Juddmansee.com

Since I got home at a reasonable hour on Friday, Brian and I had time to go shopping. First on our list was a new grill. We had been using a hand-me-down that I got from a co-worker circa 1998. It had done good strong work, but by last year, it only worked on one side, the handle was cracked and pulled out from the lid, it listed about 30 degrees to the right, and the shelf kept peeling off layers of wood, making it rather flimsy. We put it in our dumpster last fall (but the main grilling compartment did get recycled at least one more time, as some youth grabbed it out of the dumpster to use for beach grilling).

We went to Kelly’s True Value to see what they had, realizing the Friday of Memorial Day weekend might be one of the worst times to go. In reality, it was fairly calm and they had a large array of Weber grills. We settled on the Q200, because it has the added bonus of being portable. First, that means it’s easy to get in and out of the garage for storage; second, we can take it car camping or to a friend’s house for additional grilling capacity. We also got the accompanying cart/stand, so it sets up very nicely on the patio and doubles as a cart to wheel it around.

Based on our early success, we also went to Radio Shack to get me a new phone. I have been using my Sanyo SCP-4000 cell phone since at least 1999. It’s the only cell phone I’ve ever owned. (Well, I did spill OJ on my first phone a few months after getting it, so technically this is the second one, but it’s the same style of phone.) The phone battery no longer lasts through a conversation with my parents, so I decided that was the tipping point, and it was time for a new phone. Sure, I could have gotten a new battery for the phone, but phones are so much smaller now, with speakerphone capability, so I was ready to swap. The timing is also good right now because the days of phones without cameras are dwindling, and I don’t want a camera on my phone (I can’t bring it into some of the defense and classified facilities). I did a little research on line and asked a lot of my friends what phone they have and which ones they like.

We walked into RadioShack, started handling the phones, and sure enough a young man came over to ask if we needed help. He pitched the Life’s Good phone, and despite my annoyance at LG for mimicking my favorite happy brand, Life Is Good, the phone seemed like the right choice. It was small, didn’t have a camera, did have speakerphone, and wasn’t pink. We took them up on the offer to set up the phone and continued shopping for headsets. That’s when a second employee finished up with his customer and started chiming in to help us too.

A humorous digression – the 2nd RadioShack guy was the quintessential stereotype. He’s the guy you expect to meet behind the counter at RadioShack – clearly tending toward nerdiness but trying to cover it with some quirky pseudo-“cool”ness. In this case, he had an eyebrow piercing and several earrings. He’s thirty but has never had a driver’s license (he did show us his state ID with a photo from when he turned 21). He knew the exact model number of my old phone as soon as he saw it, and of course he owned that same phone the year it came out. He was very quick to point out that I would be saving $5 with the new phone because Sprint no longer has to support the old standard something-or-other. He chatted away about the various features of the phone even after I had decided to purchase it. He was both helpful and slightly annoying. It was a classic RadioShack experience, which seems to be nationwide in its consistency.

Because my old cheap headset wouldn’t work with the new phone, we decided to really get me into the 21st century by going the Bluetooth (a.k.a. Lasertooth for the benefit of IRC readers) route. We bought the one that the guys in the store both had, and although the initial Juddmansee reviews are iffy (“garbled” and “buzzing” from Mom and Brian, respectively), I’m going to give it a try for a few weeks.

Now to go read the user manual on this new gizmo! Already I know it stores 50 calls in the call history (my old phone saved 10). The ringers are a whole different world. If I ever need a boost, I can hear “We are the Champions” or “SuperFreak” or “Let it Be” anytime (they are one of some 20 default ringtones). I’ve got it set to the most inocuous semi-professional tone I could find. I’ve set up voice dialing for “Beej!!” – note that Brian’s voice saying “Beej” or a calm Susan saying “Beej” does not work. Only “Beej!!” Feel free to ask me for an exuberant demonstration.

Today Su and I hiked Mt. Jackson (4050′) in Crawford Notch in the White Mountains. This was my 19th of 48 4000′ peaks and the first one I’ve hiked since last October. Here are pictures of the trip.

