Vandals!

Yeah, we're in rustic climes now fer sher. Proof: Busted mailboxes and trashcans on fire.

A few weeks ago, some young'uns were arrested in the arson case involving many mailboxes in New Paltz. These same people may also have been responsible for destroying many mailboxes along our rural route. Luckily for us, ours was unhurt, but a neighbor's mailbox suffered mightily.

Pitty about Our Road

Our unpaved road was looking pretty good until this last snow storm. After the most recent plowing, we lost a lot of the stones and some hard-packed dirt from the top layer. Then the snow began to melt. As a result, our road has now developed a good many pits, some of them in close proximity. Our once stout little path now has the wet, bumpy feel of the skin right below a bad sunburn.

Driving on it is quite an experience. On either side of the pockmarked path is a 2-foot mound of packed ice. Not only are headlights unnecessary now, but opening your eyes is no longer required: You can just follow the pits below and let the ice keep you in the slot. I've tried it. Driving was never easier. Or bumpier.

The Ice Cometh. The Plowman Cometh Not

New Paltz got a bit more than the 8-16 inches of snow in the forecast. When I went out to do a bit of shoveling last night, the snow was up to my knees. I figured that the plow guy would come either late last night or early this morning. The last time it snowed, he came both during and after the blizzard. Today I found out why.

But to backtrack, I should mention that I made a slight miscalculation that led to me shoveling for 150 minutes instead of 15. With the car at the bottom of our driveway, I decided to see if I could take it one more time to the end of our private road. This unpaved road is just over four tenths of a mile long. I'd just come back from town, so I'd driven the road successfully, but when I went to move the car this last time, enough snow had fallen that the task had become impossible. I should have just taken the snow off the driveway so that I could park the car near the house, out of the way of the plow, but I reckoned that it would be a good idea to leave the car at the bottom of the road instead.

I drove away from the house, but after a short way, the car was stuck fast. I shoveled a bit and got back in, but I only made it as far as the area I'd cleared, plus a few feet. This process was repeated for the next two hours, after which I'd only taken the car halfway towards the main road. Shirra had shown up on the scene to help, so I cleared while she drove, and we managed to park the car to the side of the road. On the way back home, we had to contend with snow that had drifted as high as our thighs in places, making it an exceedingly difficult walk. We figured that we'd see the plowman this morning, but I left him a few messages just in case. He never showed, and he never called.

We would be trapped without someone's help. We tried to phone another plower we know, but he was swamped with calls. My only choice was to try to flag down a passing plower this morning off of Route 32. I stood there for nearly 20 minutes before getting someone to slow down, a lovely fellow named Joe. Initially he didn't think he would have time for the job, but he made time for me, and then he almost quit when he saw what lay ahead for him.

It's hard to plow snow that's over a foot high. Joe had to back up and smash into the snow for quite some time at first. Later, where the snow wasn't so deep thanks to my shoveling and driving, he made swift work of the plowing. In all, he was at it for nearly an hour, including the time it took him to put chains on the wheels, but when it was finished, we were in the clear! Well, except for our neighbor's driveway. Joe was in a rush to get back to his regular customers, so I told him that I'd take car of her place myself. It took me about an hour. I also had some more shoveling to do at our house just to extricate Shirra's car and to clear a bit more of our drive. In all, I guess I was busy for five hours. Luckily I'd located one of those weight-lifter belts this morning so that my back wouldn't be completely destroyed. I don't think I'd even be able to walk if it weren't for that.

Snow's Woes

The forecast was for 8-16 inches of snow from today till tomorrow. I decided to spend a few hours at the firehouse in case some calls came in, and sure enough, two did. Both were cars that had slipped off the highway. When I got back from the 2nd mishap, my car looked like this, even tho I had just cleaned it off 40 minutes earlier.

