HinesSight

Lusting our way into older age

It's starting to happen. That moment I've been fearing for the latter part of my 59 years. Which happened today at Salem's LifeSource Natural Foods.

Though spoken softly by the clerk, I could hear him clearly. Even with my aging ears."Would you like the discount?" I ignored the guy. Kept on with swiping my VISA card.

I thought, Dude! The sign at every register says "Ask for our senior discount: 62 years and older." For one, am I asking??!! For two, do I look anywhere near 62? Come on!"

Well, I guess I do. But I've got no intention of sliding gently into older age. I don't feel a day over 29, most of the time. It's my graying visage that gives me away, not my decidedly immature psyche.

To my (still sharp) mind, that's how it should be. Our lust for life will take on different forms as the years pass. But there's no reason why it can't remain as strong as ever.

With summer here in Oregon, motorcycles have emerged from their rainy-day cocoons. The unmistakable sound of Harleys fills the air around the downtown Starbucks, where black clad weekend road warriors park their bikes and sip lattes at the outdoor tables.

I'm feeling the two-wheel open-air spirit myself. Memories of my exciting Yamaha Seca II days, quite a few years ago, flood back into my present mundane Toyota Prius'ized driving awareness.

But I'm not a Harley guy. No longer even a motorcycle guy, probably. I find myself Googling high-powered scooters, like the cool Suzuki Burgman 650 Executive. Shiftless, anti lock brakes, adjustable windscreen! Ahhhh….

A neighbor came by a few days ago to show off his newly purchased 2001 Miata. I got to drive it. Cool. After market exhaust pipes. Engine modifications. Shiny silver roll bar to match the car's color. Frank said that buying it can't be the mark of a mid-life crisis, because he's too old for that.

Plus, he said that his wife told him, "If a sports car isn't red, it's not a mid-life crisis." I added, "Also, if the person sitting in the car's passenger seat isn't a cute blonde less than half your age (and not your daughter)."

Along that line, today a guy friend – not quite as old as me, but getting there – remarked that he likes the age he's at because more women look attractive to him. I said, "That makes sense, because when you were young most women were older than you; now, they're younger, because you're approaching geezer status, like me."

We agreed that becoming a dirty old man was something to look forward to, even though it'll mean being entitled to a senior discount at LifeSource.

Then there's the unexpected lusts arising out of the blue, drawing me to visit sites on the Internet that I'd never thought would attract me. Like, this one (mature eyes only, please).

I learned about this central Oregon retirement community via a comment left on one of my blog posts, "Why can't Salem be more like Bend?" I couldn't resist finding its online presence and poking around for a while.

Not that we're close to leaving our non-easy care ten rural acres. Still, I used to think, "They'll have to pry my DR Field and Brush Mower from my cold dead hands." And now Laurel and I find ourselves at least envisioning the day when dealing with all the complexities of small acreage country life gets to be too much for us.

I liked how Touchmark at Mt. Bachelor Village markets itself as a resort retirement community – a place where mountain biking is going to have more appeal for many (or most) than playing bingo.

For the outdoor enthusiast, Touchmark offers unlimited activities. You will enjoy easy River Trail access, walking and bicycling paths, fishing, and snowshoeing—right outside your door. You are a half-hour's drive from Mt. Bachelor ski resort, one of the finest in the country, and a shorter drive to area golf courses. The much-touted Athletic Club of Bend is close by as is the renowned Drake Park and wonderful indoor/outdoor shopping experiences in downtown Bend.

Yeah, I can see us being into all that stuff. Someday. For now, we're too youthful to be part of the crowd shown in this Touchmark photo. But we're getting there.

I just want it to be as slowly as possible. Graduating from a San Francisco bay area college in 1971, right after the Flower Power era, I remember feeling anxious that I'd lose touch with happening youth and become the sort of "straight" person that I was rebelling against.

To some extent, that's happened. As is natural. Fifty-nine isn't twenty-two, no matter how much we baby boomers want to keep alive the magic of the sixties (the decade, not the age).

Yet here I am, cruising onto YouTube, searching for "Suzuki Burgman 650 Executive," and being enthralled by a video of a guy on a powerful scooter driving way too fast, and way too recklessly, on some way narrow and way crowded European streets.

