Seventy-fourth posting - wish

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, friends. Don’t worry, in this entry, I won’t wax nostalgic over the past 12 months, and I won’t share my resolutions for the coming 12. Rest assured, you’ll hear/read plenty more from me in 2007.

I recently had a great week in Florida with my sister and her family, and my parents. Mom and Dad are building a cabin-on-a-lake in Wisconsin, so that seemed to be the key topic of my vacation. Fortunately, said “cabin” will be less of the log-and-outhouse type and more the vacation-and-Cinzano-umbrella-on-the-deck type. (Although I’m all for the former, the rest of the family is not.) Unfortunately, we collectively share the same lack of decorating skills – but plenty of opinions – so who knows what it will end up looking like. I will probably lose the battle in preventing moose- and bear-bedecked furnishings from the family room, but little do the parents know that there is plenty of room downstairs for foosball, darts, a Leinenkugel-branded bar, and a projector screen TV.

While in Florida, I continued my acquisition of works of art by James Kingsland. Total collection to date: two. Kingsland was born in Connecticut in 1923, with limited national recognition, and as far as I can tell, he’s still alive. His major works include the illustration of a Maine cookbook, a set of notecards, a book from the 1950s on “easy living”, and several dozen sketches, paintings and watercolors that have yet to become famous (meaning auctioned, acquired or reproduced). I am not banking on Mr. Kingsland, upon his death, suddenly become a hot, must-have artist, but gosh, wouldn’t it be nice? The piece I bought – of pencil and oil (?) – is of the Steamship Portland (Maine), a vessel that met an unfortunate demise soon after leaving port. I’ll have to Google it again, but I think it’s still at the bottom of the sea.

I will close for now, as my plane into Dallas is starting its descent. Fortunately, the two gay men next to me seem to have found a fabulous new vacation destination for one another… and this whole section of the airplane can’t wait for us to land…and for them to move on from lisping Ibiza this, Ibiza that all over the place.

If you don’t hear from me, have a wonderful New Year – and may the Democrats do something great for this country in 2007! NATHAN (and Rock On, John Edwards!)

Seventy-third posting - dumb

So today I was supposed to go to court for my accident this summer (kid drove through stop sign, hit me, turned car 180 degrees, totaled mine and his, and then took off). Everything’s been taken car of, but the DA didn’t know that my insurance company had already paid me for my deductible – and will get that $ from his insurance company. Had the DA known, it would have been closed – but she never really asked me beforehand, and I’d never been to court before, and all of this we discussed on the phone. So when I showed up, and the DA was in her early 30s, attractive, well-dressed and clearly smart, I felt like a gigantic idiot for not knowing this. She didn’t make me feel dumb – I brought that upon myself – and unfortunately, it didn’t seem appropriate for me to ask for her number. Alas, better luck next accident. NATHAN

Seventy-second posting - summer/fall

It’s been a very very long time since I last checked in. Lots to tell … some of it interesting, some of it ordinary, but I’ll give it a shot.

My car was deemed totaled, and like everyone here in Portland, I bought a Subaru Outback. I’ve already nicked the right side mirror, but that’s just a sign of love…

At the end of the summer, my parents decided to buy a plot of lakefront property in NW Wisconsin, and build Mom’s dream cabin. Fortunately it will actually be more of a house, and she’ll have plenty of opportunities to fill it with the bear holding a Gone Fishin’ statuette, the winking moose blanket and matching pillows, not to mention the loon lamp that warbles (or whatever loons do) when someone walks by…

I discovered that summer in Oregon is perfect. Really. Virtually no precipitation. Not too hot, and low humidity. The fleece is tucked safely way, and the running shoes and hiking boots are out. Plenty of restaurants to visit, including my new favorite – DF – a Mexican restaurant in the Pearl District. DF stands for Districto Federale, or the region around Mexico City. Its specialties are moles and margaritas. Matches up nicely with what I love to eat and drink…but dangerous when you’re training for a freakin marathon…

I ran in my first marathon (Portland) on October 1st, and came in just 45 minutes behind Lance Armstrong’s time in New York. Granted, he’s won the Tour de France more than a few times, plus he had famous pace-people the entire time, but heck, 3:44 is respectable. It’s not a Boston-qualifier, but I didn’t train to make Boston. I came in 1145th of more than 8000, a decent time to chase next year.

This summer and early fall was a bachelor party (Lake Tahoe) and wedding (Marin Country) of my friend Chip, and the wedding of my friend Lisa in Philadelphia. I’ve also been able to play more golf these past few months than in the combined several years, and I have discovered an improving short game. This, of course, is completely at the expense of any driving strength or ability, but you gotta focus, right?

