Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

Cold and new sweatshirts

It was cold here today. At the peak of the afternoon the thermometer, which is, of course, an app, said it was 32 degrees. But, just below that, all proud and sure of itself, was a line that read: Feels like 22°. But at least it was sunny, here on the inner coastal plain — where the heavy land and the green sands meet.

Yesterday it was 50, for a time. Right now, this evening, it feels like 15.

All of these numbers have been verified against other outputs, because I’m not the simple sort of person who thinks we don’t need weather forecasters or forecasts anymore because we’ve got phones.

Some people think of it that way. I talked with one over the holidays. He was playfully griping about his wife always watches the weather, and why is there so much weather, and where did the sports go on the nightly news.

Rare is the day when I can tell people what I do and they want to talk about it. So we did. And I’m pretty sure he came to regret it. As I explained … ahem … the National Weather Service, and Accuweather, and IBM and it’s super computer and The Weather Channel and the private equity firm that owns them now, and satellites and buoys and forecasters … to a man who has been in commercial aviation for longer than I’ve been alive.

Just your random guy, this would make sense. But you have to figure, a man that flew for Delta, and now boasts of flying rich people around on their whim, would have some passing familiarity with the demands of the atmosphere on the needs of his job. But, no, it’s right there, in your phone.

Friends, it is not.

Anyway, cold, but sunny. I will take the former because of the latter. I accepted it cheerily today, albeit with a shiver, and because this was the last night of the season when civil twilight arrives before 5:30 p.m. We are, friends and loved ones, making progress out of the darkened season.

It occurred to me the other evening, as I put on a fancy new sweatshirt, that a simple and small thing I would do if I had no cares in the world money, would be to buy up a bunch of sweatshirts. Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of old sweatshirts, several of them decades old, and they occupy an important place in my mind and in my wardrobe. But there’s something magical about slipping on that new sweatshirt the first few times, when the inside is just so.

It is the tactile version of the new car smell. It is soft and luxurious, and maybe in a way most of our torsos don’t deserve. Of course, you say, that’s silly. When has a torso ever deserved anything. Others will say, a new sweatshirt isn’t an extravagance. But, no, I’m saying I’d figure out how many wearings and washings I could get out of each shirt before it didn’t fit this criteria any more. Then I’d give the thing away, and wear a new one. How many would that be a winter? Thirty? Forty? If I had money that I’d never miss, that’s a thing I would do.

I thought of that recently while I was slipping on this handsome little fellow.

It was a gift from my godmother-in-law (just go with it). She has three of us to shop for, though really she doesn’t need to buy me anything, so every year her sons-in-law and I get basically the same thing. And she’s good at it. I have some really nice lightweight pullovers from her thoughtfulness.

And if I spread out wearing them, they’ll last a long time. Decades, maybe.

I managed to avoid a Thursday meeting about a Tuesday meeting, which was to precede a meeting next week. I wrote something that kept the meeting from happening. I wrote it on spec last night. It was requested today. I blew it up and rewrote the thing, just to make a few points more carefully and clearly.

And then I wrote a document that, hopefully, will be of some help to my faculty colleagues. Our university does a wonderful job of building up support services and resources for the student body. And what is in the surrounding community is quite robust, as well.

The problem I have seen, on every campus I’ve worked on and probably the ones I attended, as well, is one of awareness. Not everyone knows about all of these programs. How could they? Why should they? So in each class I build a one-page document with some of the most important resources and share it with my students. Last semester I thought, I should share this with my colleagues, in case any of them would like to add to whatever they distribute. I did that earlier this week, and that led to a few people sharing what they share.

I began to think of synthesis. I said I would pull all of these together once the semester got under its own power and nothing needed my attention anymore.

Well, that’s silly, of course. Everything will always need our attention. So I just did the thing today. And what emerged was a three-page Google Doc full of campus and community resources. And maybe someone can make good use of them in the days ahead. Or maybe we can keep building the thing out in weeks and months to come, because, even at three pages, it is hardly complete.

So I wrote six useful pages before lunch. And then I had lunch. And late this afternoon I have built two more lectures. That means … hold on, I’m doing math.

…

Seriously, this takes a while …

… probably longer than one of those documents I wrote this morning …

I think approximately half of my semester’s course work is laid out.