We got up at 5:00 this morning and hit the trailhead at about 8:30. The trail was moderate grade, but had patches of hardpacked (slick) snow and soft snow (posthole) patches. Because the patches were so sporadic, snowshoes or crampons really would have been overkill. We barebooted the entire way, but it was very slow going. I think this may have been the slowest moving average I’ve ever had on a trip.

We hit the Mt. Jackson summit about 11am and had a great clear day to enjoy a lunch on a 4000′ peak. We hiked the connector across the ridge to Mt. Webster and came down that way, making a nice loop hike. We got off the trail about 2:15 and headed back home for a well earned shower.

It’s been a yo-yo past year and a half for my health. On my birthday back in 2005 I was at my all time heaviest weight of 231.5 pounds. Through diligent dieting and exercise I had my weight down to 192 pounds on August 7, 2006. This was my lowest body weight since I ran the Portland marathon back in October of 2000. Fast forward to this morning where my weight was back up to 217 pounds.

How did this happen? Simply, I got lazy. It started with cutting down on exercise until I was no longer exercising. No matter, I was still losing weight through dieting. Then last August I stopped paying attention to my food intake.

I know these data points because since August of 2003 I have been keeping a spreadsheet to track my exercise, diet, and mood. The spreadsheet is certainly overkill, but it does contain a lot of good data. For example, when I stop tracking my diet, my weight invariably goes up. When I stop working out, I get less sleep, awake less rested in a worse mood, and have a higher resting pulse. Despite the time it takes to track this data, 4 years have shown me that the act of tracking my health helps me to improve it. So yesterday I hopped back on the health wagon.

Yesterday, I rode my bike for 45 minutes down route 1A. Today I did a workout from Martina Navratilova’s Shape Yourself book. Her workouts stress functional fitness that can be done at home, which helps get me over the ‘I’m too tired to go to the gym’ excuse.
So is two days a trend? I hope so, because I feel so much better when I’m living healthy. Assuming things go well I’d like to update the blog weekly with a summary of my week. If I start missing weeks, someone please send me an email and tell me to get my act together.

One wonderful perk to my excessive recent traveling was getting to visit the Wiffens in San Diego. I’ve been eager to get out to see them since they moved from England, but kept procrastinating on buying a ticket myself when I knew that a large BAE site was there and I might get sent by work. Finally, I had a three day meeting in San Diego and got to spend an evening hanging out, seeing their new place, and meeting Elliot. We had a tasty Mexican dinner and walked around the park at Del Mar before relaxing and catching up a bit more at their new home. They have put a ton of work into it (new paint, new carpet, new bathroom fixtures and remodeled kitchen) and it’s beautiful.

It was such fun to hang out and visit, and I’m hoping to get sent to San Diego again soon!

One drawback of spending all day listening to jazz is the lack of opportunities to see the rest of New Orleans. Brian and I had planned to head home later on Monday to allow ourselves a little time for sight-seeing. We ate breakfast in the hotel, packed up, checked our bags and headed to the Garden District for a tour. This was a very similar tour to one I’d taken a few years back, which covered a cemetery, the history of the area, some architecture, and a little modern culture (John Goodman’s home and Archie Manning’s home where Eli and Peyton grew up). Our guide was full of stories, being a lifetime resident and historian, and we thoroughly enjoyed the two hours being surrounded by beautiful homes, lush gardens, and fresh air. We called a cab, headed back to the hotel to pick up our luggage, and headed to the airport.

On Sunday, we finally got it right. First we decided not to go out Saturday for the 1am show. Even though Trombone Shorty was tempting, the promise of a good night’s sleep and getting up to do some exploring won out. We were able to get up at a more leisurely pace, have some breakfast (fruit!! blueberries, banana, raisins and an orange!) and then walked down to the park along the Mississippi and French Quarter. After a couple hours we came back and headed over to the fair grounds. We had plenty of time to grab a snack and hit the Blues Tent (father and son playing washboards, very cool) before hitting Anders Osborne and Joss Stone. Dan claimed “he may be Swedish but the guy pisses Mississippi Delta water!” Anders did put on a great show – until during one frenetic point, he blew a fuse, which unfortunately ended the gig a bit prematurely. The sousaphone and drummer did an admirable job keeping the crowd going for about 5 minutes, in case the power came back on, but sadly that was it, only about 30 minutes of Anders.

