Saturday, January 18, 2014

Oops -- posted my new blog's first post on the old blog by mistake. Here's the new blog.

Jack and Mrs Elliott Done Moved to Bend

(Oops - posted this on the old blog. The new one is here.)

I'm retiring my previous blog, "Jack and Mrs Elliott Move to Bend" because I started it in 2008 as we were planning our move here, but we've been here for five years now, so we done moved here already. The title is out of date.

I played with Facebook for a while, but the signal to noise ratio, as we engineers put it, is poor. Very little information, a lot of noise. It's well-suited for people who like small talk, but I'm not one of those folk.

My Facebook page is still there, but I'm not going to spend a lot of time hanging out on Facebook.

So here I am.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Okay, I'm Back

After a brief flirtation with Facebook, I'm going to do more posting on this blog. FB is for folks with short attention spans and a willingness to put up with a lot of online noise and chatter.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Living Out of Suitcases, or Our Whirlwind Car Trip to Two Sand States

It's nice to be home. Mrs Elliott and I just returned from a 12-night car trip. It went like this:

Day 1: We drove down highway 97 to Weed, then took Interstate 5 to Vacaville, Calif., to visit the elder of Mrs. Elliott's sons and his grandchildren. Overnighted at a Motel 6. Typical "brick in a parking lot" motel. I couldn't live there. Too crowded, too generic.

Day 2: Drove to Denair, Calif., to visit the grandchildren of the younger of of Mrs. Elliott's sons. Then to Murphys, Calif., in the Sierra foothills to tourist. Stayed at the historic Murphys Hotel, in the new building. The room was a typical modern motel room. No character but okay. However, Murphys is a popular destination with the Harley crowd which makes for a lot of noise in motel parking lots, partly due to the unnecessary noise of the machines and the drink beer and party nature of the riders. Harley riders never class up a place. But we liked the town a lot -- plenty of ladyshopping for Mrs Elliott, tons of wine tasting for Jack, good restaurants. Best fish tacos we've ever had (at Firewood). Bought several bottles of good Calaveras county wine.

Day 3: Decided to stay another night in Murphys and moved to the Victoria Inn, a nice bed and breakfast off the main street. As is normal for bed and breakfasts, the room was a bit ticky-boo and quirky. But it was quiet and comfortable. I couldn't live there -- the only music is old guys playing Bluegrass. But I could vacation there for a week or two.

Day 4: Drove to Encinitas, Calif., to visit Mrs Elliott's mother, who is in her 80s and ailing, in and out of the hospital. We stayed at a Days Inn -- another brick in a parking lot motel -- and checked out in the morning. I've lived in San Diego North county.

Day 5: Decided to stay another day visiting with Becky, which we did. We returned to the same Days Inn for a second night.

Day 6: More visiting, then a drive to Palm Springs in time for wandering up and back the main drag and some dinner. I didn't find the town very interesting, the restaurants were uninspired, the shops typical. Stayed at the Comfort Inn, which was newly-refurbished. Perfectly acceptable. I could not live in Palm Springs: too generic, didn't charm me. I've lived in stucco and sand places before.

Day 7: Drove on the I-10 to Phoenix, or more accurately to Sun City West "Geezerabad," to visit H. Bruce Miller and his lovely wife Sharon who are wintering in a nice little bungalow, or casita. They've just bought a new house down near Tucson, in Oro Valley, where they feel they will be more comfortable than in Bend. They will be listing their classic early '60s ranch-style house here this summer. Fingers crossed for an easy sale with a good price. We enjoyed a fine barbecue dinner, wines, and Bruce and I shared Scotch and cigars, all courtesy of our hosts. I slept well. I could not live in that region: another endless and character-free southland sprawl of monotonous houses and generic stores.

Day 8: Drove back to Encinitas on the I-8, a dull dull drive, to check in with Becky again, then to Los Angeles for the night. Lodging in Los Angeles is really hit or miss. Most places were either creepy and run down or too pricey for us. Several years ago we stayed at a somewhat ratty Comfort Inn, and didn't want to stay there again. We drove around the town after dark checking out one place after another, getting more and more tired. We finally decided to try the Azul Motel listed on Hotels.com which turned out the be that same damn Comfort Inn under new name and management. We just gave in and got a room. It was fine.

