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One Year and 1,000 Miles with Bessie the VW Bus

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February ’15
1. Miss a box jump at CrossFit. Grind my shin with full bodyweight.
2. I think it’s almost to the bone. Fist sized swelling. “Just walk it off.”
3. Hydrogen peroxide vs. stitches. I choose peroxide. 
Four days later
4. Pain and redness…more pain. Visit doctor. 
5. “OH MY GOD! VHAT DID YOU DO? Take this veeery good antibiotic. It get worse you go to zee hospital.”
Two days later
6. Los Angeles. Serious pain and redness. Call doctor.
7. “Describe for me zee symptoms you arrrre having?” (blah blah blah symptoms).
8. “OH MY GOD! GO TO ZEE HOSPITAL NOW!” 
Two weeks, two hospitals, and a LOT of Vanco later 
9. “Hey doc, I’m having XYZ symptoms…” 
10. “OH MY GOD! THIS IS ZEE NIGHTMARE. GO TO NEW HOSPITAL. ZIS IS SERIOUS!” (now I’m worried).
11. While lying in a hospital bed I’m getting reflective. Super-all-nostalgically-reflective-like-life-flashing-in-front-of-you. 
12. Dad emails me a picture of an old VW Bus we had growing up. More nostalgia. My kids should have these types of memories. 
Next morning
13. I NEED a VW Bus. So long as I don’t lose my leg, which would be problematic clutching. I promise myself I’m going to be fine. And buy a Bus. Make memories with the kids. 
14. On eBay I find a VW Bus. I text the ad to four friends asking advice. 
15. Three text back with “this is a stupid idea.” I decide they are not true friends. 
16. One doesn’t respond. This is a good friend. I take non-response as tacit endorsement. 
17. I text one more friend, a legit hippie from the 60’s.
18. He texts me back “This is a wise decision.” This is the kind of friendship I need in my life. 
19. I buy the Bus (sight unseen) on eBay.
One month later
20. En route to meet my guy selling the Bus at his bank in Seattle.
21. Test drive. Multiple stalls. “This bus is a piece of shit!” I say to him.
22. “No, no” he says to me. “You just have to give her some love.”
23. Test drive some more.
24. I am transported back to 12-years old, riding in the back of a Bus with my family.
25. I love this Bus. Exchange cash for title. 
26. Start 900 mile drive back to SF Friday night. 
27. Stop in Olympia for dinner with friends. Bessie won’t re-start.
28. This bus is a piece of shit.
29. I give her some love. And she loves me back.
30. I love this Bus again. 
That night 
31. It’s 40 degrees and midnight. Bessie has no heat. I drive faster and attempt to hit 65 MPH. We. Are. Making. Progress. 
32. I am so cold my teeth are chattering.
33. It’s 2am and I am exhausted. But I am not as tired as I am cold. Sleep would be impossible. 
34. It’s 4am, and now I am more tired than cold. This is the type of cold struggle I envision on a Mt. Everest attempt. 
35. I pull over at a rest stop. I am freezing. I wish I had a sleeping bag to snuggle with. Or a Sherpa. Both would be amazing right now. 
36. It’s 5am and I wake up to use the bathroom to pee. The bus door won’t open from the inside. I’m too tired to figure this out.
37. I see a cup. This will do. But it’s a small cup. I pee. Stop. Empty it. Repeat. Five times. I think I’ve irreparably damaged my prostate. 
The next morning
38. It’s 7am. It’s too cold to keep sleeping. I get up and start fiddling with the door.
39. Some guy pulls up next to me and blurts out “Good morning! Whatcha doing?!?!?!?!”
He’s chipper like had a full night sleep, oh and heat in his car and yes he is driving a Volvo.
40. “I’M GIVING HER SOME LOVE MAN, CAN’T YOU SEE WHAT I’M DOING?!?!?!” 
41. I think Bessie is making me testy. 
42. Questioning the Bus buying decision at this moment.
43. Actually, questioning all of my life decisions.
44. It’s 7:30am and I’m on the highway. Shivering.
45. Guys with chubby cheeks should not wear beanies. I have chubby cheeks.
46. I put on my beanie. That’s how cold I am.
47. I need coffee. Someone get me coffee.
48. I don’t deserve Starbucks. You are an idiot. You only get gas station coffee.
49. My right blinker stopped working. I figure out how to love her to get it to work. By using my arm out the window.
50. My new relationship with Bessie is best described as “complicated.” 
Mid day
51. The sun is out, it’s now 48 degrees. I am warm. Actually, my teeth has simply stopped chattering. Warm is relative. 
52. The sky is clear. Bessie is purring like a kitten. We’re cruising down route 5 through Oregon.
53. Man, I love Oregon. This is AMAZING. There’s nowhere I would rather be than I-5 in Oregon with Bessie at this moment. 
54. Someone drives by me and gives me the peace sign. I flash it back.
55. I love this Bus. Good decision confirmed. 
56. My kids are going to LOVE me. I am the COOLEST dad ever.
57. Bessie starts smoking. I pull over. More love. And lots of oil.
58. My kids are going to HATE me. 
Afternoon