He gets pulled over at the end. Like we all will, by the halting hand of death. But until then…let's not lose our lust for life and willingness to push the edges.

Measure 49 vesting case gets weighty

Eight pounds, to be exact. That's what I had to carry out of the Marion County Planning Division last Wednesday, after staff had made a copy of Leroy Laack's Measure 49 vested rights application.

Yesterday the Salem Statesman Journal ran a front page story about it: Measure 49 is put to the test: property owners hope vested rights allow work to proceed on stalled development.

Those who haven't followed the saga of our neighborhood's fight to protect our groundwater from a proposed 42 lot subdivision on high value farmland in a groundwater limited area can peruse the many posts in this blog's "Measure 37" category.

I've written about vesting several times. It's an attempt to be "grandfathered in" under Measure 37, which Oregonians overwhelmingly voted to fix via Measure 49 last November.

The only way Measure 37 claimants can continue on with their original plans is to prove that they were far enough along with their development to be vested under Oregon common law.

A public hearing on the case has been scheduled for July 23. That's when our neighborhood's Keep Our Water Safe Committee, along with attorneys from the Crag Law Center, will present a rebuttal to the eight pounds of paper.

It's interesting reading, if you're into this sort of stuff – which I am, naturally, since my wife and I are leading our neighborhood's opposition to the subdivision.

My interest also was piqued by the mentions of "Brian Hines" in the application. Those words always catch my eye, for some egotistical reason.

"On or around September 21, 2007, Brian Hines made complaints to Marion County Department of Public Works and the Marion County Board of Commissioners asserting that the Claimants were unlawfully proceeding without necessary permits. Mr. Hines alleged that Marion County Board Order 07-303 required a Major Construction Permit prior to beginning land clearing and grading. Marion County Legal Counsel Jo Stonecipher notified Claimants' counsel of the alleged violation."

Well, not quite true. But I'll save my quibbles for the hearing and move on to another mention of me.

"Additionally, on September 25^th, discussions took place with DEQ regarding erosion measures and complaints that arose from Mr. Hines and the CRAG Law Center."

Ah, that brings back memories. Which I'll get to revisit as we write our analysis of the vested rights application. I don't think we'll be able to outweigh them. But hopefully we'll out-argument them.

Metolius River video – Wizard Falls hike

If you've never hiked along the Metolius River in central Oregon, you've missed out on a marvelous scenic experience.

My six minute You Tube'd movie of the walk we took upstream from the Wizard Falls fish hatchery will give you a feel for what this 2.5 mile section of the Metolius is like.

In short, beautiful. (This description of the hike starts from the campground, not the hatchery, but covers the same stretch of the river.)

I mangle the name of the hatchery at the start of the video. For some reason I kept throwing in "creek." After that, my narration rolls along pretty smoothly.

Be sure to watch to the end. You don't want to miss the shot of a peanut butter sandwich eating dog. (Hollywood animal actor agents: Serena and I are available, and we work for, well, peanuts.)

June blossoms on the Metolius

Here's photographic proof – why the Metolius River dazzles the eye (and soul) in what passes for spring in central Oregon. Namely, the middling part of June.

Just before Lake Creek the family dog explored a grassy island.

Away from the river, on top of a butte, old tree and new tree showed off against (almost) clear sky.

A bit farther along, some yin and yang: bright flowers and gray rocks.

Moving back to the Metolius, natural flower arrangements dot the river. It's constant spring-fed flow encourages growth that wouldn't be possible on up and down rivers. [Appreciate these shots: wading in the water I instantly recognized that it's damn cold – snow melt once removed.]

Ducks don't seem to mind the temperature. But this one was perched on a warm log.

There's lots of natural bridges, since logs are left where they lie in this wild and scenic river.

Metolius light and shadow.

I'd love to have this in my yard. Along with the river, of course.

I think "Metolius Zen" when I see these photos. But Zen is the reflection of nature; this is the original.

White water, yellow flower. Nice.

A few years ago a large tree fell and broke apart in the Metolius. I've been watching it evolve. Now it's become flowery modern art.

One of the more attractive log jams you'll find in a river.

More Zen. I love the water swirls.

Metolius yin and yang.

Probably my favorite photo. I have a little sand garden in my office that I rake, making patterns like this around the rocks.

Decay and growth. Some days I feel like the stump, other days like the flower.