Joss Stone was younger (and more cute) than I expected – she has a 40-something black woman’s blues voice in a 20-something British pop star’s body – but her energy and genuineness reminded me why I enjoy her music.  Despite her peace hippie image, her songs are pure blues; you can imagine her channeling a young Bonnie Raitt as she sings.
After Joss, we headed over to hear Harry Connick, but were far enough away that it was hard to hear. I chalked that one up to the sound system, but the piano was clearly less conducive to amplification than the guitar and drum acts. We ended up at the Jazz stage for a few songs before calling it a successful fest and heading out.

Dan suggested that we had time to clean up and go hear The Tin Men down on Frenchman Street at 8pm. Brian and I decided we were game to go along. We had missed Washboard Chaz earlier at the fest, but evidently he plays in multiple groups. The Tin Men call themselves “New Orleans’ Premiere Washboard Sousaphone Trio” – perhaps the only one (the vocalist plays the guitar). It was a really fun show, for only a $5 cover. After the show, we explored the neighborhood. First we saw a parading brass band – we thought they may have let out of a club and started a parade, as sometimes happens in NOLA, but it seemed like they were just about playing on the street. Then we came upon this rhythm machine and listened for a while. We smelled tasty smoked meats, and indeed a couple guys had set up their large kettle grill in a parking space on the street and were selling sausages, grilled chicken breasts, pork chops and turkey legs. Dan and I grabbed sausage sandwiches and kept walking toward the main road to pick up a cab, when I saw a sign for Nomo, the band we heard on Friday night. Turns out they were playing a hookah bar (no cover!) so we popped in to hear a few songs. It was a very different venue and a much more calm crowd than . We finally called it a night around midnight, not bad for our last Jazz Fest day.

Two things were immediately obvious on Saturday. First, it was hot. Humid and 90 degrees, making the heat index “sweltering”. Second, there were a lot of people. The rain was gone and it was a weekend, thus many more people were packed into the fairgrounds. We were slathered with sunscreen, which somehow made the dust and sticky togetherness just a little less bearable. We grabbed some Crawfish Monica (very tasty! glad I had it early …), and headed over to the Gospel tent to hear the Providence Baptist Church mass choir.  We were enjoying the show when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fest-goer lean over behind me.  I jumped to the edge of my seat just as the young man got sick right behind me.  He walked off unphased, leaving a disgusting and smelly mess.  We decided it was time to move to another tent.  (He evidently had a similar lunch as I did, which would have completely ruined my desire to try one of the highest rated food items of the festival.  Thus my comment about being lucky to have enjoyed it before this incident.)
After that we listed to the blues tent a while, and wandered around a bit, but there weren’t any shows we were psyched to see. It was too hot to eat much more or to really want beer, and the lemonade and iced tea lines were enormous though we found the strawberry lemonade line worth the wait. We thought about getting close to the stage for Cowboy Mouth, but just didn’t want to deal with the crowds. We ended up calling it a day early and chilling out (literally and figuratively) in the hotel for a while. We planned to go out to dinner at the local brewpub, but it was closed for a private party. So we ended up at another place down the street. The bartender seemed annoyed to take our order, but we got to sit outside and chat for several hours while enjoying a decent burger and a couple beers. The cook was very friendly and took care of us once our food arrived. A cool breeze had picked up, making these few hours the highlight of the day in terms of comfort and enjoyment. We could hear the band from the private party, so there was still music in the air.

The rest of our party decided to head to a late show, but Brian and I went back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.

