Should have posted this sucker weeks ago. Proud uncle I am.
30 November, 2007
Long Overdue...
Allow me to introduce "Daddy" Matt and Dylan "Boy" Boland.
Should have posted this sucker weeks ago. Proud uncle I am.
Should have posted this sucker weeks ago. Proud uncle I am.
29 November, 2007
Band News, Good News...
Bad news... As reported before in this blog, I lost my passport somewhere between Chicago O'Hare and Kansas City on Thanksgiving.
Good news... TSA in Chicago O'Hare found my passport and have mailed it home to me. Nicole just called and said she has it in her possession!!
Bad news... Last gig in New Mexico, I had my little digital camera out at my lighting console to download the pictures for the last blog entry. I got into my hotel room yesterday and prepared for a ride, only to discover my camera had gone missing. I don't remember putting it away so I can only assume it took a walk (got stolen) while I was not at the console.
Good news... Today, I pulled my monitors out of the road case and found my camera stuffed in the back. I guess at some point I put it on the shelf the monitor goes on, which I normally do with small items I don't want stolen, like my nice headphones. Guess I did it without thinking and shoved the monitor in on top of it.
Bad news... 20 miles seems to be about my limit for a comfortable ride. Anything longer and the body begins to ache. Yesterday I intended on a 20 mile ride but got lost because construction on one of the roads I mapped had me detour. I ended up riding 25 miles and was seriously bonking at the end.
Good news... I rode 25 miles yesterday. Tucson is nice and flat.
Bad news... Today is the start of a three in a row.
Good news... Only 8 more shows and I'm home!
Good news... TSA in Chicago O'Hare found my passport and have mailed it home to me. Nicole just called and said she has it in her possession!!
Bad news... Last gig in New Mexico, I had my little digital camera out at my lighting console to download the pictures for the last blog entry. I got into my hotel room yesterday and prepared for a ride, only to discover my camera had gone missing. I don't remember putting it away so I can only assume it took a walk (got stolen) while I was not at the console.
Good news... Today, I pulled my monitors out of the road case and found my camera stuffed in the back. I guess at some point I put it on the shelf the monitor goes on, which I normally do with small items I don't want stolen, like my nice headphones. Guess I did it without thinking and shoved the monitor in on top of it.
Bad news... 20 miles seems to be about my limit for a comfortable ride. Anything longer and the body begins to ache. Yesterday I intended on a 20 mile ride but got lost because construction on one of the roads I mapped had me detour. I ended up riding 25 miles and was seriously bonking at the end.
Good news... I rode 25 miles yesterday. Tucson is nice and flat.
Bad news... Today is the start of a three in a row.
Good news... Only 8 more shows and I'm home!
27 November, 2007
"If It Flies, It Dies"
A note for the readers, this will probably be a fairly long blog, so take a longer break or just look at the pictures (That means you Jade.)
The sun peaked over the mountain on a cold November morning. We had arrived in Albuquerque earlier than anticipated, and the engine vibrating to a stop woke me. It was near 30 degrees, and they had a light dusting of snow on the ground only a few days before. The air was crisp,dry and full of anticipation. Today, we are going to a sporting clays course.
...
Only a day prior, I had found online a sporting clays course less than 20 miles from our hotel in Rio Rancho, a developing community outside of Albuquerque proper. I called the contact number on the website. The voice on the other end told me the next public shoot wasn't until the 9th of December. I thanked him for his time and hung up. A few minutes later, my cell phone rings and a gentleman by the name of Dave tells me he was calling from the gun club and wanted to know if he could help. I explained to him our situation, that we were coming in from out of town and we had no shotguns and no shells. The only thing we had was a love for the sport and a need to shoot. "We don't rent guns yet, we're a very new club," he starts, "But let me call you back in a few hours I'll see what I can do."
The hours ticked by. I continued my load in, and kept looking at my phone. About 2 in the afternoon, my phone rings, "I can get you two shotguns, one over under, and one semi-automatic. I could get you shells, but what I'd have to charge you would be outrageous."
"Sounds great, we'll take care of the shells and see you tomorrow at noon," I replied.
Excitedly I told my fellow shooters and sent Wayne on a mission. We needed 400 shells so we could shoot the course. Luckily in Denver, I had a friend coming to the show and she happily drove Wayne to a Bass Pro Shop.
...
At 11:00 AM, the outside temperature had reached 42 degrees, as we piled into the rented SUV and headed out to the Del Norte Gun Club. I went online to the website and wrote down the directions. It seemed simple enough at the start. Follow highway 550 to the Northern Corridor and turn left. From there, it got interesting.
After a few more turns, the directions all started from a cattle guard, "4.5 miles after the cattle guard, turn right at the telephone pole with the yellow tape on it."
The cattle guard marked the end of civilization. The paved road stopped and the bumpy dirt road began.
Almost 10 miles of bouncing around and we had arrived at the gate. Dave met us there and led us to the start of the course. We pulled up to a sea container that was serving as the "club house" for the course. We were not at Sandanona. We weren't even at the Middletown Sportsmens Lodge. But it didn't really matter because the surrounding view was spectacular.
Dave led me into the "club house" and gave me an electronic key. "The whole course is automated, so all you do is put this key in and it will count the number of birds you release. I'll walk with you to the first station and show you how it's done. This is Frank and Larry, they'll be shooting the course today as well."
There stood two crusty, world hardened men. Frank, was in his early 50's. He stood there in a fleece ski cap and dirty fleece shooting jacket. His partner, Larry was older, maybe early 60's. He had on a camouflage hunting vest and fedora. They both wore large rustic smiles that revealed well worn teeth.
"The 1st bird on station one wasn't launching yesterday," Frank started in on Dave, "The f**king thing is probably broken again."
"We'll go have a look at it right now. This is Dan and his friends, it's their first time shooting the course. Do you mind shooting with them?"
"No problem, if you can get that damn bird to work."
We got out to the first station and Frank stepped up to the firing line. "Well, if you hook up the battery, it works better," Dave said sarcastically as he attached the leads. Frank only huffed and loaded his shotgun. Larry opted out of shooting. Instead he became the trapper (he launched the targets) and score keeper, and general keeper of knowledge.
Needless to say, we had a great day of shooting.
As you can see from these pictures, there was no fancy wooden gazebo acting as the station. Only a wire mesh fence forming a V around you to help control the spent shells launched from the semi automatic weapons. But it didn't seem to matter. There was great camaraderie in the air. Frank and Larry would give us tips on how to approach each station. We would laugh and talk about how were shooting. We even got Frank to start yelling, "Sandbagger!" whenever one of us hit more than 2 targets in a row.
Sadly, this is the only picture I took with Frank and Larry. That's Mel sitting in the foreground while Wayne shoots at station 6.
We now have friends in Albuquerque, and a place to come, next time we have a day off here.
...
Today we were shooting all standard sized targets, called 108's. At one of the stands, the targets flew directly at us, so if you missed, it landed on the ground in front of the station. After we had all shot, I walked out and grabbed one. Sort of gives you an idea of the size of the target. The only other clay we shot were the rabbits. Well, we shot AT the rabbits, I don't think we hit a single one. The rabbit clays are a little different because they have to roll on their sides. But the size is still the same.
All the clays nowadays are either biodegradable or are made of fertilizer.
I don't have a very big hand, but still these targets are a lot smaller than I thought!
Another highlight from the day was station two. Only a few days before, they had a tournament on the course, so all the stations listed the presentations. We decided to shoot according to the list as it made for a good guide line. Station two was unbelievably hard. We shot 4 pair, two "on report" (second clay is launched after the sound of the gun firing at the first clay), and two "true pair" (Both clays launched at the same time). Both clays flew directly from left to right. The second flew so fast that half the time, we couldn't see it! I don't think a single one of us hit any. Here's a picture of Wayne making a valiant attempt at hitting the second clay. If you can blow the picture up, you can see the little black streak in the sky, just to the left of the mountains.
Frank would say, "If if flies, it dies," which carried two meanings. The first and most obvious one, Frank likes to hunt game bird. The second, which helped us out tremendously on a few of the stations, is that the trajectory of some of the clays is dipping. We kept shooting above them. "If it flies, it dies." Shoot lower.
I had my best outing thus far, I shot 61 out of 100. But I think I cheated. The third station had one clay flying left to right and the second clay going right to left. There was some debate as to which to shoot first on a true pair. I told Larry that it might be better for me to shoot the left to right one first because I am left handed. On the very next station, Larry handed me his personal over under shotgun. Larry too, was left handed. And it made a world of difference to have a left handed shotgun! On one of the stations, I actually shot 10 out 10! They could not stop calling me a "sandbagger"!
Frank had the best score of the round at 62, I was second (but first of my friends!) at 61, Wayne shot 44, Maddy shot 37, and Mel shot 30.
...
And finally, here's a good video of a launched clay. The traps (launchers) were fairly accessible as most of them launched from next to the firing line. You can see the clay take off and the clear miss by someone. The upside down garbage can acts as weather proofing for the biodegradable clays. You should also note the snow. It was pretty cold, but we were all very warm with out smiles.
The sun peaked over the mountain on a cold November morning. We had arrived in Albuquerque earlier than anticipated, and the engine vibrating to a stop woke me. It was near 30 degrees, and they had a light dusting of snow on the ground only a few days before. The air was crisp,dry and full of anticipation. Today, we are going to a sporting clays course....