I also said goodbye to a couple of new friends in Portland who moved back to the Midwest. My riding has already suffered – I’ve broken down more than once and taken an indoor class…

I still love my house, in a perfectly Portland color scheme of mustard, dusty green, and tan. The first fire in my fireplace was a roaring success, although I have realized it’s not easy to poke flaming logs without fireplace tools. (Christmas present hint here…) I discovered a crack, however, from the fireplace right up my wall. My hope now is that the dozen cans of paint I just brought to the recycle center did not contain this particularly peculiar color of yellow-brown in my living room.

A few last parting words before I break for dinner – go see Casino Royale (best Bond since the 1980s), keep watching Amazing Race (and look for a brother sister team soon…perhaps), download Sia to your iPod, and enjoy your holidays while remembering the needs of others.

NATHAN

Seventy-first posting - mistakes

Hi there. Long time no chat. As usual, I wait until the world nearly ends before I update this blog. This time I’ve got some real news….

On Saturday afternoon, less than a block from my house, I was driving to a picnic when a car came barreling through a stop sign to my right, crashed across the front of my car, turned mine backwards, and subsequently wrapped his around a telephone pole. After asking if I was ok (I told him I was), the driver (early 20s) mentioned to me and the growing crowd that he was heading down the block to his mother’s, where she had his registration. An hour later, he hadn’t come back (Mistake #1). The accident (I use the term loosely) was now a hit and run.

The police searched his car to find identification and an address. Both of his airbags had blown out, so this took awhile. They eventually located the owner – who lived in the opposite direction the driver had walked – and I heard periodic updates on the radio, including “…peeped around the back…we went around the other way…we got him!” (Mistake #2)

The main officer asked if I wanted to press charges. I had no idea. What did I know? I told him I’d think about it, and he went about completing his forms.

Several minutes later, another officer popped the trunk, and with an “Oh boy,” showed us Mistake #3 – a gun. Said accident just got taken up a notch. Shit, I thought. Trunk or not, that was just stupid. More to think about.

The main officer returned with the news that the other driver was being driven back, and that I had to decide about pressing charges. For those of you who know me, you probably wouldn’t be surprised to know that I asked the officer for the pros and cons of this decision. He didn’t say much, but did mention (a) that if I didn’t want to press charges, he wouldn’t need to complete the paperwork, and (b) that if someone hit his car at high speed by running an obvious stop sign AND had a gun in the car, it wouldn’t be a tough decision. I agreed and will.

Despite transmission fluid pouring out and wipers going nonstop, my car was nothing compared to the mangled mess of the other car. The towing dude commented that mine was probably totaled but that it wasn’t entirely clear. He took my car, and a squad car pulled up with the other driver in the back seat. I was asked to identify him, and fortunately, he didn’t look at me. As I turned around, he said, “Sir, please don’t sue my family.” I walked away.

That was my Saturday afternoon. Good times. Welcome to the neighborhood. NATHAN

Seventieth posting - show

Ever wondered what’s it like to walk in someone else’s shoes? Or take someone’s place in life? And was that person a high-profile male fashion model who sipped Perrier with Evian ice cubes, practiced the fine art of walking with a full bowl of champagne on his head, and didn’t wake up for less than $10,000 a day? Yep, that was me. My company is coming out with a line of apparel and had asked for a few volunteers to model the clothes for a “town hall” meeting. I manage one of the brands featured, so I figured I’d do my corporate duty. My brand happens to be a bike brand, but I oh so incorrectly assumed that bike shorts wouldn’t be part of the line up. Wrong I was.

There were about a dozen of us, a rag tag crew who fulfilled the long list of modeling requirements: size Medium. The event coordinator was a’bubbling with excitement. A former dancer, she could throw out a bend-at-the-waste, hand-on-the-floor, head-flip-up, like no one I’d ever seen before (or not that I’ll admit). She looked us up and down, divided us into 3 groups – blue, red and yellow – and tossed us our first of four outfits.

For the women, it was like a feeding frenzy of trying to swap colors, begging for longer shorts, pleading for a jacket. The guys did what we were told, including the one who was given cycling bibshorts, which we affectionately called a Unitard. Mine weren’t particularly bad, with the exception of two rounds of bike tops and shorts. On a bike, I have no problem with them. Haven’t been self-conscious in years, and normally could care less about what others think. In front of 500 co-workers, that’s another story….plus it was darn cold in there.

All in all, it was not an unpleasant experience, although next time, I’m getting an agent.