Later I made the mistake of trying to move the car to the bottom of our drive (nearly a half-mile from the house), but the snow had persisted, increasing in height by at least six inches, so the car is currently nestled to the side of the drive about 200 yards from the spot I was trying to reach. To get it there, I needed to dig out almost the entire length of the road; I think I was digging for around two-and-a-half hours. So as I write this, I'm sitting with a heating pad on my back, trying to calm overused muscles. I'll sleep well tonight!

Commuter Like Me

I guess you can't call yourself a commuter until you've made the trip before 8am. My usual rides, leisurely strolls by comparison, depart at such healthy happy times as 12:30 or 1pm. Those buses are rarely even half full, so everyone gets a double seat. And those rides, coming in as they do during non-rush-hours, are a brisk 90 minutes.

I'm attending a conference this morning in Manhattan. I considered sleeping over at my mom's, since we were there just a few hours ago, but Shirra is not comfortable driving at night, so I obliged, and I was especially relieved to discover that the 7:40am bus still got me to the conf on time, rather than the even less humane 7:10.

Running a few minutes late, I was forced to drive to the 2nd stop in New Paltz, the park 'n' ride. New Paltz doesn't really need its other stop (they aren't more than two miles apart), but it's nice to get on or off right in town, so no one's complaining. If I'd made the earlier stop, however, I would not have had to take the last seat in the bus, way in the back, wedged into the spot beside a dozing heavyweight in a puffy jacket. Serves me right for taking such a luxurious shower. And maybe I shouldn't have taken so long scraping tice off the windshield, but I do like to have some vague idea of where I'm driving.

The good news is that I at least got a seat. Since I had my unicycle with me today, I ended up last to board the bus (since I had to put the unicycle underneath). One more passenger and I'd have had to drive in
instead.

The 7:40 crowd is quiet. They are so quiet, in fact, that when a woman near me sneezed, no one blessed her. And no one is eating breakfast or playing their iPod too loudly. But if I had to leave each day without saying goodbye to my sleeping wife and kids before heading out earlier than I normally wake up to take a bus full of wide seatmates and godforsaken sneezers, I'd be a very sad boy.

Learning about NASCAR

I didn't realize when we moved to New Paltz that I'd have to learn about NASCAR. I couldn't find any online guides to help me translate, but between commercials for motor oil, Sears power tools, and car insurance, I picked up enough of the lingo to have a decent conversation the next time I set foot in that fire house. Try this one on for size:

Standard English
"The driver of the car with the #33 on it is hoping that someone else has an accident, necessitating that the race officials put up a caution flag, which would slow the pace of the race such that he would lose less ground while going in for mechanical adjustments."

NASCARese
Announcer (Southern accent): "That 33 car is hopin' for a yella, but right now they're runnin' green."

I should point out that the 33 car's wishes were granted when the 5 car spun into a wall 10 laps later, shredding its tires but otherwise causing no damage to his car, himself, or others. The 33 car's pit crew was vindicated. Their driver lost little time on his lengthy pitstop and was able to resume the race with a fresh set of tires and some important adjusments to his engine. Thrilling.

Parking: The Main Reason to Move out of NYC?

I'm sitting in front of my mom's apartment building, where I grew up. I dropped off Shirra and the kids, drove around for while in a vain search for a spot, and gave up. As I sit and write this, I'm hoping a spot opens on Mom's block.

30 minutes ago, I eschewed a spot a block away. I knew that losing that spot meant that it would be easier to drop off the family but that it would likely come at a cost. Sure enough, when I drove by that spot a few minutes later, someone was backing into it. In fact, I was amazed that the spot had stayed open as long as it did. And in a biting piece of bad luck, I noticed a spot on my mom's block a minute after missing the earlier spot. What was I thinking when I let that spot go? It was less than a quarter mile from my destination!

Now that I've decided to play the waiting game, each person crossing the street is a potential spot opener. That man with the beard...is he just cutting over diagonally, or is he about to head to his car? Was that woman coming out of her building holding some gloves, or were those her car keys?

