Tag Archives: uptown

I Really Hope Not

Today I resumed my workaday routine after the Holidays. Driving home in icy weather I expected long delays and maybe a crowded gym when I got home owing to my later arrival. I didn’t get the bad drive, but I did get the crowded gym.

Though I arrived right about the time I usually do each evening the gym was wall-to-wall. Literally every exercise station was occupied with somebody doing something. All the treadmills, the ellipticals, the stationary bike, the weight machines, the pullup bars, the free weight benches and the yoga mats. Everything. I think the water fountain even had somebody standing in front of it.

So I left.

I love my workouts these days, but I’m not going to stand in line at an exercise machine for an unknown period of time hovering while I wait for somebody to finish their 20? 30? 40? minute workout. Boring, probably rude and frustrating. Not the workout experience I’m looking for.

Since this is the first time I’ve turned away from my gym since I moved here it got me wondering – why? What was special about today. Then it hit me – it’s the New Year. Crap.

I’m really, really hoping that the crowd I saw tonight is not the New Year’s resolution gang. Those people are like locusts. When they swarm there’s just nothing you can do but be frustrated until February. By then they’ve all returned to whatever they were doing before they made their resolutions, and you get your gym back. I tell you, if ever somebody figured out how to make New Year’s resolutions stick you could make a fortune by building gyms everywhere. We’d need twice as many overnight.

Here’s hoping.

It’s Not Easy Being Greened

I had occasion to be down in the management of my apartment building today and while chit-chatting with one of the staff the subject of exercise came up. It was then that I remembered something that I had meant to mention to the building management a few times last fall but never did. There were times when the gym had been baking hot. This is because in October and November the late afternoon sun shines directly into the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gym and makes a little solar oven out of the place if there is no air conditioning. Each time it happened I doggedly pushed through my workout anyway, but I would be drenched in sweat halfway into my workout and sometimes felt a bit ill from the heat. It was really hot on those evenings. Each time it would happen I would say to myself that I’d call the office the next day, but that I would forget. Days would go by before it happened again, and each time I got too busy at work to follow through and then forget once more.

Since I was standing there this afternoon I went ahead and mentioned it even though it hasn’t happened in many weeks. My previously cheerful apartment manager instantly bristled with indignation as she related what the cause had been.

I’ll tell you what the problem was. We had a green nazi running around the building. She would pry open the thermostats and turn them way up, turn off all the computers in the business center, unplug all the televisions at the elevators, you name it. She would leave little notes behind too.

I suppose they deduced that it was a woman doing it based on the style of the handwriting, because they did not catch her. (Isn’t it funny how you can just about be dead certain of the gender of a person only by a sample of their handwriting? I’d love to see that explained.) Apparently the Green Gestapo Gal was pretty clever, being capable of avoiding surveillance and somehow escaping the attention of the staff and residents.

I commiserated with my friendly apartment manager. I was just as irritated to learn the cause of my extreme discomfort some weeks back. It ticks me off that somebody would feel so smug about their viewpoint being right that they would choose to inflict it on everyone else without our consent or even our involvement. That “greeny knows best” attitude is enough to infuriate me every single time. I heard a funny critique of high-minded greens by a self professed environmentalist and conservationist on the radio recently. He referred to people with coercive green attitudes as those who were “greener than thou.” I loved that. Perfect.

Owing to how political alignments typically work, what do you bet that the Green Shadow here in my apartment building has a negative attitude toward people who want to restrict access to abortions? How do you think she would respond to an anti-abortion activist padlocking the doors to clinics each night when no one was looking? I’ll bet there’s just about a 100% chance that she would consider that act wrong – even criminal. And yet the hypocrite is so sure that her viewpoint on matters related to energy consumption is not only right, but that she is doing the right thing by forcing her views on others. As far as I’m concerned she’s no different at all in point of principle from the abortion clinic vigilante, and if they catch her I hope that they can press charges for something.