Barack up. Lars down. A good day.

This was a good way to start the first weekend of summer.

First, my political soul, rubbed raw by seven plus years of brushing up against Bushian irritations, was soothed with the balm of fall election anticipation.

My visit to the intriguing FiveThirtyEight site (that's the number of electors in the electoral college) was spurred by a Newsweek article about its founder, Nate Silver, a baseball statistics geek.

Having honed his skills in successfully predicting baseball outcomes, Silver has turned his attention to politics.

Currently he's projecting that Obama will win 334 of those 538 electoral votes. The betting line is 74% for an Obama win, a 26% chance for McCain. Popular vote: 5% Obama margin.

Sounds good to me, no matter how far it is to November. I browsed through enough of Silver's FAQs to be impressed with his methodology. Something about regression coefficients and all that stuff.

Then, I reveled in a T.A. Barnhart post on Blue Oregon, "Jonathon Alter smacks down Lars." Click on the link and you can see Portland's most irritating conservative talk show host, Lars Larson, taken down many notches. Barnhart says:

Lars Larson makes the same mistake on Dan Abrams' show that the radio blowhard did with Chris Matthews, and it's just as embarrassing. He keeps blathering on with no regard to facts, which Portland listeners are too familiar with, and he keeps trying to run roughshod over those who call him on his crap.

Lars turns out to be much more of a talk show wimp when he isn't in control of the microphone.

I hugely enjoyed watching him being put in his place, unable to resort to dominating an argument with an uninformed monologue instead of persuasive facts and logic.

Lars' notion that Michelle Obama hates America is ridiculous. When pressed to defend it, he couldn't. Typical right-wing talk show modus operandi.

Another bad example is Mark Levin, who I listen to once in a while to test my ability to listen to pompous bullshit without having the top of my head fly off.

What strikes me the most about guys like Larson and Levin is how cowardly they are. Lars makes a big deal of his concealed weapon permit. Probably that's because he'd run like a chicken from a real fight.

He does that all the time on the air, cutting people off who are besting him in a conversation. Levin is even worse. He often responds to a caller who's getting the better of him with "Get off the line, you moron!" Then he cuts the guy off.

Wow, what a man. He can push a "kill" button. Here he is in action. I can't figure out why anyone would listen to him regularly, given how irritating he is.

I guess if you don't have a political leg to stand on, you're drawn to lean on other people who are similarly crippled.

(Update: Here's Loaded Orygun's take on the Lars Larson video.)

Treating our coliform infested well

Coliform bacteria! This sounds scarier than it really is. But we still were concerned when a water test showed that our well water contained these potential nasties.

Potential, because coliform bacteria are ubiquitous. Only certain types, like E. coli, can make you sick.

However, coliforms are used as "indicator organisms" for the possible presence of more dangerous bugs, as this helpful Oregon Department of Human Services bulletin discusses.

After we had our well pump pulled and replaced, we had our water tested. We do this every year. This was the first time coliform showed up. The lab only reported "present," not the estimated number, as that takes culturing (more time and expense, so not done unless you ask for it).

I did quite a bit of Googling "coliform bacteria well treatment" before concluding that we really should treat the well.

On the one hand, I read that 35% of wells in Pennsylvania were found to have coliforms, so this shows that they're usually harmless, since a third of people in that state aren't sick, so far as I know.

On the other hand, I kept seeing references to coliforms being a potential sign of much more serious (and less easily detectable) bacteria.

Not wanting to feel like I was taking my life into my hands every time I rinsed an apple (we use a reverse osmosis system for drinking water), yesterday a couple of guys from Sippel Well Drilling shocked our well. Not with electricity – with four cups of Clorox.

If you're thinking of treating your coliform infected well yourself, my advice is: Don't. Let a professional do it, the first time, at least. Once you learn the tricks of the trade, you can probably repeat the process on your own.

But there's little doubt that I would have messed something up, after watching the Sippel guys do their thing.

First, we needed to have an outflow installed on the pump housing. That's the valve on the left side of the photo. We didn't have a way to drain water directly from the well, and that's necessary (or highly desirable) for treating it.

The guys told me a story about going to a home where quite a few Clorox bottles were stacked by the well. The owners thought that more was better, which it isn't. Too much bleach can screw up your well. You need to know how much chlorine is needed, based on how much water is sitting in the well.

