I wrote to Air-Way about the Sanitizor lamp I made a while ago, and they actually got back to me. Looks like A and I are now entitled to a half-price vacuum.

Mr. Hacker,

The model you made the lamp from is a model 55 that was produced from 1945 through 1949. Many independent dealers take the top off and use it for an umbrella stand or fill it with sand for an ash tray. Since you own a previous Air-Way you can purchase a new model for 1/2 retail directly from the factory.

Matt/Customer Service

Kind of sad though – their 1940s Sanitizor is about a zillion times more attractive than the contemporary model.

Our cat Plato is 11 years old and his father just died. That fact that I am aware of this fact and that we were able to carry the news to Plato is amazing to me — amazing that a chain of people connected so remotely can stay intact over time and distance – I heard from my wife who heard from an old and occassional friend of hers on the east coast who heard from her antique boyfriend of a decade ago who owned Plato’s father. Wow.

Plato seems sullen today. I think either he understood or he’s tapped into the universoul, as cats are.

–

ORA blog: SliMP3, iRock, etc.

Ladies, you may not know this, but in men’s room urinals there are often plastic mesh splash guards at the bottom of the bowl. Their purpose is allegedly to defeat – or at least to minimize – any kind of scattering or splashing activity, and thus keep your trousers crispy clean. At least that’s what I’ve always imagined their purpose to be – personally, I never had a problem with this even at urinals lacking a splash guard.

Anyway. Several years ago, the phrase “Say No To Drugs” suddenly started appearing on some of these splash guards. You’d be merrily peeing along, then would look down to check your aim, and find yourself reading this phrase. Except you wouldn’t just be reading it – you’d also be peeing on it.

We’re all bombarded with messages of all kinds all day long – marketing, propaganda, etc. etc. But we’re not exactly accustomed to peeing on these messages. It seems to me that something about peeing on the message automaticaly subverts its meaning. Like you’re canceling it out by peeing on it. Sure feels that way to me anyway.

So what I want to know is, whose idea was this and also what in hell were they thinking and also how many people had to sign off to get this bizarre idea all the way from whatever corporate boardroom or esteemed think tank came up with it all the way to manufacturing and distribution, and also didn’t it occur to anyone in this entire chain of operations that the message, no matter how well-intentioned (albeit arguably misguided), would essentially be canceled out in the viewer’s mind by the act of peeing all over it?

Life is weird.

Spent the weekend in North Fork, CA, below Yosemite, at the home of an old surfing buddy and friend from junior high and high school. A simpler life there, near a buddhist monastery. Matt and his wife Stephanie, 4-year-old Lucas and most of their friends all attend the monastery. So a very peaceful time – veggie food, honest people, hot tubbing under the stars (so bright!). Entertained ourselves with improv humor games after dinner.

Highlight: Up the river over a secret path, to a place where eons of bubbling dug amazing huge holes in the granite – bathed in the icy water and dove from rock cliffs, swam through underwater tunnels, ate bagels and carrots in the sun.

Back at the ranch, I goofed around with the mighty Husqvarna on Lucas’s swing:

Rushed home Sunday for more housing madness. More of the same.

Righteous Mac case hacks – I dig the low-fi.

I want to go on a zip ride.

And you wonder why web developers come home with migraines.

Some among you may wish to install a PC Tachometer

This could be the world’s smallest web site.

I really want to live in an Eichler home.

Teleportation is now real.

Not everyone is enjoying Apple’s new “switch” campaign.

Found an antique upright cannister vacuum on trash day, decided to make a lamp for the kid’s room out of it. Of course the job ended up taking half the day rather than the couple hours I had expected. Still, it was worth it – I love doing projects like this, and don’t do enough of them anymore. Well, I do, sort of, just not in meatspace. It’s summer – you’re supposed to be out there getting your thumb crimped in the jaws of the pliers when they slip off a spacer hex. New blood blister!

Amy and I both joined the UC Berkeley rec facilities and can now use any of the pools, weight rooms, etc. This morning went up to Strawberry Canyon. Worked out for half an hour, swam, read magazines under the trees. Totally relaxing. Didn’t come home until 3.

Last night out to dinner at La Note with Josh and Minnette. Great time, stuffed silly. The accordionist started playing “Stairway to Heaven” and “Paint it Black”, French cafe’ style. Between this and the Junior Brown show the previous night, it’s getting a little too pomo for comfort around here. Started remembering lyrics to the songs we played in the quote-unquote “band” we had in junior high… which was more like one brilliant musician, plus us embarrassing ourselves.

Almost a year after the accident, I finally sold the motorcycle. To an Apple employee, no less (WebObjects team). Cool guy. At least I know it’s going to a good home. Not sure why it took me so long. It’s been out of the shop for ages. Just couldn’t bring myself to do it, even though I had already agreed that I wouldn’t be riding it anymore. The guy came to check it out last night, test drove. Offered me a fair price, money for the housing fund. Tonight after work I drove it into SF for him (he was a bit nervous).

But when I got on the bike I realized it was just 35 miles shy of turning 10k miles. No way could that opportunity slip through the fingers. Warm summer evening. The final hurrah. Headed the opposite direction from the highway, up into the Oakland/Berkeley hills, straight for the Grizzly Peak ride. Taking it easy at first, hadn’t done any serious riding in a year, slowly building back up toward the old speeds. But not pushing it. Once bitten and all that. Just felt so good, that time of the day when the light is all golden, everyone is inside eating dinner and watching jeapordy and the hills are on fire with sunset light, smell of pines and eucalyptus, distant ocean smell, the twisties all to myself.

Got really contemplative about it. Of course a big part of me wants to keep the bike and enjoy summer on two wheels. And this other part of me, this new part, that knows so viscerally what happens when you blow it once for a split second, and this other part that’s like genetic programming, self preservation for the sake of the kid (the kid is, after all, the rhetoric I used to sell the bike – “gotta do the dad thing.”) Anyway, I made my peace then and there, leaning into a left hander. Enjoy it this once more, and say goodbye. I feel okay with this. It’s fine.

Gassed up for the buyer and timed it just right – 10,000 miles rolled over on the Bay Bridge heading west into the dusk, the sea all purple on either side, summer night sky coming down, getting cooler. Patted the tank and thanked the bike for the life lessons we took in together, and for all the fun. Got kind of choked up. It was good.