I absolutely HATE when people come off as being somehow morally superior to others because of views that they hold. This is despite the fact that I do firmly believe that certain things are right and wrong. Even so, I have a sense of humility about my beliefs and would not be so presumptive as to force them on others.

At a place where I happen to spend a lot of time recently there was a “Green Committee” that got established to try to find ways to reduce water, power, paper and other resource consumption. Fine so far. Then they started posting snarky little signs all over the place which bluntly tried to guilt trip everyone into various “green” behaviors. “Printing that Document Kills a Tree” and other such crap. As you might guess, that really pulled my pin.

When I saw the signs I sent out an email to some of my friends explaining that if anything like that ever happened in my office I would, out of spite, do the following:

  1. Drag the sap soaked body of a dead tree down the full length of the building for all to see
  2. Buy a Hummer that runs on coal and leave it idling all day while I worked
  3. Bathe each morning in bottled water flown in from Japan by fighter jet

Honestly, I would want to.

If you believe in a cause, great. If you want to struggle to make it successful, wonderful. If you want to sacrifice to see it through, I commend you. If, on the other hand, you want to constrain the liberties of others without their involvement, force them to sacrifice against their will for your goals, make them struggle to suit your ends, then I deplore you. You differ from Stalin and Mao and Franco only by degree and you deserve only scorn.

Take a resusable hemp grocery sack and bag your self righteousness greenies. It’s not even the tiniest bit less offensive than any other form of self righteousness.

Ghost Uptown

It’s Christmas Eve, and Uptown is mostly empty. The parking deck under my apartment building is maybe 1/4 full and in the hallways and elevators today I’ve seen a grand total of one other soul. I spent most of the morning catching up on basics like picking up, cleaning, etc. which I have ignored thoroughly for the better part of two months. This afternoon I finished my Christmas shopping and ran a few errands.

When I first went out today it was pretty crowded on the roads once I got out of Uptown. As the day went on, however, I noticed sharp drop off in traffic. “Makes sense,” I thought – “everyone’s gone home to be with their families now.” Uptown is nothing if not young and / or unattached. I’ll bet that my zip code empties out every year just the same way. They all go home to visit their parents more than likely. I did so without fail until my daughter came along, and while she was very little and I was still married everybody came to see us. Anyway, it was while driving back to my apartment that I realized that this may be the very first Christmas Eve in my entire life that I have spent entirely alone.

This year Christmas doesn’t really start for another couple of days. The Greatest Kid in the World and I will be together beginning the night after Christmas and the following day we’ll drive to South Carolina to be with my parents. This schedule is because on even years she spends the days before and including Christmas with her mom and then the days after that until the New Year with me. On odd years it’s the opposite. Right after I moved to Texas last year it was an odd year holiday season, and I spent Christmas in Atlanta with my parents and the GKITW.

So… This is the first year I’ve been in Texas for any part of the Christmas holiday and it’s just me here. Being a single adult has it’s odd moments. This is one of them. Fortunately it doesn’t have me down in the dumps, though I will say that it does bring attention to just how much of an extrovert I am. Tomorrow I’m going to drive back to Georgia (yes, on Christmas day) and the following night I’ll pick up my daughter. That will end about 72 hours straight with me not having socialized with anybody at all. Probably the longest stretch of days I can think of like that in, well, I’m not really sure. A really long time.

Of course when I get back this place will be the exact opposite. I remember clearly from last year. Not only are all of the regular residents back in town, but they’ve brought all of their friends with them. Around here every bar and restaurant is in full swing for the New Year, and I’ll be out among some friends myself greeting 2009.

Until then, however, this place will likely remain just as empty and quiet as it is right now.

Red Wine, Italian Food and Texan Friends

This was a great weekend. In addition to the hikes today and yesterday I got to hang out with old and new friends during the evening.

