of DUI comparable to someone with a BAC of .14.

Please continue to support laws that vigorously deter and penalize DUI, but remain sensible about turning ordinary responsible people into criminals.

Fuck lotta good these letters will probably do when all 3 legislators are Mormon. When you start reading member profiles , and look at how some of these laws overly penalize non-issues, its almost impossible not to think that the political offices are being used to force God and the LDS onto Arizona. Makes me seriously think about moving to Colorado, or at least Scottsdale.

I was pleasantly surprised to receive a response from Dr. Nadelmann, in which he described work DPA did opposing a similar law in Ohio.  He forwarded my information to members of the organization in Ohio and New Mexico, as well as representatives for NORML.  Unfortunately, a Senior Policy Analyst from NORML also replied, saying that AZ’s law was among the first and toughest in the nation, and there is little to believe there is a receptive legislative climate for change.  Yeah, I figured that out too.

Its a catch-22.  The Mormons strongly influence AZ, and because of that, no national organizations feel its a good battle ground.  Those of us in AZ are used to the climate, which is probably our first mistake.   I will not vote for a Mormon legislator again, period.  I don’t believe I have in years based mostly on different politics, but that is now my single-issue. Its hard to say that without sounding racist; I’m uncomfortable re-reading it as I write. One-on-one Mormons are a nice as anyone. I have many excellent neighbors and co-workers and folks I’ve ridden with - smart, friendly, educated and tolerant. But the facts speak for themselves as governors.  For an historically oppressed group, the LDS sure likes to dictate their morality when they are in power.  I am going to back up my bullshit with a donation, and if at all possible some advocacy.  I don’t know how, but hopefully I can find out.  I will not be marginalized, just because the powers-that-be would pigeonhole my concern for removing horrible laws as “addiction”.  Meanwhile the best strategy is to absolutely not drive with any alcohol to allow probable cause (not a problem) , drive gently (something I have been training myself to do for several months), and if given a blood test give them no reason to look for pot.  And then hire a really convincing lawyer.

If you feel similarly, please email your reps or donate or raise awareness about these issues.Most people do not know about this law, and most people would not agree if they did.  Its not about drug use, its about government terror tactics.  This is not the act of a free country.

What an amazing weekend for G!  She rode, sorta, her bike without training wheels for the first time.  And swam, sorta, on her own.  Neither endeavor was very far, or very elegant, or free of scares.  But all the right motions are coming together, and she can taste the positive effects, which inspire her onward.  I remember my first time turning on a snowboard, getting a heel and a toe turn, and saying to myself if I can just get the third turn I’ll be snowboarding.  I felt the same thing my first steep-and-deep in the crater at Snowbowl…if I can make that 3rd turn, I’ve got it.

The pool has been building building for several weeks now.  She’s been scooping ice cream and picking apples, she’s been blowing bubbles, and putting it all together while I’ve been holding her horizontal.  We started going underwater together for 3 seconds at a time.  It was working, sorta, but the ultimate benefits were not really clear to her, while the fear and discomfort abundantly were.  The breakthrough came when Beckie got in the pool with us and we 3 all went under together, combined with jumping off my shoulders and have one waterwing fall off on landing.  She found a comfort zone just beyond her comfort zone, and next time I urged\pushed her across the pool to mommy, she mostly propelled herself and kept above water on her own.  We did this 3 times.  Not enough for muscle memory, barely enough to go 10 feet, but enough to realize that 3rd turn.

Losing the training wheels was much the same pattern.  Riding on the bumpy grass in the park with knee pads and helmet and an old pair of gloves I cut down hardly seemed the stately pleasure dome of training-wheel-free riding I promised.  She could go 5, maybe 10 seconds at a time.  Every time she would get off her center just a little, the training wheels were not there to catch her, and the result was either a sharp course correction or a fall.  Even with me catching her and putting her down gently, there are only so many falls a littleGirl can make in an evening.  The inevitable owies that come from overconfidence and blasting downhill to the park did nothing to contribute to a healthy hell-bent mindset either.  She is close, but as I challenged Beckie, in need of an alternative voice for her next step.  Just my luck, Beckie will probably be the one to get all the credit.