Barring the unforeseen and small changes.

(This is the part I’ll keep repeating, if only to see the list grow smaller.) That should leave me only with grading the work of 93 people throughout the term, plus the 15 or 20 things I’ve planned to write, plus finishing two research projects, and three panel presentations. Plus committee work, my contract packet, whatever else pops up, and so on.

So I have some free time between now and early May, clearly. Obviously I volunteered to present guest lectures via Zoom in Minneapolis if a teacher somewhere needed it.

photo / Wednesday — No comments
14
Jan 26

Just us cool cats

Let us begin with the most important part, and the most popular part of the site, our regular check-in with the kitties.

Just the other night, a blustery and chill evening with the wind whipping, when it wasn’t howling, and the house creaking when it wasn’t popping, we all curled up together on the sofa. When the four of us are in one spot it feels like a life raft scenario. Or, maybe, a dangerous one: the entire brain trust in one spot!

At least I know where everyone is, and that everyone is happy, and not locked up or somehow magically slipped outside. These are self-imposed concerns, but they cross my mind a few times a day. And more in these days when there is less going on.

Like there’s less going on. There is. There is less now, than there will be. And so I looked at our feet and looked and the drowsy cats and enjoyed the moment, and then went back to reading the news.

Poseidon had a nice afternoon in the sun. I wonder if they perceive the differences of time. Or is it too subtle. Maybe one day from the next is far too little, but do they get a sense of “These naps are longer than the ones I enjoyed several naps ago?” They say time is a construct, but shadows disagree, and so would a sunbathing cat, I would think.

Phoebe climbed up on my shoulder, which is something her brother normally does, and decided to take a nap there. Forgive the poor composition, but I was hunched over for critter comforts and balance, and trying to get both a book shelf and ceiling fan out of the background.

So the kitties are doing just fine, thanks for asking. They would like, however, some more cuddles. They’re routines are bafflingly precise, which is why I wonder about cats and the passing of time. And, if you’re good, you can do a lot in the seven minutes between their needy demands.

I am not that good.

Today I was asked to be in a meeting, tomorrow, about yesterday’s meeting. And another meeting next week. I demurred on the latter, and think I can miss the former. In lieu of that meeting I wrote a three-page document that detailed all of the things that I would have said, which were only slightly more specific than what I said yesterday.

I’m sure I’ll send it on tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll blow it up and re-write it beforehand.

Today I also cinched and locked one syllabus. Which is great! Class starts next week! I’m close to the other.

I get to a place where some part of me says, “Ya know, you’re just tinkering with this for the sake of it.” And then I spend another hour or so on it, and call it done. It isn’t the best writing process, but I fall into it sometimes.

This process does have one added benefit, that when I apply it to regular writing, as opposed to sectioned and portioned off things like a syllabus, I can look back on the product and say, confidently, “Yep, I edited that to within an inch of its life.”

And then I send off the edited-and-barely-still-standing document. And then I notice the typos.

I also built my two first slide decks of the new semester today. I’m wondering if I should do more.

I should do more.

Update: I would not do more. I came back by the office later, and noticed I’d left my light on, which has become code for Go back in there and do some work. But I don’t always.

But I should. I like the work and all.

And that part is best of all, because there will be more of it tomorrow.

cycling / Tuesday — No comments
13
Jan 26

Nine! And three-quarters

I had a meeting today. It involved four of six people and took a week to get to. It resolved that we are resolved. At the end, a full 50 minutes of background and resolution, I thanked everyone for the time and interest and their care.

I did not thank them for the impetus to move a piece of furniture in my home office, which I did before the meeting.

My home office has two windows. In between those windows, and against the wall, is where I have placed my desk. Out of one window I can see the driveway. Out of the other, another neighbor’s yard, or a sunset, if I have the blinds open on that side. To the immediate right of my desk sits an old newspaper honor box. On top of that is my podcasting and voiceover setup, which I really should use more. Inside the newspaper box is where all of my dozens of pocket squares live. That was not the intention, and I do need a better place for them. Maybe one day. But the newspaper box, itself, has for more than two years now just jutted out at an odd angle. from the desk. This morning, I pushed it back nine inches toward the corner. Nine and three-quarters, actually.

