January 28: More informal research on the valley to valley hike

I did a little more informal research on the valley to valley hike. It would appear there’s a cook point of sorts north of Kanan, in the area of Oak Park. I think it can be overcome but I’m not sure. I will have to take a couple short hikes in that area and consult Mr. Google and perhaps some actual paper maps. The park cane be worked around but only with a lengthy street hike that I don’t want to do. As I said, lots more questions need answers.

Today was windy, not quite enough wind to keep me off the trail but enough to make hiking into the breeze, especially up hill a real challenge. Here are a few photos from the day:

Looking north and east. That’s the El Escorpion trail at the end of Vanowen, center left.
Looking northeast…a fire-scarred but hopefully still living Valley Oak.
A less fortunate victim of the flames, its dead leaves still singing to the living.
Bible rock.

By the way, pCloud is positively sprinting toward completion now. Only 3298 files remain, with an 18 hour estimate for those that remain. If the upload is done by the end of the weekend I’ll be surprised.

Call me pessimistic.

Tomorrow I will start the LP upload in earnest. I don’t intend to sync to pCloud until all of the digital stuff is on p’s cloud. And, once I do start to upload I intend to upload one LP and then sync to pCloud so the system is never choking on a whole bunch of huge files.

Seems like a prudent plan anyway.

Tonight’s writing soundtrack is Emily Barker’s Letters from her 2015 record The Toerag Sessions. This solo version differs significantly from the version where Barker is accompanied by The Red Clay Halo on their 2013 release. Not surprisingly, the solo version is a bit more raw and elemental while The Red Clay Halo brings a gentle opulence to the arrangement. Listen to both, buy both, is my motto!

Thanks for reading.

January 28: More informal research on the valley to valley hike

January 27: Audacity

2021 was apparently the first year that LP sales eclipsed CD sales in decades. It was a small surprise to me and more of a comment on the fact that CD sales are so minimal rather than LP sales being so strong. I am not especially enamored with the LP. It’s just that it’s the best playback method I know of, though it is badly flawed, and that’s before we start talking about the inevitable issue of LP wear. Ugh.

Still, today was an important day. I uploaded my first LP to my Mac. Audacity is both relatively good and totally free. That’s impressive in a day that finds every software company looking to maximize profits. I was stunned that on my very first effort I ended up having a playable side of a decently clean demo pressing of Dylan’s Street Legal. I chose that LP because it was in fair shape (I didn’t know how many times I would have to play it) and because I happen to have a CD of the same record right in front of me.

The initial results were hideous. The RIAA equalization on the front end of the A/D I used was (and I shall not slander the company who made it here), how shall I say this, marginal or worse. So, I climbed around behind my vintage Salamander Designs rack and took the analog feed from the record-out of my preamp just to see if my suspicions were correct.

They were.

Once I was taking the data from this line-level source, one side of the LP came in at a shade over 62MB. Not bad, certainly much better than a FLAC file will alter. I judged the resulting AAC file to sound pretty Ok, in fact significantly better than I had hoped. I’ll do some more careful listening tomorrow before considering uploading the LP side using FLAC. If I use AAC all of my LPs would occupy only about 55GB, which would leave me plenty of room for extra storage mischief (read, the acquisition of more music in digital, CD and LP formats).

The Audacity UI looks like it’s from twenty years ago but it is relatively simple in operation and very well executed. The folks who developed it knew (and know) exactly what they’re doing and exactly what they’re up against. I have to remind myself that none of what I’m doing was anticipated by the originators of any of the technology employed during the creation of the source material. This ability to move analog to digital in this way is all a manifestation of software developers adapting to what came long before in an effort to preserve music that was acquired many years before the technology was anticipated to be able to move it around.

How often does that work out in favor if the music lover / consumer?

In other words, the future of music, at least insofar as how we can store it, would seem to be in good programming hands, as of this writing.

More, as ever, later. Thanks for reading.

Tonight’s writing soundtrack is Richard Thompson’s (Guitar, Vocal) 1967-1976. Yup, even the CD is costly today ($25 at Amazon) but you should have it anyway.

Any lover of guitar must…

January 27: Audacity

January 25: The pCloud plan, etc.

The other day I mentioned that I had dropped $50 on a year’s worth of pCloud’s 500GB storage plan.

At the time I was waiting.

Right now, I’m still waiting.