Next up, snowboarding!

a very happy girl celebrates with all her friends

One year after the adoption, I had a nice talk with Andrea.   Jo Jo (nee Jo) is doing well.  She is saying goodbye, goodnight, and apple.  Who knew that after 26 years she would improve her vocabulary?   Clear evidence she is in a better environment.  She eats well,  lots of fruit, and gets along well with the 6 other birds in Andrea’s flock.

I feel a little bit like a liar, a dysfunctional parent,  Ike Turner, acting like I care about Jo now.  I miss her a little, sometimes I recall the way she smelled, the heat of her feathers, the grip of her talons so much like Alana’s tinyHand.   Sometimes G misses her too, asks where she is and when we can see her again.  Time has dulled the bad memories of Jo for her, like it has for me.  I’ve forgotten the filth, the screaming, the tension she caused.  However bad it was, it would be far far worse now with Alana.  The stress would be unbearable, surely complicated by the fact that we have Alana’s crib and G’s bed in our bedroom.  Jo would have been relegated to the spare bedroom, which she would have filthified and destroyed while screaming and sulking non-stop, further fueling the downward spiral between us.

Life is better for us all now, and acceptance is easier, but its something with which I am still struggling.  Life is full of so much loss it is numbing, but how often do you lose someone with whom you shared 26 years? It makes no sense to still be sad when every measurable criteria shows we are all better off.  Guilt and regret are powerful forces, maybe more powerful than relief and joy.   But I am filled with those too, and in looking over some pictures of Jo I felt for the first time in months a lot of love and happiness more strongly than the sense of failure.  I want the last post I will likely make about Jo to be positive, but I can not without caveat say that this is.  The best I can say is that I saw this picture tonight and it made me smile.

Other posts about Jo:

• June 9, 2008: The Parrot Who Pwnd Me
• July 2, 2008: Screening
• July 2, 2008: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
• July3, 2008: Saying Goodbye to Jo
• July 18, 2008:  Missing Jo
• October 23, 2008:  Gone Baby Gone

It may finally be succeeding.  I am down close to 5 lbs, having gone to bed last night after a ginormous meal of hamburgers and bbq and still clocking in just over 154.  I  now feel motivated to get below my goal of 153 down to about 150.   I’m most psyched that my body has finally turned the corner and is not wanting to eat as much anymore.  My 6-pack is becoming defined again.  Its always been there, but like its namesake, just hiding in the fridge behind the milk and cheese.  I thought I was old enough to not give a shit how I look anymore as long as I wasn’t hideous, but I see now that was a coping strategy.  It feels good to look tight again! Infused with momentum from my success, dropping under my goal seems suddenly within reach.  

My strategies have not been extreme, but compared to my prior habits have made a few minor but significant changes:

• Much less carbs:  I had a bad habit of snacking on bread as a mini-meal before dinner, since dinner often didn’t come til about 10pm, or eating lots of bread cause I wanted to eat and it was not junk food.  Carbs for athletics are one thing; carbs beyond needed calories are mostly just another form of sugar.
• Less snacks:  we’re just not bringing it home.  I’ve chapped Beckie’s ass when she has, and she has grudgingly acknowledged the validity in my complaints
• High fiber: my diet has always been pretty good, but I’m making a point of eating stuff like acorn squash and brussel sprouts, now that I’ve finally figured out how to cook them so they taste really good.  They fill me up, and make me feel just a little bit sick, which keeps me from overeating.

How cool would it be to come into the Crazy 88 as light as I was with Ironwood in ‘03?!?!

I walked in the door after having been gone all day, and was greeted by The Happiest Little Girl Ever, who jumped into my arms, and promptly slammed the top of her head against my chin.  I wonder how many parents bite off part of their tongue this way?  Top of the head is the hardest part in the human body, so who do you think got the worst of this?  As I was rubbing my jaw and trying not to make The Happiest Little Girl Ever feel bad for wanting to hug me, I said “You rang my bell sweetheart.”