Day 9: Visited with Mrs Elliott's father and stepmother for breakfast then drove north -- north! Finally, my back turned to the southlands, the states of sand and stucco. We drove up the 101, had lunch in Carpinteria -- where we agreed we could live -- then through Santa Barbara, my town of birth, over the San Marcos pass into Santa Ynez which has grown plenty in the intervening years and is now a serious wine-growing region with nice shops and restaurants and wine-tasting places in the town. Bought several bottles of wine. Then continued onward to Avila Beach, a nice rustic beach town. Stayed at the Avila Beach Inn, which like most beachy places seems to be in a continual state of disrepair. I couldn't live there -- absolutely nothing to do, but it was quite enjoyable for the night.

Day 10: We continued northward on 101. I had hoped to visit a wine store in Paso Robles and maybe get some good local zins, but it was a Sunday and all the shops were closed in the morning. So that didn't work out so good. We continued the drive and had lunch in Carmel-by-the-sea, which, if you've ever been there, you know has more high-end art galleries and clothing stores than it has people. Then to Santa Cruz to visit my daughter who is spring breaking with her boyfriend. She goes to UC Irvine, he to UC Santa Cruz. Dinner on the wharf at a tourist restaurant. We stayed at the Casablanca Inn and Bistro, a quirky hotel above the boardwalk. The bistro was closed until further notice. The man behind the glassed-in front desk looked like John Waters and spoke to us through a grill. Mrs Elliott wanted to visit the arcade on the boardwalk where we bought a bunch of tokens, played a trivia game, a shoot 'em up fake rifles test of skill game, and a pretend you're a musician by pounding on an electronic drum kit along with your song of choice game/activity. It was fun. But the town was too crowded for me, and about that time I was getting tired of feeling sticky due to the damp and cool marine air.

Day 11: To the Napa Valley. I lived in Napa for a few years when I was a kid and liked the area. Mrs Elliott and I stopped briefly in town to buy some wines at  Back Room Wines, a wine shop with a good reputation, and they recommended that when we got into the valley to stop at Plumpjack winery for a taste. Which we did. There, we bought a bottle or two and walked out with a short list of wineries they felt were making good examples of Napa Valley vintages. We didn't know where we were going to stay, but it being an off-season Monday we reckoned we'd have options. I had been told by our friend Michael Hill to try to have a meal in Yountville in one of the five-star restaurants there, but lodging in Yountville is out of our price range and we didn't find a ladyshopping area that attracted Mrs Elliott so we continued up to St. Helena which looked all right and we got a room just down the highway at the El Bonita motel. Because we were about a mile south of town and wanted to have dinner and wine without risking a DUI, we called for a cab to give us a lift. The ride was about three minutes and the fee was $20. The taxis in the area are not a good deal. After dinner we shopped a bit then took public transport on the Vine bus back to the motel for $1.50 apiece. We felt this to be a somewhat better deal.

Day 12: Agreeing that St. Helena wasn't much of a town for our type of touristing, we shifted to Calistoga, a few miles north on the highway, got a room at the Golden Haven spa, booked spa treatments for the evening, arranged for a driver to take us around the wineries, packed a picnic lunch, and visited several very nice places, including the don't-miss Castillo di Amorosa, which is a lovely winery (though the wines aren't all that). We finished our tour at the von Strasser winery where Rudy von Strasser, the owner, gave us a tour. The mobile bottling service was bottling Rudy's wines at the time so we also got to watch a modern wine bottling system at work. From all these wineries, we bought more wines. But after all that tasting we had to dry out before our spa treatments at 7:30 so we ate lightly in the room. The spa treatments we had booked were: mud bath then mineral springs jacuzzi soak then warm blanket wrap then massage. I didn't care much for the mud bath: the sulfur smell of the natural hot springs water combined with the gritty mixture of clay and peat moss to give the impression that I was laying in a trough of hot liquid manure. I was thankful when we got out and could shower each other off. I reckon I could live in the Napa valley as it is a beautiful place, so long as I could afford it and didn't mind the horrific traffic on the highway and the Silverado Trail during high season.

Day 13: A nine-hour drive back to Bend, mostly up the I-5 then highway 97. We stopped in Weed and ate lunch at the excellent Asian-American Barbecue shop. We got home at 4:30 pm. It was uneventful.

I am thankful to be home.

