The Car Buying Experience Part I

At 38 years of age, it's ironic that I have purchased a home but never purchased a car. I've always used my parents' car or had one "handed" down to me. Since it's time for me to bite the bullet and actually buy a car, I've done some internet research as well as gotten some internet quotes on a couple of cars that I'm interested in. Using the Edmunds.com website to compare cars and read the reviews. I winnowed my list to three cars. On the subcompact level, I chose to Nissan Versa. For the sedan, I chose the Hyundai Elantra. And the third was the Toyota Prius. With a click of the mouse, I was able to at least three dealerships selling each car to email me prices that they would be willing to sell me the car I chose with the specifications I wanted. Within eight hours, my email was FLOODED with introductions as well as actually price quotes on each of the three cars. I was overwhelmed with information and went into paralysis mode. I stopped thinking about buying a car for three or four days.

My mom came down to visit me as she does during one of my week-long breaks every year. With her by my side, I trekked down to the Toyota dealership in Fremont (we were there visiting her friends) to start the process. I stepped onto the front landing of the dealership and was immediately greeted by a salesman. Within 2 minutes, I knew there was NO WAY I was purchasing a car from this man. He was the worst salesman ever. It's not that he was pushy or slimy, it's that he had no concept that to sell a car, it wasn't his experience. He hovered over me, he told me what to do. When I was in the car, sitting in the drivers seat orienting myself with all the features, he on more than one occasion said, "let's go". Uhh, NO. I will go when I want to go. On the test drive itself, he didn't ask me if I wanted to drive on the freeway or if I wanted to go anywhere beyond down the street one mile and back. He even told me how fast to drive.

When I got through with the test drive, I reiterated to him that I was in no position to actually purchase a car that day. He insisted on having me go in and meet his manager and give him my phone number. I refused both and he got exasperated. I asked him why do I need to do these things if I'm not ready to buy. After some hemming and hawing he told me that he would get grilled by his manager were he to simply let me walk off. In a moment of pity, I went inside to meet the manager. It only got worse. I told him that I was looking for things that would make me NOT like the car. If a car doesn't have some annoying trait or feature, then I'm going to like it. I'm looking for reasons not to purchase rather than the converse. He wasn't listening to me. I answered the question three times before my Mom chimed in and spoke for me.

As we left the dealership showmroom, I let out a big sound of relief. I felt completely violated and this was a simple test drive. To get to where our car was parked, we had to walk through the used car lot. I made the mistake of stopping to look at a car for a moment. WHOOSH, there was a salesman. Asking me what I was interested in, what I wanted was there any way I could get provide him a sale today. He ran from car to car. My and I simply walked to our destination. As I'm backing out, this large unknown to me man is blocking me from where I was trying to go. It was the used car manager wanting to know about my opinions and thoughts about any of the cars.

So I end this episode with a memory from childhood. I, like many young boys of my generation, were raised on matchbox cars and the like. I remember being fond of these cars, to the point where I collected them. One day, I remember this as clear as day, my Dad must have jokingly asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said that I wanted to become a "car salesman." NOW, I know why Dad basically had a coronary on the spot.

You would think that I could follow directions

Getting the actual funds from my insurance company for the value of the Subaru has been one comic mishap after another. Both times, they were my fault. The first time, I was required to locate the certificate of title and make sure to go online to find the instructions on where to sign and then send it in. The representative on the phone said that at least 50% of people get the signature(s) wrong. Well, I fell into that half that had to have a form sent out from the insurance company giving the company power of attorney to act on my behalf to do whatever they need to do and give me my money.

I was sent the power of attorney sheet ALONG WITH a blank copy that clearly stated "SIGN HERE (Black Ink Only)", "PRINT NAME HERE (Black Ink Only)". There were three separate boxes on the form in which I was only supposed to sign in the last two. 30 seconds later I check the form to see that I've done it correctly and OOPS, I signed the first two boxes. I don't know what I was thinking when I put whiteout over the misplaced signature, but that's what I did and sent in the form.

A couple days later, I get a call from one of the representatives saying that they are sending me another power of attorney form express mail. Yesterday, I went up to my local corner store where I know the owner and I had her make sure that I was doing it right before I signed it. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Goodbye Subaru Wagon......

From 7:30AM January 22nd, 2008 through 7:30AM on January 23rd, 2008, I had a really awful 24 hours. On Tuesday the 22nd, I was driving the Subaru Wagon to school. On the freeway in Oakland about 3-4 miles before my exit, I was in the 2nd lane from the left and a car, from my right, swerved into my lane. I swerved left to avoid it and the next thing I know I slam into the left side concrete barrier and then pinball off of the barrier and found myself skidding across all four lanes of traffic end up crashing into the concrete wall on the right side of the freeway at a 45° angle. Somehow, no cars hit me and I don’t believe I hit any cars. I was wearing my seatbelt and I simply got out of the car and walked around. I was completely shaken up. I was freaking out inside. I called my Dad and he answered and I literally said to him that “I didn’t want him to hang up, I just needed to have him there to talk to.” A couple minutes later the EMT shows up and asks me if I want to go to the hospital. I sign a waiver saying that I don’t. I didn’t have any pain then and I had a sore shoulder for a couple days but that is it. Things happened so fast. I talked to the highway patrol officer and then the tow truck came and took me off the freeway. This all happened in under a half hour. At the time through yesterday when I obtained a copy of the police report, I really had no idea what happened, whether or not anyone else was hurt or even how many cars were involved. Upon reading the report, I was grateful to find out that there was only one other car involved and that the person driving that vehicle was not seriously injured. The second party’s white Jeep Cherokee SUV was severely damaged, but the whole accident could have been a lot worse.