Omigod. Sweater Guy WAS heading to his car.... He's out of his spot! Woohoo. The wait is over! Elapsed time: just 50 minutes. That's only 49 minutes longer than my longest search in New Paltz.

First Fire!

OK, it wasn't really that interesting. But after answering nearly 90 calls to the fire department, I saw my first actual fire today. Apparently some teens had set fire to a plastic garbage tub. When we arrived, the fire was about the size of, well, a melted plastic garbage tub. I got to hold the hose on the fire. It was quickly extinguished, and afterwards we filled the truck with diesel and headed back to the station. This will be a story to tell the grandkids one day.

"Grandpa, I want to hear the story again about the great garbage fire of '07."
"Well, you got a couple hours, Chattanooga?"
"For this story? Sure, Gramps."
"OK, Chatty. Just let me park this flying car on the nearest asteroid, and I'll tell you all about it."

More on Scootering

Today was Day 2 of the scooter experiment, and as a result of today's riding, I have a few corrections and a few more comments to address to yesterday's blog.

Distance
Yesterday I 'only' rode 5.5 miles. Today was 6. I apologize for the error and any inconvenience that I may have caused myself.

Muscles
I noticed that the going was far easier today. I don't think I was any stronger (perhaps the opposite), but I am already perfecting some energy-saving techniques, so I was able to push fewer times to get the same distance. On a flat, smooth surface, I can go a block in about ten pushes.

Hammer Time
I also forgot to note yesterday that I have a hammer toe on my right foot. As a result, running or normal scootering (using that foot to push) is a bit painful, while unicycling is not.

Police, or "Scootering while White"
I forgot to mention that just one block into my ride yesterday, I was 'pulled over' by a cop who was standing with two fellow rookies (judging by the fact that none of them was yet old enough to shave, and two of them still hadn't taken the plastic off their guns). He kindly asked to see some id. I was wearing my earbuds, so I started to take them off and asked him to repeat what I thought I'd heard. He asked again for id, and I said, "Are you serious?" At this point he relented on the identification, but he still took time to point out that according to NYC law, scooters are considered to be in the same category as bikes
and are therefore illegal on sidewalks. But then he told me to go ahead as long as I was careful. Hmm. Not the most assertive policeman, but at least he was polite. "Sir, will you kindly drop that weapon as soon as you can and then put up your hands, if that would be convenient?!" Interestingly, I had just been listening to a podcast called "The Risk of Frisk," about blacks being stopped ... and even frisked ... simply for walking in a high-crime area. So as I rode away, I kept wondering how my interaction would have gone if I'd been black.

Tomorrow is Friday, my extra day off. No scootering. Yippee.

T-W-O D-W-I

Last night was busy for New Paltz police, EMTs, and firefighters. Roads were wet or iced over in places, and so were some of the drivers.

At 11, a fire call came in from SUNY campus. It was just a false alarm, and I was back by 11:30. No sooner had I stepped into the house than another call came in, this one for a car accident with downed power lines not far from home. I drove there and parked far enough away from the crash that my car didn't get in the way. A young man driving his truck had spun off the road, smashing into a power line before coming to rest in some trees, perpendicular to the road. According to the cop on the scene, a friend of mine, the guy claimed the accident was due to ice, but all of us could tell that this was not true: There was no ice on the road. My pal, Fireman Fred, had this great response: "Oh, his accident was caused by ice, all right -- Molson Ice!"

We closed off the road in one direction while waiting for Central Hudson to arrive. One of the power lines was on the ground but was not 'live,' so the CH man rolled it up and put it out of the way so that the tow truck operator could get at the truck. Meanwhile the driver was taken off to the police station. His totalled truck was impounded. Apparently CH charges $2000 per hour for their time and $2000 for the new utility pole, so the driver is going to have a lot of bills to worry about in addition to his DWI charge. It turns out that while we were taking care of this call, another driver was getting booked for a DWI accident a few miles away.