What I Learned On This Trip: I know how to pack for when we are going to stay in a single location for a few nights. But this kind of travel, where one stays only one night at each location, requires a different kind of packing. One doesn't have the luxury of unpacking a suitcase and using the closets and drawers; instead, one is living out of one's suitcase. None of the places we stayed had elevators, and first floor rooms are usually the first to be booked, so heavy suitcases are a nuisance when trodding up and down stairs. I'm not quite sure how to improve on how I packed, but I will think about it.

And always bring audiobooks. Any trips where one is driving a few hundred miles a day is bound to take one through long boring stretches. We listened to all of The Bone Bed -- Patricia Cornwell's excellently-detailed and researched crime mystery, and almost all of John Grisham's The Litigators. It appears that mysteries are a nice compromise between Mrs Elliott's and my taste in reading.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

We Pause for this Birthday

I turned 63 yesterday! Jeepers!

Mrs Elliott took me out for dinner last night. She asked me where I wanted to go, and I picked Bōken, downtown. The food there is wonderful: densely-flavored and rewarding. If you are a fan of mild, "safe" foods, if two or three chilies are too "devilish" for you, then Bōken is not for you; but if you appreciate and seek "challenging" food, check the place out.


Just before the soup arrived, my beloved 22 year-old daughter called to wish me a happy birthday. We briefly discussed how school was going, and (here's the Big Deal for me), it was at that moment that I realized that I don't have to fret about her any more.

She's going to be okay: My girl child has things under control. I can relax, Dad can let go now. She is intelligent and autonomous, "launched," and has a Plan.

So while that thought was settling in, the soup arrived. Being totally about me, I knew that daughters are for a lifetime, but hot soup is ephemeral. So I had to say goodbye to my sweet daughter.

Me talking to the best daughter a man can have. Soup had not yet arrived.
The food was lovely, we came home, I built a fire, we basked. Mrs Elliott and I stayed up late last night.

Today, Sunday, has been a mellow day. We went to the Victorian cafe for breakfast, I had a couple Bloody Marys.

Mrs Elliott originally had plans to go to drive to Bachelor for skiing, but the truth is, she and I have only enough energy to putter about. (See "Mrs Elliott and I stayed up late last night.", above.)

Today, she's been banging about downstairs, building office furniture from Office Depot for her new office while I've been doing computer geek stuff on her company computers.

While I was staring at a warning screen from a third-party firewall application, my dear son, who runs on his own schedule, called to wish me a happy birthday-- it was a day late but that's how the boy rolls and I'm good with it. He invited me and the missus out for dinner tomorrow night. I'm pleased.

I requested Sweet Saigon. It ain't great Vietnamese food for aficionados (my former technician, Phan Dai, a Vietnamese guy, tasted their offerings at Pho Viet cafe out on 3rd and pronounced it to be "uninteresting"), but their VS1 sandwich is -- to me -- stunningly delicious.

So that's my choice. It's cheap and easy, and what my son can afford.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Got Sidetracked

I was working on Part 2 of my multi-part story about my research into the old rail spur beside Wall Street Storage when I got sidetracked (heh) by some computer issues in Mrs Elliott's company.

It started with the hard drive on Mrs Elliott's computer -- the computer she uses and which also serves the company accounting files with the bookkeeper. It was making some funny sounds, and the machine crashed a couple times.

So my attention was deservedly diverted.

I ran some diagnostics on the drive and, yep, it came up as an unhappy camper.

Paul Spencer (of Paul the Computer Guy) said that the drive needed to be backed up immediately and the data cloned it to a new drive.  I ran the backup, then drove the machine to his shop for the cloning.

That was Friday morning of last week.

Later that same day, they called to say that while the cloning went fine, the machine was running slower than they felt it should, so they were going to scan it over the weekend for viruses.

(Computer viruses are a rather small subset of what is known as "malware" or malicious software: an umbrella term for all sorts of computer nasties. Wikipedia says that malware

[...] includes computer virusesransomwarewormstrojan horsesrootkits,keyloggersdialersspywareadware, malicious BHOsrogue security software, and other malicious programs; the majority of active malware threats are usually worms or trojans rather than viruses.)

This worried me. Were malware found on Mrs Elliott's computer, then other company computers might be infected, too. So over the weekend I scanned the other computers and while most came up clean, one was hosting a kind of trojan called a Browser Helper Object, or "BHO," and another had a malicious rootkit. I scrubbed them both, but I was troubled.

