Snow? Say it ain't so

There's snow outside my window. Not a lot, but some. Snow in the Willamette Valley is not good. People here don't know how to handle slick roads. There has been snow in surrounding areas for the last couple of mornings, prompting a flurry (if you'll pardon the pun) of snow closures and traffic problems.

I knew there are those who love snow. It's so white and pretty. I've never been a big fan. Not that I have anything against the flakes themselves, but if there is snow sticking around that means it's at or below freezing, and I loath the cold.

To me, the best snow is that that dusts nearby mountains, making for a picturesque backdrop. That's what I loved about living in the Southern California deserts, near mountain ranges. It was usually warm (or at least mind) during the winter months, but snow was common at higher elevations on nearby mountains. It was beautiful, especially under warm, sunny skies.

The roads may be a mess in the morning. Fortunately, I don't have far to go. And I am fairly confident that the snow, if it sticks around overnight, will likely be done by midday. Perhaps only to be repeated again tomorrow.

I'm not a big fan of gray skies and rain in the winter here in Western Oregon, but the one benefit of just dreary conditions is that it is usually above freezing -- day and even at night -- here in the Willamette Valley.

How long is it until spring again?

The kindest kind of crush

I saw a woman today in the lobby of my office. She was sitting in the reception area. I don't know why she was there. I didn’t know her, but she reminded me of someone I once knew.

A name and a face flashed into my mind. The name of the woman the mysterious visitor reminded me of was Kim. I haven't seen, or thought of, Kim in many years.

Kim was the source of my infatuation in junior high. She may have been my first real crush, if you don't count the one I had on my teacher in second grade. This crush was different. At a time of adolescent awakening, this one came with all sorts of odd, tingly feelings I couldn't explain.

Seeing Kim made me happy. It made me feel all warm and weird and wonderful.

Like all first lusts, the relationship was doomed from the start. Kim didn't feel the same feelings I did, if memory serves. She eventually changed schools and we went our separate ways.

I had not thought about Kim in many, many years. But seeing that woman today brought that name, and that face, to mind with a burst of synapses. It was like the name exploded in my head with a load bang. It shocked me. And it made me smile. Thanks mysterious stranger. And thanks Kim, wherever you are.

The end of the world as I've known it

The world absolutely must be coming to an end. You know how I can tell? I've been to grocery stores four times in a little over a week. To make it even more stunning, I actually bought groceries, for me -- my refrigerator, my cupboards.

As if that weren't a sure enough sign of the Apocalypse, I've actually been cooking. So between the meals I've cooked for myself, and the far superior home-cooked meals I had over the weekend (by far superior cooks, namely my daughter's mom and aunt), I've had home-fixed meals every day for more than a week.

What makes all that so stunning, is that I don't cook and rarely keep food in my house -- unless beer and chips and salsa qualify as food.

I'm hoping in the long run I end up spending less money on food that I normally would eating two or three meals a day from fastfood joints. There could potentially be some health benefits as well I supposed.

But there is downside to having food in the house. I find I eat when I'm bored. I eat when I'm hungry. I eat when I'm full. I eat way too much and too often.

So, I've got to figure out how to balance this whole having food in the house thing with not trying to each something of everything everyday until it's gone.

I've also got to get better at doing dishes, as I find I make meal selection choices based on what dishes are not sitting unwashed in the dishwasher (or sink) that I can prepare dishes in (or on).

Yea I know there are people who fix meals and do dishes everyday, I've just never been one of those people. My college roommate and I had the same affliction. How we ever had any dates, or allowed any women into our apartment is still a mystery. We didn't have a dishwasher, but had one of those double-sided sinks. We would get both sides of the sink filled, stacked a foot or two above the rim. We'd wait until every single glass, plate or piece of silverware in the house was used. And that might not have been so bad, but we would sometime run water over the dishes after using them (to keep the food from sticking). Of course running water in pots, pans and dishes in a sink filled with stuff dishes and food scraps would lead to mold forming after several days or weeks without actually doing the dishes.

It was pretty disgusting, especially during fruitfly season in late spring and summer in an apartment without air conditioning.

