Month: July 2005

It’s probably just my growing contempt for wholesale/bargain culture, but I have trouble believing the righteousness of the former NBA arena turned church and CEO pastor who pulls in a $200,000 salary. You might point out that I just lauded the architecture of St. Ignatius in the previous post and label me an elitist, but I’ll have you know I also feel the Catholic church runs quite a racket as well. I suppose it’s possible that the whole protestant movement was about people trying to get in on a slice of the soul-money that the Catholic church had been crowding for several hundred years. Martin Luther didn’t really capitalize on it like he could have, but Henry VIII really got things started. I have a feeling that we here in the states have exceeded all expectations.

Yesterday Michelle and I flew down to San Francisco to see a friend get married. A year ago, when we first learned of the wedding, we’d hoped to turn the wedding into a full trip to SF, but with the demand of Michelle’s job and the cost of buying a home, it had to be scaled in to what we now consider the coolest travel day ever.

This part calls for a video montage like you see in movies where the director wants to show a complex series of connections (usually including some sort of drugs or at least antacid tablets) with car doors slamming, jets taking off, landing, etc. Since I don’t have one of those, here’s quick summary of our travels.

4am – woke up, showered, walked the confused dog
5:30am left house for airport
5:45am entered security screening line
6:30am boarded Alaska Airlines 737-400 to SFO
8:10am arrived at SFO
8:20am boarded BART
8:45am changed BART trains at Daly City when a mysterious odor was cause for concern
9:10am started walking from 16th and Mission station towards St. Ignatius
9:30am stopped at a Safeway to pick up wrapping paper (forgot giftbag in PDX), grabbed a snack, wrapped present in parking lot below the US Mint.
10am started walking again
10:15am finally seeing the church from the hill at Webster and Haight, picked up the pace.
10:50am reached St. Ignatius, looked for bathroom to change in
10:55am both changed in record time in a small church bathroom with ice cold marble floors which felt nice because of heat and exertion walking 3 miles carrying a wedding gift.
11am were seated
11:10am ceremony starts
12:30pm leave for reception, walking through the deceptively large Golden Gate park with couple from Des Moines, WA
1pm arrive at reception at San Francisco County Fair building in Golden Gate Park
4pm: take 71 to Powell to pick up some work clothes for Michelle
6:59pm take BART back to SFO, grab some dinner, read some Half Blood Prince
9:30pm board flight back to PDX
11:20pm land in PDX
11:45pm arrive at home

Planes, trains and automobiles (plus some busses and walking). The wedding was cool, and the church was amazing. Easily the most ornate (yet tasteful) I’ve seen in the new world. Golden Gate park is similarly amazing, and I’d love to spend some time there among the pines and eucalyptus. Congratulations to Darren and Rosanna as well. I just have to ignore the pang of guilt about not spending much time in SF, but I’m sure we’ll get back, and we’ve both been there before, so it wasn’t complete treachery.

In sophomore year of high school, my mom would give me $1.50 for lunch on days when I didn’t make a lunch. The idea was that I could buy nearly healthy school lunch. I never liked cheese zombies and the thought of waiting in line for zombie and tomato soup wasn’t that appealing. So I devised a new diet. For 50 cents, I could buy an orange slice from the vending machine. Pepsi had an exclusive contract with our school, so their products were cheaper here than other places. Evidently the candy vending machine people weren’t on as good a foot with the school because junk food cost 65 cents from the machine. I’d pick up the slice during break or right after class then meet Ben for lunch.

Ben and I usually wandered over to the hospital where we parked our bikes. The gift shop at the hospital sold candy for 50 cents a piece, and I opted for two of my orange-wrapped favorites: a bag of Reese’s Pieces and a Kit-Kat. This orange themed meal was really quite enjoyable, though milk probably would have gone better with the chocolate. I ate my nutritious disaster (dubbed the orange diet) and Ben ate his dinner rolls and dried fruit in the lobby of the hospital or somewhere outside on the grounds. Sometimes we’d make it back to campus.

I’m not sure exactly why I stopped the orange diet, but shortly after quitting it, I lost weight. It was probably the combination of riding to and from school, climbing after school, and just being around Ben and Troy. Still – that’s a lot of saturated fat for $1.50. It probably doesn’t compare to toay’s double burgers, but I’ll take it over two patties any day.

Food poisoning is weird. I awoke around midnight last night in heavy sweats and nauseating spins. Something was inside me and wanted out. I camped out with the toilet (note to self, vacuum bathroom floor) for nearly an hour before the worst had passed. Then I returned to bed with a glass bowl and didn’t wake up until the morning. It came and went so quickly.

It was kind of funny though; my mind was racing trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Food poisoning? Punctured intestines? War wounds? Alien Probe? For some reason, they all seemed somewhat plausible at one point or another, but I figured it was probably just food poisoning. Then I remembered the frozen enchilada, black beans, and corn (I won’t say how I remembered them…) I had left out for several hours before eating. Maybe I should have paid more attention to the “keep frozen” warning.

I’ve just settled down after getting back from a weekend with friends north of Seattle. We spent a day with Meghan and Troy (finally) and hit the lake thanks again to Joe’s dad. Not as many photos this year, but some that a few of you might enjoy.

Last night I came to the realization that I don’t really like fireworks. At least, I don’t like not being the one setting them off. I haven’t set off any for some time, but I imagine it’s still just as fun as I remember it. But when you’re nearly hit with a roman candle by the kid across the street and the burning shell barley misses going in your front door, you loose some of that enjoyment. Also, it seems that the people in our neighborhood decided to buy only fireworks with whistlers and repeaters. It was incredibly loud, and I’m not sure how Barley wasn’t a wreck.

The kids across the street have been setting things off for a week now, and I’ve gone to the door several times as a bumblebee slides under my car, or a roman candle bounces off the van and lands in the lavender or other dry plants in the yard. I asked them to be a little more careful once, and while I realize that the kids are just having fun, the roman candle bolt that seared between Michelle and my faces seemed almost personal.

Maybe I should set off some fireworks. Maybe that would make me feel better. All I did this weekend was begrudgingly throw some snap pops. And swim. The swimming was great. And so were the cheddar wursts.