The Cheese

Recently Bree and I decided to try our hands at the fine art of making our own cheese. People brew their own beer, make their own wine, cure their own meat and change their own oil, so we wanted to see if we could be industrious and craft some cheese in our kitchen. I found it difficult to find the necessary supplies. Even in such a big city, it seems that there isn't a very big demand for the tools of the cheese makers trade. You'd think that there would be more than one or two places in town that sell rennet. Rennet by the way is a solution derived from the stomach lining of a calf. It is essentially made up of enzymes that promote the seperation of the curd from the whey. It's one of those things that makes me wonder how this particular property was ever discovered. Thousands of years ago, maybe some poor herdsman decided to store his milk for the day in a stomach he had lying around and was no doubt terribly alarmed at its consistency when he sat down under a tree to have lunch.

We have made four batches now, none of which were disasters. However, I can't say that any turned out exactly as we had hoped either. One of the easiest cheeses to practice with is mozzarella. It doesn't require pressing, aging or any exotic cultures. We also made a ziegerkase, which is a whey cheese that is pressed and aged in a wine and herb solution.

Since we find making cheese to be exciting and enjoyable we have included it as one of our many possible dreams to choose from on how we will make a living. So when we were in Wisconsin, we decided to visit a working cheese factory and see what we could learn. Widmer's, in the small town of Theresa, offers daily tours and is not too far from Milwaukee. So we made the drive up through the pleasant countryside of southeastern Wisconsin in time to make the 9:30 tour.

Like many old time Wisconsin Cheese factories, it is in a very small building with an attached living quarters upstairs. This wasn't set up to supply Wal-Marts all over the country. But they have been making Brick, Chedder and a couple of other cheeses for generations now and seem to do a great job of it. The bricks they use to press the cheese are still the original bricks they used when the factory was founded several decades ago. They had three large tubs (maybe 15 feet by 5 feet) going with a couple of workers occasionally stiring the contents with rakes.

I can't say we learned a great deal from the presentation. It was pretty elementary. A lot of people take their kids there for a morning activity. And the tour was free along with the samples, so it worked fine for us.

Afterwards we spent a couple hours walking around Theresa. We took took Rachel to the small park down by the river and pushed her in the swing. It was one of the more lonely feeling parks that I've ever been in, but it was very pleasant nevertheless. We later stopped for snacks at the confectioners shop in town. We had deep fried beer battered bratwurst and some deep fried brocally and cheese nuggets along with some mini potato pancakes. All good stuff, but stuff we would not eat every day. Besides, I have yet to see beer battered deep fried brats on any menu here in Denver.

We later met my mom and aunt Myra in Cedarburg for a real lunch at The Anvil Pub and Grill. Our table was on a lovely patio overlooking the river. I hadn't seen Myra in years so it was a great pleasure for me to visit with her. She is my deceased grandmother's older sister and she is a wealth of stories about the old days when they grew up in Clayton, Wisconsin which was very poor and rural at the time. I hope to have the opportunity to get together with her again soon.

Rachel Goes Up the Country

Rachel went over to Jeff and Michelle's house out in the country last weekend. As usual, Jeff and Michelle were fine hosts and had a great big vat of beverages out for their guests. Rachel, never the shy one, decided to crawl on over and help herself. Not unlike Goldilocks from the tale of the three bears, she sampled a couple different ones before finding one that was just right.

Here Rachel is surveying the various selections. "So many to choose from" she says. "How can I ever possibly decide?"

At first she sampled the Leinie's, but she didn't like it very much. "Too bitter" she said.

Then she tried the Busch. "Tastes too much like urine!" she exclaimed.

Finally, our young hero finds a can of Coca Cola, takes a slug, and decides that it's just right

Tomorrow Rachel will be ONE! July 10th, 2009.
Happy Birthday
We love you even if you do have a dirty schnoz.

Accidents Will Happen

On the night of July 5th, 2009 while performing at Milwaukee's Summerfest, Elvis Costello dedicated a rousing rendition of his hit tune Accidents Will Happen to his long time fan and occasional lyrical advisor, Brian Hinshaw. That morning, Hinshaw had shattered his femur during a run in with a bull moose in the wilds of Northern Minnesota. He avoided further injury by taking shelter in the hollow of a massive white pine and fending off the aggresive beast with his new Shakespere fishing pole oufitted with 12 pound test line.



Brian was lucky to escape with his life and is now resting comfortably back at his comfortable Victorian mansion on Milwaukee's hip and happening East Side. He noted that the injury may actually be a blessing in disguise as it will give him more time to concentrate on beer.

Bombs Bursting in Air

I arrived in Milwaukee late last night. My plane had been delayed by about 2 hours. So eve though the United Airlines website and even the sign at the gate indicated that the flight was on time, I was informed by the gate attendant at the time we were supposed to start boarding that the plane I was supposed to get on was in Rapid City, South Dakota. I felt bad enough that I was having my dad pick me up at the airport at 11:30, and now felt even worse that it was going to be 1:30 instead.

Rachel has once again proven to be a wonderful travel companion. Next week she will be one year old and this is already her fourth trip somewhere on an airplane. I got lucky that I was seated next to a girl who must have been about twelve and loved babies. This girl ended up being a big help and was nice to talk to as well. She explained that this was only the first time in her life that she had been on a plane. Her family had gone out to Colorado for a week where she got to do some hiking and spending time in the Glenwood Hotsprings. I finally got to bed at my mom's house about three o'clock in the morning.

