Week of Speed, the Hook-up
Silver Crown, Craftsman Trucks, Busch Series all at ORP this week. Then the Bricks and the big dogs at IMS. Racin' in Indiana, international spotlight, good old boys, South americans, Aussies, Canadians, we've got it all. This I'm absorbing as much as one man can this extended speed week. With much thanks to David Gansert, the official photographer of ORP, who snagged VIP parking, and event tickets for each of the events there for our party. The IMS was already taken care of ticket wise, as John Qualkenbush has four season tickets, which we purchased. One for me, one for Jody, one for Rich and the final one for little buddy, Travis. Time does not permit more, and I will not be posting from the tracks this weekend. See you all on Wednesday.
Speedy out.
Speedy out.
Tripping on the Road to Sanity
Last Saturday, Jenni and I were considering going to Franklin at 4:30 to attend our first Hoosier Chapter meeting of the BMW CCA (Car Club of America). I had gotten an e-mail from the Hoosier Chapter folks on Friday (which required reservation and rsvp by Thursday, but don't get me started on that), and fired off an early AM e-mail stating that we might just show up. Well, we hemmed and hawed around the house until 4:00 and never got a response back from the CCA peeps, so I made an executive decision, alternate "no real destination" Road Trip instead. Like all executive decisions, it was met with a little scorn and criticism from the legislative and judicial branches, but with the constitution (of an ox) on my side I won the day, by order of law. Geek hardware (Laptop, GPS tracking device, digital cameras and mini tripods) were packed into the Deutsche Madchen, and ready to go.
I've just saved that "new" portion. The following is an attempt recreate much of what was lost of last Sundays crashed and lost recounting of this road trip.
It was late in December, the sky turned to snow All round the day was going down slow Night like a river beginning to flow I felt the beat of my mind go Drifting into time passages Years go falling in the fading light Time passages Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight
Well I'm not the kind to live in the past The years run too short and the days too fast The things you lean on are the things that don't last Well it's just now and then my line gets cast into these Time passages There's something back here that you left behind Oh time passages Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight
"Time passages", not the song by Al Stewart and Peter White, but a lapse of 18 days to be 'nearly exact', given the nature of time.
North face of the Boone County Courthouse in Lebanon Indiana
Anyway, a little over two weeks after the Crambone road-trip a really nice quiet Saturday presented Jenni and I with the option of going to a party we were tentatively invited to, or of going on a country drive. As mentioned above, GPS and laptop were on hand and we started simple by going to Culver's at 56th and Post in Benjamin Harrison State Park. Next I decided to head west and north, and soon we were headed into Noblesville on Allisonville Road. Skirting the Courthouse Square, we headed west again on IN-32, and didn't stop again until we driven through Westfield, Eagleton, Jolliettville and Gadsden and were at the Boone County Courthouse in Lebanon. A few photo's later we decided that south was our new direction and we hopped onto a nice, winding, well maintained IN-39. Not more than 5 miles south we stopped for another photo opp. An old abandoned Grocery and Petrol station that last saw use when
A very pleasant five hour, 132 mile trip, averaging about 30 mpg and costing about as much as a 1st run movie at the Kerasotes theatre, not counting the dinner at Culver's which was actually almost four dollars cheaper than two Blue Icees, large popcorn and a bag of Reese's pieces at the movies.
Northwest corner of the Hendricks County Courthouse, Danville Indiana
So if we'd gone to see the latest Die Hard movie, we would have been entertained for half the amount of time, would have spent more, wouldn't have spoken to each other and would have been home looking at each other for almost three hours with less to talk about. I think we made the most of the day and had a great time driving and talking. Hey, the car radio wasn't even on.
Entering The Waters Again
"For my own part I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words with even more distinctness than that which I conceived it." Edgar Alan Poe.