Now that I’ve had a week to let things filter though things and I think that what happened is that when I went to swerve, my driver’s side rear tire blew out. I remember getting out of the car and seeing that that tire didn’t have any black rubber around the rim anymore. A blown tire would have explained the loss of control of the car. Another piece of information that points in that direction is that just before Thanksgiving I had that exact tire patched because it kept going flat. I have heard from many people that I need to accept that it was an accident and that accidents do happen. However, what is nagging at me is the fact that I was found liable for the entire incident. Being someone who preaches the importance of accepting personal responsibility to his 9th grade students, it pains me to think that my negligible attention to that tire may have been the root cause of all this automobile carnage. It doesn’t sit well, but as with many uncomfortable things, time will allow that dagger of guilt subside. I hope.

I’ve heard from the adjustor and the value of the car is less than the repairs so the car has been declared a total loss. I’ll be getting $9,300 for the car. It also appears that I will be the liable party in this accident, so my insurance company will have to pay our damages to any person who makes claims. Luckily I carried massive amounts of insurance and so I’m going to have no real out of pocket expenses except for the rental car that I’ve rented.

So the issue at hand is what car I get to replace the one that was lost. I’ve actually reduced the amount of driving I do to less than 10,000 miles a year. I also am not someone who really feels that a car is a statement about me. I just want a car that gets me to where I need to go. So do I buy a new car? Or do I buy an older used one? What kind of car do I buy? Hybrid? Do I drive enough to warrant spending the extra money on a Hybrid? Do I go for a really small economy car? Do I go with something that can take biodiesel, which is becoming more significant in the Bay Area? Or do I go for the big dream and buy a Volvo and have European Delivery, which means I get flown to Sweden to pick up the car, have up to 30 days to drive around Europe and then drop off the car at one of 20 predetermined ports and then have it shipped back to the States? If I do that, then I couldn’t do it until summer and so can I manage without a car for a couple months? Questions, questions!

So you are probably wondering why the bad day lasted until the next morning at 7:30AM? That is because as I was driving to school in the rental car (a silver PT Cruiser) on Wednesday the 23rd, I was pulled over by a policeman and given a MOVING VIOLATION TICKET for not fully stopping at a stop sign. Talk about salt in the wounds. So, it appears that I will need to attend traffic school sometime in the next few months to have this removed from my driving record.

Addendum: Yesterday I came home to a letter from GEICO asking whether or not I was going to purchase a car within the next 30 days. If I wasn’t, they advised me to cancel my insurance policy. It never occurred to me that I should even do this. I spoke to a representative on the phone last night and I will be getting a reimbursement on the insurance that I’ve already paid for. It’s a small bonus, but a bonus nonetheless.

The Boys of "Huge in Asia" Return

A Bruised Ego

Since my accident in 2002, there have been things that I've slowly checked off my list of things that I didn't think I could do, but by just trying, have been able to bring back into my life. There are just a few last things that I've wanted to try and downhill skiing was one of them. In thinking about going skiing, for some reason it has seemed like a daunting mountain to climb. However, it shouldn't have been.

Seeing as the biggest issue for me is whether or not my feet get pounded into the ground over and over again. With downhill skiing, one's feet are locked in pretty tight to the boots, which are locked down onto the skis, so no up and down pounding should occur. Actually, my biggest worry was not being able to get myself up after having fallen down. This last concern was one that held me back from going up and hitting the slopes. However, I was able to hook up with Peter S. (from the farm trip this past summer) and his friend MB, also from NYC. We decided to meet up in Colorado for the weekend after the New Year and ski together.

We flew into Denver, rented and SUV (which turned out to be a savior since we were hit with some pretty difficult driving conditions at times) and drove to our hotel which was in the town of Avon, CO. Avon is 10 miles west of Vail and is nearest to the Beaver Creek area.

To say that the three days of skiing was bruising to my ego is pretty much dead on for the experience I had. I have to thank Peter and MB for their patience that first day as they sacrificed their enjoyment of the Colorado skiing and instead waited as I repeatedly fell down and labored to get up and then promptly fall down again. It must have taken at least 45 minutes to an hour to finish the first run of the morning of the first day. There was no way I was going to be able to keep up with them so we carefully planned to ski down areas where they could get two blue runs in for every one of my on green runs.

The second day, we trekked over to Vail. We all skied together that morning and I gained some confidence and found some fun runs to do. I found that I felt much more comfortable when I could ski down runs over and over and know what to expect. For those who know Vail, my favorite fun is "Lost Boy". That afternoon, I enrolled in ski school. The lesson was helpful in that the instructor (this woman was the epitome of crusty mid-50's New Englander) explained the importance of rolling one's feet to carve turns. The side-to-side motion of the length of the foot is something that has been reduced in my range of motion. I can do it, but it takes some effort. The lesson went well and I definitely could notice improvement. Most of our lessons took us down blue runs and I was gaining confidence.

The third day of skiing brought us back to Vail. However, this was the day that the big winter storm that nailed California moved into Colorado. The day started with snow flurries and at the top of the mountain there were nearly whiteout conditions. In addition, I had trouble with one of my contacts, which hindered depth perception. Peter and MB went to ski some of the back bowls and I stuck to some green runs near the top of the front side. After lunch, the snow started accumulating at a couple inches per hour. I decided it was time for me to get off the slopes. As we were at the western most point of the mountain and I needed to exit on the exact opposite corner, I plotted a exit strategy that took me down green runs to lifts that moved me eastward. The best laid plans.........