59. It’s down to 38 degrees. I am cold again. But not as cold as I am bored.
60. I stop at McDonalds to warm up. I sit inside without ordering anything.
61. I go to the bathroom, but only to run my hands under warm water for five minutes.
62. Am. I. Homeless? 
63. Reconsidering all my life’s decisions again.
64. Getting into the Bus, I see a van full of kids cheering and giving me the thumbs up and peace signs.
65. My kids are definitely going to love me.
66. I have decided to let my hair grow long. 
67. Getting onto the highway I almost get rear ended and two drivers share their feelings symbolically. Not the peace sign.
68. My kids might also have a complicated love for me and Bessie. 
Evening
69. My back is torqued from these seats and 800 miles. I need a chiropractor.
70. Or traction. Yes, I need someone to put me in traction. My back is killing me. Or a coma. Someone get me a Sherpa and a coma.
71. With a dead iPhone, I hopelessly turn on AM radio. There’s only talk radio on. 
72. I am getting smarter by the minute. This bus was a great investment.
73. Two hours from SF, and I contemplate the small pee cup so I can just get home. But instead pull off at a rest stop. 
74. Within 30-seconds another Bus pulls up next to me.
75. Peter, a German man who hasn’t bathed in 32 days, jumps out enthusiastically. 
76. “HEY MAN! How long you staying for???” He asks, as he flashes the peace sign. 
77. “Uhhhh, not sure. Pretty much here to take a leak. 30-seconds maybe…”
78. Before I finish he shouts “I’ve been told we can only stay here for EIGHT HOURS MAN! THIS IS BULLSHIT!!!” 
79. I realize he thinks I am (also) here to camp. Or maybe considers it to be the possibility of more. Like two birds that meet on a mountaintop whose paths never again depart.
80. My path is departing, in about 90-seconds. I start planning my escape. 
81. I share with Peter my outrage re. the eight hour limit, imposed upon us “by an overly restrictive government with ulterior motives and that this is an abomination against all of us as Bus owners, adventurers, and free spirits which are destroying our liberties and YES-WE-SHALL-FIGHT-FOR-OUR-RIGHT-TO-PARK-OUR-BUSES-WHEREVER-WE-WANT-HOWEVER-LONG-WE-WANT-PETER-ARE-YOU-WITH-ME?!?!?!” 
82. Peter seems pleased and comforted by my response–perhaps even a tad bit afraid–so he lets me get on my way when I explain I have kids waiting for me at home. After we talk for another hour. And open up our engine bays. And lament oil leaks. 
83. We hug goodbye. We will be friends for life. He gives me his email. Then he asks where he can camp and shower for free in San Francisco. I consider asking for my email back. 
Late that night
84. I approach the Bay Bridge. While in the toll/bridge line, Bessie starts smoking profusely.
85. This is SF, Bessie. You can’t do that here. Please. Stop. Bessie, stop. You know not the jungle we are entering for smoking engines.
86. Prius drivers are looking at me in horror. Several express their sentiments by showing me the non-peace sign.
87. As I’m pulling off the freeway to my house I see some young kids in the back of their parents car flash me the thumbs up sign.
88. I shoot back a big smile and a vibrant, confident peace sign. I’m fully comfortable in my new role now. 
89. My kids are gonna love me.
Three months later
90. I get the Bus back from my mechanic and take Royce and Zoe for their first ride. Within two miles Bessie breaks down on the highway during rush hour.
91. There are tears (them). Uncontrollable laughter (me). I MIGHT have a propensity to laugh in uncomfortable moments. 
92. The kids hate me (at the moment). The Bus gets towed on a flat bed back to my mechanic.
93. There’s not enough room in the cab of the tow truck for me. So I have to sit in the Bus. On top of the flat bed. Whilst being towed for 30-mins in rush hour.
94. My kids are pointing at me from the cab of the tow truck laughing hysterically at me. Apparently, now THIS is fun. 
Nine months later
95. For sale. 1976 VW Bus.
96. One last (and really first) road trip with Royce and Zoe. I decide to take them for a Saturday drive down Pacific Coast Highway. 
97. We hang at the beach, flash peace signs to everyone, eat Gorilla BBQ (Pacifica) out the side door overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
98. We go to another beach, drive to Pescadero, eat blueberry cobbler, buy old Marvin Gaye LP albums at a retro coffee shop, and slowly putter our way back. The kids have more fun and I hear more cackling laughter than I can remember in any recent month. 
99. The kids love me. They might even love Bessie. The day ends with “Dad, that was REALLY fun!!!”
The next day
100. One year and 1,000 miles later, Bessie heads to her next owner.
The most ridiculous, and somehow rewarding, money I’ve spent in a long time. 
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The Magic of the Guy in Seat 9A

