This is a reanimation of the Vicaribus blog as lived by Miro Kazakoff and Ehren Foss in 2004 and 2005. The photos may be spotty.

There's a Wheedle on the Needle

Posted by ehren

Saturday I woke up at 10, ate, walked downtown, and started trying to work. It's great being allowed to work anytime, anywhere, but the total lack of consistency of schedule and environment makes it very difficult to get into a programming groove. I made substantial progress in Vegas, but only really hit my stride after two or three days. Likewise Friday I managed only 3 or 4 hours, Saturday 5 or so, and Sunday (when I'm writing this) was shaping up to be an 8 hour day at least, except I forgot my laptop charger in the bus, because I enjoy shooting myself in the foot).

I puttered around the web taking care of odds and ends for a few hours at "Online Coffee" (connection was sllloooowwwww). I grabbed lunch then walked up to Seattle's main public library, which alone makes up for all the complaints I have about the organization of streets. It's an incredible building, providing hundreds of laptop desks and free wireless, thousands of diamond-shaped sky-facing windows, bright lime green staircases and escalators, bright perrywinkle bathrooms, and groovy furniture in other bright, solid colors. I love bright, solid colors if it isn't already apparent.

I worked in the library from 2 until it closed at 6, and then I walked to REI to ask more questions about boots. My parents have been remarkably calm about the whole bus adventure, though my mom does require something to worry about every few weeks. If I don't provide it, by casually mentioning a minor safety issue with the bus or plans for ATVing or fire juggling, then a concern is pulled from the standard list. To wit, my descriptions of the poor tread on our old front tires kept the channels busy for most of January. Thus, when Miro talked about how my old hiking boots were falling apart, and I mentioned that my best next alternative would have been Sean's (they don't quite fit), I virtually guaranteed at least 3 e-mails devoted to the subject. "Going downhill in a boot that is slightly too small will cause immeasurable pain and loss of toenails" and "You should go to REI while in Seattle....pleeeeeaaaasssseeeee?????"

At REI I got the number of a local hiking boot cobbler, but I've been more or less talked out of trying to repair my old ones. To fully restore them would be at least the cost of a new pair, and I will go to great lengths to avoid planning to intercept packages and mail (they'd need to go back to Asolo for new soles). Cal, my friendly REI footwear sales associate, told me they could try stretching Sean's. I tried on 3 or 4 pairs but didn't pull the trigger. I didn't want to carry a boot box through the Northwest Folk Festival, and figured I would need to come back to get Sean's stretched.

The folk festival provided an hour or two of peoplewatching extravaganza. The setlists were diverse, from bluegrass to jambands to drum circles to ragas to pan pipes to Peter Paul & Mary redux. I walked past a quarted with tuba, bagpipes, and two drummers (They didn't sound half bad, and you could see the performer's glee "I play the tuba and I'm in a band!" "I play the bagpipes and I just nailed a solo!"). In the mold of urban festivals, there were many food and craft stalls, and the odd entrepreneur. My favorite pair were offering to eat mealworms for $1. I can imagine them sitting on a threadbare basement couch watching one of a triple threat of 'Half Banked,' 'Friday,' or 'PCU' for the second time this week when the hawker sits up electrified and says "I've got it!" and after 20 minutes has talked his dopey sidekick into actually eating the worms.

After checking the Spaceneedle times (open till midnight, sunset at 9:05) I took the Monorail, which as Monorails go was pretty lame: No maglev, only 2 stops, no feeling of being In The Future, $1.50. Intending to continue working in the bus, I walked for 2 miles down 1st Avenue. Some weekends, if you stay in, you wonder but aren't really sure what you're missing. Scores of bars and clubs are on 1st Ave, so on Saturday the 28th I got back to the bus knowing exactly what I was missing. One of the bars even had a mechanical bull. Damn.

It took longer than expected to heat up soup for dinner, since propane tank #1 expired during the day, and when I went to switch them I noticed that tank #2 was missing the stamped sheetmetal punchouts in the rim/handle/thing, so I'd have to mount it sideways, but that way the hose and regulator wouldn't reach, so I ended up removing both tanks, twice, in order to attach the regulator, then rotate tank #2 into position, all of which requires sitting hunched underneath the bus just in front of the rear wheels for too long.

After that it was nearly midnight, and instead of working I read an amazing account of driving an Oldsmobile Bravada from Seattle to the Arctic Circle in January. Stan and I talked about taking his car and driving North until we could drive North no more during the 02' spring break, but ended up finishing my undergrad project instead. It's a good thing.

Now it's Sunday, and after taking 6 hours off my life expectancy with Krispie Kreme (3 per Glazed Kreme Filled) I put in 3 solid hours at an inexplicable Starbucks in the middle of the shipping district (though once it was light Saturday I discovered the bus was parked in the shadow of the main Starbucks shipping center, so maybe it's like an outlet), as I'm still trying to zero out that $14 giftcard I accidentally bought in Palo Alto.

Then I walked downtown to the library, and was really excited about an afternoon of PHP (yes!) but I forgot my power cord, and I've got about 11% left, and I need that to look up bus schedules. Now you've just read over 1000 words about how I didn't really do much this weekend.