Fifty days left!

Preparations continue for the big 'round the world trip and we're now T-minus 50 days until departure! This trip has been in the front of my mind for so long, it's just astonishing that in a month and a half Julie and I will be in the saddles of our motorcycles, our primary focus avoiding potholes, watching for deer and bad drivers and making sure we have enough fuel to reach the next gas station.

Between now and then lies a fearsome list of niggly details. My renewed passport will be overdue if it doesn't arrive next week. I'm putting the finishing touches on my condo to get it on the market. Health insurance for the journey needs to be procured. We need to sort out what gear comes with us, where the stuff that stays will go, coordinate with our hosts we'll be visiting along the way, and get invitations out for the bon voyage party. There are questions about money and technology. I need to pack up and move out. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Julie and I have talked about how one of the hardest parts of the journey may be the preparation. I'm sure we'll have some challenging moments along the way, but it's hard not to look forward with great excitement to the days of riding along, reflecting in our helmets, as we visit amazing places, meet up with old friends and make new ones.

As sad as I will be to sad goodbye to friends, family and colleagues, I can't fucking wait!

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PS. The map montage is courtesy of my recent play with Google Charts Map API. Google, I ♥ you.

Deuce!

I'm writing this flying home after an action-packed 5-day weekend in Columbus with Julie, celebrating two years together. This weekend, like the last twenty four months, amazed me by how quickly the time passed and, in retrospect, how positively swollen, loaded, chock-full of living our time together typically is.

The weekend started with my arrival, at about 10 p.m. local time on Friday night, and our ritual airport moto pick-up. I probably find too much fun and significance in the quizzical expressions greeting me, strolling through the airport in my armored riding jacket, my helmet slung over my shoulder, or the glances we get, Julie astride her bike at the curbside pick-up, engine idling, as I secure my only luggage -- my backpack -- throw on my gloves and helmet and hop on the back. I so rarely feel the "bad boy" riding my bike, but I suppose the thrill is partly feeling my own version of being the bad boy, racing off with my sweetheart, feeling lean and mean with just the essentials to convey us off into the cool night air. Not the typical motorcycle bad boy experience, perhaps, but I am always surprised to find how much I enjoy it.

Saturday was the only day of my visit with a forecast for decent riding weather, and we took full advantage, zipping south through wooded, winding roads to Hocking Hills State Park. We spent some of our anniversary last year at Ash Cave, and this year entered the park from a different route, visiting Cedar Falls. We were joined by lots of other visitors this time, but managed to slip most of them when we ventured off trail to find a mossy rock, overlooking a stream, next to a cliff face and under a canopy of trees swaying in the wind. We spent hours watching the trees moving, talking and resting in the dappled sun and shade.

We headed back toward Columbus, and decided on the spur of the moment to grab a hot pot dinner (tasty and a great value, but not remotely comparable to my experience in Chongqing) at a spot that had been recommended to us, called General Tso's.

We followed this with a screening of Coraline at the cheap theater, and let me say now that if you're an animation buff like me and haven't seen this movie, run don't walk to check it out. There's lots more to say about it, but that deserves its own post.

Sunday and Monday found Julie and I doing some of our favorite things: dreaming up culinary adventures in the grocery store, at work in the kitchen listening to Ella or Iron & Wine or This American Life or some new-found music, running errands on the moto (through some sketchy weather, which Julie piloted us through like a pro) and snuggling up to enjoy some great documentaries she'd reserved for us from the Columbus library. (Trembling Before G-d, in particular, is highly recommended.) We also had a chance to taste the ice cream that Columbus is famous for, Jeni's, and all I can say is WOW, that reputation is richly deserved.

Tuesday, our actual anniversary, involved my giving a presentation at the COHHIO housing and homelessness conference, a feat of completely unplanned and fortuitous timing. After riding to downtown in sketchy weather (we were briefly pelted by hail, no less) and checking into the conference, we scored some fabulous arepas from a fantastic eatery called El Arepazo, hidden down an alleyway a stone's throw from the Ohio State Capitol. Afterward, I delivered my presentation and we were back to celebrating: first with Julie's friends Tony and Dana at a falsely modest swillery called the Worst Bar in Columbus. (Trust me, I've seen worse!) That was followed by dinner together, musing about what our third year might hold, at a nearby sushi joint.

Our walk home (we wanted to be free to enjoy swill and sake, so were relying on our feet and public transport for the evening) was chilly but memorable. Upper Arlington, Julie's neighborhood during her current stint in Columbus, has very inconsistent sidewalk, or even shoulder, availability -- we were often walking in the roadway toward oncoming traffic with nowhere to leap save the ditch if we didn't think the approaching drivers saw us. I've seen comparably pedestrian unfriendly arrangements -- in Darjeeling, India, and in some suburban neighborhoods of my home metropolis -- and few better examples of America's car craze (and corresponding petroleum addiction). Thankfully, we arrived safely, in good spirits and sated from sushi and sake.