I got down the first run just fine. A bit dicey since I hadn't skied the run before and was afraid I might ski past the lift. However, the second run did me in. I couldn't see and just didn't have the confidence to attack it and by the time I got to bottom of the second run, I decided enough was enough. I ate my pride and took the lift DOWN the mountain. And that was the inglorious end to my skiing trip.

Will I go skiing again? Sure, but I'll probably not choose an area that is quite so difficult and I'll definitely pay much more attention to the weather report.

The Coast Starlight

The Coast Starlight is the Amtrak train that runs the length of the West Coast with endpoints in Seattle, WA and Los Angeles, CA. This past October as I was searching for flights from the Bay Area to Seattle for the winter holidays, I was FLOORED by the $375 and up round trip fares the airlines were quoting. I have become accustomed to the under $200 (and will still complain about them) flights I could book in years past.

On a whim, I checked out the Amtrak site to see how much a train ticket would cost. Round trip, $216. This was something I could manage and also have the opportunity to travel on the famed Coast Starlight train. The name has such a romantic feel to it and the idea of not having to fight through airport security lines and the Southwest Airlines middle seat sold me on the idea. The ticket was purchased.

Luckily, before I boarded the train, I didn't read this unflattering article about the route in the Chronicle. I arrived at the train station at 8:15PM. With no security check and a baggage check line of one person, I was ready to go by 8:25PM. Being used to the airport two hour rule, I was sitting there a bit agog at the ease it was to get checked in.I was scheduled to board the train in Emeryville, CA at 10:15PM on Friday December 21st, 2007. Since we actually boarded at 10:40PM, I'll say that falls within the margin of error and that we were essentially on time.

Why did I mention the date of my ride? December 21st is the vernal equinox and the shortest day of the year. Idiot me books a train ride on one of the most beautiful rides in the nation and I saw a lot of night time sky. Oh well.

I didn't book a sleeper car, but there really was no need. The seats in the coach class were spacious and laid back nearly horizontal while also providing both leg AND foot rests. Unlike the trains on the East Coast, The Coast Starlight (as well as many of Amtrak's long distance trains) use the Superliner cars. They are two story with the lower part being dedicated to bathrooms and other features and the second story for passengers. It was great to be up high and watch the scenery go by.

I immediately got comfortable and fell asleep. As I slept, the train worked it's way through Sacramento, Chico, Redding and across the California/Oregon border. I awoke to snow on the ground and the beautiful southern Oregon scenery. We stopped in Klamath Falls and then worked our way over the Cascades into Eugene, OR. We arrived into Eugene within an hour of our scheduled time. Because Amtrak assigns its passengers to cars based on each persons destination, over half of the passengers in my car left the train in Eugene. Few got on and for the rest of the trip to Seattle, only 50% of the seats in my car were occupied. Unfortunately, the weather was overcast and cloudy so there weren't many vistas to be seen and then by the time we arrived into Portland, it was dark. I arrived in Seattle at 9:15PM the following evening, only a half hour after the train was scheduled to arrive.

Six days later, I again boarded the Coast Starlight was my southbound trip. The thought of another 20+ hours was daunting. I think next time, I will take the train up and fly back down. That seems to be a good compromise. On the train this time were 100+ Canadian teenagers on their way to Los Angeles. The trip had a much more "hyper" feel to it. However, this time, I got to see the beautiful views as the train traveled right along Puget Sound as well as San Francisco Bay as it pulled into Emeryville. These short glimpses made the long boring parts worth enduring.

I got off and thought, "probably not again", but as I sit here a week after the trip, I certainly romanticize the good parts. Being able to stretch out. Sitting in the viewing car and reading a good book on comfortable seats. (By the way, I read the majority of Richard Russo's new book "The Bridge of Sighs") Perhaps, I'll try riding across the country in one of the other famous Amtrak rail trips. The Empire Builder links Seattle to Chicago across the Montana and North Dakota (we all know my fascination with the latter) or the The California Zephyr which starts in the Bay Area and ends in Chicago. Amtrak, check it out!

Somewhere in the big city tonight.....

Last night was Hans and Teresa's annual "Bag Party". I have attended each and every one of these events since their Bay Area inception four years ago. Remember a couple years ago, I had the indignity of losing 9 straight rounds of the game.

Each person brings a bag in which five items are placed. Two supposedly "good", two are to be "bad" and one "so-so" item. Two pairs of people play against each other rolling die in a pre-determined sequence to "build/draw" animals called "COOTIES". Each member of the winning team takes an item of their choice from a loser's bag. The winner also gives an item of their choice from their bag to the loser. As you figure out quickly, the more you lose, the worse the items get in your bag.

The big story from this years party isn't that I lost many times. Although I lost more than I won, the event was the fact that my "so-so" item was three gay porn DVD that I brought in my bag. "So-so" is all about the eye of the beholder, right? Before the games begin, a very attractive guy enters the apartment. (Hans W, I'm sure you can figure out who it is by the end of this posting) On his arm is his girlfriend, so alas, he's heterosexual. Leaves me out of the picture, but a boy can still enjoy the view can't he? I settle for the eye-candy.