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Have you ever had a travel debacle, like an all out traveling clusterfiasco? Yeah, of course you have. And while it’s logical that your experience of debacles coincides with your frequency of travel, it also spikes in relation to the importance of getting to your destination. Of course, right?

So in typical Planes, Trains, and Automobiles fashion (if you haven’t ever seen the movie it’s still such a great one to watch–especially around Thanksgiving), my latest one involved more than my fair share of adventure.

But there’s kind of a twist at the end. 

On Thursday and even Friday morning of this past week I’d been receiving email confirmations for my Friday afternoon flight, which I thought departed at 3:30pm Friday from SFO. Thursday night was a long one for me (the whole week was long), and I didn’t get to bed until 4am Friday completing work stuff …I awoke at 7am Friday, cranking out more work knowing I had ample time to get packed. At 10am I got an emergency call from my business partner–who was on the same flight–and he realized that OUR flights weren’t at 3:30 but 12:30…and out of another airport. Much further away. Apparently, XYZ travel company was sending me the wrong confirmation emails intended for a 3rd guy in our group who was on a different flight. So in 30 minutes I packed for a ten day trip–including all my running gear for a Chicago event this coming Sunday–and grabbed a quick shower in between pouring down a few cups of coffee.

Then, EVERYTHING misfired. AND it clicked. Simultaneously. I can’t go into each detail, this blog post would be ten pages. But seemingly everything that could go wrong did, yet we also made–sometimes by seconds–each critical bus pickup, security checkpoint, and boarding needed to get to our final destination. Until Houston. For “complicated” reasons, we missed our connection and XYZ airlines said the next available Nashville flight would get us in by Saturday late afternoon. Which wouldn’t work. Would’ve been a disaster, as we had to be there for a meeting and set up for the launch of our new product by 9am.

“Get us within a six hour drive to Nashville and we’ll figure out the rest” I told the agent. Energetically. 🙂 I can’t remember all the times an all night drive from some mid-point along a final destination to get to a meeting or event on time–but it’s easily in the double digits.

We decided to reroute to Memphis, and the agent worked out a way to get us seats on a flight that arrived at 10:20pm Friday night. XYZ travel company showed on it’s website rental cars for one way that were <$400 for a trip to Nashville, but kept failing when I tried to confirm the order while in Houston. No biggie, I thought, I’m just going to figure it out when we land. But upon arrival I call the travel booking company and they can’t book the rental cars either–keeps failing at checkout.

Net net, they end up finding one they can book for >$800. USD–not pesos. No way am I paying $800 for a rental car–I’d end up hitchhiking before doing that. After some vigorous conversation, and hours of calling rental car companies and doing walk up price checks, I resigned myself that it was going to be impossible to get out of Memphis. By a rental car. But I knew we’d get there.

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Because…there’s always Greyhound. $25 per person one way (if you get the web fare). So we went to the bus station at 1am, with the plan to sleep there and jump a 5am bus and make it to our meeting in time by 9am. Somehow, though, upon arriving we snagged the last two seats on a 1:30am bus to Nashville despite not being able to actually buy tickets, and not the most friendly people helping us. IMG_0085

I am not sure if you have traveled by bus. But, let me just say, you have never REALLY traveled by bus until you’ve done the Memphis to Nashville 1:30am journey. 😉

We arrive Nashville around 5am, get to the hotel with enough time to sleep for 90-minutes, run back to the airport to pick up our luggage which finally arrived and made it to our 9am meeting and set up for our big product unveiling.

Seemingly fifty ridiculous things happened during this “adventure” and often I wonder why, and try to find meaning in it. Perhaps even if no meaning exists.