It's a wonder we didn't dye from some sort of mold-borne disease.

By comparison, I've come a long way in the years since, thanks mostly to having built-in dishwashers in most of the places I've lived in the years since. But I still suck at housework.

But hey, I have food to eat and have actually been using the burners on the stove to cook with on occasion, although the oven portion of the stove is still a virgin. Heck, the way things are going I may actually break out the George Foreman grill and buy things like mean and vegetables.

It's a scary world. Fortunately, the end must be near.

Your tax pennies at work

The check was in the mail. I got it this week. From the Oregon Department of Administrative Services. It was for a grand total of 80 cent.

I'm not sure if it's worth the gas to drive to the band to deposit it. The irony is the check is to cover mileage for my jury duty.

While I appreciate the gesture, I'm not sure as a taxpayer that I think the cost of issuing and 80 cent check and paying 31 cents postage was worth the effort. Who know what it cost for staff time, the cost of the check and envelope added onto the tally.

Shouldn't there be some sort of lower limit for the amount to which the state will issue a check to someone?

It's probably a good thing I don't work for the state, I might complain about such foolishness -- just like I'm doing now.

Then again, maybe a state job wouldn't be so bad after all. Our government doesn't seem to shy about pissing money away.

Arlington mayor's 15 minutes of national fame

The scandal involving the Arlingon, Ore., mayor's myspace photo controversy will spill over onto national TV today. An interview with the mayor, Carmen Kontur-Gronquist, is scheduled to air tonight (Friday, Jan. 18) an ABC's 20/20.

The mayor has refused calls for her resignation. I'm not sure what folks are so upset about. The mayor has put that tiny burg (population 524 in the 2000 Census), on the map. Her predicament has been a hot topic on blogs, like this post on a blog called "A Slip of a Girl," listed as a lingerie blog, or this one on Blogger News Network, or this one on Death by 1000 Papercuts.

A Google blog search for the term "Arlington mayor photos" brings back 1,411 results. That's nearly three times as many posts about the Arlington mayor than live in Arlington.

Arlington shouldn't be trying to recall their mayor. They should be turning her photos into a calendar (with her consent and permission of course) and turning this into an economic development/revenue generating opportunity. If they city doesn't, someone else will find a way to make money off the deal.

Can Playboy's Girls of City Hall edition be far behind? Maybe they are already trying to capitalize on the sex and politics theme, as one of the items the men's magazine is teasing on its Web site right now proclaims: "Sex in America. Our survey shows that politics doesn't matter between the sheets."

The fog

I'm not real good at planning my errands. I always thing on my way home that I'll have plenty of time to run out later, after I've vegged out a bit, had a bite to eat and unwound from the day. I knew I needed to stop at a story on my way home from work but didn't. So, there I was at midnight, venturing out for my delayed errand. Fortunately, there is a Circle K nearby with precisely what I needed.

What I didn't expect to encounter upon walking out the door was fog.

Fog on a chilly night is not good. Fortunately, the temperature hasn't quite dipped below 32 degrees. Because freezing fog is nasty stuff. About the only worse driving condition is freezing rain, but freezing fog is not good.

It's looking like it's going to be a nasty morning on the roads here in Salem. There's nothing like skating to work, especially if it involves bend metal and bloodshed.

Well, the freezing conditions may have one upside if schools are closed and people go in late to work. Maybe there will be fewer morons on the road to play bumper cars with in the morning.

Death takes a road trip

There is a story out on the Associated Press wire about a woman who died while on a cross-country journey with her family. They were traveling in an RV and the woman died while crossing Wyoming. I've only felt like I might die while crossing Wyoming, but she actually went and did it. But the family didn't stop. They continues on their journey to Oregon before reporting the death.

The story reminds me of a story that a newspaper I worked for several years ago reported about a family that drove the patriarch of their family across the country in the back of his car, post mortem. The guy's final wish was to make one last road trip in his car, and he got his wish. Of course he got embalmed before his trip.