Only a day prior, I had found online a sporting clays course less than 20 miles from our hotel in Rio Rancho, a developing community outside of Albuquerque proper. I called the contact number on the website. The voice on the other end told me the next public shoot wasn't until the 9th of December. I thanked him for his time and hung up. A few minutes later, my cell phone rings and a gentleman by the name of Dave tells me he was calling from the gun club and wanted to know if he could help. I explained to him our situation, that we were coming in from out of town and we had no shotguns and no shells. The only thing we had was a love for the sport and a need to shoot. "We don't rent guns yet, we're a very new club," he starts, "But let me call you back in a few hours I'll see what I can do."
The hours ticked by. I continued my load in, and kept looking at my phone. About 2 in the afternoon, my phone rings, "I can get you two shotguns, one over under, and one semi-automatic. I could get you shells, but what I'd have to charge you would be outrageous."
"Sounds great, we'll take care of the shells and see you tomorrow at noon," I replied.
Excitedly I told my fellow shooters and sent Wayne on a mission. We needed 400 shells so we could shoot the course. Luckily in Denver, I had a friend coming to the show and she happily drove Wayne to a Bass Pro Shop.
...
At 11:00 AM, the outside temperature had reached 42 degrees, as we piled into the rented SUV and headed out to the Del Norte Gun Club. I went online to the website and wrote down the directions. It seemed simple enough at the start. Follow highway 550 to the Northern Corridor and turn left. From there, it got interesting.
After a few more turns, the directions all started from a cattle guard, "4.5 miles after the cattle guard, turn right at the telephone pole with the yellow tape on it."
The cattle guard marked the end of civilization. The paved road stopped and the bumpy dirt road began.
Almost 10 miles of bouncing around and we had arrived at the gate. Dave met us there and led us to the start of the course. We pulled up to a sea container that was serving as the "club house" for the course. We were not at Sandanona. We weren't even at the Middletown Sportsmens Lodge. But it didn't really matter because the surrounding view was spectacular.
Dave led me into the "club house" and gave me an electronic key. "The whole course is automated, so all you do is put this key in and it will count the number of birds you release. I'll walk with you to the first station and show you how it's done. This is Frank and Larry, they'll be shooting the course today as well."There stood two crusty, world hardened men. Frank, was in his early 50's. He stood there in a fleece ski cap and dirty fleece shooting jacket. His partner, Larry was older, maybe early 60's. He had on a camouflage hunting vest and fedora. They both wore large rustic smiles that revealed well worn teeth.
"The 1st bird on station one wasn't launching yesterday," Frank started in on Dave, "The f**king thing is probably broken again."
"We'll go have a look at it right now. This is Dan and his friends, it's their first time shooting the course. Do you mind shooting with them?"
"No problem, if you can get that damn bird to work."
We got out to the first station and Frank stepped up to the firing line. "Well, if you hook up the battery, it works better," Dave said sarcastically as he attached the leads. Frank only huffed and loaded his shotgun. Larry opted out of shooting. Instead he became the trapper (he launched the targets) and score keeper, and general keeper of knowledge.
Needless to say, we had a great day of shooting.
As you can see from these pictures, there was no fancy wooden gazebo acting as the station. Only a wire mesh fence forming a V around you to help control the spent shells launched from the semi automatic weapons. But it didn't seem to matter. There was great camaraderie in the air. Frank and Larry would give us tips on how to approach each station. We would laugh and talk about how were shooting. We even got Frank to start yelling, "Sandbagger!" whenever one of us hit more than 2 targets in a row.Sadly, this is the only picture I took with Frank and Larry. That's Mel sitting in the foreground while Wayne shoots at station 6.We now have friends in Albuquerque, and a place to come, next time we have a day off here.
...
Today we were shooting all standard sized targets, called 108's. At one of the stands, the targets flew directly at us, so if you missed, it landed on the ground in front of the station. After we had all shot, I walked out and grabbed one. Sort of gives you an idea of the size of the target. The only other clay we shot were the rabbits. Well, we shot AT the rabbits, I don't think we hit a single one. The rabbit clays are a little different because they have to roll on their sides. But the size is still the same.
All the clays nowadays are either biodegradable or are made of fertilizer.
I don't have a very big hand, but still these targets are a lot smaller than I thought!
Another highlight from the day was station two. Only a few days before, they had a tournament on the course, so all the stations listed the presentations. We decided to shoot according to the list as it made for a good guide line. Station two was unbelievably hard. We shot 4 pair, two "on report" (second clay is launched after the sound of the gun firing at the first clay), and two "true pair" (Both clays launched at the same time). Both clays flew directly from left to right. The second flew so fast that half the time, we couldn't see it! I don't think a single one of us hit any. Here's a picture of Wayne making a valiant attempt at hitting the second clay. If you can blow the picture up, you can see the little black streak in the sky, just to the left of the mountains.
Frank would say, "If if flies, it dies," which carried two meanings. The first and most obvious one, Frank likes to hunt game bird. The second, which helped us out tremendously on a few of the stations, is that the trajectory of some of the clays is dipping. We kept shooting above them. "If it flies, it dies." Shoot lower.I had my best outing thus far, I shot 61 out of 100. But I think I cheated. The third station had one clay flying left to right and the second clay going right to left. There was some debate as to which to shoot first on a true pair. I told Larry that it might be better for me to shoot the left to right one first because I am left handed. On the very next station, Larry handed me his personal over under shotgun. Larry too, was left handed. And it made a world of difference to have a left handed shotgun! On one of the stations, I actually shot 10 out 10! They could not stop calling me a "sandbagger"!
Frank had the best score of the round at 62, I was second (but first of my friends!) at 61, Wayne shot 44, Maddy shot 37, and Mel shot 30.
...
And finally, here's a good video of a launched clay. The traps (launchers) were fairly accessible as most of them launched from next to the firing line. You can see the clay take off and the clear miss by someone. The upside down garbage can acts as weather proofing for the biodegradable clays. You should also note the snow. It was pretty cold, but we were all very warm with out smiles.
25 November, 2007
Lost Memories, Shower Vision...
Sad news for Dan. While I was writing my last blog, I had already lost my passport. I didn't know it then. I didn't figure it out until I got to the hotel in Kansas City, when the front desk fellow asked for ID.
The last place I remember having it was at the TSA checkpoint in Chicago O'Hare. I showed it to the guy and then put it in the outside pocket of my sports jacket, put my sports jacket into the X-ray machine, and that was that. Maybe the X-ray machine disintegrated my passport.
More than likely, it fell out when I grabbed my jacket and walked to the lounge. I didn't put it on, I just slung it over my arm, so it could have fallen out anywhere from the checkpoint to the lounge. Oh well.
I'm not so sore about loosing my passport, it's more the loss of irreplaceable stamps and visas I had in it. That passport took me everywhere with Shakira. Russia, Croatia, Romania, Turkey, and the best of all, Nigeria.
Thursday night and Friday morning, I called all the relative agencies to see if anyone turned in my passport. American Airlines, Chicago Police, U.S. Customs. All of them report no passport turned in. The TSA lost and found office is closed until tomorrow, Monday, so I'll try them again.
I'll keep hoping. But I'm not holding my breath.
...
The only other really interesting news as of late is I was observed showering yesterday at our show in Colorado Springs.
When on tour, you have to shower at the venues. More often than not, you shower at the end of the night in one of the dressing rooms after the band vacates. I usually finish work before most of my compatriots, so the only shower that's usually open is our opening act guy, Mike Relm.
As another "tip of the hat" to O.C.D., I have a routine that I perform every night for a shower. I won't go into great detail, but I lay out all the things I need, then lock myself in a toilet stall and do a #2, then take a shower.
This particular evening, Mike Relm had a team size dressing room with your standard crew shower. No private stalls, just a bunch of shower heads. So I laid out my clothes, set up my soap and shampoo, strip downed to my underwear and locked myself in the stall for my late evening "constitutional". No sooner had I sat then I heard the door open to the locker room, and a couple of people walk in. I peeked through the crack in the door to see a short red headed woman spraying and cleaning the mirrors over the sinks. Then I could hear another couple of voices in the dressing room beyond. Then two feet stepped up to the stall door, and started rattling it. I quickly finished my business and stood up. Then I saw a latex gloved hand grabbed the top of the door and jimmy the lock. The door swung open and there stood a bespectacled gentleman staring at me in my birthday suit. "Um, occupied?" I said with a little bit of disdain in my voice. "Sorry," he said and promptly shut the door.
"There's a man in the stall," He whispered to the red head. As I pulled on my underwear, I was peeking out the crack and she just sort of shrugged it off. I stepped out of the stall walked past her and said with my best sarcasm, "Don't mind me, I'm just going to shower now." She just smiled and watched me walk away.
I turned the corner into the shower stall, took off my underwear and turned on the shower. I set the temperature and stuck my head under the warm jet. As I reached for my shampoo, I looked out, and there in the reflected image of a mirror, I saw two pairs of eyes, glancing at me, and then looking down.
Strange. One would think with a backpack open and it's contents laid out in the dressing room, someone would figure out that the room was not empty. Not to mention, if the stall door is closed and locked, it's possible... quite possible, that someone is inside of it. And heck, if someone of the opposite sex appears in front of me in nothing but underwear proclaiming they are about to shower, I'd promptly leave the room.
