Wheels
Seattle
Tuesday December 31, 2002
I bought a car today. Actually, Dia bought me a car with the car bonus she'd been working toward all last year. The first check arrived on my birthday, which was perfect. Since I moved to Seattle from California I have been carless. In ten years of walking, biking, busing, mooching rides, and hopping in taxis I've avoided parking hassles and car payments and have also developed a street-level awareness of Seattle: cracks in the sidewalk, changes in storefronts, stable constellations of homeless, and so on. What I've lacked, though, is the ability to easily get where I want, when I want, outside of five block radius from work and home. So now a new chapter--mobile Mark--begins. The possibilities are exhilirating: no waking up Dia for a ride to work, no complciated logistics to get to a dentist appointment, no excuse for not going to the gym, the simple ability to swing by the co-op on the way home from work to buy antibiotic-free chicken. I am tickled pink. "Monte Carlo Blue," to be more specific. I love my car.

Back Home
Seattle
Sunday December 29, 2002
Bright and sunny in Seattle. Excellent weather for closet cleaning and domestic tasks. You might expect that such a day would provoke stolling or other outdoor activities. Wrong. With light streaming in our house it's the perfect sort of a day to create a big pile of stuff to go to the Goodwill, move furniture around, and contemplate our domestic architecture. It has been determined that the living room requires two distinct lounging areas, the towering TV stand must go, and the perfect place for the Japanese screen that used to belong to Dia's grandma is on the dining room wall. This last decision has implications. The screen will replace a set of pictures I made for my grad school bachelor pad. They were without a doubt the best thing in a one bedroom apartment filled with homemade design monstrosities. They have hung on various walls for nine years and are now in art limbo.

Opt Out
Los Angeles
Sunday December 29, 2002
I had a fine time in Southern California, which is notable given that I've spent much of the last decade professing to hate the place. Maybe it was spending car time listening to KCRW, marveling at how the rental car's LED display would spit out text bits declaring KCRW 89.9FM . . . MORNING ECLECTIC . . . 9 TO 12 M-F. How did it know? I also faced my first electronic upsell. Two, in fact. The first was at an ATM where, prior to being allowed to receive the money I was withdrawing from my account, I was forced to accept or decline information about a getting a new home loan. Then this morning at 5am as we gassed up the rental car, my receipt was held hostage by the pump until I responded to DO YOU WANT A COFFEE? I did. But it just didn't feel right.

Joygantic Update #2
Los Angeles
Thursday December 27, 2002
I was surprised to find out at the Open House that a few people had actually searched out Joygantic. Though no one said so--OK my brother said so--their experience was undoubtably disappointing. As previously noted, this sucker is a work in progress. My focus for now is on writing regularly and building out the rest of the site (much of which already exisits on various harddrives, Zip Disks, CDs, and Flash cards) as I find time. The bold words below will be hyperlinks, and things will pick up after the first of the year.

Shoes
Los Angeles
Friday December 27, 2002
I run clothing into the ground. Exhibit A: My six year-old Dr. Martens, which I have worn five time a week for, well, six years. Today I took a great leap forward and purchased not one, not two, but three pairs of new shoes to replace these stalwarts. While that was a satisfying consumer experience, I was even more excited to pickup a copy of Howard Reingold's Smart Mobs, which I've had my nose burried in since the car ride home from the bookstore. Good stuff. A snappily written, intellectually grounded look at the transformative social implications of connected wireless technology. I'm giving myself five years to write a book like this.

Eat Sushi Immediately
Los Angeles
Thursday December 26, 2002
Dia and I have a soft spot for Teppanyaki restaurants. It has something to do with watching our food being cooked, eating dinner next to random strangers, and being served course after course of yummy, simple food ("yay it's the beansprout course!"). None of this can explain this sign, though.

Babies
Los Angeles
Wednesday December 25, 2002
More babies. They seem to be everywhere these days. We stopped to see baby Maya (and her parents) on our way up north, and spent the afternoon and evening with Dia's family in a swirl of activity that centered on the fourth month-old Earley twins Brooke and Christopher and their charming older sister Camryn. When I last saw my littlest neice and nephew they were a month old, attached to monitors, looking, well, somewhat alien. They are now fully fledged, high maintenance, tiny humans. The highlight of my Christmas was watching Christopher transform from a crying terror into a sleeping angel--the special sleeping position involving laying across my knees while I sat on the floor in a most uncomfortable position. I chalked up my discomfort to a distinct lack of stomach muscles. I didn't dare move. While I sat there, though, I developed an even deeper respect for what it takes to raise children--hell, just what it takes to keep babies alive--and I declare that my brother and sister in-law are doing an amazing job!