Sometimes…Oftentimes…Maybe usually…I think this stuff happens to test us:

How bad do we want it? And are we willing to just make stuff happen and figure it out? How creative will we get, and how hard will we push through to get from the 80% mark to 100% Or, do we resign ourselves…and just throw in the towel saying “well, we tried.”

To some, “we tried” would be resigned to taking the Saturday afternoon flight originally offered because “nothing” else worked.

To me, “we tried” is being ten miles outside of Nashville at 9am Saturday morning after hitchhiking all night and not quite making it whilst running in dress shoes and my suede messenger bag (okay, fine it’s a murse) in tow behind me still doing a last ditch effort to make it to our meeting by 9am.

Othertimes…Oftentimes…and maybe even usually…I think there’s another lesson:

And maybe this is me finding the meaning in it.

But one particularly interesting thing happened as a result of our traveling adventure. I met a guy on our flight to Memphis and we clicked. There’s something I love about meeting new people in new places, most of whom I’ll never see again.

The guy was about 15 years older than me, with two grown daughters that were less than two years apart. Just like Royce and Zoe.

So I asked him advice about raising two girls from the perspective of a dad.

“Just try to do two things as best you can” he said to me. “Alright”, I replied, “just tell me what they are.”

He replied, “First, go to every event you can. Every single one. Look, based on your job and travel I know you work a lot and you can’t make everything. But when you’re in town, you’ve just got to try to make it happen. You can’t do those again. Can’t get them back.”

Ugh. Okay, epic fail on numero uno. But, it was a good reminder. There are still many events left, and when I’m in town I try to do the best I can but…Anyways…

“Second” he continued “Is to tell them you love them. All the time. I told my kids every day, growing up all throughout the day, how much I loved them.” I immediately responded and said “Okay, great I’ve got that one covered.”

As he’s saying that, I’m thinking I really do have that one covered. I tell them that all the time. And, I even add my “I love you…NO MATTER WHAT” so they–hopefully–know that it’s totally unconditional.

But then he looked over at me and he said “No, hang on. I’m not sure you fully understand.”

So he gently grabbed my arm as he continued talking and proceeds to look directly into my eyes.

(side note: yeah, I get this might sound weird…but this is one dad talking to another dad about each others daughters and how precious they are).

“You look into their eyes…and you tell them as you’re looking into their soul how much you love them” he explained as he’s looking right into my eyes. “You look at them, and you don’t break eye contact. And you say, ‘Royce, Zoe, I love you so much–more than you know’ and you let it sit there. You do not break eye contact with them. You have to look deep into their eyes so they can feel it with their heart.”

And when he did that, when he was looking at me and telling me those words, it hit me hard. So hard. Like really hard.

Hard enough that I’m right now sitting at a car sitting outside of McDonalds in Nashville, totally sleep deprived in between a litany of emails and projects, jumping the free wifi to write about it.

Hard enough that I’ll never tell Royce or Zoe that I love them without looking them in the eyes directly, at least when I’m in person.

And hard enough that I actually think the reason for my travel debacle was to meet the guy in seat 9a.

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Anecdotes from Asia

Streets of Shanghai

My name is Rich Razgaitis. I am in Asia. And I am a type A.

My patience is being tested. Not because of Asia, but because of me. And my type A-ness. Perhaps a surprise to many, I’m easy—if not downright great—to travel with. Live with? At best I’m moderately difficult. But the adventure and activity of travel somehow calms me on the road, like New York City does. Though sometimes I can get tested through some of the seemingly little things. Following are a few stories from my latest trip. Any reference to language barriers is me laughing at myself—as I don’t speak more than two words of either Chinese or Korean.

On trying to get a wifi signal…

I’m at my hotel in Shanghai looking for a wifi network to jump. I found my digs by going to hotels.com, reverse sorting price “lowest to highest”, and selecting the cheapest one without the word “hostel” or “hotel-like” in the heading. Yes, seriously. It’s called the start-up grind. No more CoEx Inter-Continentals for me.

I walk up to the desk and say “Hi, yes I’m in my room and the wifi doesn’t work. And on hotels.com it said wifi comes standard. I haven’t connected since I left 24-hours ago and I’ve got to get plugged in quickly.”

The woman at the front desk says “Oh, only in the lobby. Wifi is only in the lobby.”

Twenty minutes later having tried all three network names, rebooting, and repeating the process I approach the desk.

“Hi. The hotel wifi is, ummmm, how should I say it? Ah yes. A nightmare. I need to get online. Pronto. Can you help me?” (okay, I didn’t really say pronto, but I did do that little twirly thing with my hand going upward commonly associated with the usage of the word pronto).

