I May Be In Iceland Already

I read somewhere, a long time ago, that telephone directories in Iceland are alphabetized by first name.  I was thinking about that today. Before I started to write this post, I decided to do some research and find out if I’m remembering that correctly. Yes, I have been remembering that correctly. And, I also learned two more interesting things: Phone directories in Iceland also list a person’s profession, so if you run across two people with the same name, you can tell them apart. Also, it is proper to address a person there by their first name. In a formal situation, or an informal one, no matter what the person’s social status, you still call them by their first name. If you meet the President of Iceland, you address him as “Ólafur”.

I think Iceland is an interesting country.  I’d like to visit it someday. I was wondering today if  I’m already in Iceland, somehow.

A patient arrived at the front desk, and told me he was there for his initial visit. “Welcome,” I said, “What’s your name?” He replied, “Jacob.”

At just about any other reception desk, when you arrive for an appointment, or you’re there to see your Social Worker, or for a meeting, or for a job interview, you give the receptionist your full name – first name and family name. Not at our clinic, however. It’s extremely common for someone to give us only a first name and then expect us to look them up in the system. The only way I can explain this is that our clinic has been annexed by Iceland.

Where Ya Been?

I stepped onto the bus this morning, and our regular driver greeted me with, “Where ya been?” My immediate response was, “Walking”. It really has been a while since my commute has been routine.

It was cold and rainy this evening, so I caught the 60 home. The driver was awful. She kept stomping on the brakes for no apparent reason. She straddled lanes on Madison Street, which caused the bus to be stopped in traffic even when the curb lane was wide open. It turned into a spectator sport of sorts for the passengers – everyone craning their necks to see what she was stopping so suddenly for. There was a medical aid truck at the curb near Seattle Central Community College, assisting someone. Our bus driver apparently figured it would somehow be easier to get past the aid truck and into the bus stop by turning into the center lane and then inching slowly at an angle between the median and the aid truck. Practically all the passengers moved to the right side to watch the side of the aid truck passing by the windows. The driver made it. It was an interesting ride home.

Last week, Phillip and I reached the simultaneous conclusion that we like the 2009 album,  Æther Shanties, by Abney Park. On Sunday, I gave into an impulse, downloaded it, and burned it to disc. Of course, I put the whole album into my iPod Shuffle, which, it seems, thinks all of the songs are in French. It uses the same French feminine voice it uses for Zap Mama songs. It seems to try to pronounce the words in French, too.  ”Building Steam” sounds something like “Be-oolding Stey-UM”. My guess is that the “Æ” in “Æther” is throwing it off. My iPod is so much fun.

One More Gadget

I got out of bed at my normal time this morning, right after playtime. Phillip took the day off, and went back to bed. The cable was acting up – I could see NWCN, but was unable to get the sound. I found that I had too much time before my dental appointment, and not enough time to get anything productive done. I couldn’t watch the news, and I got bored with randomly surfing the internet.

The appointment went well. The pain I had on Saturday was probably due to an infection, but has healed. All is well. The dental hygienist strongly recommended that I buy an irrigator and start using it. The appointment last less time than I had guessed it would, I walked up to Broadway, a 60 arrived in less than five minutes, and I was at work a lot sooner than I had expected.

I looked for the irrigator at QFC on my way home, but didn’t find one. Then, after talking over today’s appointment with Phillip, I became torn about that irrigator. Phillip’s dentist hates them. My dentist recommends them. It will be one more gadget to clutter up the bathroom. But it could be a positive step in my health resolution. I logged onto Amazon and bought an irrigator. I’m still torn.

Bananas And Omelets

I don’t know if it’s the increased exercise I’ve gotten this week weakening my body, or something I ate during the week, or an infection, or a cold brought on by the weather, or just part of the healing process, but my mouth hurt a lot yesterday. It hurt more than any other day this week. I had a headache. I could barely eat. I subsisted on bananas and omelets. I was hungry all the time. Fortunately, I have a followup visit with the dentist tomorrow, so I’ll know the answer soon.

Phillip and I walked up to The Deluxe Bar & Grill this afternoon. I had a stack of strawberry pancakes and fruit. My mouth is feeling better, but it still hurts a little. My headache is gone.

Finding Manga

Manga is a genre that I don’t have much experience with. I keep having the feeling that I should be reading more, but I don’t know where to begin. When I read Wandering Son, by Takako Shimura – a book which was recommended by Phillip – I realized that what I enjoyed about it the most was that it was reality based. It wasn’t about super heroes or goddesses – it was a story about life in Japan. That, I decided, was how I should get into manga. I needed to find reality-based stories rather than fantasy. (In other words, manga for me should be like the novels I prefer.)