Open House
San Diego
Tuesday December 24, 2002
We wake up, drink coffee, and get to work. There is food to prepare, drinks to chill, a buffet table to set, and the newly rehabilitated patio to arrange. This is the Donovan family Christmas Eve Open House, a tradition that is probably at least 25 years old. Friends start flowing into the house at three and there is a warm buzz of conversation frequently punctuated by laughs and hugs. It's one of the best parties you could ever attend. For me it's an annual snapshot of Vista life. The neighbors down the street arrive in a golf cart covered in Christmas lights. A friend of my parents unexpectedly debriefs me in the most thorough way on Burning Man. Folks I barely remember seem to know all about me. Little children from two decades ago are now in college. People I went to school with have babies. My favorite new baby is Dante, newly adopted by my friend David and his husband John. I stopped by David's house earlier in the day to see his mom and dad. We did the math and realized that I've know David for thirty years, which just doesn't seem possible. As Dia falls asleep, my brother and I head out to a local bar to meet up with some other Vista expats, two of whom I haven't seen in at least fifteen years. One is now a lawyer in Paris, the other a longtime AOL staffer living in LA. We don't reminisce so much as marvel at how far from Vista our lives have taken us, happy though to be back in town for just a bit.

Global Warming
San Diego
Monday December 23, 2002
Tonight, like clockwork, my father and I held our annual debate on global warming. My dad, who sports a degree from Caltech and PhD in biochemistry--impressive accomplishments but not at all clearly related to atmospheric science--faces off against his oldest son, who sports credentials related even more tenuously to the science of global warming. Every year, after a few drinks, we stumble into the topic. Dad thinks that "global warming" is junk science promulgated by a sheep-like scientific establishment whose hubrius leads them to overestimate the impact of humans on the earth, failing to consider the long (millenial) cycles of natural history. I think he's full of shit and that in fact an impressive scientific consensus has developed over the fifteeen years we've been having this debate that proves as much. Predictably, this gets us nowhere. We have agreed (much to the relief of the rest of the family) to shift to evidence based argument. He knows of a website I need to look at. We will sort this out. We must. The future of the planet is at stake. Or not.

Coyotes
San Diego
Sunday December 22, 2002
I hear a noise--a caucophony really--and go outside to be greeted by a chorus of coyote welps. This is Vista, the place I grew up, the place I tried to get as much distance from as possible, the place where my parents did an exceptional job of raising me, the place where we've returned for Christmas after a two year hiatus. Brian and Natalie arrived this evening, and though the absence of my aunt/big sister Bo is felt, there is no denying the comfort, both strange and familiar, of the house I grew up in. Lives are shared at a frenetic pace. My mother provide updates on people I went to school with, family friends, lets me know who will/will not be making it to the Christamas Eve Open House which my parents have hosted for 20 some-odd years. I pick pomegrantes from the tree in the backyard, admire the newly upgraded patio, eat rolled tacos from local Taquerias, the names of which all end in "berto." I used to bristle when I returned to Vista, feeling that my life was being put on hold, interrupted, delayed, paused by a trip "home." Now I'm thankful for multiple homes, for the chance to disrupt routines, and for time with family.

That Holiday Spirit
Seattle
Friday December 20, 2002
There was a time when a trip somewhere would demand weeks of planning, anticipation, list making, list checking, and careful packing. Somewhere along the way that pattern was overtaken by the velocity of life. In 16 hours or so, Dia and I will be on a plane zooming south to California for a delightful if frenetic week of holiday relvery and family bonding. In the next several hours there will be a flury of bill paying, laundry washing, packing and mayhem as we prepare for our journey. Some gifts have been purchased (thank you Amazon), others will be picked up along the way, and we'll shortly dive into a pool of love, family, seldom seen friends, and general goodness. I've stopped fighting the pace of the life I lead and as a result I've stopped feeling overrun by the world and spend more time enjoying what it offers. That feels good and seems to me exactly what we should all be doing right now.

Joygantic Update #1
Seattle
Thursday December 19, 2002
If anyone has actually visted this site it's undoubtabley due to the saavy direct mailing my parents did on it's behalf, masquerading as their annual Christmas letter. That's turned out to be a bit like having dinner guests arrive before you've had time to neaten up the house. Joygantic is the fourth incarnation of a personal website for Mark & Dia and at it's core it provides a reason for me (Mark) to write everyday and a vehicle for sharing our lives with the many many people we care about. Pictures are coming soon, links will be activated, and Joygantic will grow. So don't worry, dinner is in the oven.

Beautiful Minds
Seattle
Thursday December 19, 2002
One of the pure pleasures of my life is conversing with other interesting human beings. One of my favorite people is Rob. He's kind, a sponge for ideas, an excellent conversationalist, and a collector of information and thoughts all scribbed or sketched in a grid paper notebook he carries wherever he goes. We bond over our love for excellent writing implements and graph paper. Last night Rob shared the vision for his latest project. He intends to build an EEG system that links his brainwaves with an interactive Web application. There were other details. Whether this ever gets built, well, we'll have to wait and see, but ultimately it doesn't really matter to me. What matters is to me is the the social exchange of creative thought, the companionship of ideas, and being surrounded by people who envision things that don't yet exist.