For a split second I feel like she is yelling at me and says “Yes, yes, it works. You do not understand. You need to sit over there.”

I point to a general area of the lobby to clarify. “Over there?” I ask.

She looks at me directly and exclaims “No, no. There. You must sit right there. Right there. Do not move your body.”

And she points exactly to this chair. There is wifi. But only in the lobby. And apparently only in this chair.

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On plugging into Social Media…

Arriving to the hotel I plopped (this really is a word that should be stricken from the English language) down on my chair, and proceeded to get all my social media updates, forgetting for a moment which sites were restricted.

Twitter? Blocked

Facebook? Blocked

Vine? Blocked

YouTube? Blocked

Pandora? No global licenses

Instagram? Available (for now)

Yes, believe it or not, I get tired of social media so it’s nice to force myself into a break. But I do miss Pandora. By the way, for next to nothing get a much better experience, and support a great company. Go and buy the ad-free Pandora subscription.

 Starbucks

On finding a Starbucks…

Me: “Hi, I’m looking for a Starbucks so I can get some wifi since someone is sitting in the wifi seat. Specifically, my seat.”

Concierge: “Nihao.”

Me: “Hi hi, yes for sure, nihao. Starbucks?”

Concierge: “Tour bus?”

Me: Nicely smiling “No no, I’m sorry. Starbucks.”

Concierge: Raising voice and eyebrows “Oh oh, tour BUS!”

Me: Matching raised eyebrows and his tonalities “Ummm, no. StarBUCKS. Bucks. STAAAARRRRR–(long pause)–BUCKS.” Big smile with my eyebrows raised for effect to help increase translatability.

Concierge: Nodding profusely with big smile “Yes, yes, get you tour bus right away.”

I walk over to the front desk.

Me: “Hi, Starbucks?”

Front desk lady: “No, no. No Starbucks. Too far. You cannot walk. So sorry.”

I walk outside, hang a right because I could’ve sworn I saw a Starbucks in the general vicinity on my late night taxi drive in days before. 200 yards later I’m there.There is wifi, but after I order a hyper-customized coffee drink I learn that unless you have a Chinese mobile number you can’t get on. But there is a taste of home. After I’m done with my drink I go next door to Costa Coffee. There is wifi!

I ask if I need a Chinese number to access the wifi. They tell me no number needed, so I buy more coffee, open the laptop whilst shaking with excitement—which could be due to the IV drip of caffeine all morning—to find out that the wifi doesn’t work unless you have a Chinese mobile number. J

On Finding Wifi...

On finding a Doctor…

You don’t want to really get sick in China. Trying to find, schedule, and coordinate a doctor’s visit wasn’t the most fun or efficient accomplishment. Okay, so it was a PITA. But, fortunately “Z-Pack” translates easier than “Starbucks” and after a full afternoon of messing around with this I am purportedly within five-days of feeling like a new man.

The experience was still way better than the time I had to go to a hospital in Kolkata—holy shazam…

On Finding a Doctor...

On eating…

“Do you like Chinese food” my hosts in Wenzhou ask me. “Of course!” I reply, debating in my mind whether I’ll be calorie-splurging on an order of all-white meat extra crispy General Tso’s chicken with a medium-hot spiciness level, or sticking with healthy—steamed veggies with a nice soy/garlic sauce and a side of organic tofu.

We arrive at what doesn’t look like any Chinese restaurant I’ve seen before, and upon entering I see a buffet of what looks to be creatures that must have dividing cells, but none of it I can place. “Order whatever you want!” they offered enthusiastically. I didn’t recognize one thing, let alone could I name any of it. A friend told me one of those items in the picture is silkworm. Which sounds eerily close to tapeworm.

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So when I saw these little fried guys, disturbingly open mouths and all, I couldn’t help but jump at the chance to order a plateful (you eat the whole thing, bones, head and all).

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Alas, we ate family style which means we shared everything, but I dug into every single item on the table. There is a pretty high probability that I had some funky stuff, but it all tasted good. And the conversation was amazing and quite humbling to hear as an American. I wish I could share the content, but I can’t. I met some great people there.

Days later in Seoul, my other hosts (also equally delightful) took me out to Korean BBQ. Woohoo! I love Korean BBQ—a little kimchee, grill some beef or pork and wrap it in lettuce and throw it down with an Asahi or a little soju. Easy peasy!

But did you know that instead of ordering the plain ‘ol boring pork or beef options for Korean BBQ, you can get it with cow heart, stomach, and intestine instead? Yes, you can! And we did.

