07/09: Another day, another sport
(Well, you knew I was due…)
So we’ve been rock climbing a bit, lately…
Well, more wall-climbing. As it’s all been indoor so far.
It’s my daughter’s fault, mostly. She learned at this camp she’d gone to—being belayed up these three stories or so things. Came back looking for more stuff to climb, so we found a local gym. Between turns belaying, I got to eyeing the bouldering areas, thinking: huh, I could probably do that, now… Got no one to belay me on the higher stuff, but they’ve got walls some twelve or fifteen feet high you can go up and over, a lot with these crazy inverse slopes ‘n overhangs…
Used to have these issues with heights. Not so much a reasoned fear thing as an instinctive thing—vertigo from nowhere, when I got too close to too big a drop. Had sorta incrementally gotten over it over years, and it didn’t stop me from working up to three stories up on ladders, when necessary, but that kind of drop was never something I’d exactly go looking to hang out around… Used to be somethin’ of an obstacle, early in our marriage—my lovely wife had always liked climbing; it really wasn’t my thing.
Dunno quite what happened, but I guess I’m that much more over it, over the years. Been scrambling up the bouldering walls, when not spotting/belaying little ones. Body’s still a little doughy in places from the summer being a relatively sedentary season for me, and I do get that slight, weird sense of spinning sometimes too close to the edge of somethin’, especially going down, but it all seems manageable, now.
Our daughter, meanwhile, is formidable. Climbs anything, at absurd speeds. No fear whatsoever of falling into the rope while being belayed—it’s like, whatever, she’ll scramble up, slip off, swing out and back, grab whatever else is handy.
Spidergirl, that one.
So we’ve been rock climbing a bit, lately…
Well, more wall-climbing. As it’s all been indoor so far.
It’s my daughter’s fault, mostly. She learned at this camp she’d gone to—being belayed up these three stories or so things. Came back looking for more stuff to climb, so we found a local gym. Between turns belaying, I got to eyeing the bouldering areas, thinking: huh, I could probably do that, now… Got no one to belay me on the higher stuff, but they’ve got walls some twelve or fifteen feet high you can go up and over, a lot with these crazy inverse slopes ‘n overhangs…
Used to have these issues with heights. Not so much a reasoned fear thing as an instinctive thing—vertigo from nowhere, when I got too close to too big a drop. Had sorta incrementally gotten over it over years, and it didn’t stop me from working up to three stories up on ladders, when necessary, but that kind of drop was never something I’d exactly go looking to hang out around… Used to be somethin’ of an obstacle, early in our marriage—my lovely wife had always liked climbing; it really wasn’t my thing.
Dunno quite what happened, but I guess I’m that much more over it, over the years. Been scrambling up the bouldering walls, when not spotting/belaying little ones. Body’s still a little doughy in places from the summer being a relatively sedentary season for me, and I do get that slight, weird sense of spinning sometimes too close to the edge of somethin’, especially going down, but it all seems manageable, now.
Our daughter, meanwhile, is formidable. Climbs anything, at absurd speeds. No fear whatsoever of falling into the rope while being belayed—it’s like, whatever, she’ll scramble up, slip off, swing out and back, grab whatever else is handy.
Spidergirl, that one.
31/07: Sailboarding the second
Did a second lesson yestereve. Much less stressful conditions. Wind was generally just enough to keep the sail from luffing, with occasional slightly more vigourous gusts. I got to the point where I could reasonably systematically sail back and forth across the wind, beam reach to beam reach, stepping around the sail at either end without too much drama. Was doing these 30 to 50 metre tacks out toward the middle of the river and back.
Fell maybe three times, all just at the very beginning of it, dropped the sail once or twice otherwise—that more later—body getting tired. For most of the three or so hours, it went pretty smoothly. Was actually dry when I finally stepped off the board at the end.
Muscles seem to be getting a lot more used to it, already. After that first session, my legs were screaming. This morning they just feel a little tighter. Well used, is all. Like they usually do early on in snowboarding season.
Liking this. Will definitely try to squeeze in a few more sessions while we’ve still got the weather.
Fell maybe three times, all just at the very beginning of it, dropped the sail once or twice otherwise—that more later—body getting tired. For most of the three or so hours, it went pretty smoothly. Was actually dry when I finally stepped off the board at the end.
Muscles seem to be getting a lot more used to it, already. After that first session, my legs were screaming. This morning they just feel a little tighter. Well used, is all. Like they usually do early on in snowboarding season.
Liking this. Will definitely try to squeeze in a few more sessions while we’ve still got the weather.
So I took a sailboarding lesson the other day.