On Friday Jill and Eric came over from Fort Worth for dinner and drinks. I’ve gone over their way several times so I think they felt like it was only fair to come see me on Friday, and I think they probably were looking for a change from their usual routine anyway. Since Jill was running and I was hiking on Saturday I figured we’d all get carbed up, which gave us a great excuse to have some Italian food at Taverna. It was the third time or so I’ve been there and I continue to think of it as a good standby. The food is solid – not “out of this world good” by any means, but plenty good enough. The wine selection is decent for a casual Friday night and the prices are hard to beat for the Uptown or Knox-Henderson areas.

After we went to dinner we walked around the corner to Bodega Bar (the pictures at this link do not do it justice) and had a final glass of wine to finish off the evening. Every time I go to that place I like it a little better. Amier (the proprietor) was there again on Friday night and I got to catch up with him for a minute about his little girl, now pushing 2 years old.

After my hike at Lake Grapevine yesterday I took a long hot shower and unwound for a little while before crossing the street for a book club meeting at Vino 100. This is the same crew I met with last month at Nikolini’s just a block in the other direction. Love the fact that Tiffany likes to organize wine drinking events that are within stumbling distance of my apartment. We discsuseed Acquired Tastes by Peter Mayle and I had two glasses of Educated Guess cabernet sauvignon. Loved it. I love most cabs of course, but this one was particularly good and reasonably priced considering it’s quality.

edudated-guess-cabernet

And I really enjoyed the company of a couple of new friends that I’ve made as a result of this book club. That and the discussion of Acquired Tastes gave me an idea for a post I plan to make about my most valuable philosophical observation for 2008. But that is the subject of another post.

Words and Wine

This past Sunday I met up with a group that likes to do two things which I’m fond of – read and drink wine. The topic for this particular afternoon was Hemingway’s memoir of life among the Lost Generation in 1920′s Paris entitled A Moveable Feast. It really was a nice way to spend an autumn afternoon and evening.

The meeting was not only right here in Uptown but not even a block away from where I live at Nikolini’s -  a little organic restaurant specializing in Greek food. Their service is casual – even a bit haphazard – but the owner is a very nice lady who spends much of her time working true craft in the kitchen. The food is simply awesome.

The group had appetizers and, on this night, the wine which we brought ourselves. Nikolini’s is apparently between liquor licenses so it operated a bit like a bottle club that day. I brought a nice French red that was recommended to me and thoroughly enjoyed it. So did another member of the group with whom I did not offer to share, but that’s another story.

As we discussed the book we all shared the same perception of Hemingway’s mood. In a word, melancholy. Though he was describing what sounded like was the time of his life as a young, happily married author in the City of Light, the writing itself was unacountably sad. It must have been related to the fact that he wrote the work in his later years, a time when he was clearly – and ultimately fatally – depressed.

One thing that you couldn’t help but notice as you listened to him tell tales about the rest of the so-called Lost Generation authors was just how forlorn and messed up their private lives were. Gertrude Stein and Ezra Pound and many others came across as people who were sad and eccentric. Above them all, however, was F. Scott Fitzgerald. He and his wife Zelda seemed to live in a continual state of chaotic, self-destructive drunkeness. Zelda seemed like the very worst wife you could imagine – jealous of her husband’s success, constantly distracting him with ridiculous drama and outright ridiculing him in private, vicious ways.

You could look back on the tales of those author’s lives and marvel that there could have been such talented and yet unhappy people at that time. But you’d be missing the broader point I think. Those authors were much like our celebrities are today – recall that in the 1920′s not only was television non-existent, but films were silent and even radio was brand new. These writers were the superstars of their time and they were often terribly tragic figures. So it is with our modern superstars, too. There are too many examples of loneliness, frustration, addiction, heartache, misery and death among the Hollywood elite of today to recount. What is it about fame and fortune?