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I gnawed down that cow heart, stomach, and intestine (and I preferred them in exactly that order) like the Paleolithic-caveman-eating-long-haired-Californian that I am. Perhaps too enthusiastically, because they ended up ordering as a third course Bibimbap, which I generally like, but subbed the tofu for more cow stomach. I hung in there like a champ, though during dinner I also justified more-than-normal amounts of soju (still within reason).

A fun night, which I’m convinced they did this for equal parts experience and hazing. I loved the adventure and I’ll never forget my first really authentic Korean BBQ.

But I’m ready to get back to my traditional fare. You know, like a breakfast consisting of 2 tablespoons of grass-fed Kerrygold salted butter blended for 95 seconds into my nitrate-free coffee with 1.5 tablespoons organic MCT oil and ¼ teaspoon of wildcrafted vanilla.  Yes, seriously.

Oh, and I wouldn’t mind sucking on a few metronidazole tablets as if they were Ricola’s, either.

On showering, including with my clothes on…

My Korean hotel was “cozy” (per hotels.com) meaning I could do a 360 turn in my room if I pivoted on my heels just so. My tiny washroom also contained a wedged-in toilet; for a minute I thought they forgot to give me a room with a shower. Then I saw the showerhead resting above the sink. Basically, you just washey washey right in front of the sink, somewhat next to the toilet. Everything gets soaking wet but it all seems to work out.

The last morning between meetings I hustled up to my room to check out; I am obsessed with germs, specifically keeping them off of me, so I tend to wash my hands whenever I can (read: compulsively). After packing up I decide to wash my hands up one last time.

Standing in front of the sink wearing my suit I turn the water on full blast, not realizing the shower lever was still switched “on” from hours earlier. You know in the States when you have that little shower lever on the tub faucet and you lift it up, and how it is SUPPOSED to drop back down once you turn off the water pressure? Well, that should be an International standard. J

So as I turn on my sink full blast, the showerhead hanging right above the sink and is pointed right at me kicks into gear. It takes more than two seconds to break free of the disbelief of my predicament, soaking most of my suit and even dress shirt underneath it in the process–though you can’t see it that clearly from this picture.

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I walk outside pretty much dripping, say hello to my host and simply exclaim with as much confidence as I could muster “Wooohooo, that felt good!” He smiled and nodded, and we were on our way. Sometimes you’ve just gotta act like it’s all part of the plan.

(repeating to self) Life is an adventure. I am on an adventure. Everything is okay. I am happy. I am smiling. This is funny. Laugh at yourself.

From this post you’d think all I did was work, sleep, and try to get on wifi. And you’d be mostly right. But I had some fun along the way.

~Raz

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Hanging for the Weekend: Surfing, and…Hair Swag?

This weekend it was just me and the kiddo’s, Royce and Zoe. “RoZo.” We had a great time, and if for nothing other than a mental memory for me down the road, I thought I’d capture highlights. Mostly a pictorial review, with a few captions summarizing along the way.

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30-minutes in and RoZo have jumped into their enthusiasms. Zoe’s all about fashion, design, technology, and, well, doing nails…Apparently not just one color. She is the kinda-messy-moderately-expressive kid, so at least she’s outside.  She’s also crazy creative.

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And then Royce found her own occupation, who is a ridiculously hard worker and equally responsible, has little to no interest in fashion but is a voracious reader and learner, yet has gotten consumed with this Pottermore game which appears to be mildly addictive.

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Drove into SF for a pick up of the proverbial grass-fed organic frolicking-in-the-countryside CSA meat order (that is so California, which I am not…) and I stumbled onto this street which I adore–and the building / architecture. This would be a cool place to live. There’s even a GTI out front. Perfect car for the City. Love.

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Took the kids surfing in Santa Cruz late in the afternoon, this is post-surf. Caught some fantastic waves, and the three of us are starting to get the hang of it. 10-years ago I never understood the magic of surfing. Now, I do. Total magic.

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Sunset in Santa Cruz, such a gorgeous night with sailboats skimming the surface while watching the sun dip below the horizon with the salty smell of the Pacific Ocean. I am sure I could live anywhere, but my soul is definitely happier near water.

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Raz, Zoe, and Royce…Post surfing, exhausted, but about to go and party it up in Santa Cruz at night.

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We had dinner on the Pier with a really smart guy who used to be my CTO at a prior start-up and his equally smart wife, lovely couple. Afterwards, I took RoZo to the nearby Arcade. Of the 582 games, RoZo wanted to play the one where you get the 1/1000th chance to win a little stuffed animal. After 1,000 coins they each won! This is the equivalent of a slot machine for 9 and 11 year olds…

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After two hours here, I no longer saw video games. I only saw pathogens. Billions on the machines. And hundreds running around the arcade. If I could’ve wrapped myself in a bubble, I would have. Arcades and hand rails on NYC subways…Ugh, try to stay away from both.