I know, I know. It’s like a new hobby or sport every few months ‘round here…
But hey, I figure lotsa guys have a midlife crisis, buy a red convertible sportscar and/or find ‘emselves a mistress. I’m going with somethin’ a little cheaper, a little easier on everyone involved: a new sport/hobby on a regular basis until I’m satisfied I’ve crossed enough off my ‘things to do before dying’ list for this decade. Or dead. Or just dead tired. Whichever.
And no, in case anyone’s wondering, I’m not particularly having a crisis. I don’t think. Just kinda getting some stuff done I’d always meant to. Had meant to try sailboarding for years and years, somehow just never got it to happen. Used to sail, decades ago, but never on a board—so it was a sort of unfinished business. Tried once on a vacation, got stood up by the instructor… So anyway, it was overdue. And what with this being a mostly stay at home summer for various reasons, and what with there being decent winds on the river down by Brittania, and, apparently, a sizeable contingent of sailers and instructors locally, I figured now was good. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
And speaking of dead/dead tired, I’m the latter of those right now. Lessons learned about sailboarding: it does require some effort from the limbs. Lesson learned about my body: it’s not really in great shape right now. Tho’ this is kinda standard for me, in the summer, when there’s not normally much I’d actually use muscle tone for. So legs and arms are a bit tired right now.
Legs especially. I think this was a combination of the fact that they do have work to do in this sport, and mine had just enough tone ‘n strength left from the winter that I kept thinking I could do more with them than I really can. So they’d get into this bouncing/twitching tired/spasming muscle thing, which tends to end poorly. Like with me in the water and my legs only that much more shot. And the wind was a smidge high for training yestereve, apparently. Instructor was offering we might also try it another night, with more learning-friendly winds, but I figured, hey, I’m here, things are happening, if painfully, let’s just see what I can get done. I can come back on an easier night, too—it’ll be a breeze.
If you’ll pardon the expression. Anyway: I did eventually manage to start getting the sail out of the water and pulling the thing slowly forward. And I did get some half-competent speed control going, in a very narrow range between barely moving and slightly more than barely moving, gusty winds notwithstanding, even through tired, wobbly limbs. And some somewhat less competent directional control. And managed to turn the board right around from reach to reach in what I guess is the boarding equivalent of tacking several times, many of them, eventually, without even falling off—which had been my initial problem with that maneuver. Tho’ for some reason, it doth seem I’m better at handling it with the wind to the port of the board than the starboard, go fig. The former, I could go some tens of metres reliably enough (before having to come about, on account of being well out of reach of the instructor). The latter, that was a lot harder. Somethin’ about my stance, I’d guess. Kept going like for a few seconds at a time, losing balance, and/or dropping the sail from fatigue…
Anyway: I’m liking it so far. Trying to set up another night, sometime soon. Hopefully, a few critical muscle groups will be a little more ready for it next time.
I know, I know. It’s like a new hobby or sport every few months ‘round here…
But hey, I figure lotsa guys have a midlife crisis, buy a red convertible sportscar and/or find ‘emselves a mistress. I’m going with somethin’ a little cheaper, a little easier on everyone involved: a new sport/hobby on a regular basis until I’m satisfied I’ve crossed enough off my ‘things to do before dying’ list for this decade. Or dead. Or just dead tired. Whichever.
And no, in case anyone’s wondering, I’m not particularly having a crisis. I don’t think. Just kinda getting some stuff done I’d always meant to. Had meant to try sailboarding for years and years, somehow just never got it to happen. Used to sail, decades ago, but never on a board—so it was a sort of unfinished business. Tried once on a vacation, got stood up by the instructor… So anyway, it was overdue. And what with this being a mostly stay at home summer for various reasons, and what with there being decent winds on the river down by Brittania, and, apparently, a sizeable contingent of sailers and instructors locally, I figured now was good. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
And speaking of dead/dead tired, I’m the latter of those right now. Lessons learned about sailboarding: it does require some effort from the limbs. Lesson learned about my body: it’s not really in great shape right now. Tho’ this is kinda standard for me, in the summer, when there’s not normally much I’d actually use muscle tone for. So legs and arms are a bit tired right now.
Legs especially. I think this was a combination of the fact that they do have work to do in this sport, and mine had just enough tone ‘n strength left from the winter that I kept thinking I could do more with them than I really can. So they’d get into this bouncing/twitching tired/spasming muscle thing, which tends to end poorly. Like with me in the water and my legs only that much more shot. And the wind was a smidge high for training yestereve, apparently. Instructor was offering we might also try it another night, with more learning-friendly winds, but I figured, hey, I’m here, things are happening, if painfully, let’s just see what I can get done. I can come back on an easier night, too—it’ll be a breeze.