I got home at 1 and should have gone right to bed, but I was a bit wound up, but first I played a few games of online Scrabble, winning most of them (a sign that I still had my wits about me). Finally I went to bed at around 2am. 40 minutes later, another call came in, this time for a truck that had crashed due to icy conditions. The dispatcher warned that the tarmack near the accident was extremely slick, so I drove there about half as fast as the speed limits for the road. Again I parked out of the way, and as soon as I stepped out of my car, I could tell what caused the mishap: I nearly fell on the icy pavement. It turns out that one of the chiefs did fall down, hurting his back and gashing a finger, but he stayed on the scene. The driver of this truck was drunk, too, but the accident was definitely caused more by the road than by his inebriation; unfortunately for him, he still got charged with DWI. As was the case with the earlier accident, his truck looked fine until the tow truck removed it from the trees, and again, this car was undriveable and would be considered 'totalled.' The difference was that this driver was hurt, possibly more by the airbag than by the crash, or maybe his head injuries were from hitting the driver's side window. He left in an ambulance. We cleared the road of some ice and debris and headed home at about 3:45 am. As I left the accident, I passed a New Paltz sanding truck on its way to making that road safer.

I didn't expect to get much sleep, and just before 8 this morning, I got a wakeup shout from Maeve. We went downstairs for brekky, but before I'd even started my tea, a call came in for a possible fire. Since I have yet to see a fire, I was intrigued by the possibility of a structure fire, and since the address given was on 32N, I drove right there. It was, happily, a false alarm called in by a neighbor who was concerned about the steam coming off a house across the road from hers; the steam did look like smoke, but it was only a case on condensation. Back at the fire house, we the assembled firefighters washed off all of the trucks, and I was back home by 9 with some Starbucks treats for the family.

A Perfect Winter Day

Recipe:
8.5 hours' sleep
1 wake-up kiss on cheek from...
2.75-year old daughter
2 inches, fresh snow, packing variety
2-hour snow delay for schools
1 hilltop house
3 snowsuits, various sizes
3 kids, sledding (with me and on their own)
1 fire call
1 healthy vet checkup, guinea pig
1 trip, Starbucks, wife and kid
1 bus, on schedule, Trailways
1 wheel
2 miles, street riding
1 hug, mom
4 students
2 miles, street riding
1 return bus
3 hugs
20 minutes, stories
1 hour, hanging out, wife
1 cat, purring, couch

Busy Day for Firefighters

A false alarm came in this morning while I was in the shower. Having missed it, I figured I was in for a quiet day. Then I headed to Main Street with Shirra and Maeve to take care of a few errands.

But first, to Starbucks. While the ladies enjoyed a few nibbles and a drink, I relaxed for a moment with the paper (I'm off Starbucks because all of their fare is too sweet, caloric, or both). Just as we were about to leave, my pager started vibrating, and then the dispatcher's voice came on, announcing that a pedestrian had been hit by a car on Main Street, just up the road. Rather than running to the car for my clothes and then to the fire house, I just raced up the hill to the scene. While crossing the street at a crosswalk, a young woman had been hit by a small truck. She was conscious and appeared mainly to be bruised, and the EMTs were quickly on the scene to immobilize her so that she could be transported safely to St Francis Hospital in Poughkeepsie, known for its excellent trauma unit. After directing traffic and joining in with a few other activities, I hitched a ride back to the station house, put my John Hancock on the sign-in sheet, and headed to the car, where Shirra and Maeve were waiting for me.

Before I'd even stepped into the car, another call came over my pager, and again, it was a car accident on Main Street. This one was even closer, so I grabbed my fire fighter coat and walked up to the accident. This time, three cars had collided. Apparently one or two of the drivers were attempting to turn off of Main when a third driver hit the second car in the rear, sending it into the first car. The woman driving the second car was hurt pretty badly, requiring a trip to St Francis, but the drivers of the other cars refused medical assistance. The first car, barely tapped, had a dent in one of its plastic bumpers. The other cars, while more damaged, were drivable and quickly found themselves put into the parking lot so that normal traffic could resume. I hitched a ride on a firetruck again, signed the sheet, and headed out.