That's pretty easy to figure out, if you know some basic facts about your well. So step 1 is to pour bleach into the well. The guys didn't dilute it, though this often is recommended to avoid harming metal parts.

We shut off our house water, and bypassed our water treatment equipment. We didn't want to have bleach running into our septic system. Hopefully treating the coliform in the well, piping to the pressure tank, and the tank itself will take care of the problem.

Next a hose was connected in a loop from the newly installed valve back to an adapter that squeezed water back into the well, down the vent opening (on the right of the photo) where the bleach went in. The adapter was needed because the opening is so small.

This is a crucial step, because the bleach needs to be circulated in the well. Otherwise it'll just sit on top of the water. The Sippel crew ran the water until a high level of chlorine showed up on a test strip. That meant the bleach had reached the pump down at the bottom of the well.

Then we shut everything down and let the chlorine do its thing – eight hours minimum we were told; we decided to wait until the next morning, about 18 hours, partly because it was going to be easier to do the final steps in daylight.

Which were: (1) attaching a hose to the well housing valve and running water until it looked fairly clear, with no chlorine evident on the test strip, and (2) running raw water from a hose down at our house, to flush out the pressure tank and the pipe leading from the well to the tank.

There was quite a bit of magnesium (black flecks) showing up in the water at our house. So I decided to run our sprinkler system for a couple of hours, figuring that the system filter would catch most of the crud and that we might as well get some use out of the water we were flushing out of the well/pipes.

I suspect the flecks were dislodged from the piping somewhere along the line, given the strong air bursts after we started using the well again.

Things seem back to normal now. But with our complicated water treatment system and crappy well water, "normal" is always a precarious condition.

We were told to retest the water, both a raw sample and treated, in five days. This time we'll get a culture test done, so if we still have coliform bacteria we'll know how many.

It was a judgment call to not treat the house water lines. We might end up having to do this. But since it's a more complicated procedure and the chlorine could harm our septic system, we decided to start with a conservative bleach treatment – which also was the advice of the Sippel guys.

If you've got a similar problem, hope this description helps. We country homeowners have to stick together.

City folks don't realize what it takes to keep your own water and waste treatment system functioning, not to mention dealing with all the other complexities of rural life.

But a few hours ago a deer with two super-cute fawns wandered across our yard. Moments like those make memories of chorine and coliforms fade away. Fast.

Sliding downhill on Father’s Day

Perfect. This is just the way I feel much of the time, now that I've reached the semi-geezerish age of 59.

Like I'm sliding down the hill of life, faster than before, since the descent seems steeper the closer you get to the bottom.

So photos of me and my granddaughter, Evelyn, that my daughter emailed today were just what I wanted, Father's Day wise.

I sort of thought that Starbucks would offer up a discount on my latte this morning. But no. Disappointed, I cut my tip in half and just clinked a couple of dimes into the jar.

Giving starts at home, they say, and I'm never far from the domicile called Me.

The records show that it's a lot older than I feel it to be. My birth certificate affirms that I was born in 1948. However, I don't feel anywhere near as mature as that.

And my goal is never to grow up. Which Evelyn is going to help me to do, for sure. When she visited us for the first time last March, I hadn't slid down a slide in quite a few years.

I was pleased to discover that my butt hadn't forgotten what to do (not much, admittedly), as the photos above attest.

Here we are in a more serious moment, pausing on a walk around the lake near our house. I like this photo. There's a yin and yang to it.

Evelyn's youth and softness; my mature (I resist saying elderly) grizzledness.

More and more, I find myself pondering what I'll be when I'm no more. I don't know, naturally. Nobody does. All we can do is make up stories about an afterlife – which, in reality, likely will amount to a big pile of non-existence.

That bothers me, since Woody Allen and I have a similar attitude toward death.

"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying."

But looking at Evelyn, especially when she's in the arms of my daughter, Celeste, I realize that death can't be cheated – but everyone still wins at the game of life. Even at the inevitable moment when life is lost.

Each of us leaves behind traces of ourselves.

Children and grandchildren are obvious continuances of living. However, all that we do, including the elemental act of simply being, creates ripples that continue to move on the ocean of life after our physical body and mind are inert and motionless.