Halfway through the evening, I've lost one round of the game and guess who comes to my table to play? You guessed it. He's nice, funny, well-spoken and from Ohio to boot. Totally the demographic!!! Our two game mates are off getting drinks or something so I get an entire five minute chat with Hot Ohio Guy (I actually got his name and connection to the party but if I mention it that makes it too easy for Hans). As is the pattern, I lose and he takes from my bag, the bottle of vodka that my ex-tenant left in my freezer.

Hot Ohio Guy moves on, but next comes his girlfriend. She too is funny and engaging and we have a number of laughs. Somehow, the luck of the dice is with me and I win. From my bag, I hand her the ziploc back of three gay porn. Being that this is San Francisco, this straight girl is unfazed, if not a bit excited by being the new owner of these DVD's

Suddenly, the night is called and all there are no more games. We end up with what is in our possession at that time. So, I leave the party with a smile on my face that somewhere in the city Hot Ohio Guy is drinking vodka and watching the gay porn that I gifted to his girlfriend.

A Great San Francisco Day

So, I know that I rarely post about the more mundane daily happenings of my life, but I had to record this great day. The school always gives us the day before Thanksgiving off so I had a day to run errands and do whatever I wanted.

I woke up to a gloriously sunny, crisp clear fall/winter San Francisco day. After a leisurely breakfast, I hopped on the bus to go down to City Hall. I was there to pay our houses entire tax bill to get a tax certificate to proceed with our condominium conversion. Like a couple experiences in the past that I've had with City Hall, I am continually amazed by the level of great and efficient service I get there. I had to go to three different offices and was in and out in half an hour. What other City Hall can claim this?

From there, I continued up Van Ness Avenue to Russian Hill to go to the surveyors office. Our surveyors are located right on Lombard Street. The reason why you recognize that name is that Lombard, on Russian Hill, is the famous curvy street that is always pictured in SF postcards. Well, being just a resident who needed to get from one place to another, I walked down beautiful Lombard Street. My walk through Russian Hill fed my envy of the place and my desire to someday live there.

After dropping off the tax certificate and updated title report, I moseyed down Columbus Avenue and sat at a cafe and had croque monseiur and a double mocha. Being that this was North Beach and everything is authentically Italian, the mocha came in one of those bowls that you have to use with two hands. I sat there for an hour savoring the drink and finished up my Earl Warren (former Governor of California and Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court) biography.

After that, I walked back through Chinatown and popped into Banana Republic to browse. On the sale rack, I found a pair of khakis in my size for $9.97. My entire wardrobe consists of khakis but I couldn't bypass this consumer opportunity. I mean, I paid for a purchase at Banana Republic in CASH. How often does THAT happen.

Being in the neighborhood of Union Square, I met up with my friend Lauren S. for a quick bite to eat. Then I took the bus out to the pool to swim a mile. I've now worked up my stamina to be able to swim the 1600 meters that is equivalent of a mile in just under an hour. I swim this distance three times a week. The other two times I swim, I do about three-quarters of a mile.

Continuing on with my great day, I took the bus (note that I've become quite skilled at getting around the city on public transportation. I'm quite proud of it) back downtown to see the movie called "The Life of Reilly", which is Charles Nelson Reilly (the guy famous from Match Game) doing his one may comedy routine.

From there I went to my Weight Watchers meeting. The last two weeks I've gone, I've gained one and two pounds respectively. Having eaten in the same, not so strict manner this past week, I expected at best to have stayed the same weight or at worst gained back some of the weight I've lost. Instead, a totally pleasant surprise. Somehow, and I think it's because last weeks scale was off, I lost 6.2 pounds this past week. There is NO way. I was so sure that it was wrong, I went to another scale to check and it was the same. So, since Labor Day I've lost 13.2 pounds.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!

The San Francisco Bay Oil Spill

As most of the country knows, a week ago Wednesday, there was an oil spill in San Francisco Bay. 58,000 gallons of heavy bunker fuel leaked from a gash in a boat that went off course and struck on of the retaining walls around one of the towers of the western section of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge. If there is a silver lining for those of us who live here, it's that there was no damage to the Bay Bridge structure itself. WHEW!

I think I speak for a great deal of us here that we're incredibly sad that this occurred right here in our waters. I wanted to figure out how I could help. Yesterday, I got an email from my local NERT group informing me that there would be a training for oil cleanup to be held this afternoon. I was ready for action. However, later that evening, it was posted that the response for cleanup volunteers was overwhelming and that there wasn't enough work for them to train and certify another large group of volunteers.

Alas. Since I had planned on the afternoon being occupied with cleanup, I decided to take the N-Judah out to Ocean Beach just to see what things looked like. This is what I saw when I got there.

I snuck onto the beach anyway to see what it looked like. Here is absorption mat made out of human hair. I saw an article about these in the Chronicle

I walked up the beach and spoke with a man wearing a jacket with EPA stitched to the back. I figured he would know what the details were so I chatted him up. He informed me that groups of trained and certified volunteers were sent out in groups of 10-12 for two hour shifts. At this point, and at this location, the oil is in blobs the size of nickels. It's heavy and viscous enough to be picked up with gloves or a fork type tool. As you'll see in subsequent pictures, the beach, from afar, looks much like it does typically. According to the media, the beaches should be cleared for opening in the next week or so.

A group being briefed in the staging area before being sent out.

Suiting up!

Volunteers at work.

At the end of a shift, each volunteer disrobes and gets a scrub down.