So my missus tells me that she misses the daily post, the rambling writings, and the boarding pass to my flights of passing fancy. I admit that it is cathartic at times to sit and roll with the moment at keyboard and LCD, but there are so many times when I have nothing really to say that it seems a great waste of effort. The work of wordsmithing, if not physically exhausting is still very difficult and requires diligence and mental fatigue at times. I identify with the quote from Poe above from his "A Dream Within a Dream" and truly feel I can almost achieve a level of eloquence, or "distinctness" at the keyboards far better than my clumsy tongue can ever manufacture. I am an aside (adding my thoughts in the stream of...) kind of guy when I type just as I am an aside kind of guy when I talk, but rarely do I stumble over the words that are manufactured from the digits instead of the palate. Even having said this, if I am to get back into the rhythm of daily puking of thoughts I feel I should have some content worthy. More than just remunerating bowling scores or attendees at the local watering hole. I'm sure that I will still do plenty of that, too much for many tastes I'm sure, but I wish for a clarity of purpose or at least a direction to my missives. The other day I sat for two hours and wrote a travel piece with pictures and details that was lost in a laptop lock-up that could only be rectified with a reboot. The damn thing locked up as I was trying to save it. How frustrating. I have yet to recreate that post, since the spontaneity of creation is lost in redeux, and the originality forced. I rarely have a direction when I sit to task at computer and blog. It is as new to me as it is to dear reader when I have finished, even if it is a recap of a horrible or fabulous even at kegeling. Yet I feel I must recapture that posts spirit if not its majesty (such as it were). So I will tell that tale again soon. I have the pictures reloaded, and saved, and with their baptism I shall see them rise again (from keystroke and screen) my brothers and sisters.
The photo above is from Lebanon, and the trip I mentioned above. It is symbolic of my need to get back to the task. To be current and Modern in my posings. Many of you have asked for it, now you are going to get it.
The photo above is from Lebanon, and the trip I mentioned above. It is symbolic of my need to get back to the task. To be current and Modern in my posings. Many of you have asked for it, now you are going to get it.
Chuck Pace © 2007
As "Modern" as Richard Morris' 1967 musical comedy, "Thoroughly Modern Millie"
|
In the Garden
Last weekend there was the big garden party at Jody and Mary Jane's. That was on Saturday. On the day before as I was going to pick up Jenni at her place of work I saw four gentlemen dressed alike standing on the corner of Delaware and South. I look on for a minute while waiting for the light to change, then I grabbed my camera and took a picture. I was amused, because I thought they looked like an away team from Star trek or Stargate.
The next evening was the party and I took some pictures of the Grober/Olinger garden. I downloaded some of the photos today and sure enough there was evidence that something was not quite right in the garden. An "away" team was sent to recover the Sphere of Gazera, that was being held captive by Lord Menarda and his minions. The Evil Lord could easily hide in the surroundings of the "Garden" and waited until the "A" team had made contact before annihilating them, knowing that the next check-in time was 5 hours away.
That their destruction will cause the Federation to think twice before sending in another team is guaranteed. I know I will not be going back to that ill fated place any time too soon, for who knows what other evil awaits, In the Garden!
The next evening was the party and I took some pictures of the Grober/Olinger garden. I downloaded some of the photos today and sure enough there was evidence that something was not quite right in the garden. An "away" team was sent to recover the Sphere of Gazera, that was being held captive by Lord Menarda and his minions. The Evil Lord could easily hide in the surroundings of the "Garden" and waited until the "A" team had made contact before annihilating them, knowing that the next check-in time was 5 hours away.
That their destruction will cause the Federation to think twice before sending in another team is guaranteed. I know I will not be going back to that ill fated place any time too soon, for who knows what other evil awaits, In the Garden!
Cloudy, partly . Sonny
Last night Rich and I popped into the Chatterbox to take advantage of the perfect weather, the atmosphere and the evening. Miss Kay was there then gone then there again, Brad Griffith was there and we enjoyed stories and tales both short and tall. While there I looked up and saw a cloud that looked just like Australia, and I should know, I had to look up Australia that very morning to find a place like Adelaide for my rant. I told Rich and Kay that that cloud did indeed look just like Australia, they agreed. I minute went by and I thought hey I have a digital camera here I will document the down under overhead. It had already started dissipating and with in 5 minutes of my first seeing it, it was gone, gone.
While still at the Box, Teri Ivey came by and told me only, some secrets that had us both laughing like 1st graders, but I won't share those tales not one stitch. O.K. most of that was written this morning, but I didn't have time to finish and upload it so I can say now that they didn't open S70 as far as I can tell, maybe tomorrow morning I can experience concrete as smooth as my freshly shorn pate.