Files are being uploaded at what can charitably be called a leisurely pace. There are 80GB still to go and the estimate for completion is 5 days and change. All of that is Ok if far slower than I would have expected. But, if pCloud is choking on the compressed digital stuff I’m a little concerned that uploading the FLAC files of hundreds of LPs could necessitate a digital Heimlich Maneuver.

I’m going to start slow, however, when it comes to the LPs. In fact, I’m going to upload just one LP. The first upload will be of an AAC file and the second will be FLAC of the same LP. Then, I’m going to listen to both, and I’m going to be cruel. If I don’t find a significant difference I’m going to do the rest of my LP collection via AAC and I won’t look back. You see, I’ve decided if this all works I will probably end up keeping all of my LPs.

That’s not a difficult decision. I love my old Per Madsen rack. It just stands there, not bothering anyone holding hundreds of LPs and CDs (sans jewel cases, of course). Even if were to start buying LPs again regularly, and I find that doubtful, I would be unlikely to buy all that many. Who knows, maybe a handful a year? I may even institute a One In, One Out policy as I do with new shirts. That would work for a while since I have a good number of duplicate LPs and some I will never play. I can pretty much promise the second (and maybe the first) copy I own of Pat Metheny’s Chautauqua is on its way out, one way or the other.

The music management process feels good, if a little tedious like the upload speed of pCloud. I’m actually looking forward to playing every one of the LPs. Some of those guys haven’t been spun in a good long while. They’re all fairly clean but should a dirty one find its way onto the REGA’s glass platter my trusty Nitty Gritty record cleaner is right where I left it on the top shelf of my closet. I’ve got a nice collection of good quality poly sleeves for both LP and CD, too. My guess is I’ve got enough LP sleeves for all of the possible acquisitions I might make from now until the end of my LP spinning days. CD sleeves are another matter. I have less than one pack of 100 left, and I’m using them for my jewel case elimination project. And, the company that sells them keeps pushing their availability date back month by month, with the last being November of last year. My optimism is waning and I’m not aware of a suitable substitute.

Who knows? The ones I have may be the last of their kind, as everything is eventually.

Tonight’s writing soundtrack is Giant of Illinois from Andrew Bird’s 2014 record, Things Are Really Great Here, Sort Of… It’s an odd, personal and evocative song I find myself listening to again and again.

January 25: The pCloud plan, etc.

January 24: A little COVID in the family

I was surprised to learn that one of my siblings managed to get COVID. It was the second incident for that branch of the family. An earlier incident ended up costing a family elder his life.

Wow.

Most distressing, for me anyway, was the motivating event; a college football game. I can’t be bothered to watch college football on TV so the idea of getting on a plane and flying to a reddish state and then going to a mask-free, virus-friendly bash at a hotel bar strikes me as more than a little reckless, especially considering my sibling and significant other don’t even drink.

It’s all about COVID fatigue, I suppose, but it still strikes me as immensely foolish. And, if I were one or both of the children of my sibling I would be ashamed to have been involved in exposing my parents to such a threat.

I think the root of the behavior is attributable to two things. The first, as I mentioned, is the COVID fatigue that we’re all suffering from. The second must be a belief that an infection suffered by a healthy, double-vaxed and boosted adult probably wouldn’t be too bad. And, mercifully, it wasn’t. But, it could have been.

Yesterday I mentioned that we went to a concert last Saturday night. It was a public event and it was indoors so the threat of COVID was not zero. That said, the staff at the venue not only checked identification and vaccination status but they also made sure all attendees were wearing N95 masks. If an audience member wasn’t, they were given one to wear. In all, the concert felt as safe as the walk to and from the venue. I hope that it was.

My sibling who got COVID was quick to tell me about needing to get back to living and to enjoying life. Also mentioned was the fact that the trip offered the opportunity to spend two extra days with an adult child. But, something about that line of reasoning struck me as more than a little off. The luxury of going to a football game in another state was suddenly put (conversationally) onto the back burner but I’m not at all sure it started out there. Had the real motivation been to visit their child they certainly could have done so with the hotel bash or being two of the tens of thousands in attendance at the enclosed football stadium.

Look, I was among those who questioned the authority of the city, state and county and government generally to limit access to religious services. And, I wondered about mask mandates, especially among the fully vaccinated. But, that said, I have tried hard not to be foolish. My sibling spoke of a kind of fatalism but what if my sibling and significant other were among the 30% who are asymptomatic? Their decision could have easily ended up putting other people they know and care about in harm’s way.