I wish I could find the story that was published in the Daily Press back then by then-reporter Don Holland. It was a story that could have been creepy, or morbid, but Don handled it well and it was actually a humorous story. If memory serves, my friend Mike Sweeney (the photojournalist, not the baseball player, whom I don't know) took the photo that accompanied the story, which was also tastefully done and fit the tone of the story.

I wish I had a copy of that story.

By boss back then used to say that every weird story either began or ended in the desert. In that case, he was referring to the Mojave Desert. Well, not every weird story starts or ends in the desert (although even this one started in California). Some weird stories lead right here to the Willamette Valley.

Write or wrong?

I was looking around online and found out that there is a new chapter here in Salem for the Willamette Writers group. I've never really considered myself I writer, even though I do some writing now and again. But for some reason I am intrigued about possibly attending one of the local chapter's gatherings.

If nothing else, it may be a way to meet some new people in town.

I guess it depends on what the people are like and what sort of stuff they talk about at their gatherings. So far they've only had one gathering it looks like, which took place this month.

If anyone stumbles across this blog and knows anything about that organization, I'd welcome any information you have about it.

The group may not be a good fit for me, as I think most of the people in that group are more aspiring poets or authors, and I'm more of newspaper writing hack. And, as I said, I don't really consider myself a writer. I mostly fly a desk and tinker with other people's writing. So it may not work out. But I'm still intrigued.

Find them all guilty of disturbing the peace

I survived jury duty without having to bear responsibility for tossing someone in jail or costing someone money in a criminal fine or civil judgment. The only cost, really, was a few hours of boredom and 3 hours of work time lost.

On the positive side, I got caught up on reading some trade magazines, namely Quill from the Society of Professional Journalists and checking out the Best of Photojournalism in 2007 from the National Press Photographers Association.

Another positive is that I will now not have to report for jury duty again for two years. That's the big positive in my book. I ended up getting on a jury the first time I was called the year I graduated from college, which wasn't a great experience. I didn't care too much for the peer pressure that was exerted in the jury room during deliberations. Maybe that was just the character of the jury I was on. Maybe they all aren't like that. It was a 6-person jury on a DUII case.

I have received several summons for jury duty in the year since. One I got just as I was moving from one town to another, so I got out of that one. In 10 years in California, I was called on several times, but I think I only had to report to a courthouse once. The other times I ended up hanging in suspense for a few days, calling in daily before finally being cut loose from having to report.

I did sort of want to make it up to one of the courtrooms on this particular tour of duty though. My fellow prospective jurors and I were warned several times about turning cell phones off completely before going into a courtroom. Apparently judges don't have a sense of humor about ringing cell phones in a courtroom. We were told that even turning the phone onto vibrate was not good enough because the audio system in the courtroom can apparently pick up the sounds of a vibrating cell phone. I wanted to see, and hear that system in action, because I knew some idiot (I mean one of my fellow perspective jurors) would forget to turn off their phone. The jury assembly room was essentially one big cell phone booth, with people all around the room talking on phones, transacting a variety of business.

The most annoying culprit was one of those annoying Nextel phones that chirp repeatedly when an incoming call is coming in. Whomever came up with that bright idea for a walkie-talkie type cell phone should be taken out and shot. Can't we get rid of those damn things now? With so many cell phone plans offering unlimited minutes, or large packages of minutes, there really is no need for phones that only use brief bits of airtime and a time. But there is even less need for hearing the chirps and beeps and loud chatter coming through a so-called cell phone.

I'd have paid money to see a judge confiscate one of those puppies!

Not-so-cheerfully fullfilly my civic duty

I've got jury duty tomorrow. I can't really say I'm looking forward to it. Coworkers tell me that the the court I've been called to tries to keep trials to one day as much as possible, so maybe I'll only have to spend a day at the courthouse. But we'll see.

I wonder if it would be inappropriate to blog from the jury room?

Fire erupts over small town mayor's sizzlin' MySpace photos

"Every last one, route one, rural heart's got a story to tell
Every grandma, in-law, ex-girlfriend
Maybe knows you just a little too well;
Whether you're late for church or you're stuck in jail
Hey words gonna get around;
Everybody dies famous in a small town"
-- "Famous in a Small Town" by Miranda Lambert

One of my favorite sayings since returning to my home state a couple of years ago is that Oregon is a small town. Sometimes it seems everyone knows everyone's business here. Of course it's not quite a intense as living in one of the numerous small towns around the state where the population is measured in the hundreds.
Obviously, in a small town, the mayor is about as public of a public figure as you can get, outside of the high school quarterback and the starting point guard on the basketball team (who are quite likely the same person).