After going through a fiasco renting a car this morning I picked Bree up at the airport about an hour after she landed. We got some lunch at a burger place on Brady Street and walked down to Bradford Beach. It was a nice day and the beach was crowded. Bree took Rachel wading in the very shallow water near the shore. Rachel still can't walk on her own, but she is able to walk with help and I think she was intrigued by the way the sand felt on her feet. But as with everything else, after a while she reverted to trying to eat the sand. That was our queue to move on down the beach.

Back at my mom's we got a much needed nap followed by a nice dinner prepared by my mom. After dinner my dad, Rachel, Bree and myself headed down to the lakefront to see the fireworks. This was Rachel's first trip to see the fireworks. Last year we went to see the fireworks in Golden, CO, which were good but no real comparison as far as the size of the display. Rachel was there also, in Bree's belly. The fourth of July was past Bree's due date last year and she had been hoping that the noise of the fireworks would throw her into labor. As it turned out, she didn't have Rachel for another week.

The display tonight was very impressive and Rachel seemed to enjoy it for a while. In time, however, her short attention span got the better of her. She was able to crawl around in the grass and seemed to enjoy herself for the most part anyway. I remember the first time I went to the fireworks here in Milwaukee. It was with my dad and my grandpa. We set on the grass down by the old gun club. I remember thinking how absolutely cool they were and through the years as I got older, my brother and i often went down to see the fireworks with my dad. My grandpa didn't go often, but he lived on the other side of town and it probably wasn't his thing so much. He had been in WWII and probably got more than his share of explosions at Iwo Jima and Okinowa.

I saw in the paper this morning that the Brewers are playing the Cubs at Wrigley Field this weekend. That hit home pretty hard. It was two years ago on June 27th when we lost Owen. We were all set to take him to Milwaukee in a few days for the 4th of July celebration and I had been trying to get tickets to the Brewers and Cubs at Wrigley. It was going to be the first trip to Wrigley field for both of us, and I wanted it to be for a Brewer game.

April in San Francisco

A few weeks ago Bree, Rachel and I took a long weekend and flew out to San Francisco. Neither Rachel or Bree had ever even been to California and we were all itching to get out of town for a little while so with the help of some outstanding recession-priced airfares we settled on San Francisco as a destination.

We flew out of Denver early on Wednesday morning. We had some concerns about how Rachel would react to getting up so early in the morning to be rushed off to the airport. We were pleased to see that she behaved very well. That morning she really set the precedent for the rest of our trip. On the plane it helped that the little girls sitting in the seats behind us were smiling and making funny faces at her through much of the flight. Rachel really feeds off of the interaction with other babies and small children. Unlike her father, I doubt seriously that she will wind up being a shy child.

To save money and the hassle of parking, I put off renting a car for a couple of days. We figured that we could find plenty of stuff to do around the city without needing a car. That meant that we took the train, commonly known as the BART, in to the city from the airport. It turns out that this is really the way to go. The train picks up passengers right at the airport and after about a half hour ride, drops them off in the heart of the Union Square neigborhood. When we emerged from the subway station we were surrounded by tall buildings with crowds of people pushing their way past us. With the help of a hot dog vender we quickly got our bearings and made the three block walk to our hotel.

We stayed in a hotel that I had found a special on after many hours of searching the internet. It was called the Hotel Serrano. The building probably dated from the 1920's, was about 19 stories tall, and had been built using the Moorish architecture that was common in that period. The lobby was small but ornate and they had a table full of board games which guests were welcome to play. Every evening the hotel hosted a complementary wine reception for one hour where guests could spend time in the lobby drinking wine and mingling with other travelers. The couple of times we were around the hotel when they were holding the wine reception, I made sure to take full advantage of it. After all the walking around and hard core sightseeing that we were doing it was nice to come back to the hotel for some wine. In the mornings they had free coffee in the lobby and your choice of newspapers including the NY Times and the Wall Street Journal. This was an incentive for me to get up before Bree and Rachel so that I could go downstairs and have a little quiet coffee and newspaper time before heading out for the day. The only thing to disturb it was that the sliding doors to the lobby were often open and it got very cold in there in the mornings.

Our first afternoon, after checking into the hotel, we walked over to Union Square and watched a small Passover celebraton that was taking place. A Jewish one man band of sorts was playing highly dancable songs to the small crowd of Jews that was gathered nearby. I had arranged to have lunch with my old friend Serena Huang from business school here in Denver. She is now working at an old, and very stylish department store called Gumps. www.gumps.com
The store itself is really worth a visit. Most items are well out of my price range, but they have some really unique and gorgeous merchandice. Serena seems to have a pretty responsible job there and works upstairs in one of the offices. But she was able to give us an interesting tour around the jade selectin in the jewelry department. I had never known that jade comes in as many colors as it does and that buyers will go all over the world to get the best specimins of different varieties of the stone.