Timely, out of date pratices
Can someone explain publishing to me? Here is an industry on the cusp of technologies edge. Decades ago, when there was not so much digital in the world that we couldn't just put a finger on it the publishing of periodicals was a difficult endeavor. Imagine that you have to start pulling together your December issue in August because it has to be painstakingly printed and ready to distribute through a slower infrastructure. Type has to be set, plates made for the images. Four color separations extracted from color transparencies so that multiple plates can be made for those. Aligning. Registration. Distribution. Merchandising. Those were far more time consuming "back in the day." Now we are in a global, immediate, satellite instantaneous, digital media, computerized typesetting and printing, multiple output regional printing concern age. What happens today in Urmeyville Indiana can be on the shelves in Adelaide Australia by Thursday evening. Quicker if its downloaded instead of spot printed. So if this is the case, why can't we buy a July magazine in July? Why, on July 5th as I was enjoying a well deserved day off reading a Road and Track at Discount Tire in Greenwood Indiana (while surprising my missus with new wheels and tires on the truck), could I not find that same issue at three different outlets for my own consumption or to share with the same missus? The August issue is out, they are out of the July issue, and I can not buy the current month's issue on the 5th day of the current month. This could easily turn into a rant on time again as you can see. But really, why observe publishing morays designed for the 1920's in this want it now get it now age? Sure I can go to carandriver.com and download the articles and receive bonus material as well if I were so inclined. But I decline. I might want to recline with my car mag, not sit at a Liquid Crystal Display, absorbing it. Is that so wrong in an age where I can hear about Paris' next pimple outburst automatically on my cell if I so desire?
Down In The Park
Jenni and I go to lunch together a lot. For one she only works a few blocks away, for another she is somehow immune to my puns and ridiculousness nature, for yet another, since we've been married for almost 24 years she doesn't pay much attention to me anyway, making me the perfect lunch companion. Some days we will hop in the car and shoot to the near south side for Taco Bell, Wendy's, KFC, Arby's, Rally's or Steak and Shake. With the faster food places we use the drive thru and then stop at Garfield Park and picnic table and stare longingly past each other and wistfully wish we didn't have to return to work. Monday we both got the "Big Box" at KFC and did the park thing. Before either of us had even popped our first popcorn chicken Jenni was in tears. I hadn't told a horrible pun, story or secret. I didn't have a flatulent moment, I just told her no we couldn't. She knew we couldn't but still it hurt to have me take a stand and say no.
You see, when we got to the park we headed to our area, and we couldn't park in the shade because a Chevy SUV was partially blocking the way. Inside were two old crones and I jokingly said, "That's Beatrice and Eloise Zebub in that truck. Come on BeElZebub finish backing out so we can park," they were both looking out the front and finally noticed me and slooooowly backed and I was able to make it to my little love shade nest with Jenni. When I opened the door I heard high pitched mewling sounds, I said to Jen. Kittens. She said yes sugar-plumb? I said look someone has dumped some kittens in the picnic area. There were four adorable kittens two white ones with traces of gray (one with a really small head) and two gray tigers one with an all dark solid back. I said we should not pay them too much attention (knowing the consequences) and Jenni agreed. We sat and started the dining process, one of the whites got up on the bench next to me and started trying to crawl into my lap. I sat it down on the ground again and soon it was right back at my side. I ignored it so it chinned itself up to table top and tried with Jenni. Meanwhile the solid back gray was climbing my leg 5 tiny claws at a time. Then it too was wanting to be my very best pal. I said to Jen. That's why those old Biddies were not leaving, they dumped the poor kittens and were watching to see that they didn't get near the road. Jenni pointed out three styrofoam bowls of water and a box, and walked to it and read, Please take these kittens, its hot out. She started formulating. I could put them in the box and take them in the truck to Uncle Bill's when you drop me off, but the reality was that she couldn't be away that long, and that they are short handed at Claimco and there would be hell to pay. (Not the horrible wrong color hair piece your Uncle Herman wears, that's the Hell Toupee). Thus the tears, and the statement, "I hate people" (it was almost like I was magically transported back to work and was there with Phil, but she didn't mean ALL people, I think). Being the dork and his wife the geek we both had digital cameras, but neither of us wanted a reminder, unlike a few weeks ago with the squirrel. Thus no photos again, three straight posts.