For my part I’m glad that I get to do things like enjoy the company of new acquaintances in the golden afternoon sun of November in Dallas, cutting up, laughing, eating great food and making delicious wine disappear. The anonymous life is just fine I think!

Silver and Gold

When I was a young kid – maybe five or six – my mom would sing a silly little song whenever I talked about the inevitable playground rivalries that come with friendships in early childhood. It went like this:

“Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver and

The other’s gold…”

I don’t know where that comes from but she was fond of it. I was reminded of that last weekend when I had a full slate of activities with new friends and old.

On Friday night I walked to Black Friar just down the street from the apartment and met a couple of women who are co-workers of mine and their dates. Each of the guys were good people and I had a fine time drinking beers and having dinner with them. The weather was “Northern California Nice” that evening and it was just one of those times when staying in would have been a sad and lonely crime. Being able to meet up with no planning whatsoever was exactly the sort of thing that I was hoping for when I moved to Uptown last fall.

Saturday morning I drove to the DFW airport and picked up my best friend of 21 years at E14. Mike had never been to Dallas for any reason other than business and we had set last weekend for his visit some time earlier this year. As guys commonly do, we entirely lacked any plan other than 1) Mike comes to Dallas for a couple of days and 2) we figure it out from there.

So after dropping his stuff off at the apartment we went to Harry’s and got a little lunch (saving dessert for later) and then found our way on foot to the Katy Trail. We walked almost the whole length of the trail, from Knox-Henderson down to within site of the American Airlines Center and back. Mike’s visit was a great excuse to do that – I had not yet gotten to it even though I’ve been in Uptown since October of last year. The trail is pretty nice I think – arguably on the short side but shady in places and great for pedestrians. When we got back to the top of the trail we returned to Harry’s for custard. Mike was appropriately impressed.

Before getting back in the car I hooked Mike into the Apple Store long enough to get him to hold a MacBook Air and check out the new iPods and iPhone. Like I once was, Mike has been a do-it-yourself PC guy forever. He got a big chuckle out me switching to to a Mac last year. But I can tell that the BS you have to go through dealing with Windows at times is wearing on him a little. When we were in the apartment later checking email and stuff I used my MacBook and let him use my work PC for terminal services back into his machines in Atlanta. Our user experiences were…different. My MacBook, of course, connected to the Internet just about instantly when I opened it up. The Dell? Well, somewhere between 30 and 60 seconds after we jarred it awake from standby it finally became useful.

We both sat there wondering why the hell it’s so hard for Microsoft to make that better. Come on guys! My Dell is a dual core machine with 2GB of RAM and a brand new Windows installation. What’s the excuse? The thing almost takes longer to get an IP address when you switch networks than it takes my MacBook to cold boot. I know Microsoft’s engineering problems have had much broader scope due to the open OEM model but jeez – it’s been more than 25 years now since that got started – sure seems like they’d have a better recipe at this point. I’m betting that Microsoft is making their own hardware within the next few years, but I made and lost that bet a few years ago too. We’ll see.

Anyway, after we got rested up we went out to Chuy’s. I had intended to get Mike some good TexMex (it’s a lot better here in Dallas than Atlanta for sure) but honestly Chuy’s disappointed. My chimichanga was overdone. Mike liked his well enough though, and I guess that’s what counted.

St. Patty’s Groundhog Day?

Today will be the test. For the past four days in a row I’ve been dodging drunks and braking for buttheads from McKinney to Greenville and everywhere between. Don’t get me wrong. I like a party as much as the next guy, but this one seemed like a zombie – it never looked like all that much fun but it wouldn’t die. Could just be that I’ve stayed sick and been unable to cut loose with everyone else.

My most memorable scene from the weekend was a gorgeous woman in a bright green sun dress who was so far gone that she was probably just short of the spins. As she tottered barefoot down McKinney on the edge of the sidewalk she nearly fell over into 30 MPH traffic a few times. They weren’t changing lanes or slowing down either – don’t think they saw her until they were right there. This gal was one bad step away from becoming a tragic headline in the Sunday Dallas Morning News. As it was she probably got out of it with nothing worse than a bad hangover and a lost pair of shoes.