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So after surfing we had dinner, then ice cream, then the arcade, but why call it a night at 10pm!?!?!?! Instead, we went bowling and loaded up with nachos. And more ice cream. After bowling we hung out at a restaurant and played music on the jukebox, had more ice cream and more food. Zoe woke up the next morning saying “Dad, I can’t believe what you fed us last night…” Yes, this is all my fault. 🙂

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Love this shirt. And, I just love this picture. Oh, and she got a STRIKE! Go Roycie Go!

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The kids decided to conspire against me, and asked if they could each bowl a turn for me (we were competing, of course!). They each promptly threw both of my bowling balls directly into the gutter. And they thought it was so hysterical. So I tried my best to look unamused.

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#photobooth

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I love this shot, only b/c it feels and looks so California to me. I love this house, too. So charming. However, to be clear, I am a New Yorker who digs California. I am not a Californian (at least not yet).

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Took the kids with me to do my 3rd bodyfat test, which I now do every 90-days. My last test in December was 14.3%, this one was 12.6% which is okay progress but I should’ve been closer to 11% and my diet has slipped the last few months. My final goal is to be at or less than 9%, and originally wanted to hit it by April but now looks like it will be June. Still a ways to go, but slowly…slowly…

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We ended the night by having a buddy of mine over and his daughter, the kids ate Pizza while for the boys I cooked braised Lamb, pancetta topped brussel sprouts, and some sweet potato concoction that I made up–pan fried in ghee with cinnamon and topped with liquid honey (diluted honey). I was overzealous on cooking tonight, but the kids cleaned, got recharged with some Girl Scout Cookies, and then decided I needed a new hairdo–so check out my new hair swag!!!

RoZo, thanks for keeping me out of trouble and making this weekend a great time! 🙂

~Raz

No doubts, take Lasix only as prescribed by your physician. Levitra is one of the best-known medications of all season. What is the most significant information you must study about levitra vs cialis? Most doctors say the effectiveness of Levitra is well documented. Absolutely, a sexual problem refers to a problem during any phase of the sexual response cycle that prevents the individual from experiencing satisfaction from the sexual life. Whilst sex is not vital for good heartiness, its doubtless important for anyone. Why it happen? What kinds of professionals treat sexual diseases in men? A common class of antidepressants, which include Zoloft can kill the mood in bedroom.

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Hugging it Out: A Gas Station Bromance

Gas Station Bromance

Tonight’s post is…

Non-reflective, non-serious, and probably non-productive. But I’m loading it up anyways since I’m 30,000 feet high, a little bored, and I could use a writing fix. Plus, as loud and aggressively as I type, it’s therapeutic for me (not so sure about the passengers next to me).

There are many things I am. Quiet is not one of them.

So I’m driving to the DFW airport to jump a flight back to SFO, stop to gas up the rental car whilst also wondering to myself if Texas is considered the south as well as “bigger and better”, then why is it that I can’t buy boiled peanuts at dumpy gas stations here just like I can in NorFlor? 

I drive to the first pump, didn’t work. Second pump. Didn’t work. Third pump…Yes, seriously, didn’t work. Drove to another section of the gas station to fill up. I remember thinking exactly “WHAT in the heck is going on here and why is this happening???” My near-empty patience reservoir is being sorely tested…I’m ready to get out of Texas and it’s one of those “Everybody just leave me alone” moments.

As I’m filling up, a guy gets out of his car and looks at me. He says something about how much he likes my shoes, which, admittedly do look pretty good today. I’m always happy to get a little wardrobe validation–as I take my fair share of heat for it as well. Though he said nothing about my denim, which also looks pretty good today too. 🙂

Anyways, we kinda just smile at each other with the same type of third-grader-on-the-playground-hey-do-you-want-to-be-friends looks (note, the guys wife and kids were in his car, because I know this is starting to sound a bit bizarre). He goes into the store–apparently NOT to buy boiled peanuts–and as I’m about to leave he walks out and says hello again. I stop getting into my car, walk over and we chat it up.

Basically, we had a five minute bromance.

At the end of the conversation, we hug it out. Grab a quick photo, exchange information, and promise to stay in touch. A little strange, but I love it when things like this happen (Oddly, and in different ways, yes this type of randomness happens to me not-so-randomly).

