A lizard sunned on a tree stump. With a bright blue chin. It ran away, then stopped. Flashing pushups, it watched my withdrawal.
Spaceship walk! He climbed onto my back for a better view of the lake. As I put him down, he grabbed my collar and whispered, Actually, I don’t want to walk anymore.
As we walked towards the pond, A duck flew in to join two companions. Quack. Quack! Quack!
Quack. Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! It flew away.
A jackrabbit froze on gravel road. It darted of when the kids clomped down the hill. We told you to stop! But he started first!
We saw a propane grill on a pickup truck. Someone people are better at partying, Even at a State park, Especially at a State park.
Teaching is the role of the institution. Education is the task of the student. The critic’s job is two-fold — to say what is on their mind and to give the student something new to think about.
Two years ago, I was a critter for a Master’s studio in Hospitality Design. It was the last review of their academic careers, ending on the whimper of a zoom call.
Day-long zoom conferences aren’t fun for the critters either, but I broke up the screen time monotony by grabbing the laptop and doing chores during presentations of students who had obviously mailed it in. It was nice that I could write a couple terse notes in chat, instead of giving them a tongue lashing as I might have done in person.
In spite of this sterile environment, it was a pleasure to be reminded of the dream of Architecture. I’m so buried in the practice, I forget the possibilities. I have always had a practical bent, and this was a fun antidote. Of course everything was crazy and impractical. That’s the point. They’ve got the rest of their careers to be as boring as I am.
Form, the design itself Formula, your process Formal, the craft – how you do it.
The other benefit was learning from other architects. When I was in school, it always seemed like the critters were preening in front of the other critters. Now I know why — they were talking to each other! Wes Robbins stood out as an older architect who shared his rich experience throughout the review, including both quotes in this letter.
Before this event I had attended a couple of “gallery” reviews where the folks pin up in the hallway and the critters mingle and chat. However, I’ve never been a part of a formal review.
This is harder than I expected. It’s not easy to stay alert and judge stuff all day, with a hard shift every half hour. It was tiring to meet the students where they were at. I see why in-person reviews can go vicious. I could be sanguine about shoddy work cause housework salvaged the time. If I had to sit in a chair to watch the craft be disrespected by the worst of the presentations … whohooo …
Hopefully the kids got something from their last event in school. By now, they’ve been in this cruel practice for two years. I hope they’re persevering and growing — this profession needs them more than they need us.
Congratulations to Loreen for winning this year’s Eurovision Contest with “Tattoo“. But power ballads aren’t my thing.
So let’s celebrate this most flamboyant of contests with last year’s ridiculous winner. “Stefania” is exactly what I want from a Eurovision winner — an over the top, earnest mix of pop and ethnic sounds, and a little (or lot) trashy. As a cis hetero male, I don’t mind a little titallation, but this sausage party checked every other box as well as being a geopolitical sentimental favorite.
I first heard about the song contest on an early No Agenda podcast (before I tired of its conspiracy theory schtick) and followed it with the rise of Youtube. One of my favorite memories in Houston was watching all three broadcasts of the 2011 contest as the computer overheated in our small apartment.
Then two little humans got in the way of this time-wasting pleasure.
We live in an artificial world where the seasons are blunted by technology. It’s helpful to overlay texture onto the year. It’s one of the appeals of sport and Eurovision does the same with it’s process of submissions, national, preliminary, and final contests.
Not as nourishing as a CSA box, but a lot more outlandish.
Between the kids’ school calendar and work’s legislative cycle I’ve got all the artificial seasonal markers that I can handle at the moment. Maybe I’ll return to Eurovision after I retire….it might be more fun than adopting a liturgical calendar.
To celebrate our 10 year anniversary, I’m sharing this house that has been a part of our marriage for 9 years and 7 months.
The 1,100 sf house was constructed in 1952 and needed a complete renovation.
Along with an complete update of the plumbing and electrical systems, the kitchen was rearranged with the former laundry room opened up for interior access and the insertion of a new powder room within the existing footprint.
Exterior work included a new roof, retrofitting the carport structure, and new concrete flatwork.
We performed the work as owner, architect, and general contractor overseeing the major trades. We also installed and refinished the interior throughout the house.
Project Description
This project was a constant irritant for four years, and we only lived in it for a few months. But it was worth it. We’ve had a great tenant for the last five years, and it set me up for the second phase of my career.
I had always been an employee without subordinates. This was the first time I managed other people. I suspect the hard won experience in difficult negotiations and contractor conflicts came through in my interview, helping me grab this job and preparing me to be an Owner PM.
Every architect should remodel their house, once.
This remodel also taught me to treasure the moment and trust my wife.
By the time we moved in, she was pregnant with the boy. Once he arrived, we moved back in with her parents so they could help with the kids. Then the girl started school in their neighborhood and we never came back.
The universe doesn’t care how long you’ve taken to pursue a dream. Maybe you’ll get nothing, but sometimes it will be kind. Be grateful for those moments, however short. We got a Thanksgiving and Christmas in our house.
Victory is fleeting, and time moves fast. This experience taught me to be picky with my commitments. I learned to focus on activities where I’ve already won by merely doing. (That’s why I’ll never do another house remodel!)
Remodeling isn’t easy with two architects. I tend to rush, but she would sense something amiss and pause. So we’d stop. And think. And redesign. Again and again.