That's everlasting life. Not the sort religions would have us believe in, but something that I can count on, unlike heaven or salvation.

I hope my last breath and final heart beat mark the beginning of another form of life, rather than nothingness.

Yet if that really is The End of my life's story, I'll turn the last page knowing that others are continuing to enjoy a tale that I helped write.

Help me save Oregon strawberries

I can't eat the whole 2008 Oregon strawberry crop, but I've been trying. So help me out – buy local, buy often.

I was pleased to see Loaded Orygun's recent post on this important subject: "Not just strawberries – OREGON strawberries. Please?"

It mentioned my "As Oregon strawberries go, so the state" musing from a few years ago. What I said then still is true now.

Oregon strawberries are special. Research has proven that they're sweeter, redder, and simply better. But they're on the decline. Just like our state. Like a canary in a coal mine, the Oregon strawberry reflects the health of our previously vaunted livability.

I've been doing my best to keep Oregon strawberry growers in business. Almost every day I buy a carton or two from Roth's Sunnyslope Market in south Salem, which admirably sells quite a bit of local produce.

It isn't hard to decide between the delicious Oregon variety and the tasteless (by comparison) California berries. The latter travel better, so most of the country has never tasted a real strawberry.

When we were in Bend last week I made the mistake of buying a big container of California strawberries at Costco. They tasted fine.

Until I got back to Salem, walked into Roth's, and saw that local strawberries from Blue Heron Farms were on display. Now I can barely bring myself to eat the California berries.

Loaded Orygun's Torrid Joe has some good news. After describing how tests show Oregon strawberries to be objectively better than competitors from other states, he writes:

And so armed with those selling points, the push is on to identify Oregon strawberries by name in order to drive demand and a taste for a specific variety--like Alaskan salmon or Maine lobster, Vermont syrup or Wisconsin cheese.

Excellent idea. The decline in Oregon's strawberry acreage has to stop, or local berry addicts like me are going to face serious withdrawal problems one of these Junes.

Measure 49 making more news now

For a while things were pretty quiet on the Oregon land use front. But now my "Measure 37" Google News alert is sending me more stories, as the implementation of Measure 49 produces increased legal activity.

In Benton County the Board of Commissioners essentially put a stop to a seven-lot Measure 37 subdivision sought by Charlie Fischer.

The Gazette Times story, "Benton grants Fischer right to subdivide, but not to build," says that Fischer hadn't spent enough before the passage of Measure 49 to be fully vested (basically, grandfathered in). He'd been able to get lots approved, but not dwellings built.

Since Measure 37 doesn't allow for the transferability of building rights, Fischer needed to construct homes on the seven lots. He couldn't sell the lots to other people with the right to build their own houses. So now he's left with lots on EFU land that can only be used for farming, not residences.

However, Measure 49 allows him three home sites. And transferability. Thus Fischer should be able to make quite a bit of money from his property – much more than the $67,000 he's put into development activities so far.

The West Linn Tidings ran a story on a Clackamas County vesting case that was the subject of a previous post. The subtitle of "Judge says no to Tumwater" is Decision to reject the Petes Mountain development could set a precedent in the application of Measure 49.

Here, as in Benton County, it was determined that the Measure 37 claimant had to have done considerable work on building homes before the subdivision could get a thumbs up on vesting. Even though the developer had spent more than $1 million, this was a small percentage of the $30 million needed to complete the project.

Plus, the judge ruled that the work that'd been done could be adapted to the three home sites allowed by Measure 49.

Another interesting case is in Yamhill county, described by the News-Register in "M37 case catches county in conundrum." Neighbors of the Kroo subdivision appealed its approval, and the Land Use Board of Appeals "remanded the case to the county for a do-over on technical grounds."

Problem is, Measure 37 doesn't exist anymore, after the passage of Measure 49. So there's no Measure 37 claim to do-over.

Because all this is still in the appeals process, one school of thought holds that the Kroos do not yet have approval for a subdivision. If that's the case, they can't get it approved now, because the law that enabled them to go for it, Measure 37, has since been overturned by Measure 49.

That, anyway, is the state's argument.

In anticipation of Wednesday's remand hearing before the county commissioners, Michael Morrisey of the state Department of Land Conservation and Development told the county "the applicant's Measure 37 waivers have no further force or effect and therefore cannot support the requested subdivision."

