Now I'm jealous

I used to think that Utilikilts were the hottest functional clothing out there. Pockets and pouches in an un-bifurcated package that makes women ask all sorts of questions.

Well guys, parties over.  Ladies have their own gear now: tactical corsets.   Just watch out for that interrogation package.

The legacies we leave

My grandfather was larger than life. He was a big man with a sharp intellect, a sharper sense of humor, and a loooong memory. Must be those Prussian genes that, fortunately for my wife and friends, were diluted once they reached me. He was the quintessential depression-era farm kid and career navy man who retired to the good life in San Diego, the "land of perfect weather" as he used to say.  

I never knew Charles as a young man, being his grandson and all, but I will forever remember him for two traits that we all had to deal with in his later years. First, he was frugal to the point of ridiculousness and would risk social harmony or good manners to save a penny. Guests were often treated to the famous Costco hot dog special ($1.50 for a dog and a drink) rather than a nice meal out. Though to be fair he was a darn good cook, particularly when grilled meat was involved. Second, he loved tradition and had a long list of favorite sayings that the family still quotes to this day.  

Grandpa's most famous saying was that fish and guests smell after three days. This tied into his sense of propriety, as well as a deep-seated desire to be independent and self-reliant at all times and in all matters.  His second most famous saying was never skimp on shoes, tires, or a mattress.  His logic was that we're always relying on one of those three to get us around or through the next day, and to not pay for quality was to risk the health and productivity of both yourself and your family.  

It was this latter saying that kept popping into my head as I bought new tires today. A solid brand, not too expensive, and recommended by Consumer Reports (the periodical that guided my Grandfather's every purchase).  This is not something you normally spend a lot of time thinking about, but we recently buried my grandfather at Arlington National Cemetery and I'm still processing the loss. Alzheimer's had taken it's toll and it was definitely his time, but I miss him still and he's in my thoughts more often then not. Yesterday, I even had a Costco hot dog in his honor. I'm not a  believer in spirits or the afterlife, but somehow I felt his approval as I pulled out my Costco card.  

Opening the door...

The act of blogging has become quite commonplace these past few years. People blog about everything, from their life on Saville Row to cute animals falling asleep, in the hope that others may read or even comment upon their own personal storyboards.   All of this is part of a larger trend to not only self-publish, but to involve yourself in the content of nearly any website available to you. One not only reads the news, but is invited to comment on the reporter's story, no matter how asinine the comments.  We not only buy an Apple product, we participate in Apple sanctioned discussion boards to self-congratulate and troubleshoot the occasional bug or operator error.   Heck, I wonder what's going to happen when we start publishing the Bible for all to read?  Wait, Herr Gutenburg and Herr Luther have already had a go at it.  I guess we're safe on that one.

This voyeuristic relationship of observer-participant is similar to my own enjoyment of everyday urban living, and with that the inevitable exploration of new places without any set plan or expectation. A leisurely stroll both immersive and anonymous, simultaneously professional and personal, given my life and work as an urbanist.   Hence the name of my blog.

Through this blog I hope to share the overlooked and the largely unknown bits of my life and daily experiences...whatever they may be, and wherever I may find them.  I also invite you to post your reactions and own stories.  This is particularly targeted to those of you too far away to regularly crack open a bottle with, and I hope that this helps us keep in closer touch.  This assumes, of course, that you can continue to endure my strange and ongoing obsessions with obscure libations and mess-inducing endeavors in the kitchen.  After all, this is not just about the city, but includes that which I gather and drag back into my cave.

One last thing. I should say that the concept of Flaneur has no equivalent translation in the English language.  Wikipedia has a good entry should you want to know more.