We had lunch in a nearby food court that was buzzing with activity. It was good to catch up with Serena whom I had not seen since I was in San Francisco several years ago for Halloween. Serena has since gotten married and from the sounds of it, she married a pretty interesting guy. They met after they and some other friends of theirs had gotten laid off after the dot.com bust. She said that there were a lot of people around with no jobs and a lot of time on their hands. The solution was to organize a large music festival. It turns out the festival was pretty successful. I was impressed by this story. A lot of people when they lose their jobs will get depressed and circle their wagons. The fact that these people got together to organize a festival with multiple musical acts as well as several vendors is pretty darn impressive.

After lunch and spending time admiring the merchandise in Gump's, we walked up through China Town. China Town in San Francisco is worth a visit but I wouldn't spend too much time there. I believe the much of the authenticity of this historic, ethnic neighborhood has given way to gift shops and other businesses geared toward the tourist trade. We took a circuitous route back to our hotel by way of Nob and Russian Hills. This way we were able to get our exercise for the day as well as get an opportunity to walk through some of San Fran's more traditional neighborhoods and admire the ornate Victorian architecture.

The first night we had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory on the top level of Macy's overlooking Union Square. I can't think of a more touristy place that we could have had our supper. That said, it was really nice. There is rooftop patio from where we were able to have a beer and look out over the city while waiting for our table. An added bonus was that the Brewers happened to be playing the Giants and the game was on the TV above the bar.

It was raining the next morning. It wasn't a hard driving rain, but it was the kind of misty rain that forms in coastal cities when the clouds roll in off of the Ocean. The clouds were low over the city giving it a very different feel from the previous afternoon. This is what I imagine San Francisco being like much of the time, cool, misty and gray.

We decided that since it was raining that we would take the train over to Golden Gate Park the, walk around, and go to one of the museums. We were misinformed about subway so after walking to station and realizing that the train was not going to go where we needed it to, we decided to walk. We had rain coats, and Rachel's stroller had a built in umbrella and she was wearing a warm coat so we figured we'd be okay.

Market Street in San Francisco as you make your way away from Union Square gets seedy fast. The grittiness of the neighborhood was accentuated by the grayness of the morning. Homeless people milled about with businessmen and women making their way to their jobs in the government buildings at the nearby civic center. Every corner seemed to have its own doughnut shop. Many of the buildings appeared to have historic value. Some were ornately detailed. But most of the buildings around here still seemed run down and in need of some serious rehab.

After walking for several blocks the neighborhood was gradually improving. Eventually we came to Haight Street and turned right and headed up a steep hill. Immediately the area we were walking through began to feel much more friendly and the general maintenance and upkeep of the real estate took a giant turn for the better. We walked up and and down several hills and for what seemed like a very long time until we finallypassed Buena Vista Park and were in the famous Haight-Ashbury Neighborhood.

It was still pretty early in the day, so many of the little shops catering to tourists were not even open yet. We decided to stop in the People's Cafe for a late breakfast and some coffee. Bree looked through some of the shops afterward while Rachel and I walked along the sidewalk looking in windows and watching the interesting mix of people that were becoming more abundant as the morning wore on.

It was still raining lightly when we walked to the end of Haight Street and entered Golden Gate Park. We walked by the antique merry go round and the playground and saw a drug deal go down nearby while making our way to the Conservatory of Flowers and then to the Japanese Tea Garden.

I thought it was a perfect day for the tea garden with the mist and fog making an ideal backdrop for the meticulously planned gardens. We also happened to be lucky enough to be there at the height of the cherry blossoms. The Conservatory of Flowers is basically an old greenhouse split up into three different rooms each hosting a slightly different environment. They keep it very hot and humid inside for the benefit of its impressive orchid collection.

As the aftenoon wore on the rain started coming down much harder so we decided to go into the DeYoung Museum of Fine Arts. They were hosting a large special exhibit of works by Andy Warhol which we decided to forego due to its significant additional fee. We also agreed that it was not especially important that we go see pictures of Cambell's Soup labels. The rest of the museum had more than enough to keep us interested and occupied. The de Young boasts a large collection of American art dating from the 17th century through the present as well as large collections of traditional and historic pieces from Africa and the Americas. San Francisco has a large and respected museum devoted soley to Asian Art which we unfortunately did not have the opportunity to visit on this trip.

After leaving the museum we went to find the bus route that would take us back to Union Square. I, however, uncharacteristicaly steered us in the wrong direction and we wound up walking deeper and deeper into the park. We were beginning to get cold and tired although Rachel was still doing great all bundeled up in her stroller. Everybody we asked for directions seemed to also be a tourist. Several of the people we came across did not even speak English. Although my inquiries did get me roped into taking pictures of what I think was some sort of French soccer team.

Finally we found some people who were able to point us in the right direction. Instead of the bus we took a street car. Not one of the touristy street cars, but one that looks like a bus on tracks.
It was crowded when we boarded and it only got more so has the trian got closer to downtown. Bree was holding on to Rachel, but we had been pushed apart by the throngs of passengers. Abouth half way back Rachel started screaming. I wanted to go and help Bree, but there was no way I could have reached her, especially while holding the folded up stroller.