NATHAN

Sixty-ninth posting - hippie

Hi there. I'm watching the tour, glued to OLN expecting something big to happen tonight, as Dad said wait until the very end. I’ve actually ridden part of today’s rather boring stage, but with fond memories of stopping near Biarritz on the Atlantic Coast. It’s been tough to avoid hearing, reading or casually observing anything during the day about what I am watching at night. But, I’ve done this before, time and time again, and I can do it this year….albeit without Lance.

So this weekend I went to the craziest, wackiest, hippie-fest I’ve ever seen. Called the Oregon Country Fair (http://www.oregoncountryfair.org), I went with a riding buddy and his girlfriend – all 3 of us new to Oregon, but aware of how odd this place can be. Picture many thousands of tie-died folk of all ages, wandering around surprisingly organized treed pathways, lined with vendors selling various and sundry folk art and organic/healthy/vegan/vegetarian food. The first place we stopped was a booth selling hamburgers, but the cows they came from were free-ranging, Democratic-voting, and clearly intending to satiate our hunger.

The event’s been going on for nearly 40 years, and after parking in one of what seemed like a half-dozen parking fields, you’re greeted by friendly, waving (and probably high as kites) hippies welcoming you to the fair. Then walking up to the Will Call both, you’re thanked profusely (and in a haze of hash) by the ticket guy. Through the winding trails, no one gets jostled and the politeness level is high (like the people walking by). Music comes from one of 6 stages, ranging from a cappella to Pete Seger-wannabes to lots and lots of folk. And everywhere you look, is a tie-died hippie, many hand in hand with a half-naked, boobs-painted hippie chick.

All of it was very cool, and it felt good to be in a place so refreshingly non-corporate, truly friendly, and completely laid-back. Next year, friends, think about a visit, as I’d be happy to return for a second visit in 2007…!

Sixty-eighth posting - back!

Friends,

I’m back after a 3 month sabbatical. I can take these, right?

The Tour de France is happening. It’s summer in the Pacific Northwest. Things are good.

The only way I can think of catching you up with me and my life is by listing a few highlights, in no particular order…

Spent 2 days over Labor Day weekend in the Willamette Valley’s vineyards and wineries. I drank enough Pinot Noir for all of you, so don’t feel bad about missing it.

Have had 4 races since March. Portland Downtown Duathlon (1:50:15, 68th of 263), 10 mile Lake Run (1:18:00, 29th of 147), Helvetia Half Marathon (1:48:38, 262nd of 2163), and Musky 5K Run (21:48, 20th of 180?)

Signed up for Portland Marathon (October 1). Now if I can only figure out how to make a half marathon feel like a “short” run…

I welcomed myself to the neighborhood and among my new friends with a party a few months ago. Realized that my house’s capacity is about 30…but I know more Scotch drinkers than I thought...

Bought my first barbeque grill. Thanks to my friends in Johnsonville, Wisconsin, for providing the inaugural bratwurst. Pre-cooked them in beer, so they were perfect.

Attended my first (and last) bodybuilding competition. There were 6 amateur competitors from my office, and a group of us wanted to support them – and I was curious. Turns out I didn’t need more than about 45 minutes to understand that 1) I had no business being there, 2) I really didn’t have respect for the competitors (they called themselves athletes); it was more like a mild form of jealously combined with revulsion, 3) you CAN be too “close the action”, particularly when Speedos are involved, and 4) there is something freakish about jacked-out female body builders.

Have begun to enjoy doing yardwork. Don’t tell my parents, but keeping my yard and plants (and fishponds) in good shape is actually rewarding. I have absolutely no idea, however, how to use the automatic sprinkler system – prior owners left without the instructions, and I'm too lazy (and cheap) to ask for someone to come and fix it.

Still thinking about getting a dog…a shiba inu…although now I want one that’s strong enough to run with me.

I promise to be a better blog-updater, but for now, hang tight, and I'll get back more frequently when the TOUR DE FRANCE is over.

NATHAN

Sixty-seventh posting - pasta

Vegas, baby!

Last week I went to Vegas – my first trip. Dancing girls, booze till dawn, maxing out every credit card, almost losing my new house in a down-to-the-wire Baccarat game with James Bond at one end of the table and Hans Bloefeld at the other – plus I got married and divorced in one night. Amazing!

Seriously folks, it was relatively uneventful, although Las Vegas is certainly a remarkable city.

My destination was an international health and fitness show, held at the Convention Center. I stayed at the Hilton next to it – not one of the cool and sexy hotels everyone knows on The Strip – but this had its share of casinos, restaurants, and multiple towers with 29 floors of rooms.