I simply cannot understand a mindset that would willingly and needlessly endanger the life of a stranger, let alone a loved one. And, if it’s a question of enjoying life, I already do. No once-in-a-century pandemic is going to take that away from me. So, this whole family misadventure is troubling and more than a little sad for me. I, like all of us, wish for better days and I trust for the ability to make good decisions while we endure the challenges of the days we’re living.

It’s not always going to be easy but I think it’s worth the effort.

Tonight’s writing soundtrack is Blue Moon Night from Eliza Gilkyson’s 2011 record, Roses at the End of Time. I took me a very long time to find Gilkyson but I’m glad that I finally did. She is one of the very finest singer / songwriter’s of the folk genre I’ve heard. Her songs go way beyond folk, though, and I’ve had fun listening to records like this from 2011 and even things from way back in the 90s. It’s interesting to hear her evolution as a singer and writer of songs. But, through all the years her work shows a rare kind of warmth, humor and musicality.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

January 24: A little COVID in the family

January 20: Weekday morning mass

I started going to mass in the morning, first on Mondays. After a couple weeks I added Friday. It seemed like a good way to start and end my week. I had not been to mass since my mom and dad died, so way back in 2008 or earlier. Sunday mass didn’t interest me, they’re too crowded and too long. Thirty minutes feels about right. At first it was easy to go, but that was during the summer when so many more things come easily to me. Fall was Ok, too, but winter has seen me miss services a number of times over the last month or so.

Why?

I’m not sure. I have some thoughts but I’m not going to jump into them quite yet since they are so ill-formed. I know why I have enjoyed going. There are two reasons. The first is the more powerful. It’s because mass makes me feel closer to my mom and dad. There’s no explaining that, but it’s the truth. The second reason splits in two ways each engaged with the way the mass makes me think and what it makes me think about.

I don’t know what caused me to break the streak. There came a morning when another hour of sleep felt better than dragging myself out of bed and making my way towards mass. So, I’m trying to break the streak of not going tomorrow…Friday. My plan is to build some things around the service, kind of like a crutch. My plan is to have breakfast at around 7:30 at one of my favorite diners before heading to get the cheap gas at Costco before there’s a line. If I can make it to those two activities getting to the 8:30 mass should be the cherry on the sundae.

Whether my plan works or not I’ll do a little more thinking about both ends of the equation; what got me to go after all these years and what made me stop…again.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

January 20: Weekday morning mass

January 19: Shouting into the wind

It occurs to me that I could be shouting into the wind with this journal. But, the more I think about it the more convinced I am that it doesn’t matter even if I am. Even though writing is for readers if the work doesn’t serve the needs of the writer, in some way, I cannot imagine it being worthwhile. Writers, at least this writer, are disinclined to think of the wants of others before they think of their own needs.

I’m kidding, but just barely.

Today I was thinking about my maternal grandmother, Mary, not my sister, Mary. She was an unusual woman. I think of her as hard rather than unloving. Perhaps she was an example of one who showed her love by action and not so much by word. When she spoke to me, or any of her grandchildren, she sounded as if she was talking to a gas station attendant; matter of fact trending toward blunt.

Still, I never heard of her being mean spirited to anyone and that surely counts for a lot.

Her actions, especially those that came before I was born, showed spirit and love. During the depression she was known to invite men who had found their way to the family’s door and knocked upon it, looking for food, into her kitchen to share their modest dinner. I can imagine my grandmother doing this in the very same matter-of-fact way she might have spoken to a gas station attendant or decades later, a grandchild. One time she even gave a pair of her husband’s work boots away to a man whose shoes had holes so large that the snow of the Iowa winter found its way easily to the man’s bare feet. I heard about this from my grandfather who recalled the time my grandmother gave away the very boots on his feet.

My grandmother corrected him immediately, telling everyone in the room not to believe my grandfather. He had another pair of work boots and he knew it, my grandmother said. He was lucky to have two pair of boots, neither of which had holes in their soles. When she spoke, it sounded like she was taking to a gas station attendant.

Even so, I wouldn’t say that I knew my grandmother Mary all that well, but then again maybe I did. Maybe the way she treated people and the way she spoke to them contained a lesson that’s easy to miss. Actions are hard while words can be easy. I cannot imagine knocking on a door, looking for food. Perhaps that is my own failing, my inability to conceive a world where I am the one in need. My grandmother knew she could have easily been the one knocking on the door, desperate to feed her children. And she knew that even though her own family barely had enough to eat, and lacked enough coal to stave off the cold, that others had even less.