It changed the whole room.

Just wait until, later this week, I move my monitor more toward the center of my desk.

Sometime in early May, when I put all of these textbooks and notes and notebooks away.

Also, today, I purchased a new pair of shoes. I’ve been eyeing these since late last spring. These are my first new pair of shoes since November of 2022, which explains why I feel extravagant at ordering such a thing.

And now my back hurts. Early in the day, it was my lower back. This evening, the pain had moved around a bit. And now, at the end of the day, it is back to my lower back. It’ll be gone tomorrow. It’s probably from stress. Or that meeting. Or feeling guilty about shoes. Or pushing a lightweight metal box nine inches. Nine and three-quarters, actually.

I made a new banner for indoor rides, since we are now using Rouvy. After years and years of wintering in Watopia on the Zwift platform, we are making the jump, and I am starting the process of riding myself back into shape. It’s a slow and utterly futile process, at this point. But it’s fun to ride.

If you had asked me before this evening’s ride I would have said I was only passingly familiar with the idea of Zone 6. Even the Cleveland Clinic only writes about Z1 through Z5 here. And I’d say that it had never occurred to me to use Zone 6 as a recovery from Zone 7. But there I was, on this evening’s short workout, in Zone 7 24 percent of the time.

(All of that Z1 is coasting.)

Training Peaks, which is clearly better at medical stuff than The Cleveland Clinic, breaks it down thusly: Z1 is active recovery, Z2 is endurance, Z3 is tempo, Z4 is lactate Threshold, Z5 is VO2 Max, Z6 is anaerobic Capacity, and Z7 is neuromuscular Power. This has to do with the wattage output. Zone 6, says Training Peaks is when you are working at greater than 121 percent of your power output. There is no nuber by Zone 7. All of which is to say, Rouvy hasn’t figured out my output yet. Which is obvious. I’m brand new on the platform. And not in the best fitness.

But look at those views! This is a video in Bolivia’s Pampas. A featureless stretch of road, comparatively speaking, but better than the video game feel from Zwift. And while there’s the occasional vehicle, or animal or person on the side of the road, I can turn the other rider avatars off.

I also did a little lap around a neighborhood in Sri Lanka, just to feel a few extra minutes. I feel so worldly.

The best part of this platform, I think, is that you can upload your own routes. You don’t get the video experience, as above, until someone goes out with a GoPro or some such, but you can get the distance and the terrain. If, that is, you can get the import feature to work. I’m still struggling with that part. But the routes just fill the imagination. I mentioned, yesterday, that I’ve been daydreaming about a 50 mile route up toward Mount St Helens for 15 years. I want to layout routes in my childhood neighborhood, just to feel what the hills are like there. I want to go over big bridges, for the same reason. I want to put in the course for the Race Across America and do that, even if it is from my basement. There are so many possibilities. I hope to get to them all, one day.

But first I need to straighten up some of the paper in my office. And move my monitor. Maybe about seven inches to the left.

adventures / cycling / Monday / photo — No comments
12
Jan 26

Tried a new app, ready to ditch an old one

On Saturday night we were invited to a hockey game. Some friends had extra tickets, and so sure we could go. If we could get there. Somehow, we missed an exit. The re-route was not drive-able, despite passing right in front of the venue, there were several cut-throughs that were blocked off. I am sure there are reasons, but they all hampered us. So we had to continue on, up and past the venue, now the venue is behind us. Now it is well behind us. Now, and only now, we can turn left, a leap of faith despite running two maps to plot our course.

Lewis and Clark would be so proud. The explorers, I mean, not the defensemen.

Let’s assume there are two players skating named Lewis and Clark. They’d be proud, too, but not as proud as the explorers. For with the bright glowing lights of two sports venues to guide us, traffic to follow, and who knows how many satellites connected to two separate maps, we managed to park across the street.

Not where we’d reserved parking, but where we could pay anew.

The walk was easy. We got in. Had to walk halfway around the joint to get to our seats to see friends. It was dollar pretzel night. I sprung for pretzels and mustard for everyone. Let’s do a little algebra.

On dollar pretzel night, I purchased four pretzels. I purchased two waters. The bill was $18 and change.