Maybe I’ll be singing along with them next year. Right now I just want to have this damned plague I got last week well and thoroughly behind me. Hack. Cough.

The Donkey

When I was a small boy both my parents worked. This was back before daycare was a household word, and working mothers that couldn’t leave kids with their grandmothers made “other arrangements.” My arrangement was staying the day with Mrs. Turbeville. She didn’t like me much but she needed the money. We tolerated one another. Barely.

Her granddaughter, on the other hand, was a joy. She would come visit after school, usually with another sweet girl who was one of her friends. They were teenagers, and I remember them being very pretty. A little boy could hardly ask for better. They played Candyland and Go Fish with me, and we made the hugest card houses you ever saw. Sometimes we watched The Monkeys or Ultraman on TV and sometimes they would take me to walk in the gardens. Those days were especially memorable.

Mrs. Turbeville was the wife of a grounds keeper at Brookgreen Gardens, one of the most beautiful sculpture gardens in all of the world. How it came to be placed in backwoods South Carolina (backwoods then anyway) is a story for another time. The majesty of the work there is something that leaves even children quiet in awe. Huge, beautiful figures carved in stone or cast in aluminum or bronze. Adonis. Aphrodite. Apollo. Zeus. The Muses. The Fates. Fawns. Satyrs. Countless others.
At some places there were poems carved into granite with no other adornment than the words themselves. Years later these too made an impression on me, and today while I stood in church during the Palm Sunday service at Uptown it all came rushing back. Mrs. Turbeville, the sweet girls, the statues, the poetry. The trigger was hearing the scripture recounting Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem on a donkey. The poem that sprang forward from memory was this one by G. K. Chesterton:

The Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms beneath my feet.

Have you ever wondered what forgotten treasures lie hidden in your mind? Things like this make me think about it more than usual.

Lalibela and the ScatMat

A few weeks back I met the Inmans over at yeswehavenobananas. We’ve gotten to do a thing or two together since and last night we met up with a few other Uptown-area folks at Lalibela. No, we did not fly to its namesake Ethiopian city of ancient rock hewn churches. We just drove over to Forest Lane and ate as though we had.

If you haven’t tried Ethiopian food before you are missing out. It’s reminiscent of Mediterranean or Middle Eastern cuisine in some ways, but it’s definitely got its own flavor and style. Lots of good spices and some very brightly colored dishes. Just get used to the fact that you don’t eat with utensils. You scoop up your food with lots of spongy flat bread. And don’t think Lalibela will provide some kind of white table cloth version of Ethiopian dining all scrubbed up to the point you can’t tell it from any place else. You won’t. Chances are you will find yourself all alone except for a handful of real live Ethiopians that come there to feel at home.

With all of that as a back drop we had some hilarious dinner conversation. A couple that is friends with Matt & Erin came along with one of their college roommates. They had their fair share of funny stories. Did you know that there was such a thing called a ScatMat which uses very powerful static electric shocks to train pets not to sit on sofas? Do you know what happens when your unwary friends sit on the ScatMat? Can you guess what might happen when you put the ScatMat in your room mate’s bed before he stumbles home drunk? The Ethiopians might have been confused as to why the Americans were laughing so hard, but they didn’t seem to mind too much.

After that we drove over to Wild About Harry’s where I finally got some of Mr. Conley’s very fine custard along with everyone else. I had the coconut with hot fudge on top. Awesome.

Wrath

Wow am I behind on my Deadly Sins. For those of you that have been tuning in for a while you will recall that I’ve been attending a Sunday school class on the seven deadly sins since the beginning of the year. I’ve missed three of them owing to the fact that I’m in Dallas only every other weekend. As a result I’ve fallen far behind in my write ups on them. On February the 17th our class was on Wrath. If you’ve been following this series on the deadly sins you’ll recall that they get increasingly deadly as they progress toward Pride. Wrath holds 3rd position.

