Category: life

I was planning Wednesday morning to try out my aerial kite photography rig on the beach, but the saltwater that thoroughly soaked us on the day before destroyed the CVS “disposable” digital camera. It would turn on but then emit woeful beeps and Windows warned me that the USB device was out of spec. Oh well — I’ll try to get another camera and give this another shot soon.

We decided instead to have a leisurely breakfast then head out for an afternoon of kayaking. The resort had a half-dozen kayaks available for checkout so we took a two-seater into the bay. This is a fun way to spend an hour, but we’d have done well to remember this rule: start out against the current, so you can just coast back to the launching point. Our trip back was exhausting.

After a few hours of relaxing seaside, it was time to make dinner plans. The Terrace at the Buccaneer hotel is a highly rated restaurant, and for good reason. There we enjoyed a four course meal on the veranda overlooking a bay and the lights of the Christainsted harbor. The food was excellent and service unmatched: a great place to spend our last night out.

Thursday morning we headed out to the airport, and arrived on time despite the unreliabile cab service. One long flight back to Baltimore and we were home. It is good to be back, but I won’t complain if I find my way back to the island some day.

We ate dinner last night at Kendrick’s in Christainsted. The waiter earned Angeline’s ire by arguing with her over how she should have her food cooked. I had a grilled filet mignon in an orange-tinted bouillabaise, and Ange had a pan-seared tuna. My filet was a little overly clove-y, but done to perfection. The food was good, but as a Frommer’s two-star recommendation, I expected more.

We got up this morning to do a half day trip on Buck Island, the best beach and snorkeling spot around St. Croix. I had arranged a cab to pick us up at 11 so we could make the check-in time at 11:30. It finally showed, after a couple of calls, twenty-five minutes late. But all was well, we arrived just in time to board.

The transportation to and from the island is in a low two sail, one screw vessel that barely seats the thirty of us on her bulkheads and deck. Angeline and I found a nice spot next to a hatch and relaxed as the ship slowly left port. The seas were a bit rough that day, and we were soaked by spray that washed over the decks. And just in case anyone wasn’t fully wet, a hard rainstorm hit at the halfway point and drenched us for a good twenty minutes.

The rain dissipated as we neared the island. Someone spotted a dorsal fin off the bow, and we all craned our necks to see the source: a pair of dolphins swimming ahead of the ship. We watched, enthralled, as they swam on either side of the boat, came up for air a few times, and eventually lost interest and headed off.

We spent the next forty minutes or so snorkeling, near a large coral reef. All sorts of tropical fish swam in this underwater ecosystem. Blue ones, silver ones, skinny ones, fat ones. Yes, I am no marine biologist. I also swallowed a liter or so of saltwater due to poor snorkel technique.

The way home had another rain storm in store for us, of course. On the way we saw a pair of sea turtles mating on top of the water. The circle of life, and all that. We ate early dinner/really late lunch at Rum Runners in town. I had a jerk-style pork tenderloin and Angeline had huge cheese-covered scallops. This may have been the best meal so far despite the restaurant’s lack of stars in the guidebook.

The water here must be extremely salty, as cakes of salt kept appearing on our limbs and especially in our bathing suits. Nasty.

Last night our flight got in okay. We took a long winding cab ride through slums and by dilapidated edifices, through the small nice touristy town of Christiansted, and finally to the hotel. I highly recommend the Chenay Bay Beach Resort, by the way. Each room is a separate little cottage with kitchenette, ample bedroom and bathroom. I only wish the showers had more water pressure, but it’s no huge annoyance. The deal is good during summer too: this being the offseason, our fourth night was free.

We got in a little beach time after arriving then cleaned up for dinner at the hotel: swordfish for me and mahi-mahi for Angeline. Both were delicious.

This morning we toured Christiansted. There are a few historical destinations here including a fort, an old church building, and some relics of the sugar (and slave) trade. The whole slavery business is rather downplayed by the historical displays; one might miss it entirely if not for a few passing references to cannon being used to put down slave insurrections. One display features a letter of commendation given to a military officer for putting down “labor” riots.

We ate lunch at the aptly named Luncheria, whose bartender is said by Frommer’s to make the best margaritas on the island. Apparently Frommer’s definition of best is:

4. adj. (referencing Margaritas) Containing the most alcohol and, consequently, tasting like a glassful of cheap tequila

After lunch, we visited a few shops to pick up souvenirs and headed home for some more beach time.

I’m sitting in the Luis Arroz San Juan Memorial International Regional Airport and Helicopter Concern, or something like that, in the heart of Puerto Rico. Angeline and I have decided to bid a “screw this” to working life and move down here… for a few days, anyway. I’ll try to report on the goings on as the days progress.

Today we awoke at a far-too-early 4 AM, jumped in the car and headed to The Right Honorable Jeremiah Hartsfield-Maynard Jackson-William Franklin Campbell Atlanta International Airport. The Delta ticketing agent there gave Angeline crap about being Canadian because she couldn’t read Angeline’s passport. Myself, I claimed to be a US citizen and they just took my word for it. Moral: lie about your citizenship if you’re on a visa.

After this, we hopped on board the plane and settled down for three and a half hours of mild discomfort, in which we finished two crossword puzzles, watched half of the in-flight movie (The Pink Panther) and snoozed a bit. Soon we debarked into the frigid overly air-conditioned SJU terminal complex. We have two hours here to wait around until boarding the shuttle over to St. Croix where we shall be spending the next few days. And they just called us so, bye.