The toilet stall thing has happened to me so many times, I'm sort of used to it. It doesn't phase me much any more if someone opens the door while I'm busy, I'm sure they are more embarrassed than I.
But watching me shower, that was a new one. Guess I'm sexy. Like Brad Pitt.
...
The last place I remember having it was at the TSA checkpoint in Chicago O'Hare. I showed it to the guy and then put it in the outside pocket of my sports jacket, put my sports jacket into the X-ray machine, and that was that. Maybe the X-ray machine disintegrated my passport.
More than likely, it fell out when I grabbed my jacket and walked to the lounge. I didn't put it on, I just slung it over my arm, so it could have fallen out anywhere from the checkpoint to the lounge. Oh well.
I'm not so sore about loosing my passport, it's more the loss of irreplaceable stamps and visas I had in it. That passport took me everywhere with Shakira. Russia, Croatia, Romania, Turkey, and the best of all, Nigeria.
Thursday night and Friday morning, I called all the relative agencies to see if anyone turned in my passport. American Airlines, Chicago Police, U.S. Customs. All of them report no passport turned in. The TSA lost and found office is closed until tomorrow, Monday, so I'll try them again.
I'll keep hoping. But I'm not holding my breath.
...
The only other really interesting news as of late is I was observed showering yesterday at our show in Colorado Springs.
When on tour, you have to shower at the venues. More often than not, you shower at the end of the night in one of the dressing rooms after the band vacates. I usually finish work before most of my compatriots, so the only shower that's usually open is our opening act guy, Mike Relm.
As another "tip of the hat" to O.C.D., I have a routine that I perform every night for a shower. I won't go into great detail, but I lay out all the things I need, then lock myself in a toilet stall and do a #2, then take a shower.
This particular evening, Mike Relm had a team size dressing room with your standard crew shower. No private stalls, just a bunch of shower heads. So I laid out my clothes, set up my soap and shampoo, strip downed to my underwear and locked myself in the stall for my late evening "constitutional". No sooner had I sat then I heard the door open to the locker room, and a couple of people walk in. I peeked through the crack in the door to see a short red headed woman spraying and cleaning the mirrors over the sinks. Then I could hear another couple of voices in the dressing room beyond. Then two feet stepped up to the stall door, and started rattling it. I quickly finished my business and stood up. Then I saw a latex gloved hand grabbed the top of the door and jimmy the lock. The door swung open and there stood a bespectacled gentleman staring at me in my birthday suit. "Um, occupied?" I said with a little bit of disdain in my voice. "Sorry," he said and promptly shut the door.
"There's a man in the stall," He whispered to the red head. As I pulled on my underwear, I was peeking out the crack and she just sort of shrugged it off. I stepped out of the stall walked past her and said with my best sarcasm, "Don't mind me, I'm just going to shower now." She just smiled and watched me walk away.
I turned the corner into the shower stall, took off my underwear and turned on the shower. I set the temperature and stuck my head under the warm jet. As I reached for my shampoo, I looked out, and there in the reflected image of a mirror, I saw two pairs of eyes, glancing at me, and then looking down.
Strange. One would think with a backpack open and it's contents laid out in the dressing room, someone would figure out that the room was not empty. Not to mention, if the stall door is closed and locked, it's possible... quite possible, that someone is inside of it. And heck, if someone of the opposite sex appears in front of me in nothing but underwear proclaiming they are about to shower, I'd promptly leave the room.
The toilet stall thing has happened to me so many times, I'm sort of used to it. It doesn't phase me much any more if someone opens the door while I'm busy, I'm sure they are more embarrassed than I.
But watching me shower, that was a new one. Guess I'm sexy. Like Brad Pitt.
...
22 November, 2007
Only 2.
Happy Thanksgiving y'all.
I'm sitting in Chicago O'Hare Airport at the moment. Nicole has just left me to catch her flight back to L.A. and I'm on a plane myself in about an hour to rejoin my colleagues in Kansas City, MO. We had an early Thanksgiving meal with Nicole's family last night (Wednesday) because I had to fly today. We're thinking we should make it a new tradition. Fly into Chicago and then driving to Freeport early, then have Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday and fly out on Thanksgiving day.
Why? Because traffic was not a bear, plane flights are cheaper, and we can get home before "Black Friday". Well, at least Nicole can get home. I can go sit in a cold arena.
This is the third time that Nicole and I have spent Thanksgiving with her family. We skipped last year because we were a little light on funds after the wedding.
And this time, I only had to eat 2 pork chops!! And a bunch of turkey of course. Nicole's mom is quite a cook, and we can always expect an over the top feast. She sets a beautiful table and the food is spectacular.
Every time we've gone it's been a great time. I've grown to like the quite town of Freeport. I've grown an unusual fondness for the shopping there. I must say, my two favorite things to do there involves shopping. Blaine's Farm and Fleet and Shopko. Reasonably priced quality clothing and neat stuff. I've decided to change my "style" on tour, I'm gonna start wearing less camouflage, and more work clothes. Blaine's Farm and Fleet is good for that. Blew a bunch of money there (Well, gift cards anyway). Got me some winter work clothes. I'll need that to finish this tour in style.
We've added a new shop to the Freeport shopping excursion. This year, I found the Freeport Bicycle Company. A small but very nice little bike shop in downtown. They have a small, but nice collection of bikes. But what really got me was the nice team jersey they had. So I bought one! It fits really nice and tomorrow I'll try and post a picture.
I've also lost my mind and bought a T-shirt with the local high school mascot printed on it. At Castle High School, I had the Knights. At Freeport high school, Nicole had the Pretzels! Rocking.
But now, I have to go, the announcements are starting, the euro-bargers are moving into position... Attempting to board the plane before their row is called.
More to say when I'm sitting at Front of House tomorrow.
...
I'm sitting in Chicago O'Hare Airport at the moment. Nicole has just left me to catch her flight back to L.A. and I'm on a plane myself in about an hour to rejoin my colleagues in Kansas City, MO. We had an early Thanksgiving meal with Nicole's family last night (Wednesday) because I had to fly today. We're thinking we should make it a new tradition. Fly into Chicago and then driving to Freeport early, then have Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday and fly out on Thanksgiving day.
Why? Because traffic was not a bear, plane flights are cheaper, and we can get home before "Black Friday". Well, at least Nicole can get home. I can go sit in a cold arena.
This is the third time that Nicole and I have spent Thanksgiving with her family. We skipped last year because we were a little light on funds after the wedding.
And this time, I only had to eat 2 pork chops!! And a bunch of turkey of course. Nicole's mom is quite a cook, and we can always expect an over the top feast. She sets a beautiful table and the food is spectacular.
Every time we've gone it's been a great time. I've grown to like the quite town of Freeport. I've grown an unusual fondness for the shopping there. I must say, my two favorite things to do there involves shopping. Blaine's Farm and Fleet and Shopko. Reasonably priced quality clothing and neat stuff. I've decided to change my "style" on tour, I'm gonna start wearing less camouflage, and more work clothes. Blaine's Farm and Fleet is good for that. Blew a bunch of money there (Well, gift cards anyway). Got me some winter work clothes. I'll need that to finish this tour in style.
We've added a new shop to the Freeport shopping excursion. This year, I found the Freeport Bicycle Company. A small but very nice little bike shop in downtown. They have a small, but nice collection of bikes. But what really got me was the nice team jersey they had. So I bought one! It fits really nice and tomorrow I'll try and post a picture.
I've also lost my mind and bought a T-shirt with the local high school mascot printed on it. At Castle High School, I had the Knights. At Freeport high school, Nicole had the Pretzels! Rocking.
But now, I have to go, the announcements are starting, the euro-bargers are moving into position... Attempting to board the plane before their row is called.
More to say when I'm sitting at Front of House tomorrow.
...
18 November, 2007
Blog break time...
Last show tonight before four days off. I'm not going home to L.A., but rather spending the time with Nicole and the in-laws in Freeport Illinois. I'll be leaving the computer on the bus while I fly in and out. So no blog for a few days. Happy Thanksgiving to all. And to all a good night.
Snoogans.
Snoogans.
16 November, 2007
The Sticks in the Wind Have Gathered.
I reported back in August the sad disbandment of the Discovery Channel Pro Cycling Team. Johan Bruyneel, the team manager who led 8 of the last 9 men to victory in the Tour de France (7 with Lance Armstrong, 1 with Alberto Contador) announced his retirement. Many of the cyclist, including team leaders Levi Leipheimer and Contador were left without contracts. Scattered, as sticks to the wind, with no team to go to for the 2008 season.
Only a month before, during the fabled Tour de France, another team battled to keep itself together. Astana Pro Cycling Team, sponsored by a conglomerate of companies based in the capital of Kazakhstan, was amidst a meltdown with three riders testing positive (at different times) for blood doping or illegal drugs. Eventually the team was forced to withdraw in shame, only showing up to a handful of races later in the season, always chastised and disrespected. Riders were released from contracts, management was under the microscope.
Then, in late September, the rumours started. Was Johan Bruyneel in talks with Astana to manage the next season? Will Contador and Leipheimer follow him?