Arlington, Ore., is one of those towns, in as small valley along the Columbia River, between The Dalles and Pendleton. It is perhaps best known, in recent years, as the gateway to Waste Management's Columbia Ridge Landfill.
It's biggest celebrity claim to fame was as the birthplace of "Doc" Severinsen, the former band leader for the NBC Orchestra on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. But judging by the current media coverage in the state today, Arlington's newest celebrity is in fact the mayor, Carmen Kontur-Gronquist, who is achieving her fame in a very 21st century manner -- on the Internet as part of a scandal.
The mayor is the focus of some criticism for some partially-clad photos of her (in bra and panties) on a fire truck that she had posted on her MySpace page, which unfortunately she has now set to private, so you can't see her photos. I think I'm beginning to understand what women find so hot about fire engines.
As near as I can tell, the scandal broke in a story in the East Oregonian, which then got picked up on the Associated Press wire, and by the Portland and wider Northwest and Internet media.
I get the EO's daily newsletter of stories, but frankly I did not pick up on the story because of its dull headline, "Residents question mayor's actions." Yawn.
I don't know how all this will turn out for Mayor Carmen or the city of Arlington, but if all there is to the scandal is an attractive woman and part-time podunk-town politician struts her stuff on a fire engine in attire that covers more than what you see along the Columbia River on a summer day, then I would hate to see her lose her job. I generally like the whole social networking phenomenon. But many people find out that personal material you post (or others post about you) online can come back to haunt you. Maybe she will take the picture down, which she apparently hasn't yet, even though she blocked access to all but her MySpace friends.
I grew up in a town very much like Arlington. The town of Echo, Ore., where high school sporting events, like the eight-man football game, is the social highlight of the week for miles around. In fact Arlington was one of the schools in our league for sports.
Oh, the things that could have been posted online about those bus trips to places like Arlington, Cascade Locks, Fossil, Condon.... It's probably a good thing digital cameras and websites weren't around back then. I didn't care too much for living under the microscope as a resident of a small town. It always felt like everyone knew more about my business than I did.
John Mellencamp paints a romantic notion of life in small communities in his song "Small Town." Kenny Chesney's performance of "In A Small Town," by songwriters Harold Cory Mayo and Jon Lyle Mcelroy concedes some of the bad, along with praising the good of tiny town life:

Sometimes it was heaven, sometimes hell
Kinda like church, kinda like jail
There's a water tower says 'Welcome to nowhere'
As soon as I could I was long gone
My jeans were torn and my hair was long
Now I can't believe
I wanna go back there
To a small town, to a small town

But as Miranda Lambert sings in her song, "Everyone dies famous in a small town," she gets to the heart of the sometimes unwanted notoriety even small-town notables find in places where everyone knows everyone else and spends far too much time talking about who, and what, they know. (Click here for the video)
Sometimes, people in towns large and small town go on to Internet notoriety, because the world wide web has turned the whole wired world into one massive small town. Good luck Mayor. And if you find you need someone with press experience to handle the media onslaught, look me up on MySpace. Maybe we can trade services. I can be media consultant and you look like you could certainly be my personal trainer.
Ouch! Did you see those abs? Is it just me, or is there something even hotter about a woman in a position of authority who could also kick your ass if you aren't careful!
Of course, none of the things I say here apply in any way, shape or form to my daughter and her MySpace page! Should I be concerned that she never accepted my friend request?

The official first post.

There maybe be some stuff I don't want to post on the family blog I'm affiliated with, so I decided I'd start a personal one. This is that blog. We'll see how that goes.

I have a start going to a list of blog links, which includes a couple blogs by people I used to work with in California who are now living here in the Pacific Northwest. So, I'll keep looking for new blogs to add and new ideas for things to write about.