If you’ll pardon the expression. Anyway: I did eventually manage to start getting the sail out of the water and pulling the thing slowly forward. And I did get some half-competent speed control going, in a very narrow range between barely moving and slightly more than barely moving, gusty winds notwithstanding, even through tired, wobbly limbs. And some somewhat less competent directional control. And managed to turn the board right around from reach to reach in what I guess is the boarding equivalent of tacking several times, many of them, eventually, without even falling off—which had been my initial problem with that maneuver. Tho’ for some reason, it doth seem I’m better at handling it with the wind to the port of the board than the starboard, go fig. The former, I could go some tens of metres reliably enough (before having to come about, on account of being well out of reach of the instructor). The latter, that was a lot harder. Somethin’ about my stance, I’d guess. Kept going like for a few seconds at a time, losing balance, and/or dropping the sail from fatigue…
Anyway: I’m liking it so far. Trying to set up another night, sometime soon. Hopefully, a few critical muscle groups will be a little more ready for it next time.
23/07: And another
… as the strike is over, Pharyngula and Respectful Insolence are back on the roll. As you were, carry on, &c.
(1) One of our cars—the Prius—will be headed in for repairs shortly. Body work. Some (ahem) smacked into it from the side on St-Laurent a few days back, while my lovely wife was driving—said (ahem) tried to merge into her lane, notwithstanding she was already in it, her with nowhere to go. Insured, all doable, cosmetic but significant all the same. And no, no injuries. An inconvenience and an insult, mostly.
(2) An order of magnitude less important, but still mechanical, the Surfin’ Bird’s pretty little four-stroke is fine after the other day’s not-really-a-landing. Ran it up this evening to check; still sounds lovely. The bird in general is almost fully cleaned and repaired now; might fly again tomorrow.
(3) Ophelia is correct, as she generally is, that this Breitbart asshat is a loathsome, disgusting excuse for a human being. Contempt is made for such fuckwads.
(4) In a development that will surprise no one, multiple sources are telling CP Statistics Canada did not recommend the census changes. Despite the BS a certain minister has been spreading on that score. And I’d like to hang out my shingle as a psychic now, as I swear to you, when I heard that wank make that very claim on the radio some days back, I was thinking it was, more or less, exactly this. As in: sure they ‘recommended it’. After we demanded they do so.
(5) And Ben Goldacre is still awesome. And he’s been awesome at least since 2007, when he bought his dead cat a certain mail-order degree to illustrate a certain point. And he’s still awesome this week, having just caught the same slimey wank who was the subject of said story in a hilariously silly attempt to claim the Twitter feed in which she’d said something stupid and potentially actionable wasn’t hers—notwithstanding said feed was linked from sites around her media empire. (Holds hands to head, ‘Carnac the Magnificent’-style). I see great things in this young man’s future.
Thassall for now. Further bulletins as events warrant.
(2) An order of magnitude less important, but still mechanical, the Surfin’ Bird’s pretty little four-stroke is fine after the other day’s not-really-a-landing. Ran it up this evening to check; still sounds lovely. The bird in general is almost fully cleaned and repaired now; might fly again tomorrow.
(3) Ophelia is correct, as she generally is, that this Breitbart asshat is a loathsome, disgusting excuse for a human being. Contempt is made for such fuckwads.
(4) In a development that will surprise no one, multiple sources are telling CP Statistics Canada did not recommend the census changes. Despite the BS a certain minister has been spreading on that score. And I’d like to hang out my shingle as a psychic now, as I swear to you, when I heard that wank make that very claim on the radio some days back, I was thinking it was, more or less, exactly this. As in: sure they ‘recommended it’. After we demanded they do so.
(5) And Ben Goldacre is still awesome. And he’s been awesome at least since 2007, when he bought his dead cat a certain mail-order degree to illustrate a certain point. And he’s still awesome this week, having just caught the same slimey wank who was the subject of said story in a hilariously silly attempt to claim the Twitter feed in which she’d said something stupid and potentially actionable wasn’t hers—notwithstanding said feed was linked from sites around her media empire. (Holds hands to head, ‘Carnac the Magnificent’-style). I see great things in this young man’s future.
Thassall for now. Further bulletins as events warrant.
01/07: TCP keepalive
17/06: Anti-earworm edition
… so I’ve got this incredibly stubborn earworm. It’s been playing in my head like about the last two days, I think, now.