I'm glad I went down to Ocean Beach today. I guess I imagined it looking like the pictures we all saw from the 1989 Exxon Valdez spill in Alaska where there were large sheets of oil. I'm glad that the volunteer turnout was high and that the work is being done quickly. I know that there has been some grumbling about the slow reaction time and reporting of the size of the spill. But, things look good from where I stood. Perhaps all the doomsday reports about long term impact on the environment and birds will take place. I hope not though.

"Lesbionics"

That's my friend Carlos' name for lesbians. These women have been a player in the sitcom of my life this past weekend and month. Two couples have had different impacts, but nonetheless noteworthy. One couple had a wedding ceremony in Walnut Creek this past weekend. One of the women worked with Carlos at his former employer. She is a native of New Zealand, who married a woman from the South. Since I didn't know the couple at all, my mind wandered throughout the actual ceremony. I was hearing the words but not really having them register their true meaning and impact.

However, that immediately changed when the first dance was called. The couple, both of whom are quite involved in the dancing world, waltzed around the room that was truly an expression of their love and devotion to each other. The wedding attendees and I were all mesmerized by this moment. I would gather that the saying "took ones breath away" was truly apt in this situation.

After this first dance, the rest of the afternoon and evening was magical. All were invited to join in on the dancing. Since the couple invited their fellow dancing friends it was a great spectacle. The most successful part of the event was that the music chosen was great. It was a compilation of country and swing music that was toe-tapping and had people on their feet. It was fun to watch and participate. I even was out there on an occasion or two.

After the wedding, Carlos and I made a trip to see our friends Zac and Kelly. Kelly is 9 months pregnant and about to give birth to their son within the next couple days.

The subject of babies leads me to my second, and more significant, lesbian couple interaction of the past six weeks. Sometime in mid-September, I got an email forwarded to me from a colleague of mine. A friend of my colleague had put out a call for potential sperm donors for her and her partner. This couple was specifically looking for a gay, Asian/Asian-American, educated and San Francisco based male to be the sperm-donating father.

WOW! That came out of nowhere. However, my initial reaction wasn't "No Way". The thought surely intrigued me. So, I emailed the couple back and we set up a time to meet in mid-October. Upon meeting them, I liked the couple a lot. They are both Stanford educated, in their late-20's and been together for seven years. They both work in social justice related fields and had really thought this through.

The foremost topic of discussion would be the size of my role in the child's life were I to donate. I pictured that I would be a part of the child's life three or four times a year. Most likely for major holidays, birthdays and occasional other significant occasions. This was the picture that the couple ideally had as well. I also knew that were I to have this amount of contact, that my identity as the biological father of the child would be revealed to the child as soon as it made sense to do so. You all know me, I can't keep a secret, and to ask me to be around the kid and NOT say something would be close to impossible. With this scenario, it obviously was clear that I would have no day-to-day responsibilities nor any financial responsibilities.

After we got this out of the way, the couple and I discussed the actually process of insemination. It would start with my full health history, blood work and semen analysis. This would all be done in a medical facility. This process would take a couple months. While I was doing this, the couple was planning on leaving the country for the first months of 2008 and then when they got back in March, assuming the doctors gave the "GO" sign, the donation would occur at that time. Oh, and of course we would sign the legal documents and agreements before the actual process began.

Now, the information that came kind of weirded me out. The couple, by asking for a known donor, increases the chances of a pregnancy occurring. Instead of going to a sperm bank, in which the sperm is frozen, I would produce sperm into a sterile container and then hand it directly to the couple and the proverbial turkey baster would be used to inseminate. This event could literally happen in their home. For some reason, this I found a bit TOO intimate, but I was sure I could handle it.

The other thing about the couple using a known donor is that because the sperm didn't pass through third party hands (a doctor or a sperm bank), the child is not theirs until the adoption happens at the moment of birth. I as the "father" could not sign away the rights to a fetus. Interesting, eh?

So, that being all put out on the table that night we met, it was my turn to mull over whether I wanted to do this at all. The couple also revealed that they were in talks with another guy and he had already begun the medical history and evaluation portion. However, they wanted to pursue my willingness (or not) to do this on the off chance the other donor falls through.

I told the couple that I needed a couple weeks to think about this. I had to work through why I was hesitant to just jump in and say yes. What was holding me back? The first was quite easy to identify and that is how would I feel about the fact that if the child were born there would be a person out there with my genetic material. I know that I would feel attached to the kid and immediately become irrational and want to protect the kid from pain just like any other child. This issue seemed obvious, but I think now that I'm in my late 30's (ouch did I just type that?) I have the emotional maturity to handle the feelings that would come up on this? I know that five years ago, I would not have been able to sort through the possibility of these feelings, let alone take the time to identify that they would happen. I think this sign of emotional growth would certainly be something that would allow me to deal with whatever could arise once the child was born.

However, I knew that just the "being a biological dad" issue wasn't the only one. After talking in therapy, would there be credence to the fact that my serving as a donor be an admission to myself that at this point in my life that I probably wouldn't ever be a father? Granted it's not a deal breaker in finding a partner that he would want to have children so the issue wasn't the having a kid part. At its core was my being willing to serve as a sperm donor an admission to the fact that I don't think I'll ever find a partner? That this is my way of saying, "well I'm probably going to be alone for a while so why not just provide happiness for someone else?"

At the most dark moments in the process of trying to figure out whether or not I was going to say yes, these were the thoughts that I dealt with. I had to sit and ponder all these thoughts and identify the validity of them or determine whether it was me being a pessimist and a fatalist.