I did a Google search for “best manga” and found a good list of the best manga of 2011. After reading through the list, I decided on Stargazing Dog, by Takashi Murakami. (It was published in Japan in 2008, and in the USA in 2011.) It’s the story about a man whose dog stays by him, even though everything else goes wrong. It’s a reality-based story. It’s told in a single volume. It was available at the library. I put it on hold.

I picked up Stargazing Dog earlier this week. I was immediately disappointed that, unlike Wandering Son, it was not in the original right-to-left format. (I prefer to watch movies in their original language, with subtitles. There are nuances to the sound of a language that I feel get lost in an over-dub. I suppose I feel the same sense of purity about the visual layout of manga.)

I read most of Stargazing Dog during lunch on Friday. I reached the end of the first half in Tullys, before yoga.

It was the most depressing book I have read in recent memory.

I read the entire second half at home Friday evening. It was a little more uplifting, but still a downer. I got the clear message that Takashi Murakami loves dogs. No matter how much we mess up our lives, dogs still love us. If we ignore that fact, dogs will still love us.

As depressing as the story was, I wanted to immediately pick up the book and read it again. I thought the artwork lacked subtlety,  but the story was very well executed. It had an interesting mix of the dog’s point of view and the humans’ point of view. I was especially fond of the panel where the dog, having noticed that his regular walks with “daddy” have switched from evening to daytime and are somehow “different”, is tied up outside of the unemployment office.

I liked Stargazing Dog. It think it’s a good gateway for me to find more reality-based manga.

100 Movies, Part 7

8. Dexter (Season 1, Episodes 9-12). After a strange, and seemingly unnecessary, side plot in episode 9, the story reached a satisfying conclusion in episode 12, leaving just enough open for another season. (I realize that the questionable shooting in episode 9 strengthened the antagonism between Dexter and Doaks, but it seemed to be a long way to go for what was already there.) I’m sure the show could keep my interest for more seasons, but this first one was terrific.

That opening sequence was funny and imaginative, but after the fourth viewing, the joke got old. We began fast-forwarding through it.

Funny Yoga

My Yaktrax Walkers are working out wonderfully. Yesterday, I especially liked how easy they are to slip on and off my boots. The falling snow has turned to rain, the weather has warmed up a bit, and the snow on the ground has turned to ice. Walking from work to yoga via Tullys, I’d wear my Yaktrax on the icy stretches of sidewalk, and then slip them off on the long stretches where the snow had been shoveled and the sidewalks were bare, and then put them again where the sidewalks hadn’t been shoveled. From yoga to home, it was icy enough that I kept them on all the time, and kept to the sides of the bare stretches.

The only problem I’ve had with my Yaktrax Walkers has been the few times that the toes slipped up and over the toes of my boots. This, I suspect, has more to do with my boots than with the Yaktrax. When that has happened – and its been only very few times – it was merely a matter of stopping and adjusting them. My Yaktrax are easy to pull off and on.

The roof was leaking again in the yoga studio. I like the funkiness of 8 Limbs. I remember how I much I missed it when I experienced the polished ritziness of Yoga Pearl in Portland. The gentle dripping during class was like a little fountain.

We had a substitute teacher for the substitute teacher yesterday evening. I liked her a lot. She was new, obviously, but had learned well. She was creative and personable. I had never laughed so much in a yoga class.

We did an asana flat on our backs, with our feet pumping back and forth vigorously,  which shook our bodies. I felt as if I was in a car, at a stoplight, rocking out to a song on the radio, and I laughed.

We did a standing asana, with our left hand placed below our right collarbone, and our right hand on top of the left hand. Then we tilted our head back and away from our hands. I felt like I was Morrissey, singing “The Boy With the Thorn in His Side”, and I laughed.

The same substitute substitute is scheduled to be back next week, and I’m happy.

Sonar Is Hungry

How should we interpret the fact that, for many days in a row now, Sonar has been up before 8:00, impatiently waiting for his breakfast? For years, sugar glider breakfast has been served at 8:30. Sonar used to be a sugar glider who didn’t care much about food – it was a necessity for him, not an urgency. Why this change?

• Is it the winter weather messing with is metabolism?
• Did we scare him at Christmas, when we served breakfast hours early and came home hours late?
• Is there something on the menu that he’s been especially enjoying?
• Has he decided that the veterinarian was right about him needing more calories?
• Is he messing with our minds?

I’ve Been Spoiled By TriMet

Phillip was determined to make it to today’s orthodontist appointment, despite the forecast of heavy snowfall. (I don’t blame him. After wearing braces for two years, I imagine I’d be ready to get them off without delay, too.) Last night, he assigned me the task of figuring out how to get from Capitol Hill to Northgate by bus. (No driving in the snow for us.)