She said “Daddy you don’t have a bell.“

Further deconstructions of colorful idioms became somewhat pointless.

PS: this could, technically, be a tweet.  Except I refuse to Twitter.  And I could not use smileys like this one: 

We thought it might be fun to get jerseys for our Barn Burner race.  After 2 bikes and many purchases in a year,  shirts from Rage were in order.  Peter offered up some green loaners, he wasn’t sure how I’d feel about his fuschia shirts, but my wardrobe was getting tired  and he made me a  screaming deal.  He’s a smart guy, not about to lose a chance to move 2 of his too many pink jerseys.

I had my doubts, especially riding without baggies, but the brown dog socks added just enough masculinity to my lean kit.  The route wasn’t techy and had opportunities for resupply, so we set up to ride light and fast: saddle bag with a tube and minimal tools, pump strapped to the downtube, bottles in the cage and jerseys. This saved probably 9 lbs from my normally boy-scoutish camelback.  While I felt quite naked and insecure, Beckie  most eloquently suggested we embrace being a couple lycra-wearing XC weenies.

a little team spirit for the Desperate Houselives

since we were sharing the Hei Hei, we had an extra plate

We got to the venue around 7 on Friday, not sure what to expect.  The Red Rock production team picked a really nice spot - easy to park, and concentrated without feeling like a tenement building.  Every spot was relatively close to the center of activity at the barn, and they all offered a great view of Kendrick Mtn.

At packet pickup, the volunteers asked to confirm our registration.  Seeing Beckie holding Alana, me holding Kila, and both of us struggling to contain G, they kinda nodded to themselves as the words slipped out: are you Desperate Houselives?  This pretty well described every moment of the weekend that Beckie or I were not riding, spinning like tops trying to maintain order within our brood.  I’ve never had so much crap on a camping trip, and there are tons of other things we could have used.  We’re buying a bigger tent, dedicating a bag to kitchen gear, and would have been living like savages if our neighbors hadn’t given us a plastic fork.  I thought we were doomed when our venerable Sierra Designs tent from 1995 started leaking at 3am, but despite it giving up after hundreds of nights, we all survived the better for it.  Weekends like this are our future, and that’s kinda why Beckie and I signed up for this in the first place: get on with our lives, or give in to overweight slack-jawed parenthood.

Both G and Alana suffered a little, but they both had a good trip.  Alana got wheeled and carried and napped ensconced in fleece cocoons.  I can only assume being cold and hot and wet and hungry and full and happy again will help her become burly like it has her sister.  G, on the whole, was in heaven.  She went from watching DVDs in the truck to spinning laps on the BMX track in the center of the camping area and back.  For 2 days prior to the trip she kept shouting about us going camping out, and through the muck and cold and lack of comfy chairs, she kept rising up for a new bit of outdoor fun.  Her ever-improving reason led her to complain and want to hide where it was dry and bemoan her food selections.  It also let her choose the right clothes, recognize break-time by her fatigue, and demand comfort food from the over-priced bbq vendor at the end of the race.  While going in the port-o-let, G was aghast at the mud and the unflushed state of affairs.  So I told her, slowly and to the point, sweetheart this is how you have to potty when you go camping.  G is borderline compulsive about the freshness of her bowl, but she sacked up, expressed her displeasure, and took care of business like a responsible little pooper.

Mostly Genevieve did big mileage, just like mommy and daddy.  The BMX track was her epic ride.  She hit it Friday night, Saturday while I was riding, and again while Beckie did her second lap.  She went hard in the straights, high-centered on her training wheels in the rutted turns, and plunged down the table-tops.  I kept thinking she would clutch or steer off, but she is fearless in her willingness to point and shoot. Once she stalled trying to climb a table-top, and the folks next to the track cheered her on; next time around they had left their campsite and she said “hey, where are all the people?“  The sweetest moment came when she woke up from a nap, immediately began wailing about her broken pedal, and pleaded with me cause “you can fix anything!”  Sure enough, her pedal had spun off the crank!  The Hei Hei survived 106 miles in the slop, the only damage being me losing a gasket while trying to service the muddy headset the next day in the ManCave, but G’s 20lb 12inch bike lost a pedal to the force of a 3-yr old! We went to our neighbors, borrowed a pedal wrench, I was a superhero, and she sweetly returned it with a big “THANK YOU!“