I rushed Bree back to the hotel where we fed Rachel and let her crawl around for a few minutes, not nearly long enough to work off all of the energy I'm sure she had been saving up all day stuck in the stroller. I had made plans with our neighbors, Donald and Jennifer, to meet at the Top of the Mark, at the top of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. Bree didn't know they would be in San Francisco at the same time as us so I thought I'd surprise her by meeting them out for drinks without telling her. In retrospect this was sort of a stupid idea because Bree thought I was an idiot for wanting to be at a certain lounge at the top of a certain hotel right at 7PM on the 2nd night of our trip. But Donald and Jennifer were waiting for us when we arrived and they had gotten lucky with a table that commanded about the best view in the place. It also had a bench where Rachel could lie down and take a nap. The view was phenomenal. The sky had started to clear and the sun was setting casting bluish-gray and orange hues all over the San Francisco landscape stretching out below us. Donald and Jennifer had just sold their duplex down the block and were moving out a few days later to go pursue a new life in some small town in northern Alabama. After that night I ran into Donald once, but I doubt we'll ever see them again. They were very nice people and now I wish we had made more of an effort to get to know them socially before this. Our interactions had been limited pretty much to letting our dogs play with their dog, a black lab - sharpay mix named Riley, over at the playground down the street.

On the way back to our hotel we stopped at a restaurant for some sushi and then decided to call it a day.

The next morning I took the train back out to the airport to pick up the rental car I had reserved. If I had picked up a rental car at a branch location closer to our hotel every rental company I contacted would have charged me an additional $125 or so for the privilege. That seemed so ridiculous that I instead opted to get up early and and go back out to the airport. Ever concerned about the environment, I rented a Prius Hybrid. The part of getting the car that seemed to take the longest was getting the child safety seat installed. But after some trial and error, working up a sweat, and finally asking for help, I was off to pick up Bree and Rach back at the hotel.

We spend the day heading north out of town, first making the obligatory stop at the Golden Gate Bridge. We popped Rachel in the stroller and walked about half way across the bridge. The views were great, but we had to share the sidewalk with plenty of other tourists and there was so much traffic noise on the bridge that it made it difficult to talk. From there, we headed up through Sausalito to Muir Woods, the famous preserve of Redwoods that escaped logging early in the 20th century due to a few very forward-thinking people who were able see what a national treasure these giant trees were and still are. Muir Woods was also very crowded, at least the parking area and the first quarter mile of pathways into the park. As with so many trails here in Colorado, the crowds thinned out considerably the further we got from the cars. I carried Rach in the Erbo carrier and she seemed to be enjoying getting out and having a look around also. We spent about an hour meandering through the small valley containing most of the largest specimans and then decided to take a side trail up to a place called Camp Eastwood. To our amazment this place was not named after Clint, who of course makes his home not far from here, but instead after someone named Alice Eastwood.

Alice Eastwood, as it turns out, was a reputable botanist who made her name in the early years of the 20th century by identifying and clasifying new genuses of ferns and sunflowers. Much of her time was actually spent in Colorado although her most of her most famous botanizing took place later on in California. "She was by all accounts a woman of robust stature and ample voice." according to one website dedidcated to those people who have been commemorated in plant names of the Eastern Sierra. I suppose she would have had to be a hard woman to play in the ultra-macho world of serious botany. The trail that we took that bears her name was delightful and allowed us an opportunity to see some of the surrounding landscape without the company of hundreds of other people. In fact, in the hour or so we were walking, we only came across one other person.

The plan was to leave from Muir Woods and drive up Highway 1 to Point Reyes National Seashore. We took a wrong turn upon leaving the woods that led us back to Sausalito. So after a little cussing and a quick stop at Taco Bell, we drove back up through the windy canyon and found the road that led us down to the coast. In many ways I think that this drive was the highpoint of the trip for me. The drive was slow on the the narrow, windy, two lane road and it took much longer to get up to Point Reyes than I had planned, but every bit of the trip was filled with some of the most unique and beautiful land and seascapes that I have ever seen. With few exceptions, the beaches didn't look very inviting. Most of the coast was made up of craggy cliffs and rugged, rocky shorelines. But the hills to our right were green and inviting. There were several pristine pastures where cows and sheep grazed and very few houses or buildings of any kind to mar the view.

Point Reyes National Seashore itself was generally a much harsher landscape. It stretches inland for several miles from the ocean on a large peninsula. The narrow road leading in toward the coast took us past several small ranches or farms, each of which had a number. I suspect that these old ranches are somehow grandfathered in and sanctioned by the Park Service. The area probably was not heavily settled because of the harsh conditions in the area. The wind was blowing throughout our drive up the coast, but at Point Reyes, the wind was at a totally new level. The famous old lighthouse, which had been our ultimate destination that day, was actually closed due to the conditions. There were only a few other cars in the parking lot at the end of the road. We got out and walked to a spot overlooking the ocean. Bree, being a little lighter than I am, had to lean into the wind to stay upright. I had Rachel in the carrier pressed to my chest covered up by my coat. We managed about 10 minutes out of the car, but that was about all we could handle. If the the wind blows like that more than occasionally out at Point Reyes, it is no wonder that more people didn't want to settle here.

We got back to our hotel fairly late in the evening, and after such a long day Bree just sent me out to find some carryout to bring back to the hotel. Several people approached me for money in the couple of blocks I ventured away looking at the menus in the various restaurant windows. I even gave a dollar to a skinny, sickly looking woman who was very grateful, and told me that since it was Friday that it was a late night at the shelter, so she was trying to scrape together enough cash to go and have a good time before curfew. Knowing that I was able to help her out gave me a nice feeling as I walked back to my nice hotel room with a load of Thai food.