If so, the Kroo's will end up with a three lot, rather than 10-lot, development. Again, less than they hoped for, but more than they would have been entitled to without Measure 49 if they weren't vested under Measure 37.

Why can’t Salem be more like Bend?

Or…Portland, Eugene, Ashland, Corvallis – any number of Oregon towns with that special something that Salem so sorely lacks.

Laurel and I cruised around Bend one day last week. Our first stop was the NorthWest Crossing development. We were charmed.

We were involved with the effort to convert Salem's Fairview Training Center property into a sustainable mixed use development. So far it hasn't come to much, aside from the admirable progress of Pringle Creek Community on a small portion of the site.

NorthWest Crossing reminded us of what Salem lacks, because it incorporates many of the elements of the Sustainable Fairview master plan.

Homes are unique, not fashioned from an architectural cookie cutter. They all have a, well, homey feel to them. Porches encourage residents to face outward toward their neighbors.

Cars and garages are relegated to alleys. It's amazing how much better a street looks when it's people-focused rather than automobile focused. The alleys are the least attractive aspect of NorthWest Crossing.

These townhouses have a similar appearance to the detached homes.

This part of the development faces a large open area, left largely natural. As a laudatory description of NorthWest Crossing notes, most subdivisions plat the lots and leave whatever is left over as open space. Here, by contrast:

"The plan, developed by Walker Macy's Doug Macy, Mike Zilis, and David Aulwes, is organized around a large central circular park with mature pines ringed with higher-density homes, creating a distinctive heart to the community and a memorable identity. The plan begins with these placemaking elements, which contrasts with the conventional model of blanketing a parcel of land with lots then trying to carve out open space from the unbuildable remainder."

Family pet in tow, we walked to a commercial area of NorthWest Crossing.

A dog boutique featured a convenient hitching post. We got some lattes at a coffeehouse, sat outside, and enjoyed hearing "cute dog" as a girl and her mother drove by in an open-air Jeep.

Later we drove to the Old Mill District. Shopped at REI (don't have one in Salem). Watched my wife browse at a Chico's (don't have one in Salem). Ate at the yummy Café Yumm! (don't have one in Salem). Then went across town to the Whole Foods Market (don't have one in Salem).

See the pattern? There's a lot that Salem doesn't have, and Bend does, along with Eugene and the other cities I mentioned.

Poor us.

But we have no trouble finding a parking space in downtown Salem. Not much of a silver lining, but Salemites take whatever solace they can get after visiting a town like Bend that makes us realize what we're missing.

Judge says “no” to Measure 37 subdivision

Everyone in Oregon who voted for Measure 49, give yourself a pat on the back. (Or wherever else you choose.)

Without you a judge wouldn't have ruled Thursday that a planned 41-home subdivision in Clackamas County can't proceed – being subject to the three home limit Measure 49 places on development in a groundwater limited area.

Which Pete's Mountain is. In an Oregonian story, "Measure 49 stops Clackamas County subdivision," a neighbor expressed his concern.

"I can live without electricity, but I can't live without water," said Dave Krevanko, who lives across the street from the development. Putting in a new, deeper well, he said, would cost tens of thousands of dollars.

Water wasn't the reason the subdivision was stopped, though. Judge Alexander found that the Measure 37 claimants (Cecille and W. Leigh Campbell, and co-owner Don Bowerman) hadn't spent enough on the development to be vested – which basically means "grandfathered in."

As noted in my "Pete's Mountain vesting case goes to court" post, the property owners weren't including the expense of building 41 homes when they calculated what proportion of the total project cost had been incurred prior to the passage of Measure 49.

Judge Alexander correctly included that large expense, because building rights for lots in a Measure 37 can't be transferred to new owners. So the Campbell's and Bowerman would have had to construct the homes themselves.

Another newspaper story, "New vesting decision casts local shadow," notes that the Pete's Mountain case bodes well for opponents of another large subdivision in Yamhill County.

As land-use activists prepare to mount a legal challenge to the high-profile Abrams subdivision west of McMinnville, they're hailing a case out of Clackamas County that they say has major implications for all subdivision projects proceeding in spite of Measure 49.