All the while other Discovery riders were finding homes. George Hincapie signed with T-Mobile, Egoi Martinez will be racing with Euskatel-Euskadi in 2008. Other notable moves were Yaroslav Popovich to Predicor-Lotto and Jason McCartney to Team CSC. Some of the Americans returned home. Antonio Cruz signed with Team BMC who competes mainly in the U.S., and Tom Danielson moved to Team Slipstream, the new American hope for the European peloton.
Then, it was confirmed, Bruyneel signs a three year contract with Astana as the general manager, and not the director sportif. A new "challenge" is what drew Bruyneel to the role. He won't be behind the wheel following his new team, but his influence will be felt.
And soon after, that influence began to show. The former director sportif of Astana was sent packing in favor of Alain Gallopin of Team CSC. Bruyneel brought with him assistants Sean Yates and Viatcheslav Ekimov to work with Gallopin.
Riders soon followed, Contador was signed. Leipheimer was signed. Then in one fell swoop, the core of the former Discovery Channel Team latched on. The sticks began to gather again. This time in the capital of Kazakhstan.
Today, the announcement came that Jose Luis "Chechu" Rubiera was signed to a one year contract with Astana. The migration continued.
I was a little lost as to whom to root for in the coming cycling season. Any other sport it's pretty easy, Minnesota or Hawai'i based teams get my vote. When I started riding in the 1980's, the natural tendency was to root for the American team. Starting with 7-Eleven Hoonved, to Motorola, to USPS to Discovery. There, the bloodline ended. Now what? Root for the new American upstarts on Team Slipstream? Follow Hincapie to T-Moblie?
With todays announcement, I can feel my heart turn. Astana is my new team. The core of the team I followed for years has moved there, as will my heart. I'll still pay close attention to Team Slipstream and all the peloton for that matter. Cycling is in my blood. But for now, go Astana!
Bruyneel also promised to change the jersey for the new year. Less baby blue. I agree. Yeech.
...
Only a month before, during the fabled Tour de France, another team battled to keep itself together. Astana Pro Cycling Team, sponsored by a conglomerate of companies based in the capital of Kazakhstan, was amidst a meltdown with three riders testing positive (at different times) for blood doping or illegal drugs. Eventually the team was forced to withdraw in shame, only showing up to a handful of races later in the season, always chastised and disrespected. Riders were released from contracts, management was under the microscope.
Then, in late September, the rumours started. Was Johan Bruyneel in talks with Astana to manage the next season? Will Contador and Leipheimer follow him?
All the while other Discovery riders were finding homes. George Hincapie signed with T-Mobile, Egoi Martinez will be racing with Euskatel-Euskadi in 2008. Other notable moves were Yaroslav Popovich to Predicor-Lotto and Jason McCartney to Team CSC. Some of the Americans returned home. Antonio Cruz signed with Team BMC who competes mainly in the U.S., and Tom Danielson moved to Team Slipstream, the new American hope for the European peloton.
Then, it was confirmed, Bruyneel signs a three year contract with Astana as the general manager, and not the director sportif. A new "challenge" is what drew Bruyneel to the role. He won't be behind the wheel following his new team, but his influence will be felt.And soon after, that influence began to show. The former director sportif of Astana was sent packing in favor of Alain Gallopin of Team CSC. Bruyneel brought with him assistants Sean Yates and Viatcheslav Ekimov to work with Gallopin.
Riders soon followed, Contador was signed. Leipheimer was signed. Then in one fell swoop, the core of the former Discovery Channel Team latched on. The sticks began to gather again. This time in the capital of Kazakhstan.
Today, the announcement came that Jose Luis "Chechu" Rubiera was signed to a one year contract with Astana. The migration continued.I was a little lost as to whom to root for in the coming cycling season. Any other sport it's pretty easy, Minnesota or Hawai'i based teams get my vote. When I started riding in the 1980's, the natural tendency was to root for the American team. Starting with 7-Eleven Hoonved, to Motorola, to USPS to Discovery. There, the bloodline ended. Now what? Root for the new American upstarts on Team Slipstream? Follow Hincapie to T-Moblie?
With todays announcement, I can feel my heart turn. Astana is my new team. The core of the team I followed for years has moved there, as will my heart. I'll still pay close attention to Team Slipstream and all the peloton for that matter. Cycling is in my blood. But for now, go Astana!
Bruyneel also promised to change the jersey for the new year. Less baby blue. I agree. Yeech....
14 November, 2007
And now for a realistic skeek, skeet, skeet.
This is the 2nd post I'm putting up today (Wednesday, 14 November). I've had two eventful days off and I thought I should share. Both will probably be pretty long, so Jade, take an extra 15 on your coffee break, or wait until lunch.
...
Yesterday, we went and had another day of our kind of "golf". Maddy found another sporting clays course online about 40 miles from Cincinnati. So we rented a car and four of us went, the original three (Maddy, Wayne and I) plus Mel. We drove out along Interstate 75 to Middletown, Ohio. Which, we guess, is in the middle between Cincinnati and Dayton. Hence the name, Middletown. We were heading for the Middletown Sportsmens Club. We drove through a very depressed downtown area. Lot's of boarded up shops and places for rent. We crossed a series of railroad tracks (strangely enough) and it was like night and day. The houses we passed were set back from the roads, and those we could see where huge with well kept lawns. A small sign directed us to a narrow side street that led to the clubs entrance. We could hear the snapping of gunfire as we entered the grounds.
After paying our 56 dollars for course fees and ammo (or greens fees and golf balls if you want to stick with the analogy), we met Bob our trapper for the day. He pulled up with three golf carts, had us divide into pairs, and follow him out to the course.
This course was not as nice as our last, nor was Bob as clean as Andrew. Andrew at Sandanona, the last course, had a nice plaid shirt, tucked in to his tan hunting pants, shoes neatly tied, not a hair on his head out of place. Bob on the other hand, was wearing an untucked white T-shirt, and a baseball cap, slightly askew. His jeans had stains on them, as did his teeth. I watched as Bob drove the cart ahead of us. He was slouched like any other teenager behind the wheel. One hand hanging down with a cigarette.
We were definitely not at Augusta (think golf metaphor), this was going to be like playing a local public golf course. Fine for a round every now and again, but don't expect magic.
We pulled up to the first station and Bob explained how to load the shotguns we were using. Again, these were not as nice as the golf clubs we had at Augusta (shotguns at Sandanona), These shotguns were semi automatic (as opposed to over/under double barrels) and considerably heavier. Think $3400 vs. maybe $500. To load, you'd stuff one round in the chamber, cock it, and then load the second round. And to add to the fun, they only gave us two shotguns for the four of us, and both stocks were loose.
Not to say we didn't have a really great time. When we started, we were a little grumpy at how uncomfortable the guns were, how fast the targets moved, how small the field of fire was, etc.. But we were especially mad at the fact that we weren't hitting much of anything. By about the 5th station I think I had figured it out. The only reason we had been hitting more targets at Sandanona was because we got to see the "presentation" 5 times. Here we were seeing the "presentation" 3 times. I figured the last time, we'd be hitting our stride at about half way through and getting extra rounds in for more hits.
The advantage of this course was it was more "realistic" to competition sporting clays. Andrew (at Sandanona) explained to us that in competition, the most you will get is 6 rounds at each station. At Sandanona, we played 10 stations with 10 rounds each. At the Middletown Sportsmens Club, we were shooting 16 stations of either 6 or 7 rounds each to total 100. So basically, we hit our stride and then move on to the next station and start all over again.
After this revelation, we had a blast. We started ribbing Bob every time he'd explain the "presentation".
"Okay, here we will have 3 set of true pair, one is the standard 108 disc but the second is the smaller 60 disc."
"How big is the 60, Bob?"
"Oh, about the size of a hockey puck. But the real fun is that it's so small when it leave the trap you don't know what direction it's going."
"OH GREAT!! Thanks Bob, why don't we just shoot 6 rounds at the clouds and go to the next station!"
We'd all laugh and then get on with it. We were there for just under three hours, but time flew by so fast it was unbelievable. We started the course a little after 12:30PM, and the first time I looked at my watch it was already 20 minutes to 2PM!
Again, our best shooter was Wayne with 35 out of 100. I was 2nd with 29 of 100, a far cry from my 51 from the first time I went. Mel and Maddy tied with 20 out of 100. It was humbling, the presentations were much harder than before. The clays were moving much faster that we expected, not to mention those 60s!
I'm looking forward to the next time.
...
Here's a couple of pictures and a two videos from our day of fun. I noticed the last time I posted pictures, but you couldn't see the clays. This picture was from our final station which I think was called "Bridge and Gully" We stood on a bridge and two targets were released in "true pair" meaning, at the same time. Other releases were "On Report" (explained in the last skeet blog) and "Following", which meant Bob would throw one and then quick load another one and throw it. I added red arrows so you can see the disks.
Now here's a quick video of the same presentation. I think Mel is pulling the trigger. You can see him miss the first one, but annihilate the second one.
Here's another favorite presentation of ours. Most times the clays are flying across your field of view. But at least once on a course you'll get what are called "Rabbits". It's when they roll the discs across the ground. At Middletown you got a "true pair" of rabbits. One would think these targets are easy, but they're not. You should note the first one bouncing high into the air after release. Maddy is shooting and doing a great job at mowing the grass. Not so great at hitting the discs though. I think Wayne and I shot the best this time out getting 2 of 6. The first time, I think I was the only one to hit a rabbit.