And so you see why the water wars to come will be brutal.

But not as bad as the hockey we saw tonight. The home team would, from time-to-time, put on an impressive display of holding the puck in front of their opponent’s net. The opposing team refused to do that, however. They just shot the thing at the home goalie.

And, friends and puck fans, he was not up to the task tonight. On our way out of the venue, when it was 6-1 and they were still skating, people in the concourse had some thoughts about the local netminder. They weren’t shy or polite about it, either. The final score was 7-2. (They played again this evening. It was not much better.)

But, hey, free hockey!

I enjoy all of the things they do in between periods. The light show is a lot of fun, though it might need to be refreshed. Also, if you mistime it, you can make the pyrotechnic show look like a calamity!

We were parked under this sign. On Sunday, that team did no better. Glad we weren’t there for that.

But I’ll probably never go to a game there. The prices are outrageous. I just couldn’t enjoy myself knowing what was spent on this ticket, especially when I every angle possible on the television, and climate controlled conditions, just a few miles away. It got into the 20s last night when they were suffering through that playoff game. I was sitting next to a blanket on my sofa.

The sky had a full day of it, yesterday, too. It was one of those indecisive days. I am a blue sky! Now I am moody! Now I am purple! But what if I embrace the gray and dark! Oh, I’m in my bright blue era again! And so on.

Worked on a class again today. Got in some of the email. I have made a list of notes for a meeting tomorrow. After tomorrow, I will have to do a lot more work. So, this evening, then, I am getting on the bike.

I haven’t ridden a lot in a long while. Just didn’t feel the need to. Or the motivation. One or the other. Maybe both. I could feel what little bit of fitness i had slipping away, though, so there’s that. That’ll happen when you ride for just a few minutes a week. It’s mental, as much as anything, but now I feel, mentally, that I want to ride some more.

Also, we are trying a new service. Our indoor riding has been on Zwift for years. In the winter time, that’s what you’ve seen here. It looks like a video game, and it is. It is useful for training, but it’s an intricate series of animations, basically. My lovely bride unilaterally decided she wanted to try Rouvy, which is funny, because I have been meaning to mention that same platform to her.

On Rouvy, you ride through real places. So, to the extent that the visuals matter, you’ve got that going for you. The first route I tried, just for the name, was Death Road, or Yungas in Bolivia. The road itself is 40-mile long highwire act. It has been replaced by a better route, and is now largely for tourists. And it kills an absurd number of people a year. No way in the world I’d get on this gravel in the real world, on any sort of vehicle. But I can’t fall off my smart trainer!

Yungas Road looks, in part, like this.

And then, just to round out a little time, I rode through Safari Park Dvur, a zoo in Czech Republic. I saw some deer, some varieties of other antlered wildlife, something perhaps related to an antelope. There was the flank of some huge animal that I could not identify, for it came and went quickly. I passed by a giraffe which was walking on the side of the road. For a few moment, two tiger cubs trotted alongside me.

This is done by cameras. Someone has strapped recording equipment to themselves, to their bikes or mopeds or cars and given me this predetermined route. The next time I visit that zoo, those tiger cubs should still be there. (Though it’ll blow my mind if they aren’t. Maybe I should ride it again tomorrow and see?)

There’s some other great data you get from the rides, and cyclists love their data. I was spending a lot of time in Zone 3 today, because see the self-criticism about my fitness. And since that’s lacking at the moment, the hills felt even more real. What’s a 7 percent gradient when you have no legs?

My lovely bride tried Rouvy for the first time yesterday. When she came back upstairs I asked her how it was. She liked it so much she canceled Zwift before she was finished riding. Today, I rode under and was slightly splashed by a small waterfall on Yungas Road. They say they have routes in 71 countries available to ride. They say I can import my own routes — there’s a road I’ve wanted to ride since 2011 or so. It was absolutely the first thing I checked when I downloaded the Rouvy app.

We drove that road, a 51 mile route from the highway to a mountain opposite Mount St Helens, ages ago. It’s just been sitting here, waiting for me to ride in some way or another. And now I have an app that will let me do it, if I can figure out some problem with the GPX import issue.

Of course this means I will need to make a Rouvy banner for the site. And ride a lot more. Tomorrow is going to be a great day to ride.