While I find this ridiculous, and am laughing as I type at the absurdity of it, sometimes you meet certain people and you just click. Randomly. Unexpectedly. Serendipitously.

What was it?

I have no idea. Perhaps it was a coincidence.

And, just maybe, it was one of Life’s little gifts.

No doubts, take Lasix only as prescribed by your physician. Levitra is one of the best-known medications of all time. What is the most significant info you must study about levitra vs cialis? Most doctors say the effectiveness of Levitra is well documented. Absolutely, a sexual problem refers to a problem during any phase of the sexual response cycle that prevents the individual from experiencing satisfaction from the sexual life. Whilst sex is not vital for good soundness, its doubtless important for anyone. Why it happen? What kinds of professionals treat sexual diseases in men? A common class of antidepressants, which include Zoloft can kill the mood in bedroom.

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Yep, I Attended Burning Man…And Loved It.

Sunrise at Entrance of Burning Man

About a month ago I went to Burning Man for several days. If you’ve never been, I pretty much guarantee it is everything you heard. And nothing at all.

1990 was the first year Burning Man took place on Black Rock Desert (previously on beaches in San Francisco). That was also the same year my dad gave me an article in my inbox (here’s the link that explains my growing up with an inbox) and it was about this specific Burning Man event, before it ever became popular–heck, before most people had heard of it let alone popular. At the time I was 17, I’m sure he doesn’t remember giving it to me, but I can still recall certain excerpts, the creativity, and photographs from the article. Since reading that story, I always wanted to go and given newfound proximity (SF is a relatively short drive to Burning Man) that sentiment grew over the past year.

One of the many awesome costumes on the Playa

At the last minute, and based on an invite from a fellow SF start-up friend that gave me the chance to stay in a very cool camp, I decided to go to Burning Man 2012 along with another good friend of mine.

It was an event itself getting into the Burn, we arrived at the entrance at 2am but didn’t make our way through the gate until 7am. Just the process of waiting was a fun experience, and unforgettable whilst watching the sunrise come up over the Playa. Initiation through the gate included rolling around in the alkaline desert, gonging some bell, and being told “welcome home” by the hosts.

There were a lot of things I enjoyed about Burning Man, but the winner for me was really discovering the creative process people need to go through to get to, well, their creative output.

My great friend, Joel Canon, hanging at Camp Ideate

So many of us love the end result of creatives, the completion of artwork, acting, music or whatever else. But often it’s easy to discount or underplay the creative process that people need to go through in order to achieve the end result. For me, Burning Man was an amazing look into the creative process that can benefit both creatives and non-creatives alike. And just so there’s no  misunderstanding, my use of the term and interpretation “creative process” isn’t code for illicit drug use, etc. Yeah, there’s some of that at Burning Man. But not everybody participates (nor did yours truly) nor is there pressure to do so. What I mean about the creative process is literally just that. The process of communication. Exploration. Artistic expression. Learned through either or both introspection as well external observation and sharing.

And while I loved my time at the Burn, it doesn’t mean I loved every single thing about it. But I’m focusing on the parts I liked, not the select few I didn’t.

Stopped Here for My Crazy Buddy...

Tons of  amazing artwork and exhibits, fantastic conversations, and an eclectic–very eclectic–array of workshops. Our camp, Ideate, was focused on technology workshops and demonstrated a really cool 3D printer. I’ve read a lot about this technology, but it was my first time seeing it firsthand. And for the record, the 3D printer is insane. Absolutely crazy insane, because what’s available today is a glimpse of what will be forthcoming in the future. 3D printing will be one of the next big disrupters of this decade.

Burning Man Sunset at Camp Ideate

Burning Man is lots of things. Yet, for me, the most apt truism of Burning Man was shared by a guy helping me shop–yeah you’ve gotta dress up in costume to go to Burning Man–in Haight Ashbury a week before the event. I asked him to describe it, and he looked at me and matter-of-factly said:

“Whatever it is you’re looking for, that’s what you’ll find.”

Which is exactly what I did.

No doubts, take Lasix only as prescribed by your doc. Levitra is one of the best-known medications of all season. What is the most significant information you must study about levitra vs cialis? Most doctors say the effectiveness of Levitra is well documented. Absolutely, a sexual problem refers to a problem during any phase of the sexual response cycle that prevents the individual from experiencing satisfaction from the sexual life. Whilst sex is not vital for good health, its doubtless great for anyone. Why it happen? What kinds of professionals treat sexual diseases in men? A common class of antidepressants, which include Zoloft can kill the mood in bedroom.