This time I went to The Bakery (a local favorite) for some lunch. But while paying for my order, a third call came in. Again there had been a two-car collision on Main St, just a few "city blocks" away. I changed my order to take-out and ran up the hill to almost the same spot as the other two accidents. A car heading down Main had smashed into a car that was turning onto Main. The woman making the turn needed the EMTs (the fourth in 90 minutes), but the couple in the other car seemed fine despite considerable damage to their car: The driver's side wheel had collided so hard with the other car that it was knocked off kilter, making both cars undrivable. Firefighters diverted traffic while EMTs and tow-truck operators quickly did their jobs; the police assisted everyone and also took down pertinent information. I hitched another ride back to the fire house, this time with the chief, signed in, and waited a few minutes till Shirra could come pick me up after completing her shopping.

It was an exhilarating lunchtime, but I don't hope for another day like this.

Finally, a bad bus day

I've ridden the bus to and from NYC over 100 times by now, and most of those trips have been pretty uneventful. There was something different about today, and it affected my rides in both directions.

The day started inauspiciously enough: My 12:55 bus was late. Then I noticed that, for the first time, all of the luggage compartments were at least partially full. To make matters more challenging, the driver was the only one who has ever given me a hard time about the unicycle, tho he and I had agreed that I could wrap it with a large garbage bag if the need arose. Luckily, I had that bag.

Once on the bus (and because of that garbage bag, I was the last on), I noticed that it was crowded enough that I'd have to sit next to someone. The 12:55 is often like that for the simple reason that the next bus isn't for 3 hours. But this one was more annoying than usual because a small number of riders near me talked loudly or used their cell phones at the start of the ride. Once we'd gotten underway, the bus was pretty shushy.

Speaking of shushing, at one point I'd nodded off, only to awaken to one of the loud young women nearby. She'd decided to phone someone, perhaps because the bus was running late. But she didn't keep her call short, so it woke me up. When someone a few seats away shushed her, she talked back. I've noticed that if there is ever a rude person on the bus, that person has invariably gotten on the bus before the New Paltz stop. New Paltz is an extremely polite town.

Eventually, we hit traffic. I began to panic about the time, but luckily the slow traffic was short-lived. Nevertheless, we pulled into the station about a half-hour late. I made it to my student's school (for a pick-up) with just minutes to spare; normally I have enough time to drop off my backpack at my mom's, play a few games of Scrabble on the computer, hang out with my mother, and then head back to my student's school.

The rest of my day went fine (except for the gear-change button that fell off my unicycle). I made it to the bus in time for the 7:30 ride home. That ride seemed to be going well, too. I had my own seats and the bus lights were strong enough to read by (unlike some of the older buses). The driver was making excellent time. Suddenly someone rushed up to him. A few minutes later, everyone on the bus except for the driver was talking about what had just happened: The driver had missed the New Paltz exit. This necessitated an extra 35 minutes of driving because he had to go all the way to the next exit 18 miles away ... and then turn around and come back. We actually got to New Paltz at the same time as the 8 o'clock bus did. I found it funny that the driver wasn't bright enough to make up for his mistake. He should have asked the riders who were going to Kingston to stay on the bus so that they wouldn't all be really late. Then he could have had the riders going to 'local' stops get on the other bus, which was quite empty. I suggested it, but it only flustered him. Some people treat fresh ideas like hot bread out of an oven. They wait for things to cool down, but then it's too late. This behavior doesn't work for bread and it doesn't work for ideas. You just get a lot of stale bread and a bunch of angry bus riders. It would have helped if he'd made an announcement. He'll be lucky if he gets this route again.