Friday / Rowan / television / video — No comments
09
Jan 26

The Coldplay song just gets in the way

This is the third time I’ve tried to write this. It goes like this. I’m trying a new pattern, where I catch up on some reading of a particular author I like, and think of that as a primer for what to put here, and what not to put here. I am well behind. Months behind. I am reading July of 2025. It is a five-day-a-week proposition over there, so you can see I’m well behind. The guy has just retired and we’re all wondering what comes next. Well, people that are behind are wondering. Many people know, because they aren’t behind. I am behind.

Anyway, read a week, and peck away. Only, as I read, one cat climbed up into my arms. Very well. I can enjoy a purr-filled cuddle and scroll to my heart’s content. That cat got down. But I was on, like, a Wednesday or something. So I must finish the week. This is when what we call call the shift change took place. Out of my office went one cat, and in came the second. This time it was a sit on the desktop and rest the head and neck across the forearm move. Well, let me just tell you, any domestic animal that uses me as a pillow has the right of way in every arrangement. As happens with cats, though, there was a sudden recollection of a meeting that must be attended to in another room, and down and off we go. Only I’m reading a Tuesday or what not. And wouldn’t you know it, before that week’s worth of catch up reading was done, the cat was back. When he finally got down, I was reading in August. Mid-August. The author has been retired for a month and is making lists to give structure to his day.

I am, sadly, a long way from retirement, but I find this interesting. Do I need structure in the event of my eventual retirement? Would that just be productivity for the sake of productivity? Will I read less? Putter about the house 15 percent less? I should go out more. I should go out more now. Maybe I’ll get to that this spring. Definitely by next fall. Who needs a productivity list when you’re already trying to envision the events of next fall in January?

I have completed the outline structure of my new class, Rituals and Traditions, or Rits and Trads as we’re calling it, to save 11 letters and to sound hip. Several of my friends are kind enough to think it sounds interesting. I have, this week, consulted with a few of them to see what I might be overlooking. I have talked with an architect professor friend to see what from his world would apply here. He sent along a reading. And I have consulted with my in-house colleague and on-campus office mate, who is really quite good at this professoring thing. She has helped me cinch up the last two or three days of ideas. So, if the syllabus is the brain, and the outline is the skeleton, we now have the outline and the skeleton in place. I’m guessing the classes and lectures are the hearts and blood and muscle in this metaphor some sort of way. The first, call it 10 classes are all in my head or notes, and ready to be put in slides. That gets us through the third week of February. I’d like to come up with one more working component for the students to do. And maybe that’ll come to mind soon. I’m sure they won’t mind if it doesn’t.

Today is the 15th anniversary of the day Representative Gabrielle Giffords was shot, in Arizona. It seemed a good day to watch this again, a sequence which, for my money, is just about the best seven minutes of television ever produced about television. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen this now, if I say half-a-dozen I’m low. I’m still finding little layers, both within this series of events, but also how it contributes to the show. This is four episodes in, and written with the privilege of hindsight, but still.

No matter how many times I’ve seen it, it still pulls at the emotions, every time. And this was no different.

So I had a little sob today. This, Minnesota, just a general lousy few days of other stuff besides.

For the best part of three seasons — I didn’t care for the way The Newsroom ended — they really brought something, but none of it, the fictional stuff, or the almost-this-reality stuff that Aaron Sorkin pulled from would bring it all together quite like that. And if I don’t watch it with the timer on the screen I — a person who, in his first career, made his living by the dispassionately cruel, unrelenting tick of a broadcast clock — am absolutely boggled that that is seven minutes.

Here was the former congresswoman today, talking of those she was with on that horrible day in the desert.

Today marks 15 years since a gunman tried to assassinate me. He shot 19 people and killed six.

I almost died, and think of those who did every day.

[image or embed]

— Gabby Giffords (@gabbygiffords.bsky.social) January 8, 2026 at 7:11 AM

Well, the cat has come back in. He’s looking for a little ziploc bag that he was chewing on. Inside of it was a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Both had been in my backpack. Since he is not allowed plastic, I hid the bag. He is looking for it. He’s getting quite close.

Let me go hide it again.

Have a great weekend. Until Monday!