Rachel had been crawling a little bit before we left on our trip, but she really seemed to make some serious improvement while we were in San Francisco. Our room seemed very clean so we didn't feel too bad about letting her crawl around on the floor. We tried to let her crawl as much as possible when we were in the room because she spend so much time cooped up in the car seat and in the stroller over the course of our trip.

The next day we had considered going up to Sonoma and touring a vineyard or two, but after having spent so much time in the car the day before, we decided to stay in town instead. It was a nice day so we decided to go down to the beach since we hadn't really been able to spend any time at the beach the day before due to the conditions. As it turned out, when we got down the the beach, we found the wind to be howling in off of the Pacific much the same way it had the day before. We parked our environmentally friendly hybrid in a public lot acroos the road from the western edge of Golden Gate Park, so when we found that the shore was not going to be hospitable to us, we walked into the park. Once we got into the trees and away from the ocean, the conditions improved dramatically and we were able to spend several hours walking around admiring the gardens, ponds and towering groves of euchalyptus trees in the park.

Later in the afternoon we went back to the Haight-Ashbury district so Bree could spend some time poking around in the eclectic shops that make up the neighborhood. She didn't even buy anything, but I think that she had a good time browsing. One of my minor goals of the trip was to find a little cafe where I had spend a couple of pleasant mornings the last time I was in San Francisco, which is going on 9 years ago or so. I was pretty sure it was up in the Cole Valley nearby, and sure enough we found the place, much as I remember it being several years ago. It is called Crepes on Cole and I still think they have a great place and a great concept for a cafe and restaurant that might do well here in the Denver area with the right location. http://www.yelp.com/biz/crepes-on-cole-san-francisco

That evening we went up to Fisherman's Wharf for dinner. I haven't been to San Francisco's Fisherman's wharf since I was a kid, so I didn't remember it much. We found it to be basically one great big tourist trap, but since we were tourists, we decided to make the most of it and ended up having a great meal of bay scallops and shrimp in a cramped little restaurant that looked like it had been serving since the 1940s. The booths were apolstered with vinyl and the walls covered with dusty and weathered looking nautical stuff, much of which looked like it could have come from a rummage sale.

We had walked over half the way back to our hotel before our bus finally showed up and after having to sit across from the psychotic gentleman mentioned in my last post, I wish we had walked the rest of the way.

Our last day in town we started off by walking back through China Town. This time we spent a little more time in the shops, although not too much. I got Bree a pair of jade earrings. We walked over to the Embarcadero and made our way all the way around until we were back at Fisherman's Wharf. We toured the USS Jeremiah O'brien, one of only two surviving WWII liberty ships. This was an inexpensive and interesting attraction that did not seem overwhelmed by other tourists. The people working here were made up of an interesting mix of people, mostly ex-navy, who all seemed absolutely into what they were doing and all seemed very knowledgable about the ships history, not just in WWII, but its subsequent missions as well. The ship is maintained in functioning order and still sails periodically for different functions.

We also went to Ghiardelli Chocolate Factory and split a sunday and had a lunch of clam chowder in a sourdough breadbowl. We walked back to Union Square over what has to be the steepest hill in town and were sadly off to the airport to catch our evening flight back to Denver.

We were able to pack quite a bit in to our long weekend, but it didn't seem nearly long enough. San Francisco is a great city to explore, especially if you don't mind doing some walking. On our next visit, I'd like to spend some more time in the countryside as well and maybe be able to take in a theater performance or two. Our next trip looks to be Milwaukee for the 4th of July.

You're Going to Meet Some Gentle People There

Less than an hour ago walking back from the bus stop along Geary Street by Union Square I looked down to see a panhandler seated on the sidewalk opening up his zipper and exposing himself to the crowds of people walking by. Most people probably didn't notice. Bree didn't even notice. In fact she commented to me shortly thereafter about how he had his shirt up and he was clawing at his belly. Only a few minutes before while we were seated on the bus, the keenly dressed man in the gray suit, red silk shirt and fedora sitting across from us had looked up and me and out of the blue started exclaiming that "I'm one nigga you don't want to fuck with." and "Mutha Fucka I'm gonna shock your world" among other randomly aggressive and threatening things. Bree and I stayed silent and tried not to make any eye contact for the rest of the ride while the man across from us withdrew into just muttering quietly to himself.

If there has been an aspect of San Francisco that I haven't liked, it has been the pervasiveness of street people, many of whom have displayed pretty obvious signs of mental illness. I've heard in the past that San Francisco has a serious problem with homelessness, but I have still been taken aback by the extent of it which we have witnessed in our few days here. One reason for our heavy exposure to this aspect of San Francisco is undoubtedly our hotel's proximity to the infamous Tenderloin District which has the reputation for being one of the seediest areas in this otherwise upscale and heavily-gentrified city.