We followed John Fehlner’s lead on Friday night and went to the Republic to hear Ozomatli. Dan had never heard them, but said John had never led him astray, and we now have to agree.
We got there early enough to pick virtually any spot in the place – Dan, Nate, Brian and I headed up to the balcony and staked out our views along the railing overlooking the band. The first band wasn’t even on the “bill” so this opening set was a complete pot luck. The group came on stage (and exited the stage at the end of their set) ringing various bells – some on strings around their neck, some on leather straps like sleigh bells, some like tambourines. The rhythms built and layered as they each picked up their instruments – horns, a saxophone, a drum set, congas, an electric bass, keyboards. They looked like they might have been a college band, exploring new sounds and going with one another’s jams following a mix of ska, funk and jazz. Two guys played the conch shell at one point – a mellow overtone complementing the baritone sax and drums. The bass player also song one piece, but otherwise the set was purely instrumental. They had a ton of energy and had the place hopping. After their set, we wondered how Ozomatli could be any better! But no one in our area caught the band’s name until Dan went to pick up a CD during the break and came back with the answer: Nomo. I’ll be interested to hear the CD later this summer – I wonder if they are as good on the album as in person.

Next Ozomatli took the stage. Between sets as Nomo cleared their instruments and gear, we noted there were still three percussion stations, and indeed there was percussion of all sorts, from a traditional drum set to a steel drum to bongos. While Nomo had some interesting individual moments, they primarily played as a group. Ozomatli was comprised of diverse multi-cultural characters who each shone at different points. The main vocalist’s style was a reggae and rap flavor (sounding at time like Sublime), and another vocalist brought a hip-hop style. One of the horn players clearly brought a Latin influence, soulfully switching to traditional Spanish vocals during one ballad. A very pale white man danced continuously (he also sang and played percussion), identifying directly with the crowd and often serving as a cheering section to keep the audience engaged at the same energy level as the band. To complete the world tour, the group also had an Asian percussionist. it’s hard to describe their sound – their web page calls it “Spanish-English mash-ups of hip hop, salsa, cumbia, dub, and Middle Eastern funk” and that seems reasonable to me.

We were introduced to Beatle Bob during the show. I had seen Beatle Bob at Jazz fest, but based on his appearance I’d assumed he was a member of one of the bands. Dan explained that he’s a local character, seems to be everywhere that good music is being played in NOLA, and is sort of an uber-fan. He was dressed in a shiney maroon jacket, white shirt, black dress pants and loafers – like a smooth jazz club singer. Ozomatli invited him up on stage to dance during one of their songs, and then he enjoyed the rest of the show from the VIP section. I saw Beatle Bob the next day at Jazz Fest looking just as dapper, apparently unphased by the heat.
To end their set, Ozomatli marched out into the crowd and played in a circle before parading around the building. Evidently this is common – when John first heard them at Jazz Fest they processed off the Fais Do Do stage and around the fair grounds picking up fans as they went. It definitely limited the encores but frankly after 3+ hours of solid energetic music, we were ready to head out on the town.

We went down to Bourbon Street after the show to grab a hurricane, since we’d not enjoyed this tradition yet (me since Abigail’s bachelorette party, Brian ever). We went to Pat O’Briens, home of the hurricane, where we could sit on their patio near the fountain. Two ladies sitting behind Karl and Brian tapped them on the shoulder and asked for their help. Evidently they really wanted some mini-hurricane glasses, but just couldn’t bring themselves to drink the seven-layer shot held therein. After some cajoling, Brian and Dan decided to be gentlemen and help out their fellow tourists. They still can’t quite describe what was in the beverage, but Grenadine was on the bottom. On our way home from Bourbon Street, Brian sampled a Lucky Dog, from one of the hot dog stands that seem to grace every street corner in the French Quarter. He pronounced the chili-drenched dog “tasty!”.

First, Dan’s Tabblo with some of the highlights from Thursday and Friday:

http://www.tabblo.com/studio/stories/view/250575/?s=auto_28426

We made it to the Fest around 11:30 to hear the first set of bands. Dan suggested that we arrive famished because the food is really good. We agreed. First we grabbed jambalaya and shrimp gumbo, a Rose Mint tea and headed over to the Baptiste Brothers on the Acura stage. They were mostly a cover band, but were energetic and fun. Then we split up and headed out in separate directions. The stages are set up around the horse racing track, so it’s easy to do loops, and of course there are craft and food booths in the infield as well. Brian and I were interested in hearing some Gospel so we caught the Dynamic Smooth Family Gospel Singers who wore melon dresses and melon suits. The rain started so more and more people jammed into the tent, and singers got more and more energized. The water started rising in the tent, blowing in from the side and pouring off the roof into large puddles. When a service truck would drive by outside, the “tide” would come into the tent. The music kept going though. We may miss church on Sunday but we are definitely getting a good dose of “praise Jesus” this weekend.