(More Comfortable) Deck Chairs on the Titantic
Seattle
Wednesday December 18, 2002
Airplanes are the curse and blessing of my current gig. I fly frequently and get a charge out of travelling. It's just too bad travel has to involve coach class on airplanes with seating designed for people much smaller than me. So I was overcome with glee and relief upon learning today that this year's mileage has qualified me for a "status upgrade" next year. This consumer acheivement will bring many comfort-enhancing perks. Now if only the airline had not just filed for bankrupcy . . .

A Rush and a Push
Seattle
Monday December 16, 2002
Thank god for the calmness of the weekend. It has steeled me for this week--the rush to tie up 2002 loose ends, get ready for our trip to California, and hopefully do some Christmas shopping. My dear mother completes her Christmas shopping sometime in early October, having spent the earlier part of the year laying away gifts for people like a squirrel stores choice nuts. While her system is clearly superior, I'll be sticking to my own tried and true modus operandi: don't think about something until the last possible minute and have faith that things just work out.

Birthday Weekend
Seattle
Sunday December 15, 2002

I think I mentioned that it's my birthday. I have spent this weekend doing things I absolutely love:

• Relaxing drink and conversation with a very good friend where we shared smiles and joy over what an incredible year its been
• A long shower followed by quite, joyful reflection and a nap
• Absolutely delicious sushi with Dia as a prelude to the unbridled passion of two people who have been together for almost a decade and pinch themselves each morning when they wake up together
• A satisfaction-filled morning of mundane chores (laundry, bill paying, etc)
• A solo trip to the Pike Place Market, lunch at my favorite restaurant while reading a good magazine article and conversing with the staff over the meaning of food preparation terms. A shopping spree that involved my favorite butcher, my favorite food market (where I ran into someone I'd met months earlier), and my favorite produce stand where I bought a pomegranete, smelled (but did not buy) truffles brought up from "out back" and plotted the dinner I planned to cook on Sunday
• Drinks and food set to good music with two dear friends who rallied at a moments notice to help celebrate my unstructured birthday weekend
• Time to putter, interupted by Dia arriving at our doorstep with the car she is planning on buying me
• Several unrushed hours preparing Sunday dinner for friends I don't see nearly often enough
• Enjoying the smell of the roast in the oven, catching up on the lives of people I care deeply about, and watching as a four-year old ran around madly taking digital photos, figuring out how to use camera functions that had eluded me.

Compare & Contrast
Seattle
Saturday December 14, 2002
Today I turned 36 and have been having an all around superb birthday weekend. This year's theme: calm, contented reflection. It is--see if you can follow this--the first birthday in which looking back ten years I'm happy with who I was then. I think I began to reach some sort of escape velocity when I was 26, or at least that's the story I'm telling myself. A little compare and contrast seems in order:

My Own Indie Film
Seattle
Friday December 13, 2002
I like to dream but usually don't remember much about the movies that play in my head while I sleep. This morning was different. I rolled awake fresh from an escapade that involved renting a taxi, going Christmas shopping, getting caught in the drama of a madman sniper terrorizing a French village--which made me miss a date with Dia to see "Moulin Rouge" (which she said was good), struggling with how much you tip a guy you rent a taxi from (particularly given that this taxi was an RV), almost leaving my dry cleaning in the car, remembering to grab it and instinctively stealing a fishing net from the taxi for use somehow as a costume at the party I was late for, arriving at the party, finding Dia, debating the merits of ice cream bar flavors with a beautiful women that tried to foist an ice cream sandwich on me when what I insisted what I really wanted was a vanilla ice cream *bar,* and then catching, out of the corner of my eye a commercial for a new TV series involving a rogue group of interconnected families leading a modern primative life (think Burning Man theme camp with horses and Swiss Family Robinson-like ingenuity) on the outskirts of Burbank.

No wonder I'm tired this morning.

That PH Balance
Seattle
Sunday December 13, 2002
Dia: What's that smell??
Mark: Uh, I dunno <sniff> my underarm?
Dia: <sniff> ewww

Note to self: Next time when you run out of deodorant, using Dia's "specially formulated ladies stick" is not an acceptable option.

A Small Village Near the Canadian Border
Seattle
Sunday December 8, 2002
Seattle, with it's two brand-new sports stadiums, formerly booming economy, and continued ambition to be a "world class city" is, ultimately, a very small place. When I'm travelling out of town and feeling snarky, I answer the "where do you live?" question with "in a small village near the Canadian border called Seattle". The coziness of the Emerald City was driven home last night at the annual RealNetworks holiday party, held at the swanky Elliot Grand Hyatt. Who should walk into the hotel lobby as the party was picking up steam? Why arch competitor Bill Gates. In my head I alternatively debated the merits of knocking him down or offering him a drink ticket. I did neither.