As a general rule I don't mind a little seediness. In fact, I've been known to seek it out from time to time, but San Francisco's Tenderloin really took me off guard. Massage parlors, check cashing places, single room occupancy hotels and liquor stores fill up every block block in the area. To save a few bucks I parked our rental car in a garage in the heart of the Tenderloin. I dropped Rachel and Bree off at the hotel before going to park the car one night when we got back from a long day out on the road. The three block walk back from the dingy little garage was like navigating a scene from Night of the Living Dead. I must have looked a little out of place in my khaki pants, Eddie Bauer shirt and fleece vest pushing an empty stroller through this minefield of shell-shocked junkies, panhandlers, drug dealers, prostitutes and all other assorted ne'er-do-wells to get back to the hotel. I was sorry Bree had taken the camera with her in the diaper bag. It was actually an enjoyable walk for me as I weaved through all the weirdness to the liquor store across the street from my hotel where I bought some wine and Jack Daniels to even things out a bit.

Over the few days Bree and I spent in the city we couldn't help but discuss the issue of all of hte derilects walking around. As a mental health worker herself, she pointed out that we were witnessing, first hand, an excellent argument for bringing back state run insane asylums. During the 1960's and 1970s, for various reasons, there was a widespread deinstitutionalization of the chronically mentally ill. Where before the incorrigible loonies were kept safely locked away and out of sight, those same psycos are now out busily frightening people at bus stops.

If this country wants to get serious about combating the "problem of homelessness" we should consider taking a stop back and consider starting to put more people in facilities again where they can receive regular treatment for their illnesses. Ultimately this will benefit the insane by ensuring that they always have a roof over their heads, food to eat, and medications to treat whatever condition they may be suffering from. It would also limit their access to the hard drugs many of these people are self-medicating with on the streets. Furthermore, our cities would benefit a reduction in those people walking around begging for change, sleeping on sidewalks and crapping in doorways.

Rachel got to see her first rail-thin junkie smoking crack from a glass pipe on this trip. Perhaps I'm being an over-protective father but I was hoping to put that sight off for my daughter for at least a few more years. That said, we all had a wonderful time during our visit to San Fransisco. My next post will deal with the far more numerous positive aspects of our five days there. It really is a wonderful city and most of the people whom we met were friendly, interesting and helpful.The mannequin in the window behind Rachel is actually Mr Magoo dressed in drag. This is just one more glaring symbol of the sordid depths this city will stoop to.

Monday Morning You Sure Look Fine

I usually make it a rule not to pander to my audience, but in this one case I will make an exception. In one of the comments on my last post, one of my most loyal of readers made a valid point. He pointed out that my last post would have been more interesting for my readers if I had provided more details on Louis getting plastered on Superbowl Sunday and not concentrated so much on providing details about the retirement community in Florida. Now that I'm pushing 40, retirement communities with golf courses don't seem quite so boring to me anymore, but I can still see the value in his criticism.

It was almost four o'clock on Monday morning when Louis woke up in the complete darkness of Fred's bathroom. The first things he noticed was that his head was spinning wildly and and he was immediately seized by the overpowering, acrid stench of fresh vomit. Louis was completely disorientated. As he tried to sit up, he put his hand down on the floor by his side and found that he had placed it in something cold and slimy. Louis slowly began to realize where he was and how he had come to be in this particular situation, although the details remained fuzzy. His head was swimming as he reached up to pick of partially digested chicken wing out of his hair. The first thing he saw when he reached up to turn on the light was the slowly congealing pool of stomach juice, blue cheese dressing and chicken skin where his head had been resting only inches from the base of the toilet and all its many weeks worth of accumulated filth.

Louis felt the familiar sensations of dizziness and nausea as he made his way into the living room and collapsed on the the sofa, giving no thought to what he might be tracking in with him from the bathroom. Cold beads of sweat had already begun to accumulate on his forehead from the exertion. Fred's dog Maggie, a happy but very drooly boxer, awakened by the activity in the living room, trotted over and began voraciously licking the previous night's meal off of Louis's soiled bluejeans. Louis weakly tried to push the dog away, but with such delicacies to be slurped off of Louis's cloths, there was nothing that would deter the dog. Doing his best to suppress a new bout of retching, Louis choked back the acidy liquid, slumped back in his seat and began slowly piecing together the previous nights events.

Louis had just finished helping his friend Justin move from his 13th floor luxury apartment into a gritty little hovel on Ash St that he would be sharing with his buddy Todd. Justin had been completely unprepared for his friends who had graciously offered to help him out, so Fred and Louis ended up spending much more time helpng out than they had ever anticipated. They hurried over to Hooters on Colorado Blvd but did not make it quite in time for the Superbowl's opening kickoff. Louis arrived in a fowl mood. Justin's lack of preparation had irritatd him and he was upset that he was late for the start of the game. In payment for all his hard work, Justin filled up an empty 12 oz bottle of Aquafina with some old vodka he dug out of the back of one of his cupboards.

Louis took his vodka and headed for Hooters. When the scantily clad waitress came to the table for the first time to take his order, Louis grabbed the bottle off of the table and and hid it between his legs. He couldn't possibly have acted any more guilty for somwbody with an Aquafina bottle sitting next to them filled with a clear liquid. The waitress even called him out on it and had him bring the bottle out to show her. He told her that it was just water, so she of course let him slide. At the time I didn't even realize that it was filled with vodka, but thought it very strange teh way he had behaved with the waitress.