After delays in Portland and San Francisco, my flight finally arrived at two o’clock in the morning. From the air, Vegas looked neatly planned, but extraordinarily lit up like, well, a city. The tree-huggin’ liberal I am, all I could think about was how much wasted electricity and water was being used here in the middle of the desert. The taxi driver took me along The Strip, and the constant “Look At Me” messages from lights and signs and advertisements amazed me. I didn’t expect to, but I didn’t see a single grocery store along our route.

I was too tired to go out, so I went to sleep, too – in a canopied bed with a mirrored ceiling. Yes, sadly, my first mirrored-ceilinged bed, and I was in it alone.

The next morning, I went to the convention center where my company had a huge booth. I had no responsibilities for the show, except to meet some of my international colleagues and get to know some our commercial sales people. In general, it seems like the fitness industry is made up of 3 kinds of people: Gym Rats, Enthusiasts, and Freaks. Gym Rats are the (mostly) guys who’ve spent hours in the gym, a little more pasty-white, a little more heavy metal, and a little more wife-beater-t-shirts than the rest of us. The Enthusiasts are the people who think about being fit and health, but it doesn’t drive their lives. Most people I work with seem to be this. The Freaks – a most intriguing group – are the super-tanned, super-beefy, super-muscled guys and gals who’ve never been afraid to inject a little “enhancement” into their veins, or grow hoarse from screaming to passersby about a machine that’ll buck you like a bronco to burn burn burn those calories, or show a little too much skin in a public, wintertime tradeshow.

On the second day, we’d recruited an extreme athlete to try to break the world’s 24 hour indoor distance record on one of our treadmills. He started at 8AM, and kept running and running. He could take minute breaks ever other hour or so to pee, but otherwise, it was him on the treadmill (and his wife and the UNLV track coach by his side to feed him and replace his DVDs). In case you were wondering, his first three DVDs were Passion of Christ, Monty Python’s Meaning of Life, and an Indiana Jones movie. Interesting. Anyway, he didn’t break the record, in part because sometime around 2 in the morning, he was trying to eat some pasta and passed out, zipping off the end of the treadmill, and slammed the pasta onto his shoes. He quickly woke up, brushed himself off, and started up again, but it completely broke his stride (and the strength of his stomach), so he didn’t make it. I guess he came close, and we got some decent press about it, but I still think he was crazy to do this kind of thing. Nuts.

That’s all for now – hopefully I can start making these shorter again. Next entry will be on my new place. Maybe someone can help me name my fish… NATHAN

By the way, as I’m looking out the airplane, I see we are flying by another jet at exactly our elevation – we had been right beside its slipstream (or whatever the smoke/cloud from its tail is called). Amazing.

Sixty-first posting - 30 years

This is it, friends. I have just signed my name sixteen hundred times, and committed myself to the mortgage company for what seems like an eternity. Thirty year fixed mortgage. Yes, if you do the math, it’s 2036. I’ll be sixty-six years old. My parents’ ages. At this point, I’d put them in the “old” category. Sheesh.

After signing my life away, Stephanie (my realtor…more later) and I went to my new house and met the sellers. Mark and Melanie are in their mid 30s and met while they were working at a nursery. For those of you who don’t know, I am a fan of plants. Think they’re pretty. Think they’re essential. And so on. I have never, however, thought of myself as a plant person. Turns out that Mark (a “water feature” specialist) and Melanie (a flower specialist) made my new yard so darn pretty that it took them almost an hour to tell me about every plant. One tidbit to note: my new place has blueberry bushes and native plant species appropriate to the area. Yeah -- even my yard is crunchy liberal! Oh, and my two new fish ponds sometimes attract racoons and herons. Double yeah!

Monday my realtor gets my keys (in Oregon this whole process takes days). Soon, yes, but before I actually get them I leave to go to Las Vegas before actually going to my house. My first time to Vegas, so I'm psyched. Unfortunately, OU already lost in the NCAA's -- so much for betting for them. Then next Friday – one week from tomorrow – I move in. Yikes. It’s definitely exciting, but I’ll miss The Pearl – where I’m living now – and my early morning running partner, Jen.

Last thing – and because I haven’t really used this space for sharing my phenomenal athletic prowess – on Sunday, I raced in the Shamrock Run, a 15K that’s one of Portland’s bigger events. My pace was 8min10sec, with a final time around 1:18. Final time still isn’t posted, but I can admit that it was a pretty freakin’ fast time for me – particularly over nearly 10 miles.