But seeing this happy couple moving along in their journey of having a child as well as the happy swing-dancing couple, I realized that love and happiness are things that I could have. I came back to this realization that we all can't have everything we want and desire at the same time or in the same order. I've been lucky in my life to have a wonderful family and have a wonderful career and been able to travel and do things I want. The partnership part is just the last piece of the puzzle. Other people get the relationship part first and sometimes get the other things later. This optimistic view of the world brought me around. This turnaround as well as the "Dr. Phil" conversation my sabbatical enjoying colleagues had with me while on my bike to work (as noted in a previous posting) made me realize that I was willing to say yes to being a sperm donor for this great and happy couple.

Therefore, this past Wednesday, I called to chat. I offered my services and the couple was happy. They did tell me, however, that the guy they had already started with had successfully passed the health, semen and blood screenings and the the couple and the other guy were in the legal negotiations part. Therefore, they asked whether or not I would be willing to sit in the background in case something fell through. I said absolutely. The couple should let me know by mid-December if the legal part fell through. If at that time, things are a go, then the only other thing that could go wrong is the actual insemination in the Spring.

So, if you were wondering what was on my mind this past six weeks, well now you know.

I Felt Like a Movie Character

Often times in movies there are the scenes of a married couple where the male is just poking along, minding his own business, doing his thing. Along comes his female partner and starts grilling him about something, asking his opinion and sharing with him some of the scenarios and schemes she's worked up in her head. All the while, the male is shell-shocked and has no idea what to say or do because anything he says or does is probably wrong.

It happened to me this morning. Granted, I'm not married but it happened as I was biking to work today. As I'm starting the final climb up the hill to school, I hear my name called out by my colleague who is out walking her dog. She's currently on a sabbatical but wanted to hear what I had heard about a certain situation at school. I had no idea what she was talking about and then she wanted me to start help address the situation even though I'm not even involved in the scenario. But now, I have no choice but to address the situation. This conversation led her to go all Dr. Phil on me in another issue in my life.

Fifteen minutes after seeing her, I parked my bike and was like a deer in the headlights. What just happened? All of a sudden in one conversation, I am now involved in a situation I don't want to really be involved in and also forced to think about the fact that I'm approaching a problem with the wrong construct.

I was just trying to get to work this morning.

Beets

For those of you keeping score, my weight loss has been successful. So far, I've lost 10 pounds since the end of August. One of the secrets has been to eat many more fruits and vegetables. And since I have the Saturday Alemany Farmer's Market right in my neighborhood, getting fresh produce is a snap. One of the things I have been doing each and every week is to buy something that I don't know how to cook (or sometimes have no idea what the item is) and figure out what to do with it at home. I call it the "chance" item.

Sometimes I lose and get something I'll never buy again. But, a couple weeks ago, I bought beets. I've discovered I LOVE beets. Each and every week since, I've bought beets (I've discovered I particularly like the pink ones I think that are called chogas). I boil them, peel them, dice them and eat them like candy. The fact that it turns my pee a tinge of red is kind of a cool bonus.

This past week, the "chance" was persimmons. They are in season as over half of the vendors were selling the orange fruit. I'm not sure they will rise to the level of beets, but they will not return to the also ran pile of this weird cantaloupe/honeydew hybrid that I though was gross.

Italy -- The Wedding

My friend Jennifer's wedding was a two day affair. We began on Saturday afternoon with a winery tour, tasting and pig roast. The Saturday events took place a two hour bus ride from Rome in Umbria.

Jennifer with her friend Judge Bill M.

The wedding took place on Sunday. Now, I have been to enough weddings in my life and so nothing really surprises me anymore. However, HOWEVER, this wedding of all time, WOAT, had a number of things which blew my mind. Let me proceed...

Getting off the bus, we were met by a marching band which led us attendees up to the castle.

Castle Orsini

Castle Orsini

The view from the castle onto the pool and the surrounding villages around Nerola.

In the late afternoon, the sun broke out and we were treated to amazing views.

The ceremony took place on own of the castle's lawn.

The happy couple.

The back of Jennifer's dress

The bride and myself

Jennifer P. of Toronto (my wedding "girlfriend") and myself

After the ceremony ended around 3PM, we guests were treated to light snacks consisting of (and this was reconstructed by us in the bus on the way back as there was so much variety that I didn't get to all the tables) proscuitto, toast points, fried onions and fried potatoes (?), rice balls, deep fried polenta balls, cured ham, many kinds of cheese. There were more things, but I can't remember.

Afterwards, we sat down to (verbatim from the menu):

Penne Pasta with tomato basil sauce
Gnocchi with truffle sauce and julienne zucchini
Pappardelle with wild boar ragout

Veal beggars purse stuffed with spinach and proscuitto
Duchess potatoes drizzled with truffle sauce

After dinner we were led downstairs for coffee and dessert. Here we have women hand baking fresh cookies for us.

There were many desserts on many tables as we ate in the chapel of castle. The walls had frescoes dating from the 12th century.

The wedding proceeded with dancing and music. We then were treated to a light buffet of cookies, pizza, pasta and a tray of meats. The evening ended with a 15 minute fireworks display that we watched from the terraces of the castle.

Amazing!

A beautiful sunset to end a magical day for the WOAT!

Italy -- Part I

This past week, I took a week off of school to attend my friend Jennifer C's wedding, which I will now call the "wedding of all time" (WOAT). However, I sandwiched my attendance at the wedding with a couple days in Rome at the beginning and a couple of days in Bologna before I flew home.