After the Dynamic Smooth Family finished their set, the Unstoppable Gospel Creators took the stage. They may have been unstoppable, but the moved a bit more slowly than the previous act. I wasn’t as keen on the a teenage girl doing interpretive dance either. Coupled with my urge to find a port-a-john after drinking 32 ounces of iced tea (on top of two glasses of water and a cup of coffee that morning), I decided it was time to venture out to the bank of bathrooms. Of course, it started raining again at that point, so I got a bit wet, but not completely soaked while waiting in line. We headed over to the Jazz tent next because I wanted to hear Ellis Marsalis. I enjoyed the music but Brian started “bonking” – cold, wet, hungry and packed like sardines in a tent with thousands of people. I decided to help fix the only factor within my control, and went out for food.
My cross-country reflexes kicked in during the rain. One can either fight against the elements (which, of course, is fruitless) or accept and enjoy them. I cheerfully opted for the latter. I heard there was “waiting” at the food lines, rather surprising given that everyone was hiding under tents. I went out to get us food and discovered that it was actually “wading” (as per Dan’s picture). The cooks were wading in a foot of water as well. Eh, feet dry out, as do wet shirts. I chit-chatted with others in line, and noted that blue skies could be seen to the north and west. Of course none of us tourists knew which way the weather patterns moved, but we took it as a promising sign. I grabbed a trout combo with gumbo and a sweet potato pie and headed back to find Brian.

The trout was really tasty, lightly breaded and pan-friend with butter, but tasted much lighter than it sounds. The gumbo had sausage and a big claw of crawfish. Bolstered by our food and the clearing weather, we headed outside to the Gentilly stage for Better than Ezra. We crossed the river of mud and found the rest of our crew in a good spot – not only for seeing the stage but also for catching footballs!  The drummer started out in a black three-piece suit with light gold shirt and gold tie, but quickly shed the jacket to reveal short sleeves.  They did a fantastic rendition of the Rolling Stones’ [gotta look up the song – “whata matter with you boy?!”]. The lead singer had Mick Jagger’s mannerisms down to a T.  There was a good mix of songs we knew and a really energetic crowd.

When the rain cleared it was beautiful and we really enjoyed Better Than Ezra and ZZ Topp.

Our Thursday night tickets were for a pair of brass bands at Tipitina’s Uptown. The club had a bronze bust of Professor Long Hair, so we could rub his head as we entered, and then a giant picture of him behind the stage. There were also several of the same wooden mural of a hand holding a partially peeled banana – not sure what that was about.

The first act was ReBirth. Visually, they looked like a bunch of 20-something guys hanging out, wearing various baseball hats, some in jerserys, others in tank tops, a couple in blue “work shirts” with their name embroidered in the corner. Their sound was fantastic, loud and brassy and energetic. The trumpeter had an amazing set of cheeks – it was as though he had extra air bladders that went down his neck on either side. It was mesmerizing. There was, of course, a sousaphone, the staple of any good brass band. Two trombones, a baritone and alto sax, a 2nd trumpet, two trombones, a big group. We were bouncing and hopping through the whole set.

Next came the Dirty Dozen. We only counted ten of them, but perhaps a dozen instruments. Their lead horn player at one point played two at once – a trumpet and a flugelhorn. The Baritone player did several incredible solos – soulful, great timing, all over the range. They were a more mature group than the first, but we were also more tired. Despite our sore legs from standing, and our tired eyes from being up at 4am, they kept our attention through the end by finishing up with “Dirty Old Man” (sung by the baritone player). The chorus involved several repititions of the lyrics “dirty old man” with assistance from some willing young female fans who danced with the grey-bearded singer. It’s a catchy ditty to sing when walking around town.

We grabbed a cab and headed back to the hotel, while others went out to the French Quarter for a couple hours.