To be fair, I have a good firewall between the office and the big bad wild world of the Internet, I have a  good and strong anti-virus program on all the computers (except for my personal Linux machine which doesn't need it, a-hem), and I recently rebuilt the wireless network in the building so that visitors and employees with mobile devices are restricted to a "guest" wireless network which keeps them from accessing the company computer resources. I thought we were fairly safe.

Anyway, on Monday, when I picked up Mrs Elliott's computer after Paul the Computer Guy's shop, they reported that no malware was found on it. There were a few extraneous processes they found running that might have slowed it down a bit, but nothing malicious.

But still. One computer with a trojan and one with a rootkit. I needed to take a harder look at what IT people consider to be Best Practices for small office/home office (SOHO) computer security.

So, rather than catching my reader up on the fascinating story about the old rail spur that was put in in 1910 to go to the old Bend Flour Mill, I've been geeking about, reading articles, harmonizing the update schedules on all the company computers for such vulnerable software as the Microsoft Windows operating system, and Adobe Reader, and Adobe Flash, and Oracle's (laughably exploitable) Java, and Google Chrome and Mozilla Firefox and Microsoft Internet Explorer browsers, and Mozilla Thunderbird (email), and setting up malware scanners, testing sandboxing applications, Microsoft's Enhanced Mitigation Experience Toolkit (EMET), and secure DNS providers, -- and, just in case I wasn't being thorough enough -- writing up Acceptable Use agreements for the computers and the network for the employees to sign.

The bases, for Mrs Elliott's company, I am trying to cover. Oy.

Railroads, old rights of way, maps and ancient Bend Bulletin stories have been backburnered. I will return to my story soonest.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Handicapped for Hip-Hop

Jack went to see Method Man at the Domino Room last night. Jack is an older white gentleman and the crowd last night was pretty much all 2-1/2 to 3 times younger than him. Jack was at a disadvantage, music-wise, but not necessarily due to his whiteness or age, but for another reason.

Let me explain.

First of all, the crowd was a lot of fun. The place was packed and the energy was high. There were three, roughly, opening acts (members kind of blended with each other, for example, Mike Fish [Person People] was onstage with other artists), and more than a few folk provided DJ function.

Wearing my black Wu-Tang hoodie I hoped to avoid mocking from the younger people, but it probably wasn't needed. The kids were fine.

I arrived early enough to snag one of the few bar stools upstairs and drag it to the front of the balcony (this being my plan to avoid standing all evening long, something we elders try to avoid). As the place filled, a fellow, about 24 years old, said "Great seat!"

I said yeah, but the problem is that if you go to the bar and don't have someone to hold the seat, you'll lose it.

He asked what I was drinking.

He left, then, returning a few minutes later, handed me a fresh drink.

Seeing my surprise, he said, "Yeah. I'm that guy."

The guy who kindly brings a codger a drink at his seat. Nice guy.

I stayed for about half of Method Man's set, then took a cab home. Mrs Elliott was asleep when I let myself into the house, I kissed her when I got into bed.

And reflected that I would have gotten a lot out of the music were it not for my handicap. You see, I have "lyric blindness," an unofficial phrase that means I don't hear the words in songs. You know that song by Adele that had all the ladies crying last year? I've heard it many times -- I have no idea what she's singing about. In fact, I have no idea what singers sing about, ever.

It's not due to not listening or not paying attention. I hear the words, but the part of my brain that tries to process the voices is overwhelmed by the part that listens to the music. I hear the music, I hear the parts the instrumentalists are playing, I hear the beat, I hear the sound of the voice. But what they're singing about? Not so much.

Musicals, much beloved by many, are boring to me. I saw "Rent" a few years ago. It might as well have been in Italian. Which is fine, because I like "La Boheme", the opera by Pucinni, a lot. And listening to folk sing in a foreign language means that I don't need to worry about trying to tease meaning out of the sounds coming out of the singers's mouths.

Poetry is baffling to me. That might be associated.

Anyway, the problem I have with hip-hop isn't cultural or because I'm old or white, it's because what hip-hop is about is the poetry, the words, the stories and feelings. And without having a sense of what they're talking about, the music just isn't that interesting.
 
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