Our table ordered several dozen wings in a wide variety of flavors ranghing from Three Mile Island to Cajun and we all dug in, Louis especially. He was on the Adkins Diet at the time so he felt obliged to eat as much as he possibly could. Wings are all fat and protien after all and he of course would be forgoing on desert. Before long, Louis had single-handledly polished off about 30 or so wings and drumsticks. His personal favorite was the teriaki. All the while he made steady progress on his bottle of vodka, taking regular slugs. However, Louis did did not limit himself to just the vodka. He went through several mugs of beer, as well. There was no question, Louis was in a mood to party tonight!

The Pittsburgh Steelers looked like the stronger team through the first half of the game, but as the game wore on, Kurt Warner and his scrappy Arizona Cardinals began to show some serious sigs of life. They eventually took the lead and looked as though they may pull off a huge upset. By this time, however, the Vodka was gone Louis was well on his way to losing most of his facalties and thus was not really getting much out of the game. He was slurring badly and was having more and more trouble focusing. It was at this time that I made the decision to buy a round of shots. They were out of Rumpleminze so I picked Jaegermeister instead. Louis downed it like a champ as I knew he would. I knew he had already had far too much to drink, but I couldn't resist the mischeivous temptation to push the envelope just a little bit more, sort of like a science experiment. I knew better. I knew it was the wrong thing to do. I knew this could well be the straw that broke the camels back, but for some reason I did it anyway.

It wasn't long before the results became apparent. Louis was over the edge. He began to break out in a drenching sweat and burried his face in his hands on the table. He no longer seemed interested in eating anymore wings. For Louis, that is possibly the truest sign of distress. Most of us didn't pay too much attention to him as the football game we were watching was turing out to be one heck of a great game and the excitement in the room grew.

So wouldn't you know it, less than a minute to go in the game, the Cardinals are clinging to the lead, but the Steelers are mounting what could be a game winning drive and Louis looks over and tugs on my shirt asking to be helped outside so that he can rest in the car. I looked at him incredulously and told him that he was crazy. and that he didn't want to miss the end of the game. But I could see it in his eyes that he was in serious distress. One of our other friends, Brian, took him by the other arm and we helped him out of the resturant and out to his car on the street. He knew that somebody else would be driving his car for him later, but he just wanted to rest in the back seat. When we got him out near the car, Louis assured us that he would be fine, and Brian an I returned to watch the end of the game. I later admonished Louis for turning the car on and having the headlights on while parked on the street and passed out in the back seat. My understanding is that a police officer could possibly get him on a DUI just for being alone in a running vehicle. Fortunately, we got out there before any officers happened upon him.

By the time we were taking him back to Fred's house, Louis had become incoherent and was drifting in and out of sleep. Louis's recollections ended at just about this time although as he sat on the couch that morning he tried very hard to remember anything else that might have taken place. Soon it dawned on him that he had to be at work in an hour. He stood up to get ready, but made it only a couple of steps before he realized that he would be having to call in and take a sick day. There was no way in the world that he was going to make it into the office this morning.

Thinking back later that day, searching for an excuse for what had happened, Louis decided conclusively that he must have contracted food poisoning from something that he had eaten. He rationalized that since he had never thrown up from drinking before, that that could not have possibly have been the reason this time either. He asked all the rest of us who were there if we had gotten sick as well, and seemed almost disappointed to find out that none of us had gotten anything worse than a mild case of heartburn.

I'm happy to report that it didn't take Louis long to get back on his horse and get back out there to the bars and taverns. Although from now on he will be making extra sure that his wings are cooked all the way through.

Congratulations to the Pittsburgh Steelers who did indeed score on that final drive.

I Want To Catch Something That I Might Be Ashamed Of

I know its been a while since I've written anything here, so while I'm sitting here at the Fox Sports Bar in the Orlando International Airport I figured I'd start getting caught up.

On New Years Day when we were out for a short hike in South Valley Park, Rachel looked up from her carrier strapped to my chest and quite clearly said "Hi Da Da". The next day she said it again and a couple of days after that as well. At first I thought it was just a fluke, but after a while it became clear that Rachel was indeed identifying me as 'Da Da'. I'll admit that this made me feel a great deal of pride. I knew she recognized me a long time ago, but verbalization was something new, and at only 5 months old. Since then, she has made all sorts of other remarkable strides. Just yesterday she got up on her knees in her crib and held onto the railing. She also has learned how to clap along with me when I sing 'When You're Happy and You Know It". It's great to finally have an appreciative audiance for my singing.

With the exception of going skiing a few times on the weekends and watching my daughter grow and change every day, and of course seeing Louis get drunk enough to be violently ill after the Super Bowl, the last couple of months haven't been especially interesting. I've fallen into the dark and depressing drudgery of going to work every day while having very little to look forward to on the weekend or the future in general. Bree has been working most weekends so I'm home with Rachel. During the week, I'm working and have been taking Spanish Classes on Wednesday nights. One of these days or years, I hope to get down to Latin America again, although it's hard to say exactly when that will be.