I just watched the video, maybe you can't see the "rabbits" in the window like I can on my computer. I guess it's because I enlarge the window. If you want to see it, I can email you the video.
And finally here's a list of the 16 stations and the presentations. Lots of challenge there.
...
Yesterday, we went and had another day of our kind of "golf". Maddy found another sporting clays course online about 40 miles from Cincinnati. So we rented a car and four of us went, the original three (Maddy, Wayne and I) plus Mel. We drove out along Interstate 75 to Middletown, Ohio. Which, we guess, is in the middle between Cincinnati and Dayton. Hence the name, Middletown. We were heading for the Middletown Sportsmens Club. We drove through a very depressed downtown area. Lot's of boarded up shops and places for rent. We crossed a series of railroad tracks (strangely enough) and it was like night and day. The houses we passed were set back from the roads, and those we could see where huge with well kept lawns. A small sign directed us to a narrow side street that led to the clubs entrance. We could hear the snapping of gunfire as we entered the grounds.
After paying our 56 dollars for course fees and ammo (or greens fees and golf balls if you want to stick with the analogy), we met Bob our trapper for the day. He pulled up with three golf carts, had us divide into pairs, and follow him out to the course.
This course was not as nice as our last, nor was Bob as clean as Andrew. Andrew at Sandanona, the last course, had a nice plaid shirt, tucked in to his tan hunting pants, shoes neatly tied, not a hair on his head out of place. Bob on the other hand, was wearing an untucked white T-shirt, and a baseball cap, slightly askew. His jeans had stains on them, as did his teeth. I watched as Bob drove the cart ahead of us. He was slouched like any other teenager behind the wheel. One hand hanging down with a cigarette.
We were definitely not at Augusta (think golf metaphor), this was going to be like playing a local public golf course. Fine for a round every now and again, but don't expect magic.
We pulled up to the first station and Bob explained how to load the shotguns we were using. Again, these were not as nice as the golf clubs we had at Augusta (shotguns at Sandanona), These shotguns were semi automatic (as opposed to over/under double barrels) and considerably heavier. Think $3400 vs. maybe $500. To load, you'd stuff one round in the chamber, cock it, and then load the second round. And to add to the fun, they only gave us two shotguns for the four of us, and both stocks were loose.
Not to say we didn't have a really great time. When we started, we were a little grumpy at how uncomfortable the guns were, how fast the targets moved, how small the field of fire was, etc.. But we were especially mad at the fact that we weren't hitting much of anything. By about the 5th station I think I had figured it out. The only reason we had been hitting more targets at Sandanona was because we got to see the "presentation" 5 times. Here we were seeing the "presentation" 3 times. I figured the last time, we'd be hitting our stride at about half way through and getting extra rounds in for more hits.
The advantage of this course was it was more "realistic" to competition sporting clays. Andrew (at Sandanona) explained to us that in competition, the most you will get is 6 rounds at each station. At Sandanona, we played 10 stations with 10 rounds each. At the Middletown Sportsmens Club, we were shooting 16 stations of either 6 or 7 rounds each to total 100. So basically, we hit our stride and then move on to the next station and start all over again.
After this revelation, we had a blast. We started ribbing Bob every time he'd explain the "presentation"."Okay, here we will have 3 set of true pair, one is the standard 108 disc but the second is the smaller 60 disc."
"How big is the 60, Bob?"
"Oh, about the size of a hockey puck. But the real fun is that it's so small when it leave the trap you don't know what direction it's going."
"OH GREAT!! Thanks Bob, why don't we just shoot 6 rounds at the clouds and go to the next station!"
We'd all laugh and then get on with it. We were there for just under three hours, but time flew by so fast it was unbelievable. We started the course a little after 12:30PM, and the first time I looked at my watch it was already 20 minutes to 2PM!
Again, our best shooter was Wayne with 35 out of 100. I was 2nd with 29 of 100, a far cry from my 51 from the first time I went. Mel and Maddy tied with 20 out of 100. It was humbling, the presentations were much harder than before. The clays were moving much faster that we expected, not to mention those 60s!
I'm looking forward to the next time.
...
Here's a couple of pictures and a two videos from our day of fun. I noticed the last time I posted pictures, but you couldn't see the clays. This picture was from our final station which I think was called "Bridge and Gully" We stood on a bridge and two targets were released in "true pair" meaning, at the same time. Other releases were "On Report" (explained in the last skeet blog) and "Following", which meant Bob would throw one and then quick load another one and throw it. I added red arrows so you can see the disks.
Now here's a quick video of the same presentation. I think Mel is pulling the trigger. You can see him miss the first one, but annihilate the second one.Here's another favorite presentation of ours. Most times the clays are flying across your field of view. But at least once on a course you'll get what are called "Rabbits". It's when they roll the discs across the ground. At Middletown you got a "true pair" of rabbits. One would think these targets are easy, but they're not. You should note the first one bouncing high into the air after release. Maddy is shooting and doing a great job at mowing the grass. Not so great at hitting the discs though. I think Wayne and I shot the best this time out getting 2 of 6. The first time, I think I was the only one to hit a rabbit.
I just watched the video, maybe you can't see the "rabbits" in the window like I can on my computer. I guess it's because I enlarge the window. If you want to see it, I can email you the video.
And finally here's a list of the 16 stations and the presentations. Lots of challenge there.
I rode through two states in one day!
That's right people, I rode through two states in one day, Ohio and Kentucky! Granted, Cincinnati is on the border of Ohio and Kentucky. And all I really did was ride across one bridge, through the town of Newport Kentucky, and then back over the river to Cincinnati. But that doesn't sound as impressive as riding through two states.
That was basically my day on Monday. Mapmyride.com did it for me again, and I found a 24 mile course that actually passed a block from my hotel. Most of the time, when I look at sites like Mapmyride or bikely, I find lots of great rides (or they look like great rides), but they are no where near the hotel I'm staying in. I'm not in any great shape, so riding 5 miles to start a 25 mile ride only equates to a 35 mile ride. And I can't do that. Well, not yet anyway.
But this ride, looked fine. It rode through downtown along the river, across the Taylor Southgate bridge, through the city of Newport in Kentucky (state number 2), and then back across the Purple People Bridge (a pedestrian only bridge) and then out of town.
In standard Dan fashion, I completely missed the turn for the Taylor Southgate bridge, so I did a backwards loop into Kentucky and crossed the Purple People Bridge first and then came back across the Taylor Southgate. Here's a picture of the Purple People Bridge. The white bridge beyond it is Interstate 471. Can't ride my bike across that.
I crossed back into Ohio, turned right and got ready for the long haul out of town along Riverview Drive, when suddenly, there was a loud hiss. The front end of the bike went mushy and then pinged with every bump in the road. My front tire had gone flat. Thankfully I carry a spare and a compact pump, so I replaced the tube and being only 3 miles from the hotel, turned around and rode back. The compact pump can only put in enough air to get you back, and since I was close, I figured I go back to the hotel and use my full size pump to get the tire back to proper inflation (100 PSI, in case you were wondering), grab the patch kit (I was out of spare tubes) and finish the ride.
As I headed out of town, saw the strangest thing on the side of the road. Are those breadfruit? What the heck are breadfruits doing smashed on the side of the road in Cincinnati? I had to turn my bike around and get a picture. A tropical fruit on the side of the road, in a non tropical climate. I couldn't be. One of them had been run over and the innards had the same stringy look as the breadfruit did on the tree we used to have at my dad's house in Hawai'i.
Over dinner, I told Mel and Wayne about my discovery and they were a little baffled as well. The next day, however, the mystery was solved. While we were out on the sporting clays course (another blog I'm about to write), I saw these mysterious breadfruit again. Mel told me they were called "Horse Apples". A totally different thing.
At least the mystery gave me time to think about while I rode my bike. Something other than a hill climb.
The course I had chosen, did a loop around the small corporate airport just outside of town. As I always do, I checked Google Maps to see what the course looks like through their "hybrid" view. This day, it looked like the ride went around the airport along Airport Road. But when I got there, there was a guard shack at the start of the road and I wasn't getting past him. So continued out, looking for the next landmark, a golf course.
When I got to the golf course, I found a bike path that went between the golf course and the airport. I rode that, only to bring me back to the guard shack! I didn't see it hidden behind a mound, but there was a entrance to the bike path next to the guard shack.
I doubled back again (probably adding about 2 miles to my ride) to get back on course. I turned left and started the hill. Similar to West Virginia, the rise started out gradual. It was comfortable, the heart rate was up, but not unbearable. Until...
I'll never forget the name, Heekin Avenue. Left turn on to Heekin and bam! Straight up. I was now about 15 miles into the ride. I could have turned back and taken the nice flat road by the river. But something made me keep going. I figured, I've got to get to top and it's all downhill from there. It has to be, I can see the top of the tree line. So I plugged on. I weaved back and forth on the street to lessen the grade. I monitored my heart rate. When it got to 185 BPM, I would slow and often pull over. Get the rate down a few beats, clip back into the pedals and trudge on. Heekin bobbed and weaved for almost 2 miles, sometimes leveling off, sometimes getting steeper. At the top it turned into Observatory Blvd. and circled a very nice park. I reached the top and pulled over to enjoy some of the fall colours that were burning around me.