Sorry for such a long posting. More later. NATHAN

Sixtieth posting - race

Tonight my heart raced for an entire hour as I watched The Amazing Race. First of all, I think this is the coolest show in the world. Sure, I've shared with you the greatness of American Idol, but tonight I skipped the last hour to watch TAR. Second, the pairs are well chosen, and while I like Double D, the Nerds, and the Florida guys, I have to admit that the not so slightly effeminate pair made me laugh more than once. My favorite moment, though, was when one couple referred to one guy (the asshole, who told his wife not to question him) as Scott Peterson. This is going to be a good show. Finally, who is going to compete with me on the next Amazing Race??!! NATHAN

Fifty-ninth posting - fish

Yo. After visits to more than 40 houses, treks through neighborhoods far and near, and a trail of now-scattered MLS listings, I FINALLY FOUND A HOUSE. At this point, I don't know who is more excited, me or my real estate agent. The place went on the market on Monday afternoon, Stephanie (the Agent), called me and demanded that I meet here there in an hour. I saw the listing (looked good) and the priced (looked low), so I met her. Saw it, made an offer that night, wrote a brown-nosing, "Gosh, I love your place" letter - and my bid was accepted.

Right away, I realized the place was near perfect. It's in a neighborhood I like (Beaumont-Wilshire), with a nice central area, SBUX, 2 dog shops, gourmet food shop, and a few great restaurants. There are three bedrooms, 1 bath, warm wood floors, a fireplace, great backyard with landscaping, including a "water feature" with goldfish. I just learned of the goldfish at today's inspection, so maybe I'll add them to the contract (along with a Fix the Roof or I'm Backing Out clause...). Actually the roof is going to be a wee bone of contention, as the owners just got an estimate and the remarks were that it would be fine for next 3-5 yrs. I am paying enough for the place, that they'll have to figure it out. Oh, best part, a Bose speaker system installed in the living and dining rooms, and kitchen. Booming sounds, ya!

Have a great weekend - and any advice on care for outdoor goldfish is more than welcome. NATHAN

Fifty-eigth posting - who knew?

This morning I was jolted out of my chair by the clanging of an over-sized cowbell. Turns out that when my company has a Million Dollar Day, my administrator walks into the lobby and rings said cowbell. Brilliant.

NATHAN

Fifty-seventh posting - Polynesia

A short entry today, friends.

(1) There is an active movement afoot here called Keep Portland Weird. This manifests itself in the odd combination of great cafes and restaurants in undeveloped, industrial locations; in the surprisingly high unemployment combined with fast-growing inner city gentrification; in the (healthy) obsession the city has with bike friendliness; and in the complete lack of pretension (I could imagine hearing the following – “Wow, Martha’s wearing her “good fleece” tonight – must be a fancy date.”)

(2) Serious discussions at the office include the words ripped, stacked, rockin' and killer; the merits of advertising in Muscle Polynesia magazine; and how Preacher Curls are through the roof.

(3) Regarding the home search, I have seen more than 30 houses over the past 4 weeks. Of them, I’d say 3 were really close to what I’m looking for, and 2 would have been ok in a pinch. I am beginning to get the knack for spotting a “flipped” house, which may not be a bad thing (if it was “flipped” well). Unlike the Old Curry House back East, this time I will buy what I really really like.

(4) My training has been taken up a notch by a woman who started here when I did. She’s a chatty marathoner, which makes running not such a chore. An odd duck, but a good companion. Like my bro-in-law next weekend, hopefully I can get a half-marathon in this spring…

(5) Dick Cheney is an asshole.

That’s it, kids. NATHAN

Fifty-sixth posting - lie

Friends, I am writing to you from 30,000 feet, on my way home from a few days in sunny, sunny, sunny San Diego. At my old company, sales meetings were in Chicago or suburban New York. Yawn. At my new company, they’re wherever the team wants to go. At my old company, hundreds of people went to sales meetings. At my new company, I presented to the entire retail sales organization – all nine of them…. Although the hotel was beautiful and reminded me of a Disney theme-park, the trip isn’t really the subject of today’s blog….

So I’ve developed a bit of a Saturday morning ritual. When the weather’s crappy, I take an indoor cycling class at 8, then walk across the street to the Byways Café for breakfast. It’s a great place and has been around for decades, and the latest owner (Anne) has filled it with kitschy 50s diner memorabilia, like plates and placemats and… yes, MUGS! Of course, they fill the mugs with phenomenal Peet’s coffee, which makes them that much better.

Anyway, this past Saturday, sitting at the counter, I started talking to the 50ish woman next to me, Susan. She pointed out the café owner and introduced me to a couple of other folks who worked there. Evidently she’s well-known around the area. Turns out that she’s also a good friend of the director Gus Van Sant, who lives down the street, she’s the mother of a not un-famous actor, John Robinson, who starred in The Lords of Dogtown and Elephant. It turns out that John’s latest film is scheduled to be released in March but not without a little controversy. For those of you artsy, literary types, you may have read about this in the New York Times. I hadn’t, but it’s interesting.