Before I begin, a shout out to Mom and Dad for cashing in miles to get me to Rome without having to dish out any money. The bonus was I got to fly KLM through Amsterdam, instead of an American carrier.

I arrived in Rome and was landed in the Rome Central Train Station with no idea where or how to get to the B&B at which I made reservations. First thing I did? Have some gelato. That was the theme of my trip, when it down, gelato makes things better.

I eventually found my way to the B&B, which was located near the Ponte Sisto and Campo de Fiori. The next morning, I have reserved a spot on a tour of the Vatican. Now the Vatican tours are so large these days, that each different tour company hands out it's members a headset so one can hear the guide as he/she speaks into a microphone. My group was limited to six guests and was lead by an ex-pat New Zealander who was living in Rome working on his PHD. It was quite a different experience. Our small, agile, group, was able to dart in dart around the massive groups to see things up close, spend time at things we found particularly interesting and ask questions.

I respected the wishes of the Vatican to not take pictures so none are posted. But I did love the Map Room and found the Sistine Chapel to be quite remarkable. Having each and every one of the frescos explained to me, made it quite that much more amazing. Michelangelo was quite the force.

After the Vatican, I took the Metro over to the Colosseum. This time, I took one of the tours where I wore the headset to listen to the guide.

After the Colosseum, I walked through the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill. This time, I finished the trifecta of tours, but using one of the hand held, self-guided ear pieces to walk around.

The next morning, Saturday October 6th, I spent the morning working my way towards the bus pickup location for the days festivities at the wedding.

First stop, the Pantheon

A couple minutes away.....Trevi Fountain

The important information revealed by this "signage" about the fountain

This last picture summarizes what I learned over the course of the day in Rome as well as something valuable I learned/realized during my Vatican tour. First, I realized that back in the days before print media and television, these public pieces of art WERE a form of entertainment. Popes and patrons would commission these works and then when put on display were, for the masses, more than just art, it was a way to understand history and to be stimulated.

I learned from my Vatican guide to always look at the beauty of the art, but to also look for clues as to who commissioned it. You'll see in the last picture the popes head piece at the top, with two crossing keys. The seal of each and every pope has that as it's papal sign, but the crest below it is individual to each pope. You'll see that Pope Clement II is the one who had the Trevi Fountain built. I found it cool to be able to use clues like this to figure out who gets credit for what. Throughout Rome, one would see these signatures on buildings and pieces of art. I love how the citizens of Rome live in and amongst these famous historical items.

Neptune, he owns Bologna's Piazza Maggiore

After the wedding, I took the train up to Bologna to hang with former student Ari K. Those of you HRS readers can follow his adventures as a student abroad in Rome on Ari's blog. We spent a day just walking around, catching up. I even attended one of his classes with him. Man, was it boring to sit through a lecture in Italian on the role of Women in Greek and Roman life. I applaud myself for NOT falling asleep.

I spent the afternoon in the Piazza just enjoying the weather and sitting around me were these three men. I think I've seen my future.

Good Fortune Smiles Upon Me

This good fortune is small on the grand scale of things, but benefits our planet the most. My commuting patterns this year have been to drive my car and bike to school on Monday mornings and then bike back and forth to and from school during the week. On Thursday evenings, I bike home, leave the bike there for the weekend and then get a ride into school on Friday mornings and drive home Friday night.

However, whenever I have something to do that doesn't take me directly home, I end up driving to a BART station in the East Bay and not riding my bike. In addition, if I leave school around 5:30 to 6:30PM, by the time BART gets into downtown San Francisco, it becomes standing room only and I often get annoyed looks from the suits who ride the BART with me as my bike and I take up a good chunk of real estate. Both of these have become deterrents to my riding my bike.

However, my problem has been solved. At my East Bay BART station, Fruitvale, Alameda Bicycle's Fruitvale Bike Station offers free bike parking for commuters. The majority of those who use the service are commuters who bike to BART in the morning and check in their bikes for the day.

I, however, do the reverse. At the end of the day, after I coast down the hill from school, I check in my bike for the evening and pick it up in the morning for my ride up to school. It works PERFECTLY. I could not have asked for a more perfect service at a more perfect location. Plus, I get to walk into the office all sweaty!

Time to Take Action

August, 2007

Last month when I went to the doctor, they took my blood pressure (fine) and my weight. I saw the number and my eyes did a double take. I was pushing 200lb. WHAT?!?! I know that I had been bad about the 10AM donut, but this was unacceptable. Then when I got the picture taken of me by Catherine in early August, I had to admit to myself that I had to do something about the size of my backside. I couldn't use the "more cushion for the pushin'" line any longer!

So, I hauled myself into Weight Watchers and signed up and weighed in. I can claim that I lost 5lb between the doctors visit and my initial meeting. After seeing people that I love and know use the program successfully, I figured that I could too. After one initial meeting and a glance through the literature my issue isn't what I eat, it's portion control.

Luckily for me, the Weight Watchers point system is like a game to me. What can I eat to maximize my satisfaction while minimizing the number of points. It's all about vegetables! So, here I go. I'm now on Day 3 of this journey. Let's see how I do.