Happily, despite the late hour, the kids were still a bit awake, so I kissed them all goodnight and watched some tv with Shirra before heading to another (false) fire alarm down at SUNY. I played some Scrabble (to make up for this afternoon) and here I am, about to head to bed just before 2am....

Schmutz Wednesday

On my unicycle blog a year ago, I wrote:

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Growing up, and specifically: growing up Jewish, I never learned what Ash Wednesday was. From 2nd thru 8th grade, however, I went to a French school (Fleming) founded by a Catholic woman and populated by a relatively high percentage of Catholic students and teachers. Once a year, I'd see some of my fellow students sporting black streaks on their foreheads, but as soon as the day was over, I'd forget all over again so that come the following year, it was me reaching to some friend's noggin to wipe away the blot that I assumed had more to do with a marker than with religious fervor.

High school and college didn't change this, and by early adulthood, I was playing the same tune. Once a year, I'd find myself generously offering to wipe clean some friend's face only to be reminded yet again that it was Ash Wednesday. It's funny how you go from nice person ("Here, let me get that schmutz off your forehead") to putz ("No! It's Ash Wednesday!") so quickly. 364 days a year, you're doing someone a favor ("Hey, you've got a little newsprint stain right there"), but once a year, you've outed yourself as a religious moron. I guess it's the equivalent of the non-Jews who wish us a happy Yom Kippur on the Jewish holyday of atonement. Speaking of which: At least I didn't wish anyone a happy Lent today.

So, thanks for putting up with us on this special Wednesday. We'll always forgive you for mispronouncing Hannukah if you continue to forgive us for trying to clean that schmutz off your face.

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Sure enough, a few days ago I noticed a few schmutzig women in my daughter's library story group. But this time, I took an extra moment to consider what day it was. Time is funny for me in New Paltz, and this week was especially odd since my schedule was disrupted by President's Week. It took me a moment to recall that it was Wednesday. A little voice told me to put those two thoughts together. Actually, that was Maeve pointing out, "Daddy, that lady has schmutz on her head." OK, that's not true, but it does remind me of a funny anecdote: When Fiona was little, she once complained about having a 'schmut' in her eye. Gotta love it.

Happy Schmut Wednesday, everyone!

Scrabble #2

I won a "club tournament" today in North Salem, the same place where I particpated in the tourney last month. This time the field wasn't quite as strong as it was in January, the result of it not being a regular tourament, but nonetheless the competition was pretty solid. The fact that I won was even more satisfying given that I was feeling a bit under the weather.


I finished 5-1 with a huge spread. In fact, I averaged 455 pts per game, by far my highest average in a tourney. In the only game I lost, I scored 390, and in the first game, I scored 550, garnering a cute little "High Game" trophy. This is the first trophy I've won since I bowled a 1 (yes, 1 point!) but was lucky enough to be on the winning team in a bowling competition back when I was in single digits.

Here is a list of cool words I played:
"Bingos" (using all of my tiles), by game:
TRIACID, LOATHES, DEVALUE, RETCHING
MEIOSIS
INATELY (phony), SIRLOIN
AUREOLAR
OUTRIDES, UNLACING
REFRIED

Weird non-bingos, total
KIVA, MIGG, WITED, ZAYIN, COOLY, STOOK, and CACHING (I turned CHIN into ACHING and then added the other C)

What's interesting to me is that many expert players average about 2 bingos per game. I was just below that, with 11 in 6 games. But much of my scoring came from smaller words where I managed to get a lot of points (ZAYIN, 54, for example). To me, that's the key to Scrabble. You don't have to know a lot of 7- and 8-letter words in order to win lots of games. Another important trick is to play off letters that aren't conducive to scoring well on the next turn, so you have to look ahead a turn or two. For example, in one game I opened with AIOLI (10 pts) thru my opponent's L, getting rid of 4 vowels, and then on the next turn, I played AUREOLAR for 68.

I can't make the tournament next month, so I'm glad I went today.