Several years ago, JT LeRoy wrote a book about his childhood as a truck-stop prostitute. It’s called The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things. Catchy, eh? Evidently it was a terrible, terrible story, but it somehow ended fairy well in that he was placed in foster care and later adopted by a loving couple. His problems didn’t end, though, and years later, he successfully underwent surgery to become a woman. After the book got some initial publicity, and JT made the literary rounds (as a woman), several famous people, including Suzanne Vega, became personally involved because of the book. This involvement led to the story being made into a film, starring the aforementioned John Robinson.

The reason I’m telling you this now is that John’s mother learned that very morning that morning that JT was a completely made up person. The two conspirators who “created” JT LeRoy tried to throw off any leads with the sex-change act, and the woman who’s been traipsing around as JT in front of the literati was the sister-in-law of one of the conspirators. Oprah thought she had something with the author of A Million Tiny Pieces. This one’s even bigger. I don’t know how the ruse was finally exposed, but it had something to do with where the royalties were going and what expenses were being billed.

At first I thought, good for him/her/them for sticking it to the Man. Then I realized that JT’s creators were asking for sympathy and lying about a horrible childhood tragedy. It’s one thing to fabricate a harmless story; it’s another to use this tragedy for pure financial gain.

Enjoy your weeks. NATHAN

(By the way, lest you think Play to Win!; Fewer, Bigger, Better; and All Hands On Deck are the meaningless slogans of just my old company… Nope, my new one uses them, too.)

Fifty-fifth posting - attention

Have you ever had a pain or ache that just would not go away? My tooth (the one associated with my former dentist and his receptionist/floozie/wife) has created a nice, throbbing pain that I can't take my mind off of. I think it actually is contributing to a form of mental disorder - my attention span is half of what it normally is (sure, go ahead and laugh), I am obsessed with trying to figure out how to remedy it (without actually going to a dentist), and I now only eat on the left side of my mouth. Freak I am, yes.

After a nice long weekend back in CT to see good friends and watch over my condo being packed and moved, I returned to the office with a killer headache and a boss who decided to be Chatty Cathy for the first time. Honestly, what I mostly heard him say was, "We should start to think about throb-throb-throb, and maybe you could throb-throb-throb. The sales meetings throb-throb-throb..." And I was trying really hard to listen. After getting 3 dentists' names, I found one who could take me tomorrow, the first dental appointment I've ever really looked forward to.

Tomorrow I head out for a few days near Denver where many of the sales and R&D folks are based. No time to ski, but plenty of time to figure out to do it next time. Too bad the only person I know will be in CA.

Friends, I don't wish this tooth pain on anyone. If was as boring a posting as I'm afraid it was, blame the tooth. Ha! NATHAN

Fifty-fourth posting - list

I’ve passed the week hump. They didn’t give me anything in celebration – no pen, no dumbbell, no preacher curl attachment – although my car just arrived from CT on a flatbed truck, so I get to see Little Pepe in a few minutes. License plates outside of OR, WA or CA are a rarity. Even more rare will be my Ithaca is Gorgeous sticker.

For those of you who were asking, the good things so far about my job:
Gym has the best equipment money can buy
Casual atmosphere but still performance-oriented
Not as many Type-A personalities as NYC area
My admin is smart, helpful and efficient
The businesses I manage are ripe with opportunity
Great cafeteria
Cool environment
No one expects me to do anything but gather information and ask questions.

The bad things:
I still don’t have a stapler
I’m in a wide open cubicle
Fewer cynics and super-strong personalities (as far as I can tell)
Just because it’s not raining inside doesn’t mean I forget that it’s raining
Average indoor temperature feels like 60 degrees
Company makes the most popular bikes for Spinning but doesn’t offer Spinning classes (yet)

That’s all for now. No update for you on housing, although I did see what seemed like a great place yesterday, although it was a little too far from shops, bars, restaurants. If I have to settle, I’ll do it after a couple of months of looking…

Have a great non-rainy weekend. NATHAN

Fifty-third posting - search

I spent my first weekend here house-hunting. I also joined a gym (2 blocks away), ran around the neighborhood a couple of times, and found a great diner than served blue-corn pancakes. Yum (Byways Cafe). I've also sampled more than a few of the region's terrific wines and beers. Double yum.