Kids like G, riders warming-up, boys on tiny motorbikes…everyone spun on the bmx track.  And amazingly, everyone was friendly about sharing the trail. It was a good metaphor for the Barn Burner. What it lacked in vendors and spectacle and Q factor, it made up for in chill vibe and family environment.  There was no attitude at all…about the dog, the little girl on the bmx track, the parking, the space, the noise, the passing, the mount line. It felt like everything I like about Flagstaff riding. Maybe it was because Barn Burner is in its first year and could support far more than the ~400 riders who attended, but a lot of credit goes to some smart decisions by the organizers. Red Rock Productions ran a very smooth event. Everything was easy and intuitive, the site spacious and flat, the course was well-marked and well-stocked at good locations, lots of SAG vehicles. Beckie and I both thought on-paper it was a bit pricey at over $150 all-in. And if I looked at the ride on jeep roads, it wasn’t all that exciting. But it was a super-fun time, and if it grows the right way it will become a must-do event and a very good value. We certainly could have made more out of the weekend by planning and equipping for two days where everyone rides again on Sunday!

But at 6am, with a leaky tent and 2 screaming kids, we were one more cloudburst from bailing and heading home.  It just wasn’t responsible parenting.  I peeked my head out of the tent fly to find water pooled on my shoes and creeping mud.  Kila spent the night unleashed and free to fend for herself, and she stumbled with me to the riders meeting.  Thankfully at 6:30 the rain stopped and the sky cleared, and I challenged Beckie to either get her ass up or let me do the first lap.  She rallied, suited up, and did a 2:10 despite a pointless, muddy starting loop around the barn.  This was my only real gripe about the event - it was obvious the roads were good but the ranch wasn’t, no one should be forced to plunge their drivetrain into that shit just for pomp and circumstance.   Yes I have been scarred by muddy AZ races before, but I still spent 3 hours plus parts cleaning the 95% of the crap that got on the bike in .25% of the distance.

Beckie rolled in from her first lap just exactly as me, G and Alana went to meet her.  We lost a few minutes in the exchange as I briefed her on the state of affairs in Family Chollaball, then it was off for 2 laps and 52 miles.

I hadn’t looked at the map, pre-ride shme-ride!  I knew only there were 2 big climbs, and Beckie said the second half was slow.  It must have been, cause I sailed through the first 13 miles of Lap 1 in 40 minutes, then cringed thinking there was about an 1:20 of riding for the next 13 miles.  The only thing I really had time to process was my gawd this bike is fast!  Locked out, and with 38lbs psi, the Hei Hei screams!  The course was also extremely fast.  It was all jeep roads, but some were rugged and rutted.   A fast single-track line formed through most of the chum, making the route surprisingly fun if you held the line at speed.  The big wheels of the Hei Hei frequently took me into 20s+ big ring mania, passing people on the climbs and the descents.  It felt good, really good to be fast and feel strong, but I knew I was maybe 20% into my ride.

Right past halfway, we hit a climb that seemed pretty big though I was still turning the wheels hard.  Cleaning the peak launched into a fantastic screaming downhill that had me howling and hooting, my gps read 32.2 mph when I was last able to glance down before drifting through a turn and narrowly avoiding putting the bike down.  The road turned rocky as we came to the base of the mountain, but the Hei Hei let me shoot it all.  Leaning off the back seat, I grinned at how fast and steady and exactly as I’d built it the bike turned out to be.  And being a tech rider in an XC race is always good for the ego as you blow by riders used to buff terrain.

One big climb remained, it was about 2 miles and 800 feet.  I just rolled into it, not knowing much beyond looking towards one of the feet of the mountain and my gps and repeating to myself that it had to end soon, it had to end soon, though it just kept refusing to do so.  And then I crested, and  hit about 35 plunging back to the barn, wrapping around and back out for a tidy 1:55 moving time!!  Woohoo!