Flying Pigs Farm

The second stop on the Peter and Ernie agricultural tour took us to Flying Pigs Farm located on the New York/Vermont border in Shushan, NY. The owners, Mike and Jennifer, started this farm after having moved into a house and renovated and while working their full time jobs, bought a couple pigs and raised them. A few years ago, they dove in to raise pigs and chickens full time. I will put in a plug for them and make sure to check out their website and if you are a lover of pork products, make and order and they'll get the goods out to you pronto.

I start with a shot of the morning sun over Vermont as seen from my tent.

I'll start with pigs. The process of raising pigs is pretty simple. You feed them to "fatten them up" and when they are large enough, it's off to the slaughter house. The pigs are separated into three different areas based on their size. The farm purchases the piglets from others who breed them, Flying Pigs raises them until they are marketable. While Pete and I were on the farm, two other workers drove to pickup a new set of piglets. Apparently, the handover took place in a Home Depot parking lot. That must have been a sight to behold.

Mike unloading a newly obtained pig into the small pigs area. Once you catch a pig, you can hold however you want but it will truly "squeal like a pig"

Pigs and chickens eat tons of feed. A two ton delivery of feed comes twice a week to fill up the feed truck.

The feed truck is then driven up the hill to the pig areas and feed is augured into the feeding units.

Myself after filling the pig feeders.

The pigs chowing down. As you can see they stick their entire faces under the plastic lid to get to the food. When the pigs pull themselves out, the door slaps down to make a distinctive sound. When all the pigs are eating, the collective shutting of doors is like a rhythmic drumbeat.

Daily chores include filling the pigs water jugs, making sure that the feeders were full and evenly balanced and making mud for the pigs. "Sweat like a pig" is an oxymoron. "Happy as a pig in mud" is a truism because pigs don't sweat. Therefore, rolling around in the mud is a way for them to cool off.

"Pig pile!!"

Sadly, one day during chores, we found that a medium sized pig had passed away. How did we know that it wasn't just sleeping? First off, it was laying down on the ground out in the open. If there isn't mud, pigs prefer to sleep under the cover of trees where it's cooler. Secondly, there were flies buzzing all around it. The other workers did an autopsy to try and determine what the cause was.

The smell was pretty horrendous, but the sight, fascinating.

The best guess was that the pig might have had a respiratory ailment as the lung was slightly discolored. Here I am with the lung zip-locked for Mike's inspection.

Instead of ending the section on pigs with death, instead there will be birth. When the farm takes delivery of new pigs, they are supposed all females (sows). However, a couple weeks ago, as Mike was rounding up pigs for slaughter, one of the sows was discovered to be pregnant. Apparently, one of the sows was a boar and had done his manly duty. The sow bore ten piglets and her life temporarily spared as she raises her offspring.

The joys/burdens of being a mother of 10.

Before moving onto chickens, I must mention that when Peter and I offered our services on the farms, we said anything was game. Therefore we were given other duties as assigned. One of them was to build a feed box for the chicken feed.

Peter nailing together the chicken feed box.

Before the box, Mike had to buy his two types of chicken feed (for the egg layer and the meat birds) in sacks. Buying it in ton form (as seen in pig feed truck above) cuts his costs by one third. In addition, because the feed is now located closer to the chickens, less labor is involved.

Chicken feed being loaded into the new box.

The farm currently stores all of it's pork and sausages in a freezer in town, a short drive away. Mike has decided to build a freezer building on his property and so Peter and I helped with that as well.

Here's the new freezer building as we left it.

Onto the chickens. Chickens are creatures of habit. Granted all of us are, but chickens especially. Chickens have been bred for two purposes, to provide us eggs and to provide us meat. They are kept separately based on their ultimate function.

This small white chick is a future meat chicken.

Mike and Peter laying out the electric fence to enclose a new area for the meat birds. Moving the birds to a new area is both an issue of sanitation and a source of new bugs for them to eat. The fence itself is more to keep predators out.

Kristy and Matt (the other workers who are on a vet school internship) helping set the fence.

Then it's time to lead the chickens to their new home.

Sometimes you do what you have to do. When you pick the chickens up and hold them upside down, they become docile.

The laying chickens are allowed to roam (free range, baby) during the day and of course they dug up the dead pig in the mulch pile.

A "hen-pecked" chicken. When the chickens get stressed or agitated they start plucking out each others' tail feathers. Those who are completely stripped of their hind feathers are lowest on the "pecking order".

The chickens only lay eggs during the day. The laying chickens have two buildings (on wheels of course to move between areas). One is their roost, where each evening when the sun goes down, the "chickens come home to roost". Their other building is the egg barn as I call it. Inside are metal boxes in which the chickens lay their eggs.

The egg barn

Due to bacteria and disease reasons, the sheels of the eggs must be sanitized before sale.

Then the eggs are sorted by size and color for sale at farmer's markets in NYC. Some of the eggs we sorted while working went to some specific high-end restaurants.

So you hopefully noticed that throughout this posting, I put certain sayings in quotes. One of the things Peter and I noticed is how many sayings we use today are rooted in agriculture. These quoted sayings are only the ones we found ourselves while at Flying Pigs. But there must be many more that we didn't notice.

A great shout of of thanks goes to both Richard and Holley as well as Mike and Jennifer for their great hospitality. We never ate poorly and had such an amazing education about both the workings of farm life as well as the struggles and joys. Although vegetables and animals require vastly different types of work, but the pride these two farms (as well all farms across this country) have in their product is what I found to be their ultimate appeal. Never will I again purchase my food without at least thinking about the work it took to grow the produce and meat. But also what happens to those natural products as they get processed into other forms.