With the heart rate back down, I mounted my bike and started off again. I'm at the top, it's all downhill from here.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Observatory Blvd. bent to the right and began a steep decent. I got down into a tuck to try and get maximum speed. The trees began to be replaced with houses. I noticed the road turn to the left and as I leaned in, I began to slow. The road went back up hill! I pedaled furiously to try and keep maximum speed to get as far up the hill before I had to grind it out. 15 mph, 12, mph, 10 mph. Down shift, low gear, crank it out at 7 mph. Get to the top.
And once I got there, it was the same thing, over, and over and over. Crest a hill, speed down, crank back up the other side. This had to stop at some point! The hotel is near the river. At some point I have to go downhill. It wasn't until the final 3 miles did it finally just head downhill into the city. I had bonked at the top of Heekin, and fought to survive to the end.
31 miles and 2214 calories later, I was back in my hotel room. I hurt. But it was still a good day.
...
That was basically my day on Monday. Mapmyride.com did it for me again, and I found a 24 mile course that actually passed a block from my hotel. Most of the time, when I look at sites like Mapmyride or bikely, I find lots of great rides (or they look like great rides), but they are no where near the hotel I'm staying in. I'm not in any great shape, so riding 5 miles to start a 25 mile ride only equates to a 35 mile ride. And I can't do that. Well, not yet anyway.
But this ride, looked fine. It rode through downtown along the river, across the Taylor Southgate bridge, through the city of Newport in Kentucky (state number 2), and then back across the Purple People Bridge (a pedestrian only bridge) and then out of town.
In standard Dan fashion, I completely missed the turn for the Taylor Southgate bridge, so I did a backwards loop into Kentucky and crossed the Purple People Bridge first and then came back across the Taylor Southgate. Here's a picture of the Purple People Bridge. The white bridge beyond it is Interstate 471. Can't ride my bike across that.
I crossed back into Ohio, turned right and got ready for the long haul out of town along Riverview Drive, when suddenly, there was a loud hiss. The front end of the bike went mushy and then pinged with every bump in the road. My front tire had gone flat. Thankfully I carry a spare and a compact pump, so I replaced the tube and being only 3 miles from the hotel, turned around and rode back. The compact pump can only put in enough air to get you back, and since I was close, I figured I go back to the hotel and use my full size pump to get the tire back to proper inflation (100 PSI, in case you were wondering), grab the patch kit (I was out of spare tubes) and finish the ride.I started out again, this time, I skipped the loop into Kentucky and headed straight out of town. The river was on my right, but I kept looking left at the hills, knowing at some point, I was going to turn and go up it.
(Here's a picture from the bridge of the hills outside of Cincinnati)
As I headed out of town, saw the strangest thing on the side of the road. Are those breadfruit? What the heck are breadfruits doing smashed on the side of the road in Cincinnati? I had to turn my bike around and get a picture. A tropical fruit on the side of the road, in a non tropical climate. I couldn't be. One of them had been run over and the innards had the same stringy look as the breadfruit did on the tree we used to have at my dad's house in Hawai'i.Over dinner, I told Mel and Wayne about my discovery and they were a little baffled as well. The next day, however, the mystery was solved. While we were out on the sporting clays course (another blog I'm about to write), I saw these mysterious breadfruit again. Mel told me they were called "Horse Apples". A totally different thing.
At least the mystery gave me time to think about while I rode my bike. Something other than a hill climb.
The course I had chosen, did a loop around the small corporate airport just outside of town. As I always do, I checked Google Maps to see what the course looks like through their "hybrid" view. This day, it looked like the ride went around the airport along Airport Road. But when I got there, there was a guard shack at the start of the road and I wasn't getting past him. So continued out, looking for the next landmark, a golf course.
When I got to the golf course, I found a bike path that went between the golf course and the airport. I rode that, only to bring me back to the guard shack! I didn't see it hidden behind a mound, but there was a entrance to the bike path next to the guard shack.
I doubled back again (probably adding about 2 miles to my ride) to get back on course. I turned left and started the hill. Similar to West Virginia, the rise started out gradual. It was comfortable, the heart rate was up, but not unbearable. Until...
I'll never forget the name, Heekin Avenue. Left turn on to Heekin and bam! Straight up. I was now about 15 miles into the ride. I could have turned back and taken the nice flat road by the river. But something made me keep going. I figured, I've got to get to top and it's all downhill from there. It has to be, I can see the top of the tree line. So I plugged on. I weaved back and forth on the street to lessen the grade. I monitored my heart rate. When it got to 185 BPM, I would slow and often pull over. Get the rate down a few beats, clip back into the pedals and trudge on. Heekin bobbed and weaved for almost 2 miles, sometimes leveling off, sometimes getting steeper. At the top it turned into Observatory Blvd. and circled a very nice park. I reached the top and pulled over to enjoy some of the fall colours that were burning around me.
With the heart rate back down, I mounted my bike and started off again. I'm at the top, it's all downhill from here.I couldn't have been more wrong.
Observatory Blvd. bent to the right and began a steep decent. I got down into a tuck to try and get maximum speed. The trees began to be replaced with houses. I noticed the road turn to the left and as I leaned in, I began to slow. The road went back up hill! I pedaled furiously to try and keep maximum speed to get as far up the hill before I had to grind it out. 15 mph, 12, mph, 10 mph. Down shift, low gear, crank it out at 7 mph. Get to the top.
And once I got there, it was the same thing, over, and over and over. Crest a hill, speed down, crank back up the other side. This had to stop at some point! The hotel is near the river. At some point I have to go downhill. It wasn't until the final 3 miles did it finally just head downhill into the city. I had bonked at the top of Heekin, and fought to survive to the end.
31 miles and 2214 calories later, I was back in my hotel room. I hurt. But it was still a good day....
10 November, 2007
One Step Past Our Stride.
I'm no conspiracy theorist, but I think the world is out to get me. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
Since my last posting, it hasn't gotten any warmer. We may not have snow today in the land of Rochester, but it's still pretty cold. And sitting in an arena on top of a sheet of ice doesn't help. I won't say the weather is affect my mood, but it could be part of it.
It's kind of weird to think back two years, to Christmas 2005. I was on the Big Island of Hawai'i visiting family. I was shopping in the OfficeMax, when my phone rings. It's a production manager I know, asking me what my plans are for 2006, he has a gig he wants to throw my way. "No plans," I respond, "What's the gig?"
"Blue Man Group."
Flash forward to today. I'm married now, and I've been on this tour longer than I've been married (but only by 2 weeks). Aside from the hiccup of the summer, I've done most every show that this tour has done in North America. Suffice it to say, we've got our stride going. Until recently.
Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's just that point in the tour, but we seem to have taken one step past our stride and stumbled. Morale is low. People are starting to nit pick about the most inane things. No one is sleeping right. Everyday, we just want to get to the end.
The thick side of the itinerary book is now the "shows we've done". We can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I've already got my flight home booked.
But there's still these damn 3 weeks of shows left to do. We have to make it through. We've got no choice.
Every day it's the same battles, plus a few new ones. Why the nit picking? Why must we mess with a working formula? What is the point?
I think I've bitched enough. Sorry folks. Didn't mean to rain on anyone's parade. Next day off is on Monday in Cincinnati. You'll probably hear from me then.
For now, I've got to hold on to my umbrella and weather this storm.
Since my last posting, it hasn't gotten any warmer. We may not have snow today in the land of Rochester, but it's still pretty cold. And sitting in an arena on top of a sheet of ice doesn't help. I won't say the weather is affect my mood, but it could be part of it.
It's kind of weird to think back two years, to Christmas 2005. I was on the Big Island of Hawai'i visiting family. I was shopping in the OfficeMax, when my phone rings. It's a production manager I know, asking me what my plans are for 2006, he has a gig he wants to throw my way. "No plans," I respond, "What's the gig?"
"Blue Man Group."
Flash forward to today. I'm married now, and I've been on this tour longer than I've been married (but only by 2 weeks). Aside from the hiccup of the summer, I've done most every show that this tour has done in North America. Suffice it to say, we've got our stride going. Until recently.
Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's just that point in the tour, but we seem to have taken one step past our stride and stumbled. Morale is low. People are starting to nit pick about the most inane things. No one is sleeping right. Everyday, we just want to get to the end.
The thick side of the itinerary book is now the "shows we've done". We can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I've already got my flight home booked.
But there's still these damn 3 weeks of shows left to do. We have to make it through. We've got no choice.
Every day it's the same battles, plus a few new ones. Why the nit picking? Why must we mess with a working formula? What is the point?
I think I've bitched enough. Sorry folks. Didn't mean to rain on anyone's parade. Next day off is on Monday in Cincinnati. You'll probably hear from me then.
For now, I've got to hold on to my umbrella and weather this storm.
07 November, 2007
Damn you winter.
The engine on the bus, shuttered to a halt. There was a moment of silence while the ears adjusted to the new lack of noise. I switched on my bunk light to check the time, 6AM. Aside from the hum of the generator, there was no noise, no rustling on the metal tube we call home. I pulled open my curtain rolled out of my bunk and opened the door to the back lounge. There was a nip in the air, so I pulled up the shades on the window, only to be greeted by the winter wonderland.