I started at Google Maps to see which routes stop near the orthodontist office. The best choices seemed to be the 5, the 16, or the 75. There were also a couple of 300-something routes, but I wasn’t familiar with them, I figured they were commuter routes, and I chose to ignore them. Phillip could catch either the 5 or the 16 Downtown. He could catch the 75 in the University District, and get a roundabout tour of Sand Point and Lake City. I presented these choices to Phillip. He had a nostalgic familiarity for the 16, and chose it. He also requested to take the 44 and transfer to the 16 in Wallingford, rather than transferring Downtown.

So, I sat down at the computer last night and figured it out. First, I looked at the schedule for the 16, and found the three best arrival times for a 9:00 appointment, factoring in a 45 minute delay for snow. I wrote those times down. Then I looked at the route map and found the transfer point for the 44. I wrote down the times Phillip would have to arrive at the transfer point to get to the three best arrival times.

Then came the tricky part. Phillip would have to take 43 from Capitol Hill, and a few of the 43 buses change into 44 buses, but most do not. I had to first look at the 44 schedule and find those runs that both arrived in plenty of time for the transfer and were a continuation of the 43. Then I had to switch to the 43 schedule and write down when Phillip would have to catch it on Capitol Hill. It took a bit of  switching between the three schedules to figure it out.

I could have used Metro’s Trip Planner, but it likely wouldn’t have given us the results we were looking for. There’s no way to specify, “I want to get there on the 43/44 and the 16. How do I do it?”

I figured that Phillip would have to catch the 43 around 7:00 to safely get to his appointment before 9:00. It was all theoretical, of course. If the record snowfall happened overnight, as predicted, the bus schedules would be thrown out. And worse, with the schedules out of whack, he would have no way of knowing if the 43 he catches would turn into a 44. He may be looking ahead to two transfers instead of one. He may get stranded in a snow-stuck bus in Wallingford or Green Lake. To be honest, I was a little dubious of the whole plan. I didn’t doubt Phillip’s ability to get there. I doubted Metro’s ability to get him there. But it was important to Phillip.

As I was figuring the routes and the transfers, switching from schedule to schedule to schedule, I missed using TriMet’s interactive system map for my exploration of the Portland area. I could click on a route and see the whole thing highlighted on a map of the area. I could zoom in and see where all the stops are as well as which routes are nearby. I could see at a glance if it would be easier to catch it here or maybe there. (Metro has a system map, of course, but it’s a static, connect-the-dots thing.) I missed planning trips on TriMet bus routes which don’t change numbers in the middle of the route. (I continue to rant about this, despite my argument constantly being shot down. I maintain that if I can ride a bus from Downtown to Ballard, and never leave my seat, it should be considered one route all the way.)

I came to the realization last night that, although I continue to be a fan of public transit, I’m not a fan of the King County Metro Transit system.

We woke up this morning and found a fresh layer of snow, but not as much as predicted. Phillip called and confirmed that his appointment was still on. We left the apartment together a little before seven. I left Phillip at the bus stop and asked him to send me a text message when he arrived at the orthodontist’s office. (I was still a little dubious of the plan.) Then I walked to work.

Phillip called me from Wallingford. We’d forgotten to look up where the nearest stop for the 16 is from 45th Street and Stone Way. I used Google Maps to find the answer.

Phillip sent me a text message at 9:05. He’d arrived at the orthodontist’s office. I was impressed.

100 Movies, Part 6

I’m realizing now that I should have named this series “100 DVD Rentals”. This seventh one is not a movie. It’s a TV show.

7. Dexter (Season 1, Episodes 1-8). Once again, I come across something I had no interest in seeing, but which Phillip brought home from Broadway Video. I mean, come on, a TV show about a serial killer who works for the police?! When are they going to run out of crazy gimmicks for cop shows? The whole premise made me glad we don’t subscribe to Showtime.

But I watched it, reluctantly,  with Phillip this weekend, and it grew on me. Then I liked it a lot. Then I enjoyed it.

Dexter works in the crime lab of the Miami Police Department. He is a blood splatter expert. He has a secret. He is unable to feel empathy. He has another secret. He has urges to be a serial killer. His foster-father, who was a police officer, taught him to blend in. Dexter pretends to enjoy himself. He pretends to live a normal life. And he kills people – but only if they’ve killed someone. His foster-father taught him a code of honor.

With his foster-father now dead, no one knows Dexter’s secrets. His girlfriend, who has her own difficulties with emotions, doesn’t know. His sister, who works alongside him in the Miami Police Department, doesn’t know. His coworkers, who are all carrying around their own little secrets, don’t know. And in these first eight episodes, the police are tracking a serial killer who, only Dexter realizes, apparently knows Dexter’s secrets.

It’s a well-written, tense mystery thriller. Who will expose who first? It’s a thoughtful, developed character study of a very unusual character. Once I got into, and learned to love it, I loved the story. I wouldn’t mind seeing more episodes.