And today, alas, came our time to bid farewell. After a leisurely morning, another dip in Julie's roommate's fabulous outdoor spa, and (blush) one last stop at Jeni's, we headed for the airport for what we expect to be the last moto drop-off in Columbus in the foreseeable future, and the start of our last period of separation before embarking on the big trip. I for one will be happy when we are back together again. And here's to the beginning of our third year together. May it continue to surprise, delight, stimulate, challenge and connect us.

Eight years in the making

Eight years in the making, today marked the launch of the final report from the evaluation of the Supportive Housing and Managed Care Pilot, one of the most comprehensive analyses of supportive housing, its effectiveness at ending homelessness and its impact on the spending of scarce public resources.

This report is, I hope, a testament to this Pilot, readable and multifaceted for all of its policy-wonkery, and also a tribute to the people involved, and the effort they put into it:

• an incredible amount of work by the evaluators and all the people they worked with in assembling data;
• the funders who took a risk on providing resources to such an ambitious study, and stuck with it as set-backs and obstacles were encountered, and overcome;
• case managers and social service organizations, who put their hearts and souls into their important work; and
• most of all, the people who worked so hard to free themselves from homelessness, and who allowed their story to be told.

Being a part of this undertaking has been one of the most profound, challenging and gratifying experiences of my life, and certainly of my career.

In other words, extra, extra, read all about it!

When I was eight

When I was eight years old, I met Carl Sagan for the first time, via public television. It is no exaggeration to say that this event -- the first broadcast of his series Cosmos -- changed the course of my life, and ignited in me the wondrous fascination that he seemed to bring to any topic. His curiosity, enthusiasm and deep appreciation for the subtlety of truth inspired me, and challenged me to find these qualities within myself.

Cosmos is nearly thirty, and although the series wears its age a bit, it retains surprising power. A power which eclipses nostalgia. From the opening credits, Sagan's oft lampooned cadence, the precision of his speech and his mastery at exposition still recall those first moments of being exposed to what a vast, strange, mysterious but yet knowable universe we inhabit.

Now, thanks to the wonders of Hulu, you can experience the show for the first time or all over again. The entire series -- 13 episodes, plus epilogues recorded before Dr. Sagan's untimely death, updating the original content -- is available for viewing.



I've often hoped that I'd be able to say thanks, somehow, to this man, for the effect he had on me (and many others). At least, I hope you get a chance to experience what I did, as a second grader, nearly thirty years ago.

T minus three months!

March has arrived, and with it, the countdown to our departure seems
only to accelerate. My current stack of reading material might give
you a clue about how I'm investing my free time...

One hundred percent

Three big milestones today!

1. Today marks 100 days until my last day at work. Wow! After nearly 12 years -- and still enjoying the challenging work and fabulous people I get to work with -- the tunnel vision of having so little time left is hard to describe. So much to do between now and then, and so much to leave behind.

2. Today Julie and I booked flights for our big trip! To our happy surprise, we've locked in the biggest (and first) flights of our trip using frequent flyer miles -- 100 thousand miles each -- to take us from Anchorage, Alaska (final destination of the "South to Alaska!" summer moto tour) to Auckland, New Zealand with a nine-day layover in Hawai'i. I'm so glad we've both been banking miles all these years; they saved us thousands of dollars. Sure the flights aren't as direct as we might have planned (for example, there's a middle-of-the-night stop in Seoul en route from Honolulu to Auckland), but I'm not complaining! Thanks Northwest Delta Airlines!

3. Today marks my 100th post on Riding the Iron Rooster! Hope you enjoyed it!

My first ride of 'aught nine

Thank goodness for Louis and all the fine folks at Roy's Repair, and for the (brief?) respite the Twin Cities have experienced from the bitter cold of winter. WeatherBug reported 40 degrees Fahrenheit when R2 and I set out from my garage at 5 p.m. today -- gingerly crossing the most dangerous stretch of road I encountered, between my garage door and the curb, laden with slabs of slick melting ice.

And so, having reached the wet but grippy pavement of Garfield Avenue, I began my first -- and earliest yet -- ride of the year, delivering R2 for an annual check-up and some mods in preparation for the big departure, not to mention the riding I hope to pack in between now and then.

Thankfully, the journey was uneventful, except to remind me how inexplicably damn much I love riding a motorcycle. Happy journeys to you, wherever, however and whenever you take them.