Author: cdwan

Was your costume cool enough to merit a picture in the local paper? Mine was.

I was greeted at the dojo with cries of “Cover Boy!”

I got a fortune the other day, which I just found as I was cleaning out my wallet:

Act like a role model. The younger are watching.

Sigh.

In the morning, my small cat (who is somewhat skittish) likes to come and sit on my desk, between my forearms, as I type the morning emails. Sometimes, she’ll rub the top of her head on my chin and purr.

This morning, I noticed that I still had an OS install CD in my laptop, so I hit “eject” while she was here.

When the CD unexpectedly bumped her leg, she just about hit the ceiling.

It’s all okay. She’s back now … but noticeably closer to me and further from the computer.

We have movie footage of me in the sumo suit, running in the 5k.

Unfortunately, I’m not cool enough to “embed” an mpg off my own web page. You’ll have to get that index finger moving and click here

Pictures are hereby shared, of the moving process, a couple of trips to Detroit, and a Halloween party.

In short: I wore an inflatable costume which turned me into a mighty sumo wrestler. This morning, I wore that same costume to run in a 5K benefiting the East Providence Fire Department. Running in costume played hell with my split times … but I’m proud of my 26:40, all things considered.

What a day.

I passed a housing inspection.

I scheduled the removal of nearly 100 feet of tree, from someone else’s property.

I bought $5000 of windows … for my tenant … the nun.

I wandered the streets of my college town, recalling the glory days.

And now, I sit, finishing my hookah, and I hear the following from the next table over: “Dude, this comes from a place of love, but I don’t think that a convention of psychiatrists could help you.”

We passed the house inspection.

The inspector was a big, rather intimidating guy with a badge that hung around his neck. He asked questions, I answered them. I showed him the inside of the rental unit and he looked at the french doors that divide the living and dining rooms.

“Oop. These doors have to go. They gotta go right now. I’ll put them in my trunk.”

I was stunned, and readied myself to help with the doors … until he punched me in the arm and said “gotcha, those are some nice doors though.” This continued through the apartment until finally he said: “Well, sorry man, but I’ve got to write you up.” He then wrote “OK – PASS” on his form, and laughed a bit.

He gave me paperwork on what to do for the bill and certificate. Then came the truly surreal part: I walked him to his car. Standing on the sidewalk, he turned to me and I thanked him for coming out. He looked me in the eye and unexpectedly gave me a very small, almost Japanese bow … without breaking eye contact. The laughing extortionist was totally gone, replaced by a very serious man who cared about his city: “No,” he said, “Thank you for maintaining the property. You’re doing a good job. Keep it up.”

Confused, and relieved, I watched him go.

In that spirit, I plan to be at Arbor Brewing Company at about 7pm tonight. I’m hungry for garlic fries.

Morbid, but interesting: crime statistics compared by city. Check out the comparison between minneapolis and detroit. I assumed, wrongly, that Detroit would own every category. Not so. Murder, and assault … certainly … but apparently they don’t rape all that much in Detroit.

How bizzare.

At the house in Detroit. As I came in, there was a drum circle going on at the community center on the corner, so I wandered up, braving the whole *one block* walk up the street. All by myself in the big mean city. I don’t mean to discount it … I mean … Detroit *is* a seriously big and mean city … but come on. I can make it to the community center on the corner.

So I did. I joined the drum circle for a while … and was content to hit “1” every now and then. Wow. Some people are much better drummers than me. Then I sat outside by the fire for an hour or so, chatting with some other random guy. Out of nowhere, he said that he’s unhappy with his life and asked me what he should do. I told him to practice compassion. He asked what that meant. I said “when you drive, deliberately wish each of the other drivers a good day. Do that for six months, and then re-evaluate how you feel about yourself.”

The stoners and hippies who had come to hear what was being said were all like “woah.”

Maybe I am making some progress here. I seem to not only getting useful answers for myself … but random people are asking me for advice (again).

Also: If anyone wants to get together for food tomorrow night, I have this vague desire to see Ann Arbor. Takers? Anyone? *crickets* …

Hey look, it’s me … talking to a bunch of geeks. I haven’t watched it yet, so I have no idea how it looks … except that I need to suck in my gut when photographed from waist height.

The slides are here.