The next lap suddenly became kinda important to me…how cool would it be to turn 2 sub-2hr laps?  Ugh…that meant, like, racing for another 2 hrs.  Had I done this solo, I would have been doing laps more like 2:15ish and generally enjoying my music and the forest.  Opportunities came for drafting if I slowed down…which some soloists did to me, and in retrospect, they were all kinda chatty and friendly…i was, er, not.  Nothing personal, I was preoccupied with hammering and eating and trying not to lose focus and trying not to blow up.   It was working pretty well, I was right on my moving split at 12 miles, despite 3 quick stops to retrieve my goo wrapper, fill a bottle and un-suck my chain.  I had 10 minutes to work with between stops and slowing down.

I made the first big climb pretty well, the downhills safer and faster, and was still on time at 18 miles.  This is about where I chose to leave the Quiet Place I’d been hanging out in for the last hour, preparing to shoot my wad and lunge for the finish.  It was really fun, to be at this point in the afternoon, and know that with about 30 minutes of effort and discipline I was going to exceed my goal.  So the last climb did not bother me, it only hurt me and added 3 minutes moving time to my second lap for a 1:58ish finish.  My non-moving time was maybe 4 minutes, so a bit under 4 hrs total. *golf clap*

I rolled to the tent where Beckie was feeding Alana.  So she got tagged with a 10 minute delay, but still managed a 2:10 moving on her second lap.  *golf clap*

Beer was drunk and snacks were had, but regretably, we mostly packed up and left, rather than chill out and find ourselves not wanting to get back up.  Damn! and just as the day got nice  too We’d put the girls through enough abuse for one weekend.  G was very excited to make one last trip to the barn to get a belt buckle for coming in under the cut-off, bragging how fast she rode her bike.  As we loaded the girls into the car Kila for the first time all weekend disappeared; we searched for 10 minutes until we found her begging at the BBQ tent.  Can’t blame her, she too was bummed to leave after the day brightened up.

G drew this in the daycare at the gym.  The teacher had never met either me or G.  So the conversation musta gone something like:

Teacher: “What do you\your daddy like to do?“

G: “ride my bike!”

Awwwww…..

That evening we played some games together at starfall.com.  We haven’t hit this site in a few months, and previously I always had to drive.  Yesterday she finally got the hang of using the mouse.  Sometimes she’d run the optical mouse off the pad and it failed on my glass desk, sometimes she’d hit the right-click button by mistake.  These inexplicable failures caused great frustration, but first thing this morning she asked if we could sit at the computer and play some more games.  Her skill with the mouse improved dramatically overnight!

One of my test scripts was failing against a program that displays seat status information.   The test data was in German, translated into raw text for passing by perl.  The original bug report said the program puked when it hit an umlaut, and while it was not puking I could not tell what was happening since the 3 programs I had to verify the output were all showing different things:

• cygwin linux shell - TribA¼ne
• Visual SlickEdit - Trib”ne, with a note showing the ascii chars U+00FC
• TextPad and Outlook - Tribüne

And my test framework, written by another developer, was saying it was all failing as invalid JSON strings.

hmmm. 

The solution, which I understood once explained but in no way could have figured out on my own:

We assumed the string above was the source of the error.  The raw data passed to our program from a perl-based client program was “Trib\374ne”.  \374 is perl’s octal encoding for decimal 252, which is u-umlaut in the charset latin-1/iso-8859-1.  In the previous release where the bug was found, instead of character 252 being generated, our perl interpreter was skipping the translation from decimal to octal entirely and simply passing  “Trib\\ufffffffcne”.  0xfc is hex equivalent of 252 decimal, and the extra ‘f’s were from an incorrect sign extension to a longword value.  Hence the bug.

So the fact that we were getting a 252/0374/0xfc character now indicated that the fix was in place and the characters were valid, and there was a bug in the test framework’s ability to parse perl encoding back to JSON notation.

Just another day dealing with the most complicated software suite I’ve ever heard of.  Just another reason to fear internationalizing programs.