Fortuanately, I have added to the number of people I call friends. We can add Heather, with whom I went to b'school, as well as Barbara, the owner of a great little place near me called Two Wings. It's actually the first restaurant in the area, which until a few years ago was a quirky, industrial, warehouse-y type place, but with a recent infusion of good urban planning and smart investment, has become a quirky, industrial-looking, warehouse-y, lofty, great restaurants and REI/Whole Foods/Adidas/Powell's Books kind of place. I dig it so far.

Anyway, I was at the restaurant (Two Wings) a few minutes before seven and was the only one there. I had a book (can't eat solo w/o one), and made friends with the bartender, who was cute but I didn't catch her name (tattoo on her hip), and also the owner (Barbara). The bartender got busy when other diners showed up, so Barbara and I chatted about the food industry, restaurants in Oregon, locally grown produce, challenges, highs, lows, and so on. Turns out that she goes to CT every summer to teach cooking at a sleep away camp in Kent. I had Jerusalem artichoke soup and great burger for dinner. Triple yum.

Most of the weekend was househunting with Stepanie, my realtor, who talks like a Real World watchin', surfer chick with no qualms about stating her opinion. I like her and trust her judgement - so far, at least. I won't bore you with details about the housing market, but of the 18 places I saw, 2 were pretty good, but I didn't love any to make an offer. The style of many of the houses are great - bungalow, craftsman style, with lots of wood, simple layouts with 2-3 bedrooms and 1 bath. Also, every house must be painted 1 of a choice of 8 colors, which range from pine green to mustard to blue/grey. In even the crappiest neighborhoods, most of the paint jobs looked good, though.

There are a few interesting areas (Beaumont, Hollywood, Mt Tabor, Hawthorne, Alameda), and I even looked at 2 places right next to the famous Kennedy School, but one was too new and had a "great room" where one didn't belong, and the other was more of a crack house than a residence. Not that I have anything against crack houses...

Have a great weeks, folks, and I'll keep you updated. NATHAN

Fifty-second posting - Oba!

Today was a big day for me, kids. First, I started my new job (more later). Second, I started my new “life” in the Pacific Northwest (more later, too). And third, I started watching this season’s American Idol. I offer no apologies for being a big fan, and I am proud to be one of the millions of show’s admirers. An early favorite of mine à Gina Glocksen, from the Chicago tryouts.

A friend asked that I cut these postings down a bit (A.D.D. problems?), so here are a few highlights from New Job Day I:

- I spent most of the day in New Employee Orientation. My favorite part was when the HR manager told us for the 3rd time how she could watch the Sexual Harassment video over and over because it’s so funny. Wow.
- My company has a full-size football field in the back, with stands. Of course, through the rain, it was a little tough to see, but it was clearly impressive.
- Being a fitness buff is by no means a requirement for employment. At this point, I would also venture to say that more than a handful of folks here could use a trip or two to the company’s world-class fitness center. Probably no different than most companies, just surprising to me.
- The company is located is Vancouver, Washington. Today I heard a nickname of this very family-friendly burg with a somewhat hick reputation – Vantucky. I wonder if that’ll work for other places (Flori-tucky, Minneapol-ucky?)

Just one thing to note about Portland. For dinner, rather than making it myself, I splurged on a great restaurant across the street called Oba! One travel guide remarked: “a serious dining room serving one Latino concoction after another… and a bumpin’ bar scene with trendy clothes and high pitched revelry.” Dinner was Haitian pulled pork with corn cakes, and dessert was the most indulgent carrot cake (stuffed with some sort of crème fraiche). My bartenders were Paul and Jamie, who are, at this point, my only friends in Portland. It may have been because they gave me dessert and a crazy vodka/mint drink on the house – although I think it didn’t hurt that it was Jamie’s first day, too, so she and I could share first day “war stories,” and that I figured Paul was more of a food guys than a bar guy, so we talked menus… Definitely a place to return to (and a 90 second walk from my place).

So far so good. NATHAN

Fifty-first posting - tour

Two down, one to go. Tonight marks the third leg of my "farewell tour." What I love about these has been the chance to say good-bye to people I will miss -- the same reason I have dreaded each one. Thursday was a happy hour in CT - and the evening finished with someone (not with us) singing the absolute worst karaoke I'd ever heard. I tried to think of that as a sign of something, but nothing came to mind. Last night was my last dinner group. The theme was British - UK, and we did our best for a Friday night. The hosts had a great big house for it, and these were some of my closest friends in the area. Truth be told, it was self-serving of me to encourage this group to form, but I don't think any of us (after 6 dinners) has any regrets. Oh, for those of you looking for a good single malt Scotch, try 14 year Oban. Ummm...