Todd Sadlo is a McMinnville attorney who served as the hearings officer for Yamhill County. He said that the Abrams subdivision was vested, ignoring the case law that Judge Alexander cited in his ruling.

You'd think that Sadlo would be open to considering Alexander's arguments, given that he's a district court judge and Sadlo isn't, but apparently not.

Sadlo said he had read the decision, and said it didn't overly concern him. "These cases really don't have any value as precedent," he said. "They really don't have anything to do with me."

Narrowly true in a legal sense, because a district court decision isn't binding in other Oregon districts. But if the Pete's Mountain decision is upheld by the Court of Appeals, Sadlo will be forced to change his tune.

Metolius River hike from Camp Sherman store

This is our sort of hiking adventure: one that begins and ends at a charming country store that serves expresso. Namely, the Camp Sherman store in central Oregon's beautiful Metolius River recreation area.

We've hiked most of the easily accessible stretches of the Metolius many times. They're all marvelous.

The two mile path downstream of the store (west side of the river) is enjoyable because it's level, passes by interesting cabins on forest service land, and is on a particularly attractive section of the Metolius (not that there's an unattractive section).

Plus, there's the latte thing. And public restrooms at miles 0, 1, 3, and 4 of the roundtrip four mile hike, a potential benefit if you energized yourself with a large quad expresso before you started off.

Here's a You Tube video of the hike we took a few days ago.

Dancing through life the Argentine Tango way

Is life a dance? Is dancing life? Sure.

We find a partner. We lose a partner. We stumble. We move smoothly. We forget where we're supposed to go. We get on track again.

Life is reflected in every style of dance. But many see Argentine Tango as the best representation of life. A few years ago I blogged about how "I'm learning to Tango with life."

Still am. Learning.

Last Saturday, another lesson. Lora, our RJ Dance Studio instructor, arranged for Rachel Lidskog to come down from Portland and teach two Argentine Tango workshops.

What a delight. Especially when Rachel partnered up with Lora and demonstrated how to move. These ladies can. Move. (Here's a YouTube video of Rachel waltzing in a competition.)

An accomplished dancer looks danceish even when he or she is just standing in one spot, talking. Or moving from place to place, walking. It isn't anything magical, really, though years of training are reflected in every stance and move.

It's basically presence. Being aware. Conscious of yourself, the rhythm you're hearing, the person you're connected with, others in the room.

Rachel is a marvelously positive woman. I'm sure she has her down days, but you'd never know it from her unfailing infectious smile, encouraging words, and warm energy. She spoke of chi, something I hear a lot about in my Tai Chi classes.

There's no way to tie chi down in words, but one way it manifests is as intention – a passion that another Tango instructor, Matt, spoke about. Without it, this energy of life, we're living at half-throttle, idling through our years.

Last weekend's Argentine Tango workshops helped bring Laurel and me up to a higher dancing speed, though we're still cruising along at low RPM's compared to experienced dancers.

Yet in three hours Rachel revved up us quite a bit, along with a pleasingly large number of other classmates (showing that sleepy Salem is ready to Tango, more than vicariously).

Here's some of her general Argentine Tango tips that are more obviously applicable to life. I'll share some Tango specifics in a continuation to this post.

--Connection between the leader and follower is all important, whether you're in close embrace or farther apart. Feel the intention of the leader and the response of the follower.

--A leader has to be decisive. Don't hesitate. A wishy-washy lead is more likely to result in stepped on feet or a stumble, not less likely. Move confidently into the follower's space; she (usually the follower is a woman) will get out of the way.

--Argentine Tango is fully led and followed, unlike patterned dances. There is no set pattern to Argentine Tango. It's spontaneous, moving to the rhythmic intention of the moment.

--Thus the follower shouldn't anticipate. Even though almost always this move follows that move, "almost" allows for the leader to go in another direction. Feel what is really happening, not what you expect to happen.

--Argentine Tango is the only dance style that can be danced to any sort of music: waltz, foxtrot, rhumba, salsa, nightclub, and so on. It's flexibility flows from its spontaneity and lack of a regular rhythm of its own.

--The essence of Tango is simply walking. As Carlos, another instructor, told us: "Guys, Tango is simple. It's just walking with the woman in a way that will make her fall in love with you." (For the duration of the dance, at least.)

Read on for some Argentine Tango specifics.