White snow. 5 inches of it, fell over night as we slept to Erie. Now we were here, sitting in the middle of it. I pulled on my clothes, grabbed my bags and headed off the bus. As I popped open the seal on the door, there was a puff of cool air. Not as cold outside as I was expecting. I opened the bay grabbed my suitcase, and then opened my eyes. We were not in the hotel parking lot. Oh crap. I walked around the bus looking around, and there about a football field away, was our hotel. I pulled the handle up on the suitcase and started the trek through the snow.
Guess I won't be riding the bike today.
...
Added a link in the left column. It's another attempt by Nicole and I to go "light green". Save some trees.
White snow. 5 inches of it, fell over night as we slept to Erie. Now we were here, sitting in the middle of it. I pulled on my clothes, grabbed my bags and headed off the bus. As I popped open the seal on the door, there was a puff of cool air. Not as cold outside as I was expecting. I opened the bay grabbed my suitcase, and then opened my eyes. We were not in the hotel parking lot. Oh crap. I walked around the bus looking around, and there about a football field away, was our hotel. I pulled the handle up on the suitcase and started the trek through the snow.
Guess I won't be riding the bike today.
...
Added a link in the left column. It's another attempt by Nicole and I to go "light green". Save some trees.
06 November, 2007
The Irish/Filipino who went up a hill, that turned into a mountain, hit 190 BPM, bonked, walked up the mountain, and coasted downhill to the hotel.
That pretty much sums up my ride.
But here's some pictures of the ride for you to enjoy.
This is about 5 miles into the ride. I put in just over 12 miles. The first mile and a half was out of town, then a quick right turn and it became 7 miles of easy uphill. I wasn't going fast, maybe 10 MPH average, but I was enjoying the scenery. Then this happened.
I guess in the picture, it doesn't look like much, but if you can imagine walking up a ramp and then coming to a 1/2 mile curving flight of stairs, that's about as good as it gets. Or, for those of you who've done the Kalaupapa trail on Moloka'i, it's like that when you hit the first switchback. It starts to go up. There was a quick flat side street before the steep part, so I cut off on that, to regain my breath and get my BPM down, and then made a valiant attempt at climbing the beast. I had the bike in the lowest gear, I was swerving from side to side to lessen the grade, but still my heart rate shot up to 190 BPM and I had to pull over, about 200 feet from the top.
Threw my bike in the grass and sat down. I had bonked, I was done.
I'm not smiling in that picture, I'm breathing so hard, I can't close my mouth. But at least I look good in my sunglasses and helmet.
I walked my bike to the top, and sat down again in someones yard. It felt like walking the bike was harder than riding it. I again, caught my breath and got back on the bike. The legs were a little weak, but I crested the hill and headed back to town.
Here's the final tally on the miles and the calories.
Forgive the bad lighting, I was already in the elevator up to my room when I took the picture.
I got the ride off of mapmyride.com and rode 1/2 of it backwards. Meaning, I started at the end of the listed ride and rode to the beginning. Right in the middle there, it seemed like it wasn't going to end, but all in all, a really great ride. So pretty with the fall leaves raining down on you as you speed down hill. Totally worth the pain.
Day off again tomorrow in Erie, PA. Should be snowing! If not, there's supposed to be a nice flat ride out onto a little island in Lake Erie.
...
One final note. This is my first show in West Virginia. I've been on the road for 12 years now, and I have only two states I've not done a show in, Alaska and Wyoming. Once I get those, I'll quit touring. Similar to what I said about my passport. Once that expires I'm stopping touring. That was two years ago. I'll never cut my hair! In 1998, I cut my hair.
...
But here's some pictures of the ride for you to enjoy.
This is about 5 miles into the ride. I put in just over 12 miles. The first mile and a half was out of town, then a quick right turn and it became 7 miles of easy uphill. I wasn't going fast, maybe 10 MPH average, but I was enjoying the scenery. Then this happened.I guess in the picture, it doesn't look like much, but if you can imagine walking up a ramp and then coming to a 1/2 mile curving flight of stairs, that's about as good as it gets. Or, for those of you who've done the Kalaupapa trail on Moloka'i, it's like that when you hit the first switchback. It starts to go up. There was a quick flat side street before the steep part, so I cut off on that, to regain my breath and get my BPM down, and then made a valiant attempt at climbing the beast. I had the bike in the lowest gear, I was swerving from side to side to lessen the grade, but still my heart rate shot up to 190 BPM and I had to pull over, about 200 feet from the top.Threw my bike in the grass and sat down. I had bonked, I was done.I'm not smiling in that picture, I'm breathing so hard, I can't close my mouth. But at least I look good in my sunglasses and helmet.I walked my bike to the top, and sat down again in someones yard. It felt like walking the bike was harder than riding it. I again, caught my breath and got back on the bike. The legs were a little weak, but I crested the hill and headed back to town.
Here's the final tally on the miles and the calories.
Forgive the bad lighting, I was already in the elevator up to my room when I took the picture.I got the ride off of mapmyride.com and rode 1/2 of it backwards. Meaning, I started at the end of the listed ride and rode to the beginning. Right in the middle there, it seemed like it wasn't going to end, but all in all, a really great ride. So pretty with the fall leaves raining down on you as you speed down hill. Totally worth the pain.
Day off again tomorrow in Erie, PA. Should be snowing! If not, there's supposed to be a nice flat ride out onto a little island in Lake Erie.
...
One final note. This is my first show in West Virginia. I've been on the road for 12 years now, and I have only two states I've not done a show in, Alaska and Wyoming. Once I get those, I'll quit touring. Similar to what I said about my passport. Once that expires I'm stopping touring. That was two years ago. I'll never cut my hair! In 1998, I cut my hair.
...
04 November, 2007
I'll Always Have Nigeria.
Tonight, was not a good show. I sort of had an idea that is was going to be all bad, around midday when we sent the guys up to put the colour into the followspots.
Mel and I were sitting at front of house waiting. He needed to talk to the spot operators to make sure the spots and headsets worked, and I had to meter the spots to make sure they had a balanced amount of brightness. So we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally Mel turned around and saw a bunch of people standing around one followspot so he yelled up to them, "Hey! Someone get on headset so we can test the lights!"
Then someone yelled back, "Hold on! I have to train these people on how to turn on and run a followspot!"
Oh boy, it was going to be a long day.
...
6:30 PM. Doors open. I walk in at about 6:45, go and have dinner, and then head out to front of house around 7 PM. I get into the arena, only to discover the work lights are still on. The house manager didn't turn them off. So I go to his office and here's the conversation we had...
"So, guess what we forgot," I opened.
"We forgot to turn off the work lights," he replied.
"Yes, but that's fine, I'll just turn them off as a cue when I start rolling the pre-show video. Is the houselights operator in position?"
"Yes, she should be up there."
"Great, I'll go talk to her on headset. What's her name?"
"You know, I have no idea, she new. It's her first time."
Seriously.
...
I go back out to front of house. Now for those of you who've not seen the Blue Man show (and that's probably 5 of the 6 readers of my blog), at 15 minutes prior to the start of the show, I run video clips of scrolling text that get the audience fired up. "Please yell if you've seen the Blue Man show before," kind of thing.
Around 7:10, and I get on headset and start calling for the houselights operator. No answer. Now, keep in mind, the house is open, and the seats are filling up. I wait a few moments, try again, but still no houselights operator. So I call the the house manager and ask him to find the houselights operator so I can give her the cues. Instead, he goes over to the switch panel and turns off the work lights. at 7:10PM! The audience lets out a gasp and goes quiet, as if waiting for something to happen.
Now here's something I learned from Sandy many years ago. What sound does a lighting designer make?
I made that noise a lot tonight.
...
So about 7:15 I finally get the houselights operator on headset and as a cruel joke, guess what her name is... Nicole. If my wife was up there, I wouldn't be doing this
I give her the run down. Basically, we have video running before and after each act, and in the video is the houselights cues. I will give her a "Standby", then a "Ready" and the "GO". I tell her very specifically, "Do NOT do anything until I say GO."
So at 7:30PM, we start on time. Our opening act goes on and plays his set to perfection. Before the start of the last song, I say to the houselights operator, "Houselights Nicole, this is his final song coming up, we will restore the houselights look at the end." He plays his final song, and as soon as the music ends, Mel (who's calling followspot cues) says on headset, "Followspots, standing by to fade out," and just as he says it, BAM! All the houselights pop on!
"Turn of the houselights!" I yell into the headset, "WAIT, until I say GO."
...
After tonight, I'm now a big believer in rhythms and tempos. And how if one thing in the tempo or rhythm is off, everything is off, and it becomes harder and harder to get back on track.
Houselights was the beginning. I couldn't get it back on track. In the first song, I went early on a cue and practically exposed a Blue Man picking his butt. The third song, I jumped ahead a bunch of cues and screwed up all the video playback.
I had stomped and messed up so many things halfway through the show, I thought I was going to be sent home. But then, it dawned on me. This is not worse than Nigeria. I will always have Nigeria as the worst show I've ever been involved in. This was nothing like Nigeria. I wasn't my best show by any stretch. But it's definitely not my worst. It's not Nigeria.