This afternoon a friend asked me whether I was psyched about moving West. I told her that I truly was, although I'm trying to hold back on freaking out with excitement because it sort of seems too good to be true. The Pacific Northwest fits my outdoor interests, the new job is in the cycling/fitness industry, the company is smaller and (hopefully) less burdened by bureaucray, and real estate (and life overall) is more affordable. What's not to like?

I also told her that in the battle of my Heart's excitement vs. my Mind's too-many-practical-things-to-think-about, my Mind always wins. Fortunately, I think they're both right this time.

Have a great weekend! NATHAN

Fiftieth posting - LoL

Friends, I am writing to you from my spankin’ new laptop. It’s smooth and sleek, and fast as lightning. Most of you know I am moving West for a new job soon, so why a new laptop now? During my last day of work, two thieves burglarized my condo and took my 7 year old laptop (which is about 100 in technology years). I have tried to read some symbolism into the act, but with the way things have been over the past few weeks, nothing should be a surprise.

First of all, though, Happy New Year! At this point, there may be enough days under your collective belts to project this year as one of fortune, fame, disappointment, big change, little change, etc. Mine will absolutely be a year of changes.

I spent Christmas with my family in Oklahoma and witnessed the beauty of a niece and nephew who still believe strongly in the munificence of Santa Claus. I also got in a couple of training runs with my sister and brother in law. My parents don’t really know what to make of our recent interest in fitness – besides a little soccer, neither of us was a particularly athletic kid. In fact, I distinctly recall my mother’s attempt at comforting me after a challenging lesson at tennis camp: “Don’t worry; you just don’t have good large motors skills like your sister. You are better with small motor skills – like surgery.” Gosh, I felt immediately better – wouldn’t any 10 year old? And what does surgery have to do with small motors, and why would my sister want to stop playing with Barbie and play with large motors?

After returning to Connecticut, I spent a few days trying out gyms in the area. I’d always heard about the famous Fairfield Country Ladies of Leisure and wanted to witness their daytime rituals. I learned that mid-morning seems to be the best time for observation at fitness center – it gives LoLs a chance to greet Nanny upon her arrival at home, read the last half of People magazine (“such trash!”), and have a quick manicure at the local spa before showing up fully coiffed and ready for a session with Lars, the Swedish personal trainer. The LoLs are in Spinning classes, on treadmills and elipticals, and at strength machines and even free weights – all eyeing and trying to outrun/ outpace/ outsweat the other. Truth be told, not a single one looked friendly or sociable, so I continued my observations objectively, without interrupting their rituals.

I ended the week with one last day in the office. I could have counted the number of people there on one hand, and with the exception of a nice send-off lunch, I spent the day looking forward to the evening’s plans for cocktails. The night was fun (and the unranked Sooners beat #6 Oregon in a satisfying Holiday Bowl), but I returned home to a key broken off in the lock of my door. After unsuccessfully knocking on my neighbors’ doors (trying to wake the near-dead) and calling the two people who had keys, I phoned the police. Two officers arrived shortly, removed the key part, and we entered to find drawers open, files strewn across the floor, boxes overturned – and both my laptop and an empty giant purple Raisin Bran duffle bag missing. With a few celebratory beers in me, however, I was simultaneously trying to find what was missing and not breathe on the officers.

One of condo board members (the black turtle-necked lisper) showed up and reminded us of the new security cameras, so we headed to the computer in the board room and searched the files. The lisper whizzed through them and found two suspicious people entering the front door at 11:43AM (after 3 mins of trying) and then leaving with a filled giant purple Raisin Bran duffle bag through a side entrance at 12:08PM, followed by another board member (the quiet, meticulous secretary). The police report was filed, and I left the next day for a long relaxing weekend in Vermont, and returned to have another lock installed.

Those of you who’ve been regular readers of this blog have accompanied me through my trials and tribulations with finding, buying and renovating my condo. With the ink barely dry on the sixteen thousand documents I signed last July, I put my condo on the market on Friday. I cleaned my place and removed photos and most personal items, trying to leave a nice and homey impression with 712 sq ft of perfectly hospitable (and buyable) condo. I brewed hazelnut coffee (nice smell, and covers up what may have been left of the ripe combo of geriatric stench + curry), played classical music, and tried to remember the tips people gave me about selling. It seemed to work: after an open house on Friday, and two days of viewings, I started the day today (Monday) with four offers. Now it’s just wait and see.

Today I may try another gym across town and see what it’s like being a Lad of Leisure…

Have a great week, mi amigos, and Happy Birthday to my friend Dave … Dave Matthews, that is, who turns 39 today. NATHAN (congrats, Boo, on your half-marathon)