She gave what she could, as we all should.

Tonight’s writing soundtrack is Headlights from Charlie Cunningham’s Flesh & Bone Studio Session (Live) from 2019. Covid caused us to miss a chance to see Cunningham near the end of last year at the Fonda in Hollywood but I hope we’ll get another chance to see and hear him during better times.

His music is elemental, elegant, deceptively simple, beautiful and more than a little haunting.

Thanks, as always, for reading. Shouting into the wind’s not so bad after all.

January 19: Shouting into the wind

January 18: These days

I ended up sleeping in today quite late. I must have been a bit more worn out by the drive home from Sacramento yesterday than I realized. Today was a little lonely but I managed to get a few things done. I got an email back from Alba telling me that she was working on a revised version of the cover for Cottonwood right about the time I was sending her a message through Instagram telling her that I was close to deciding to stick with her initial artwork. Then, I heard from my client, Yoshi, in Japan about an issue related to putter shafts.

Distractions, but nothing felt quite important enough to hold my attention.

I took an abbreviated walk so I could get my other chores done and still make it to the post office. Then I heard from my friend, Jess, and made plans to meet him for dinner. I’m glad I did this. Even though he can be a little frustrating and even vexing at times he reminds me of what someone said about the idea of nostalgia…that it’s a kind of homecoming.

These days, these days beyond the middle days of our lives, can find us looking ahead and behind at the same time. There’s something a little disconcerting about that. But, still there’s something about these days, these days of change and unexpected and often unwelcome change, that make this time feel special. So many years ago Jess and I would have seldom had the chance to share a relaxed dinner. But, these days it has almost become commonplace, even though we know it isn’t. It is an easier time to find a little time but there will never be enough time for everything we’d like to do, or to do what we would like as often as we might care to.

Yes, it’s confusing.

In economics these kinds of times might be called a scarce good, like clean air, pure water or an enduring friendship. None of these kinds of goods come without a cost whether we are able to identify it at the time we enjoy the good or not.

So, on this day and in this hour, I have a found a few moments to recall the times that have come before, may come tomorrow, as well as those that find me writing in my journal of the year 2022. I hope to tomorrow might bring a day of sharper focus but I can’t guarantee it. All I can do is put my head on the pillow with gratitude and a humble hope for what might come next.

As this day slides toward tomorrow I find myself listing to The Yellow Cake Review, Farewell to Stromness buy the L.A. Guitar Quartet from their 1998 record, L.A.G.Q. Sure, I wish they called themselves The Los Angeles Guitar Quartet but that’s another story. This is a lovely, gentle and articulate interpretation and arrangement of Peter Maxwell’s sublime piano composition of the same name.

If you never do anything I ask of you, go out and buy each piece music today. You will not be disappointed. Enthralled? Yes. But never disappointed. Thank you, as always, for reading.

January 18: These days

January 17: MLK Day was a kinda long one in 2022

Things started out perfectly today with a couple more pancakes at Bernardos-Pavilions this morning around 10 but got a little more complicated shortly after we left Sacramento around noon.

Siri was trying to tell us something but we weren’t listening. She was trying to shepherd us down Interstate 5 but we ended up on the 99 until…

…until we realized there was a big ugly accident on the 99 just north of Bakersfield. The words “expect long delays” had us scrambling and we ended up making our escape SW from the 99 via the highway 198.

This was actually Ok for 50% of the passengers of the car, the one who found a new and unknown road amusing and a tiny bit of adventure in an otherwise bothersome delay.

We finally popped out onto the 5 at the garden spot of the Central Valley also known as Kettleman City. This reminded me of why I prefer the 99 over the 5.

Sure, Kettleman City is home to every fast food restaurant you’ve ever heard of (in addition to a Denny’s) but they’re all crammed on to one off ramp and the resulting crush of humanity we found at McD motivated us to scurry across the road in horror to the all but deserted Carl’s Jr.

It was the right move and then some. The Carl’s Jr. staff was great and their dining room was sparsely occupied. I downed my usual Western Bacon Cheeseburger and a free ice water before we were on our way again.

The rest of the ride was easy, again, for exactly 50% of the passengers. The weather was a tad wet off and on but mild. Even at the summit of the Grapevine it was still a warmish (for a January evening) temperature of 48 degrees.

I’m home now. A Russian WWII movie called On the Road to Berlin is on Prime Video (my bet is the Russians win) and I am trying to gracefully slide away from the challenges of the day that came before.