Bree's grandmother, Peggy, has been undergoing chemo for a while now. Early last week Bree flew to Florida to see her parents and spend some time with her grandparents. I flew down to join them on Thursday after work. I pulled into her parents driveway in The Villages sometime after one in the morning. The Villages has to be the nations largest retirement community. I believe the population now stands at around 70,000 full and part year residents, all 55 and over. I'm not sure if this is true, but I've heard from more than one source that The Villages had one of the nations highest rates of newly diagnosed STD's a couple years ago. http://www.clickorlando.com/news/9283707/detail.html After spending a little time there, I would not be surprised if that weren't true. The Villages are laid out over an area that, right now, spans about 33 square miles. There are two town squares that feature nightly live entertainment and dancing. Throughout the complex there are several other clubs where people get together to listen to music, swim, eat, play golf, bicycle, play tennis and apparently, have a lot of sex. The atmosphere at these places in some ways resembles Spring Break for seniors. My in-laws belong to two separate motorcycle clubs in The Villages, but folks there can get into a club that mirrors just about any interest you could possibly have.

My first morning I went for a run. After living in Denver, with it's thin, dry air, running at sea level is a treat. I felt strong and went much further than I had expected to, while listening to on old Chili Peppers record on the I Pod. It also felt great to be out of the office and stretching my legs in the sunshine surrounded by golf courses, palm trees, and all manner of geezers tearing around on their golf carts.

Bree's sister Tamara was there with her daughter Norah. Norah is only 18 days younger than Rachel, so when they get older we hope that they will be able to be good friends. They already really seem to like one another, even if their interaction is limited to passing the occasional toy back and forth. When I got back from running we all took a nice walk together and later that afternoon went to one of the many swimming pools. This particular pool admits people 30 and younger, which includes infants. All the other pools you must be at least 30 with a valid ID to enter. We took the babies in the water with us and they had a great time. These babies had no fear of the pool and seemed to naturally move their legs in a swimming, or frog-like, motion. We, of course, had to support their bodies, especially Rachel who has been suffering from a double ear infection.

That night we went out for a fish fry at one of the country clubs in The Villages. We went there the last time I was there for a visit and as before, I was totally impressed. They have just about the best fish fry that I've ever had outside of Wisconsin. In fact, the first time I was there, I talked to a couple of people who were from Wisconsin and were in some sort of Villages Wisconson Choir. Since there are so many folks from WI that now live in The Villages, it shouldn't be surprising that they demand a good fish fry. The best part of the dinner, however, was that we sat by the windows and outside the dining room, by the pool, a group of older folks in their swim suits were doing the Electric Slide to the music of a dj by the poolside.

Bree's grandparents, Charlie and Peggy, joined us for dinner. I sat next to Charlie, but he has some trouble talking these days so I had a difficult time carrying on a conversation with him. I found this disappointing because I think Charlie is an interesting guy who has a lot of stories to tell. He was born in 1922 and lived in Miami until he was 17. I'm sure Miami was a very different place when he was a kid. Those were the days before air conditioning and the city was only a tiny fraction of its current size. so I was curious to hear some of his stories. stories. He said that dengue fever was still common in the area when he was growing up. He went on to tell a story about how his father got malaria and almost died. However, his father was serving in the British Army in India when he contracted the disease.

The next morning Bree and I took off for the Ocala National Forest to have a look around and take a short hike. On the map the national forest looks very close to The Villages. Unfortunately driving anywhere in central Florida seems to take a very long time if you aren't on the Interstate so it took longer than we expected to get there. We took a short hike to Lake Eaton and another to the Eaton Sinkhole. We covered only about 3 miles on foot, but it was good to get out and see the country from outside of the car out of sight of all the everpresent Florida big box stores and strip malls. The country itself which we were walking through wasn't terribly interesting. It was mostly scrub and pine forest and was very dry. We saw only a few birds and even surprisingly few insects, but we still had a very nice time.

We hurried back to the Villages so that I could meet my father in law Tim to go golfing. I have almost never golfed in my life and only one other time on a course other than the pitch and put at Lake Park in Milwaukee. He took me to the Caroline Course to play nine holes. This was easily the nicest course I've ever played. Several of the holes were over 500 yards and the course is riddled with all sorts of interesting hazzards including waterways where alligators are known to reside.

Golfing looks much easier than it actually is. After a couple of pretty solid opening shots, my game deteriorated badly. No less than four of my shots wound up hitting houses bordering the course. As far as I know, I didn't break any windows, but I did get a very fortuitous richochet off of a roof at one time. Tim made a great approach shot on a green by skimming a ball off of the surface of a pond and up the hillside on the opposite shore. We managed to get our game in before dinner and had a fantastic time. I don't know if I'll ever be much of a golfer but its something I'll definetely do again if I get the chance.

Before leaving the next day we went to visit Bree's grandparents at the small house they bought in the neighboring village. Tamara had to leave for the airport around noon but Bree and I stuck around a little longer to visit. Afterwards we packed Rachel into the golf cart and unfurled the plastic sides and took a run over to the Village Polo Grounds to watch a little bit of the horse pulls. The wind was furious and threatened to rip the plastic sides off of our cart as we made our way along the 40 min. ride, but we eventually made it, albeit a little late for the horse pulls.

Rachel is just about pulling herself up into a standing position, so I figure it is only going to be a little while until she is walking. I don't even know where to start child proofing our house, but we'll figure out a way to make it safe. I hope the dogs have an easy time adjusting to her being more mobile.