My ride home last evening was much easier than the ride out. I was carrying less weight in my backpack (though still around 15lbs or so), had eaten something, and tightened the rear shocks up. And I noticed during the ride home that the rear tire would occasionally slip out of the dropout slightly and rotate sideways about 25 degrees, such that the edge of the tire would rub against the frame of the bike. Surprise, losing half of your energy to friction really makes a difference. Correcting this made the ride much easier. Though I’m still going to stick to the car for now: externalities aside, oil is just so much cheaper than food, and I’m lazy.

Hmm… I forgot how much bike riding sucked… or how much I suck at bike riding. So I think after one half of a commute, this idea is dead. I’ll try and dial back my suspension some though and see if I can’t make the return trip a little more comfortable this evening. It probably would have helped if I had a) worn shorts and b) had any sugar in my system to speak of this morning.

I don’t know why I never did this before, but I took the time last night to compute the gear ratios and shifting patterns for my bike. It has a 22-32-44 chainring up front and 32-11 in the back. Interestingly, only two gears on the 22 cog are even useful, and in practice I can’t ever see using them anyway. 32×17 seems to be the starting point for any real riding, and I get too easily winded even four or so gears above that.

So…aren’t cars awesome?

Some days I feel a distinct lack of purpose. I call them weekdays! Hah-hah. But seriously ladies and gentlemen, your narrator is out of shape. It seems going to the gym only on presidential birthdays isn’t the best health plan. And while I may weigh less than this time last year, I’m certainly not as fit. So next week, provided it doesn’t rain and I can hit the bike store this weekend to get a lock [note copious outs], I’m going to try this bike-to-work thing. Well, not all the way to work, but at least to the bus stop. Someone’s got to use that bike path. I’ll apprise readers of the results of the experiment as it progresses.

I spent a vulgarity-filled evening last night installing a new microwave oven into the formerly blank area above my stove. This last and final piece of kitchen project 2005-6 may well have been the most annoying of the bunch. To begin with, I had to patch up the drywall holes left by the electricians when installing a new circuit — they had reattached the cutouts but left the putty work to me. So I embarked on the now-familiar task of covering a wall in joint compound, then sanding it into oblivion, priming and painting. This naturally left me with a nice thin coat of sheetrock dust throughout the kitchen. After the paint dried, I began drilling holes as needed in the base cabinet. My drill’s battery died after approximately three seconds of this. Why do they even make cordless drills, I ask you?

Once the battery charged up, I made the 2″ cutout for the electrical cord, then began attaching the mounting bracket. A sharp, pointy bracket that made my knuckles bleed. The toggle bolts that came with the bracket were of the exceedingly cheap variety, so I managed to (ahem) bust a nut during this procedure. And once on, the broken toggle bolts were impossible to get back off, so I had to haul out the dremel to cut the screws. I ended up using two of my own drywall fasteners that were much stronger than those supplied.

With that behind me, I hefted the microwave oven onto the bracket (a two person job, according to the manual, but since I am virtually five men put together, I managed on my own), then faced the prospect of my pre-drilled cabinet holes being about 1/4″ off of where they should have been. Nothing is easy. I cursed the screws, the microwave, the cabinet, my drill and everything else nearby as I spent the next twenty minutes correcting this mistake. Ultimately, I succeeded.

May the popcorn making commence!

Yesterday, Director’s awards were distributed here at work, and the powers that be were nice enough to honor myself and a couple of other programmers on our mad software skillz even though we are only contractors. Despite the fact that everyone pronounces “Director” in hushed tones as if they are Death Star peons discussing The Emporer, sure that their thoughts are being probed by some dark-side evildoings, we didn’t realize that the awards ceremony was An Affair, which is to say that suits were required. So I show up, along with my coworkers, in full-on business casual to a gathering of hundreds of ensuited Vic Mackeys. Like the jackasses that wear a T-shirt on picture day¹, we ignored the occasional looks of disdain directed towards our section during the service. I say service, because it was practically a church affair, with a prayer at the beginning, a prayer at the end, and lots of boredom in between that mostly didn’t apply to me. The only difference was that instead of an organ, the pre-ceremony music was played by members of The President’s Own Marine Corps band. After an interminable wait, during which people who actually deserved awards were recognized, we eventually got called, walked across the stage, shook hands with Palpitane and the second-in-command at DOJ, then hid behind better dressed personnel for the group photo. So I guess what I am saying is, fear my awesome certificate, bitches!

[1] Usually me, in early grades at least, because my organizational skills are so slight, not because of any illusions of being too cool for school.

I’m in something of a manic mode now that winter has fully departed. This weekend saw the embarkation on/completion of a few projects. I finished up all of the remaining niggling table-saw work required for my kitchen — the quarter round floor molding and the remaining decorative molding under the cabinets. Then I cleaned up my garage a bit; who knows, maybe in a month or two I’ll be able to get my car back in there. I also took the first steps in what I hope to be a less sucky landscape for my house: I mulched an area around my trees that tends to grow weeds like crazy, pulled up said weeds, removed a rotten and termite infested bench, and started a little indoor herb garden. I still had time to play a few rounds of The Ur-Quan Masters, until I remembered what an incredible time sink StarCon2 happened to be, at which point I resigned my post as intergalactic diplomat forever and went back to noodling on the guitar.