I’m going to need another drink pretty soon to ensure I’m ready for bed.

Thanks for reading.

January 17: MLK Day was a kinda long one in 2022

January 16: Sunday in Sacramento

Like I said, this has been a quick trip. Maybe too quick when you think about the numbers of miles to & fro but you know what they say about beggars.

Our Sunday started out slowly with breakfast at Cafe Bernardo’s-Pavillions. There are a couple others Bernardo’s in the chain but this location is my favorite, especially when it comes to their fantastic pancakes. Today’s were sublime; tender, good buttermilk flavor, not over or undercooked and the perfect thickness. I got by with one cake but I would have been able to devour four if self-preservation hadn’t gotten the better of me.

Later, we took a ride out to the Effie Yeaw Nature Center in Carmichael, in the same park as the Ancil Hoffman golf course I mentioned yesterday.

The nature center has a number of trails that meander along and around the American River. As on the golf course there are deer everywhere as well as wild turkeys. The air was just crisp enough to keep a jacket on even with the sun out.

Afterwards, I noticed a brewery in nearby Rancho Cordova that I wanted to check out called Fort Rock. Everything was just a little disappointing. It was too loud (the 49ers were playing Dallas), the tap list was a little blah as was the strip mall ish location. I tried the Lights Out IPA. It was Ok but far from soul-stirring. Maybe I was expecting too much or maybe the relentless din from the TVs and the football fans tweaked my tastebuds. I hate to scratch a brewery off the list after trying only one beer but I may have to in this case.

Ah, but dinner! Dinner was at Obo. Now why the hell can’t I have an Obo in Los Angeles? It’s Italian and it’s fantastic. I went all in with spaghetti & meat balls and it was good as it was last summer, the winter before that and so on. They also have a full bar, a small but well-curated tap list, and a $10 rye old fashioned.

Are you kidding me?

We were celebrating a birthday (not mine) so I had two old fashioneds and the three of us split a slice of cheesecake, chocolate mousse and a chocolate-dipped cupcake that took a ride home with the lucky birthday boy.

It’s HGTV again tonight as we wind down but least it’s Home Town and not the drivel I subjected myself to last night. Nope, I didn’t come up with any ideas for my next book. Maybe tomorrow. I’m not even any more relaxed than when we left Los Angeles but at least we had us some fun and were blessed with good company and a wonderful host.

Tomorrow will be 388 easy miles and a return to reality. I can’t say I’m looking forward to either but I’m glad we made the trip.

Thanks for reading.

January 16: Sunday in Sacramento

January 15: Sacramento

Thank goodness for the MLK holiday. It gave us a little time to make our way to Sacramento for a very quick getaway and a opportunity to dodge Omicron outside of Los Angeles County. I like this place. It’s not perfect but then again, neither am I. It’s not hard for me to confess the two big things that help me like it here.

The first is the welcome availability of quality golf that’s not crazy expensive. The 27 hole complex at Haggin Oaks was one of the best municipal facilities I had ever played until I was lucky enough to play Ancil Hoffman in nearby Carmichael. This last summer found me sitting on the patio at Ancil Hoffman drinking the biggest $8 Captain & Diet Coke you’ve ever seen. It is a beautiful layout that was in fantastic shape for the middle of summer, or any time of year for that matter.

Of course, that was summer and this is winter. It’s colder here than it is in SoCal. Worse, even though there’s no rain in the forecast the air is incredibly heavy, making tonight’s 43 degrees at 10pm feel quite a bit colder.

So, it’s cold, the days are short, what’s to do? There are great indoors are here aplenty. THat brings me to the second thing I love about Sacramento; the scores of great restaurants and bars. There are also tons of micro breweries around here though I must admit the pale ale I had from Berryessa Brewing this evening was not very good, but those are the breaks.

However, the cheddar burger at Hook & Ladder Manufacturing was superb. Stupid name for a place that is supposed to have an educational vibe (teacher’s desk inside the front door and school auditorium seats for use while waiting for a table).

But wait, am I so simple that burgers, booze and decent golf is enough to get me to relocate to Sacramento? Who knows, but I wouldn’t rule it out. Tomorrow I am hoping to write down some ideas for my next book. I hope you’ll be here to read them.

Sorry, no writing soundtrack tonight. Some idiotic home improvement show on HGTV is filling in, and doing a lousy job of it, I might add.

January 15: Sacramento