It’s not a bad song. A bit vapid, maybe, a bit melodramatic, and maybe trying a bit too hard to be arty, the way 80s synth-pop sometimes did (and yes, it is 80s synth pop—I do have some of this stuff rattling around up there, having lived through that decade). But there are worse things, in my ever so humble opinion. Like not trying particularly to be anything but saleable. Or, say, posing as being so studiously detached and flippant about the business of performing and composing you wonder whyinhell they bothered to show up to record it in the first place—an error more popular more recently, really…
Anyway, regardless, it has to go. It’s getting really annoying. And as there’s no way in hell I’m rewarding such a stubborn little composition’s survival effort by going and infecting someone else with it (say, by even so much as mentioning its name), I’m seriously not gonna post the video here or nothin’…
So this is an anti-earworm. Or, more probably, like the first of a dozen tries at one: The Hip’s Locked in the Trunk of a Car.
It’s not a bad song. A bit vapid, maybe, a bit melodramatic, and maybe trying a bit too hard to be arty, the way 80s synth-pop sometimes did (and yes, it is 80s synth pop—I do have some of this stuff rattling around up there, having lived through that decade). But there are worse things, in my ever so humble opinion. Like not trying particularly to be anything but saleable. Or, say, posing as being so studiously detached and flippant about the business of performing and composing you wonder whyinhell they bothered to show up to record it in the first place—an error more popular more recently, really…
Anyway, regardless, it has to go. It’s getting really annoying. And as there’s no way in hell I’m rewarding such a stubborn little composition’s survival effort by going and infecting someone else with it (say, by even so much as mentioning its name), I’m seriously not gonna post the video here or nothin’…
So this is an anti-earworm. Or, more probably, like the first of a dozen tries at one: The Hip’s Locked in the Trunk of a Car.
08/06: The annual ritual/to la Niņa
And then, mercifully, the precipitation turned. My lovely wife (along with others) has this predication that this being a La Niņa year, we’ll get a cooler winter, with more snow, this season coming…
Which would be awesome. Since last year truly sucked for boarding and skiing ‘round here. Pardon me while I imagine deep snow, and me flying over it, again, briefly…
(Pause for spaceout…)
Anyway: it’s looking as of these last weeks like such predications might be borne out, as we’re getting rain like crazy. And the grass and clover I reseeded in bare and thin areas is growing like mad. And the roses pictured here, likewise, tho’ the work to chase off various arthropod pests has been a bit heavier this year than usual. That pretty little yellow thing is an English tea rose that suffers terribly from aphids, and really wasn’t in the mood to bloom until I’d thoroughly discouraged them by soaping them off repeatedly.
But, as demonstrated in the images, it’s taking off now. And the Explorers (a variety bred for this area, in this area) are racing off happily—keeping ‘em deadheaded is a daily ritual.
Mind you, that’s a problem’s nice to have, on balance.
So: to La Niņa. And to rain.
(/ And to snow, later on. Lots of snow. Please. We’re due, after all.)
19/04: Still fried
I know. Been quiet.
Gotta keep this terse. Sorta dying, here. So:
Busy business trip. Productive. But exhausting. Discovered the redeye outta Phoenix to the hub is just as crowded as all the rest of the damned flights are, and now you wind up crowded into a freightcar with seats hurtling thru’ the lower stratosphere and unable to sleep notwithstanding your body is telling you it’s something like 4 am in the timezone you normally call home. Kids sick, wife sick, me sick, no one around here is especially happy about this. Lost favourite rocket in a tree something like a kilometer from where it was expected to land. Getting tired of such events; now building larger if somewhat less rapidly ascending flying machine responsive to commands on frequencies around 2.4 GHz and thus hopefully less vulnerable to winding up somewhere in the North Atlantic due to unpredictable winds 1,000 feet up. Kids seem to think this is a good idea, in between bouts of respiratory distress. Further bulletins as events warrant if I live.
Gotta keep this terse. Sorta dying, here. So:
Busy business trip. Productive. But exhausting. Discovered the redeye outta Phoenix to the hub is just as crowded as all the rest of the damned flights are, and now you wind up crowded into a freightcar with seats hurtling thru’ the lower stratosphere and unable to sleep notwithstanding your body is telling you it’s something like 4 am in the timezone you normally call home. Kids sick, wife sick, me sick, no one around here is especially happy about this. Lost favourite rocket in a tree something like a kilometer from where it was expected to land. Getting tired of such events; now building larger if somewhat less rapidly ascending flying machine responsive to commands on frequencies around 2.4 GHz and thus hopefully less vulnerable to winding up somewhere in the North Atlantic due to unpredictable winds 1,000 feet up. Kids seem to think this is a good idea, in between bouts of respiratory distress. Further bulletins as events warrant if I live.
