John’s Ramblings

In our personal effort to stay informed on upcoming calamities (of particular interest now are the potential flooding of the Green River Valley and the H1N1 flu pandemic), we have registered with the Regional Public Information Network in order to receive emergency updates wherever we are.  The basic premise is that you register an email address at their website, and you will receive notices of Emergency or Transportation alerts for the geograpic areas you specify.  It seemed to us that getting an advanced notice of a catastrophic failure of the Howard Hansen Dam would be preferred to just carrying a snorkel in our car at all times.

My preference is that I receive the notifications by text message to my cell phone, rather than via email.  This is primarily because my email to cell phone link isn’t always the most reliable.  The RPIN system has a cell-phone notification option but the online form does not allow phone numbers to be entered, just email addresses.  The work-around to this is as follows:

1. Point your web-browser thingee at the Regional Public Information Network website (yes, click that now).

2. Click the link to Subscribe to RPIN “Sign Up Today”. You will see the form to enter email addresses and Notification Type:

3. In the email address box you need to enter the email address that can be used to send text messages to your phone via email.  This varies by carrier, but here’s a quick list I just pulled off the internets.  If your carrier isn’t listed, call them and ask them for the email format:

Verizon: 10digitphonenumber@vtext.com
AT&T: 10digitphonenumber@txt.att.net
Sprint: 10digitphonenumber@messaging.sprintpcs.com
T-Mobile: 10digitphonenumber@tmomail.net
Nextel: 10digitphonenumber@messaging.nextel.com
Cingular: 10digitphonenumber@cingularme.com
Virgin Mobile: 10digitphonenumber@vmobl.com
Alltel: 10digitphonenumber@message.alltel.com
CellularOne: 10digitphonenumber@mobile.celloneusa.com
Omnipoint: 10digitphonenumber@omnipointpcs.com
Qwest: 10digitphonenumber@qwestmp.com

So, if my cell number was 253-555-1212 and my carrier was Verizon, I would enter

2535551212@vtext.com

4. Select “Cell Phone” under notification type.

5. Enter more cell phones, if you want your spouse or 12 year old to know about the imminent disaster.

6. Enter the types of emergencies you want to be notified of, and the geographic areas you are interested in.

7. Click “Subscribe”.

8. You will need to agree to terms and conditions on the following page.  You’ll then receive an text message to confirm your registration.

Sorry, Mr. Schwab, but you gotten the last 90 minutes you are ever going to get out of me.

“Sudden Service” was a concept that Les Schwab used in his tire stores… one of their service people should run out to your car to help you when you pulled in.  At my local store, all they can muster is a slow meander, and it’s never even close to being in my general direction.  The cast of  “The Night of the Living Dead” could kick their collective ass in a foot race.

Wooed by promises of great service and great product, I’ve been coming to your store and emptying my wallet for several years now.  Today I had a slow leak in one of those tires you sold me.  “Sudden Service” happened when I went inside, and stood around the counter until you “suddenly” came over to talk to me after a few minutes.  “We’ll fix your flat, be about an hour.”

70 minutes later, and my car hasn’t moved from where I left it in the lot.  “Excuse me, but we’ve passed the golden 60 minute mark, and my car hasn’t moved.”  “Well, that’s why we say “about an hour”.

Soon after, the car indeed moves into the garage, followed by “John? I can fix the back tire, but those front tires we sold you not too long ago are shot, you really should get some new ones… we can do that for you right now…”

“No thanks.”

“But it will take the same amount of time.”  Uh huh.  You expect me to believe that you can mount and balance a new set of tires in the same time-space continuum as the repair of my slow leak in the rear.  Tempting, but then I’d be stuck with

• Two more tires of inferior quality, and
• Another promise of “Sudden Service” when the dang things get a puncture.

Terri comments: “Boy, they are really busy today.”  John replies “They are always this busy, sort of.  It’s like this every time I come… any day of the week, any time of the day.”  My theory is that they deliberately understaff.  They keep the level of customer-no-service low enough that they can keep you waiting for 1-2 hours eating stale popcorn and watching the endless repeating news loop that is Northwest Cable News, but high enough that you don’t leap across the counter and stick a tire pressure gauge up someone’s nose to get their attention.  Those bags of “Quick Fit” tire chains could come in handy if a customer decided to throw a fit, quick, and whop you upside the head with them.

For one reason or another, I’ve made this little pilgrimage to Les Schwab’s house of pain 5 times in the last 18 months.  I’ve never gotten out in less that 90 minutes, and the record was about 3 hours.  Today was the speed record, at 90 minutes.  No more.

hand-carved camry tracks

Originally uploaded by JohnCalnan.