Early in the class series when the deadly sins were discussed broadly people fessed up to which one was their worst – the one they were most likely to succumb to on any given day. Mary said hers was Wrath, which would not be apparent when you meet her. It’s mine also. I was well into adulthood until I finally realized that my easily provoked temper was not in any way valuable, useful or virtuous. Part of that came with age and maturity, part as a result of the patience that comes only with parenthood, part from the general trial-and-error experience of life. I have slowly succeeded in my struggle to contain and dissipate my anger, and I’m a much happier person as a result. So my interest in Wrath is a little more personal that that of the other deadly sins.

Aquinas thought that anger – if very carefully controlled – could be put to positive use. Augustine would have none of that, insisting that it was always dangerous. Although theologians may remain split on this one as they are on many things, Mary was quick to point out that most agree that there is no such thing as “righteous anger.” As a recovering Angry Man, I have to agree with Augustine and the majority opinion. Though I see where Aquinas was coming from – anger perhaps bringing to bear action where it is appropriate – I think that anger is so destructive and risky that even accommodating it for this reason is fraught with peril. Action may indeed result where anger lurks, but it’s very likely that the action itself will be an ill-considered response, and that a cooler head would work with more wisdom. I think of it in the same way that George Washington compared government to fire when he said:

“Government is not reason. It is not eloquence. It is a force, like fire: a dangerous servant and a terrible master.”

Substitute “anger” for “government” in the statement above and you understand why I disagree with Aquinas. While he believed that reason could divert anger to useful purpose, I would argue that reason and anger are essentially opposites. I don’t believe that the mind can entertain both equally at once, and that anger is far better at killing reason than reason is at taming anger. Aquinas’ accommodation of anger must be very appealing however. The idea of righteous anger is a popular one. One of Mary’s questions from class was why we thought that anger is a sin which we tend to defend more than others. I’m not sure that we adequately addressed the question, but I feel certain that we humans too often walk around believing that anger is justified.

Interestingly enough, another of our founding fathers said something about anger which is noteworthy. Contained in Benjamin Franklin’s endless storehouse of aphorisms is this gem:

“What’s begun in anger ends in shame.”

I couldn’t agree more. Note the particulars of this very concise statement. What is begun in anger ends in shame. Not what passes through anger, but what starts there. Throughout all of my experience in life this has ever been the case. Acts carried out with a premeditated anger as their genesis have always ended badly and reflected poorly on me or whoever else I observed making this mistake. Never once did something admirable result in my experience. My guess is that this has something to do with Pride, the deadliest sin and the subject of another Sunday.

The subject was a rich one. Mary asked more than one question which was tough to provide a satisfactory answer for. My favorite of these was wondering why we tend to provide more excuses or accommodation to the sin of Wrath than we do to other sins. I suspect that this also has something to do with Pride, but we did not develop the discussion that day. Other questions regarded God and anger, particularly the God of the Old Testament, and most poignantly the scene of Jesus overturning the tables of the money changers in the Temple at Jerusalem. These are subjects worthy of extended discussion I think. One thing is for sure – I doubt that Jesus woke up one morning hell bent on showing those money changers a thing or two. I suspect his anger caught Him by surprise that day, much as it does many of us on many days. Fully human and fully divine indeed.

I don’t know about you guys, but most of my anger is generally direct at one or more individuals when it gets the best of me. For that reason yet another quote that I first wrote about on New Year’s Day sprung to mind when we talked in class about how to best manage our anger. It is from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

“If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”

I won’t recall all of my thoughts on that again in this post, but I continue to hold that quote as being pretty special. I could go on and on writing about Wrath, it’s pitfalls, and my happiness at being delivered from it as a constant condition. Maybe I’ll continue with that another time.