You see, when we got to the park we headed to our area, and we couldn't park in the shade because a Chevy SUV was partially blocking the way. Inside were two old crones and I jokingly said, "That's Beatrice and Eloise Zebub in that truck. Come on BeElZebub finish backing out so we can park," they were both looking out the front and finally noticed me and slooooowly backed and I was able to make it to my little love shade nest with Jenni. When I opened the door I heard high pitched mewling sounds, I said to Jen. Kittens. She said yes sugar-plumb? I said look someone has dumped some kittens in the picnic area. There were four adorable kittens two white ones with traces of gray (one with a really small head) and two gray tigers one with an all dark solid back. I said we should not pay them too much attention (knowing the consequences) and Jenni agreed. We sat and started the dining process, one of the whites got up on the bench next to me and started trying to crawl into my lap. I sat it down on the ground again and soon it was right back at my side. I ignored it so it chinned itself up to table top and tried with Jenni. Meanwhile the solid back gray was climbing my leg 5 tiny claws at a time. Then it too was wanting to be my very best pal. I said to Jen. That's why those old Biddies were not leaving, they dumped the poor kittens and were watching to see that they didn't get near the road. Jenni pointed out three styrofoam bowls of water and a box, and walked to it and read, Please take these kittens, its hot out. She started formulating. I could put them in the box and take them in the truck to Uncle Bill's when you drop me off, but the reality was that she couldn't be away that long, and that they are short handed at Claimco and there would be hell to pay. (Not the horrible wrong color hair piece your Uncle Herman wears, that's the Hell Toupee). Thus the tears, and the statement, "I hate people" (it was almost like I was magically transported back to work and was there with Phil, but she didn't mean ALL people, I think). Being the dork and his wife the geek we both had digital cameras, but neither of us wanted a reminder, unlike a few weeks ago with the squirrel. Thus no photos again, three straight posts.
A Little Moron Time
Yesterdays post was a bit rushed. I didn't have the time to properly address the issues of time or the place to place myself in the proper space/timeframe. I was trying to illustrate with mental visuals and not out actual visual visuals, the problems that occur when an abstract idea like time is given so much credence that people start to believe in it or think that it is real. It is fine to believe that the Sun rises every morning (it of course does no such thing, it is a far more stationary "moving' object than the earth which is itself moving at roughly 1000 (random distance measurement units) miles per (arbitrary time measurement unit) hour. So the Sun never rises or sets, much to the chagrin of thousands of poets and authors. Instead the earth cycles around again and the sun which never stops illuminating its surface is once again gracing the side we are on. O.K. back to the random assignment of intervals to break up the day/night cycles. Don't get me wrong, I think they are important. Certain organisms are far more tuned to the passage and interval differentiation than we silly homo sapiens sapiens, but none make more fuss about it in the grand scheme.
Is there a grand scheme? Are there lesser schemes? The droll scheme? The mundane scheme (I may be a major, albeit mundane player in this one). The inept scheme? The pointless scheme?
Big Mystery! Why on earth is our arbitrary measurement of time a base 12 measurement? Were the early clockmakers 12 fingered freaks? Why is the day not broken up into 20 slightly longer hours per day with 100 minutes per hour and 100 seconds per minute? Something the overwhelming deca-digited majority could really grasp (and with those opposable thumbs we might never let go). Another mini-boggler, does the moon speed up and slow down circling the earth? Answer: No. So why are the months not all the exact same length? It might get us fellows our of the doghouse easier if we knew at least one true lunar cycle. The one where flowers and chocolates and sweat pants were the most wonderful things we could imagine our soul-mates with, or in. Why on earth do we have expressions like why on earth? Where the 'freak' else are we going to have even a flawed point of reference?
Is there a grand scheme? Are there lesser schemes? The droll scheme? The mundane scheme (I may be a major, albeit mundane player in this one). The inept scheme? The pointless scheme?
Big Mystery! Why on earth is our arbitrary measurement of time a base 12 measurement? Were the early clockmakers 12 fingered freaks? Why is the day not broken up into 20 slightly longer hours per day with 100 minutes per hour and 100 seconds per minute? Something the overwhelming deca-digited majority could really grasp (and with those opposable thumbs we might never let go). Another mini-boggler, does the moon speed up and slow down circling the earth? Answer: No. So why are the months not all the exact same length? It might get us fellows our of the doghouse easier if we knew at least one true lunar cycle. The one where flowers and chocolates and sweat pants were the most wonderful things we could imagine our soul-mates with, or in. Why on earth do we have expressions like why on earth? Where the 'freak' else are we going to have even a flawed point of reference?
Order out of Chaos?
It's been awhile. I'm a little Rusty. (Hello, Lil' Rusty!). No, I'm still Chuck, that was a figure of speech. Begging the question, where does speech come off having figures in the first place? Can you draw or graph this figure? Is there a definitive mathematical formula that conclusively explains the figure of speech? Figuratively speaking that is. Circular logic, or linear? I think I'll just have the soup. There seems to be so many different figures of speech that I'm amazed that we aren't just tripping over them all the time.