I shoveled out this little track so that I could get up my hill, and out of my house (first time today since Saturday). Once freed, I had a couple of beers and a burger at The Ram, so the effort was worth it.

I had the occasion to dine out a few times this weekend… Saturday lunch, dinner, and Sunday breakfast. On two out of three occasions, the place was practically empty. These were all fine establishments, so it is not a factor of the food or service… just a function of the economic downturn.

Staff in these places either have had hours cut, or maybe soon will. Empty tables means empty tip jars, too. If you haven’t been to your local “joint” in a while, please do… and leave a tip!

My latest discovery is weekend breakfast at the Copper Falls Restaurant at the Auburn Golf Course. They start serving at 9 a.m., and the chef makes the greatest breakfast potatoes I’ve ever had. While there are a couple of other famous and not-so-famous breakfast places in Auburn, this one deserves better patronage because of the quality of the food, the excellent service, and it’s the only one of the three that can serve you a bloody mary!

Unless it is a 1 story rambler built on solid granite in an earthquake free zone (good luck finding that one on Yahoo Real Estate), houses settle. Ours did, somewhere between 1/8 and 1/4 inch. An insignificant amount, really, and it happened before we set foot in the place 12+ years ago.

The “residue” of this action was that the outside doors on the north and south walls (3 of them) were a pain in the ass to open and close. The door to the back yard would stick on the bottom, requiring a 2-hand/1-foot maneuver to open it. The door on the north side of shop/furnace room required a 2-handed-lifting-slam so complex that (apparently) I was the only person qualified to take out the kitchen garbage. The south facing door from the shop was also hard to close, and it scraped across the concrete floor with a metallic grinding that sounded like a million fingernails on blackboards. Consequently, we never used that door.

I have my “handy” moments, but re-alignment of doors while maintaining structural integrity isn’t on my resume, nor did I stay at a Holiday Inn Express. Yesterday, renovator and handyman extraordinaire Geoff Hazel came over to make a little holiday cash straightening out all my doors.

The difference is amazing. It just goes to show that you can put up with some amazingly stupid crap for an indefinite period of time and you never realize just how crappy it was until you don’t have to put up with it anymore.

I’m going to go open and close a few doors now. Maybe later, I’ll ask Terri to take out the trash. Yeah, right.

Sunshine is nice, no doubt about it. But I’m really glad to be home. The bed at our hotel had a slight slant to starboard, causing Terri to feel like she was being ejected half the night. It was great to get home to our own car, house, bed, and of course our 4 legged kids.

Brunch on Sunday was great, and the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. Hollywood has come to a dead-stop with the start of the Writer’s Guild strike today. Not even Leno will dare to tell his own jokes for a few days until they settle this thing. I suppose that, if he were to in effect “scab-write” his own material, he’d end up with nothing but fart jokes when the writers actually returned.

Then there was this thing, which needs no comment from me. Behold:

Only in Hollywood. Back on the bike tomorrow.

I transplanted myself to the Pacific Northwest 34 years ago in order to attend a college there. As a way to convince myself that I didn’t miss 80 degree days in November, I have always told myself that:

• “having seasons is cool”
• “green is good, even if it is a layer of moss on your car”
• “palm trees are boring”
• “yes, it rains a lot, but it is not the sort of rain that gets you wet”

Hogwash. I’m contemplating the glint of sunshine off the hotel pool at the moment.  If only I could be this bored all the time. As I contemplate the day ahead here in the Greater Los Angeles area, the forecast is for sunshine and 85 degrees today. It is November4th. Boring, my ass. Sure, the hillsides catch fire every year, but we have fires in Washington too. I’m wishing I’d packed my Lemond, so I could take a ride out in the valley somewhere, or maybe head down to my old stomping grounds in Palos Verdes. Alas, that is not to be, so I’ll have to suffer through cabin-fever here by the pool. Someone bring me a drink with an umbrella, so I can drown my sorrows.

Today is “brunch day” for the Calnans. Mom and Dad go to brunch every Sunday at the Market City Caffe in Burbank. There’s good food, great service, and a string quartet. The windows will be open to the patio and street because it’s warm. Being Los Angeles, there will be plenty of interesting people-watching to be had as well.

Tomorrow will be that whole messy “back to the cold weather” thing. It’s awkward to step off a plane in shorts and sandals when everyone else in the airport is in long pants and coats. The shuttle bus to the car can get a bit chilly as well.