Each delay took days, but it kept getting better. Replay this drama a few times and I got the message. If she’s not ready, then I know something is wrong. I learned to trust her instincts.
I suspect most folks can learn such lessons without a miserable house remodel, but this was our crucible. Here’s to a decade, let’s hope for many more!
Last week, our daughter designed and built a roller coaster from materials at home. Watching the girl press against her 3rd grade deadline surfaced messy memories of late night college studios.
Two kids and a remodel, Still together, A big anniversary. (Another quiet day)
I worked at the office. Rushed to the community center. The girl checked out a theater class. (The boy quickly lost interest)
Crossed the street, Passed through a skate park, The four of us ran around. (Inside the bowl)
At the playground, He swung slowly, She crossed the monkey bars. (I did a couple pull-ups)
Heading home, Watched teens at the skate park. Backflips on scooters! (Dangerous)
She cooked a late dinner. Penne and sauce, Sardines, cucumbers, onions, and artichoke hearts. (I stole most of a celebratory soda)
The kids pressured mom, “Make a cake!” Too late. (9:00)
They ran off, I cleared the table, Celebrated again. (We split a surreptitious popsicle)
We outlasted: The reception venue (Firefly now Nacho Daddy) The wedding venue (Bonnie Springs, demolished) The rehearsal dinner venue (HK Star and its many replacements)
Nothing is guaranteed, I’m grateful things have worked out. On to the next decade. (Hoping for more quiet days)
Two years ago, a third of Basecamp (now 37signals) quit after the owners suddenly shut down the DEI committee and banned all political talk on their internal chat. I’m certain that number was inflated because they offered a generous separation package of up to six month’s pay to those who quit.
I’m not going to argue the merits of those decisions, but there are three lessons from the drama worth highlighting. Two lessons relate to our craft as Owner Project Managers, the third is a question that I ponder whenever I think about my career.
Communication
The owners should not have announced the policy change via a blog post. The staff would have objected to the policy change no matter how it was delivered, but it sure made things worse. The ham handed delivery approach blew any chance at keeping the benefit of doubt within the team.
As an OPM, I’ve had three calls with firm principals to discuss concerns about their teams’ performances. Each of those old heads knew how to play the game — I felt amazing after each of those calls. Smooth motherfuckers.
The Basecamp owners forgot that they owe the same charm towards their employees when instituting big, unpopular changes. An employee serves at the pleasure of the employer, but they can walk. The transaction cuts both ways.
Your farts *do* stink
As owners it’s easy to forget that people have to act like they enjoy your presence. They respond quicker and laugh harder at your jokes when you’re their cashflow. The mass exodus shows that Basecamp wasn’t as utopian or attractive as their owners thought it was; their business books were more aspirational than descriptive.
I’ve seen this dynamic as an employee. The boss deludes themselves into believing their place is more than a job. Mission—Family—Culture—Movement—etc. Let’s get real, a company is the owners’ playground, no matter what they call it. That’s the privilege they purchase when those checks clear every other Friday.
Strip away the collective fiction and you might find out that you aren’t actually best buds, especially after offering them three to six months wages to walk away.
Would you quit for half a year’s cash?
I love my job and I love my employer. But I got options as a skilled professional in a good economy.
Would I take the deal? In my current place, I don’t think so. I’m too far from retirement and I enjoy my colleagues too much. But could I live with dragging myself to the office for the next half year, knowing it was pro bono? What if my favorite coworkers quit?
That’s where meaning kicks in. It’s one thing to grab a fat check. But what next? I still have to work. Where? At a place where I might not enjoy the company? It’s been a privilege to serve my fellow citizens. Do I have the patience to serve pushy private clients?
Of course, we’re not tech workers so it’s all hypothetical (I’m not winning the lottery either). But fantasy challenges our assumptions about daily life. It pushes us through a series of “why’s”. Why do we work? Why did we chose this specific employer, this profession? Why do we stay? Why are we still in this game?
~
Some Links
I’ve always been fond of electronica, starting with .mod files on the 16-bit Sound Blaster on our 386. I listened to Glitch Mob’s Drink the Sea on repeat while doing mad overtime in Houston and I’ve gone through a few other electronica phases in the past decade at Vegas.
Lately I’ve been working so hard that I can only listen to music with a strong beat. Last week, I finally stumbled across the term “Glitch Hop” on the title card to Defqwop’s Heart Afire.
Once I found a name, I dug into google. Here’s an hour long mix by Xefox, overview by last.fm, and a brief primer on Bandcamp. This music isn’t as highbrow as last week’s discovery of Ahmad Jamal, but it’s enough off the beaten path to be worth sharing.
I hope we will meet many more Tara’s online and IRL — accomplished, funny, thoughtful, enthusiastic advocates for everyone to share their art.
When I first joined Post.news, I was overwhelmed by comparing my own stuff against best of the world. I considered clamming up. Her encouragement nudged me to keep sharing — which naturally led to more making.
And of course the album’s great! You think she’d release anything less?
Congrats!
If something is holding you back from sharing, let me help you shove your self-doubt down the stairs Nomi Malone-style.
The things you make are enough. Putting them into the world can feel risky. It’s also powerful.
You never know when a piece will resonate with someone, or help you form a community, or catapult you into something totally unexpected.