Ahh, time that's where I got this idea actually, I was having a morning constitutional (happens all the time, every day, well every day that starts with a morning) and was wishing that I had had the foresight to take my laptop in there with me to more adequately make use of my time. The time. That time. I know I've gone on about time before and its high time I gave time a rest, but my mind is working overtime all of the time and I don't think I can spare time if time can't spare me. For Sooth! So have at you! Oh the times we've had.
The problem with time is that somebody thought they came up with it. Invented it. Created it. Well they failed miserably if you ask me. If they had got it right there would be no leap year. Noon would be noon exactly every day. (Oh, you already think it is don't you, you silly scalawag). The actual rotation of the earth requires 365.25 days per year, or 21915 hours. Or more precisely, using the flawed system 787894000 seconds. Here is where the initial error occurred. Down to the second. The first watch making craftsman allowed the interval of a second to be too long. Since assigning the interval as a second and saying, well that's time then. To a thunderous applause and universal acceptance (not really universal, time is different in every star system, and on every planet. We just try to bend their rules to adhere to our flawed system, sound familiar?). If those 32400 extra seconds of that quarter of a day were just figured into the initial tick before the tock. If the spring in that first clockwork were just a teeny tiny bit tighter we would be accurate in our measurement of the rotation of our planet in relationship to its rotation of our star, in relationship to its rotation in the spiral of this particular dot in the known (by us) universe. Then we might have the respect of our peers around the cosmos, and they would come visit more often, or stay for brunch.
So I did something I have been needing to do for a long time. Exactly how long is anybody's guess since a properly timed hour is not within our grasp, thanks to the friggin' Swiss. The Swiss, phaa! They are just the french with better cheese and chocolate, and better hygiene, and by remaining neutral they haven't had to surrender every 40 years or so in their flawed timing of things.
The thing I did? I got rid of an old car thats been in my garage for ????? A goodwill donation to Goodwill, a better cleaner more open space for me. Well there's no time to talk about space now. I have to get to work. I wouldn't be running so late if each hour were the right length, but nano-jiffy's are not our friends and the extra .041095890311 of each hour are not accounted for so we still have to tack on an extra day like a poorly made school exhibit every four rotations of our blue green world around the nuclear gas-bag.
Ahh, time that's where I got this idea actually, I was having a morning constitutional (happens all the time, every day, well every day that starts with a morning) and was wishing that I had had the foresight to take my laptop in there with me to more adequately make use of my time. The time. That time. I know I've gone on about time before and its high time I gave time a rest, but my mind is working overtime all of the time and I don't think I can spare time if time can't spare me. For Sooth! So have at you! Oh the times we've had.
The problem with time is that somebody thought they came up with it. Invented it. Created it. Well they failed miserably if you ask me. If they had got it right there would be no leap year. Noon would be noon exactly every day. (Oh, you already think it is don't you, you silly scalawag). The actual rotation of the earth requires 365.25 days per year, or 21915 hours. Or more precisely, using the flawed system 787894000 seconds. Here is where the initial error occurred. Down to the second. The first watch making craftsman allowed the interval of a second to be too long. Since assigning the interval as a second and saying, well that's time then. To a thunderous applause and universal acceptance (not really universal, time is different in every star system, and on every planet. We just try to bend their rules to adhere to our flawed system, sound familiar?). If those 32400 extra seconds of that quarter of a day were just figured into the initial tick before the tock. If the spring in that first clockwork were just a teeny tiny bit tighter we would be accurate in our measurement of the rotation of our planet in relationship to its rotation of our star, in relationship to its rotation in the spiral of this particular dot in the known (by us) universe. Then we might have the respect of our peers around the cosmos, and they would come visit more often, or stay for brunch.
So I did something I have been needing to do for a long time. Exactly how long is anybody's guess since a properly timed hour is not within our grasp, thanks to the friggin' Swiss. The Swiss, phaa! They are just the french with better cheese and chocolate, and better hygiene, and by remaining neutral they haven't had to surrender every 40 years or so in their flawed timing of things.
The thing I did? I got rid of an old car thats been in my garage for ????? A goodwill donation to Goodwill, a better cleaner more open space for me. Well there's no time to talk about space now. I have to get to work. I wouldn't be running so late if each hour were the right length, but nano-jiffy's are not our friends and the extra .041095890311 of each hour are not accounted for so we still have to tack on an extra day like a poorly made school exhibit every four rotations of our blue green world around the nuclear gas-bag.