A calm had come over me. I knew I could make it to the end of the show, pack up my gear and get into the shower and then crawl into my bunk. Tomorrow is a day off, I'm going for a ride. I can make it through this. It's not Nigeria.
Doesn't mean I didn't continue to screw up. As a matter of fact, I was missing cues up until the last song.
I'll always have Nigeria.
...
Mel and I were sitting at front of house waiting. He needed to talk to the spot operators to make sure the spots and headsets worked, and I had to meter the spots to make sure they had a balanced amount of brightness. So we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally Mel turned around and saw a bunch of people standing around one followspot so he yelled up to them, "Hey! Someone get on headset so we can test the lights!"
Then someone yelled back, "Hold on! I have to train these people on how to turn on and run a followspot!"
Oh boy, it was going to be a long day.
...
6:30 PM. Doors open. I walk in at about 6:45, go and have dinner, and then head out to front of house around 7 PM. I get into the arena, only to discover the work lights are still on. The house manager didn't turn them off. So I go to his office and here's the conversation we had...
"So, guess what we forgot," I opened.
"We forgot to turn off the work lights," he replied.
"Yes, but that's fine, I'll just turn them off as a cue when I start rolling the pre-show video. Is the houselights operator in position?"
"Yes, she should be up there."
"Great, I'll go talk to her on headset. What's her name?"
"You know, I have no idea, she new. It's her first time."
Seriously.
...
I go back out to front of house. Now for those of you who've not seen the Blue Man show (and that's probably 5 of the 6 readers of my blog), at 15 minutes prior to the start of the show, I run video clips of scrolling text that get the audience fired up. "Please yell if you've seen the Blue Man show before," kind of thing.
Around 7:10, and I get on headset and start calling for the houselights operator. No answer. Now, keep in mind, the house is open, and the seats are filling up. I wait a few moments, try again, but still no houselights operator. So I call the the house manager and ask him to find the houselights operator so I can give her the cues. Instead, he goes over to the switch panel and turns off the work lights. at 7:10PM! The audience lets out a gasp and goes quiet, as if waiting for something to happen.
Now here's something I learned from Sandy many years ago. What sound does a lighting designer make?
I made that noise a lot tonight.
...
So about 7:15 I finally get the houselights operator on headset and as a cruel joke, guess what her name is... Nicole. If my wife was up there, I wouldn't be doing this
I give her the run down. Basically, we have video running before and after each act, and in the video is the houselights cues. I will give her a "Standby", then a "Ready" and the "GO". I tell her very specifically, "Do NOT do anything until I say GO."
So at 7:30PM, we start on time. Our opening act goes on and plays his set to perfection. Before the start of the last song, I say to the houselights operator, "Houselights Nicole, this is his final song coming up, we will restore the houselights look at the end." He plays his final song, and as soon as the music ends, Mel (who's calling followspot cues) says on headset, "Followspots, standing by to fade out," and just as he says it, BAM! All the houselights pop on!
"Turn of the houselights!" I yell into the headset, "WAIT, until I say GO."
...
After tonight, I'm now a big believer in rhythms and tempos. And how if one thing in the tempo or rhythm is off, everything is off, and it becomes harder and harder to get back on track.
Houselights was the beginning. I couldn't get it back on track. In the first song, I went early on a cue and practically exposed a Blue Man picking his butt. The third song, I jumped ahead a bunch of cues and screwed up all the video playback.
I had stomped and messed up so many things halfway through the show, I thought I was going to be sent home. But then, it dawned on me. This is not worse than Nigeria. I will always have Nigeria as the worst show I've ever been involved in. This was nothing like Nigeria. I wasn't my best show by any stretch. But it's definitely not my worst. It's not Nigeria.
A calm had come over me. I knew I could make it to the end of the show, pack up my gear and get into the shower and then crawl into my bunk. Tomorrow is a day off, I'm going for a ride. I can make it through this. It's not Nigeria.
Doesn't mean I didn't continue to screw up. As a matter of fact, I was missing cues up until the last song.
I'll always have Nigeria.
...
02 November, 2007
You down with OCD? Yeah, you know me!
If you don't already watch the television show "Monk" on the USA network, you should. Tony Shaloub plays a former cop turned private investigator with uncanny skills. Sounds like any other PI show, but the twist is, he has OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
One of the folks on the tour here claims he has OCD. I'm wasn't sure if he was kidding about it or not. One day he was folding towels and arranging them in even stacks. So to test his claim of OCD, I turned down the corner of one towel to see if he noticed. He did, and promptly flipped the corner back up and smoothed out the pile. I then re-arranged the piles into uneven stacks. He came back and put them back in order, nice and even, taking a moment to smooth out the tops of each pile. I was pretty convinced he had a mild form of OCD.
Until today.
To test him again, I took his cases, which he often sets up in a "U" shape square to the stage, and twisted them to a 45 degree angle. And he didn't flinch! He left them at the angle and went about his business. When asked, he said, "Well, at least they are straight to each other."
For a while there, I thought I had OCD, because I set up my consoles the same way everyday in the same order. I make sure that the cable piles are neat. I always plug in data lines in order, 1 through 7. I use my finger to measure that the consoles sits at exactly the same distance on all sides to the tables. I even lay out my floor mats in the same colour configuration. I almost numbered them to make sure. I get a little riled up when the set up has to be different because the building is different. Even then, I still put together my gear the same way every day.
So I looked it up on line, the symptoms of OCD. If I understand the article correctly, what sets OCD people apart from "neat" people, is that they are fully aware that they create their own compulsions, almost to the understanding of it's irrationality.
For me, the thought process for setting up my gear exactly the same way is, if there is a problem, it will be easier to trace. It will be easier to repeat a problem, if I repeat the order in which it is set up. I can then stop at a point when the problem occurs and fix it.
So I guess I'm neat.
As for the other roadie on tour. I think he's just neat as well. He like his stuff set up the same way, and obviously isn't bothered if it isn't. Not to mention he started putting his bag in the other junk bunk lately.
My wife thinks I'm neat too. But not a "clean" neat, she's seen my closet.
One of the folks on the tour here claims he has OCD. I'm wasn't sure if he was kidding about it or not. One day he was folding towels and arranging them in even stacks. So to test his claim of OCD, I turned down the corner of one towel to see if he noticed. He did, and promptly flipped the corner back up and smoothed out the pile. I then re-arranged the piles into uneven stacks. He came back and put them back in order, nice and even, taking a moment to smooth out the tops of each pile. I was pretty convinced he had a mild form of OCD.
Until today.
To test him again, I took his cases, which he often sets up in a "U" shape square to the stage, and twisted them to a 45 degree angle. And he didn't flinch! He left them at the angle and went about his business. When asked, he said, "Well, at least they are straight to each other."
For a while there, I thought I had OCD, because I set up my consoles the same way everyday in the same order. I make sure that the cable piles are neat. I always plug in data lines in order, 1 through 7. I use my finger to measure that the consoles sits at exactly the same distance on all sides to the tables. I even lay out my floor mats in the same colour configuration. I almost numbered them to make sure. I get a little riled up when the set up has to be different because the building is different. Even then, I still put together my gear the same way every day.
So I looked it up on line, the symptoms of OCD. If I understand the article correctly, what sets OCD people apart from "neat" people, is that they are fully aware that they create their own compulsions, almost to the understanding of it's irrationality.
For me, the thought process for setting up my gear exactly the same way is, if there is a problem, it will be easier to trace. It will be easier to repeat a problem, if I repeat the order in which it is set up. I can then stop at a point when the problem occurs and fix it.
So I guess I'm neat.
As for the other roadie on tour. I think he's just neat as well. He like his stuff set up the same way, and obviously isn't bothered if it isn't. Not to mention he started putting his bag in the other junk bunk lately.
My wife thinks I'm neat too. But not a "clean" neat, she's seen my closet.
01 November, 2007
The votes are in!!
Before we get to the survey, a few notes and corrections to yesterdays post.
My nephew's name is Dylan. Dylan Boland. Still working on the middle name. He was 6 lbs, 9 3/4 oz. I mistakenly reported 6 lbs, 3 oz. I guess I couldn't understand my brother at 5:45 AM when he call to tell me the good news.
And now...
The results are in... The polls have closed... And here's what we've learned...
Only 6 people read my blog.
That, and 50% of those polled agree with Little Red Riding Hood an think it's "Jusssst right" (Little Red Riding Hood, and Auntie Marialani). 33% think it's long, but still a good read, and 16% gave the Charlie Brown, wishy washy answer of "Not too long, not too short".
What this all means is, I'll just keep writing. Some days will be long.
Some days will be short.
Like today.
My nephew's name is Dylan. Dylan Boland. Still working on the middle name. He was 6 lbs, 9 3/4 oz. I mistakenly reported 6 lbs, 3 oz. I guess I couldn't understand my brother at 5:45 AM when he call to tell me the good news.
And now...
The results are in... The polls have closed... And here's what we've learned...
Only 6 people read my blog.
That, and 50% of those polled agree with Little Red Riding Hood an think it's "Jusssst right" (Little Red Riding Hood, and Auntie Marialani). 33% think it's long, but still a good read, and 16% gave the Charlie Brown, wishy washy answer of "Not too long, not too short".
What this all means is, I'll just keep writing. Some days will be long.
Some days will be short.
Like today.
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