My Philosophy of Music Gear: More Do and Jutsu

First off, in my previous "Do and Jutsu" post a while back, I neglected to tell you how to pronounce the Japanese character, Do. I went back and added it in to that post, but in case you missed it, "Do" is pronouced "doe" as in the female deer (or zendo, judo, aikido, budo, etc.), not, "dew" as in morning condensation.
-----------------------------------------
Upcoming events:
- April 19, Craig Martin Experience, Blue Window Bistro, 7-9 pm
- May 3, Run the Caldera races (I plan to run the 1/2 marathon!)
- May 10, D.K. and the Affordables, Los Alamos Sheriff's Posse Lodge, 6 pm, party!
- May 16, Craig Martin Experience, Leadership Los Alamos Graduation Ceremony/Party
- May 24, Piano recital featuring MY STUDENTS!!!, 1 pm, White Rock United Methodist Church
-----------------------------------------
This week's musings:
The music gear that I travel and gig with has evolved significantly. (Heck, music gear has evolved!) When I was in high school, the school had bought a Yamaha Clavinova, complete with 4 tones and a heavy particleboard stand. Some early (but decent-sounding) Yamaha module was controlled by MIDI. Yes, we hauled it around, loading it into the emergency door on the back of the school bus. My parents bought me a Peavey KB-100 amp that I ran it through. In college, I used an arranger synth my folks bought me for Christmas one year, a beat-up Fender Rhodes stage piano, and that same KB-100. The Rhodes barely fit in my car, and we installed wheels on one end to roll it in and out of gigs (my then band mate Sean will remember that well, I'm sure). I sometimes played guitar, too, so that had to come with. Later in life, I stuck with the 2-tier keyboard system, but switched to a better synth up top and a more versatile digital piano on the bottom. And, somewhat regrettably, I sold the Rhodes.

Part of my rig, circa 2007, with DK & the Affordables. I still have the stand and the synth that's up top in this pic, but a lot of other stuff has changed.

 I also added a second KB-100 amp. I continued to drag guitar stuff along, too. If I put my keyboard stand on the roof rack, I could get all of my gear--2 keyboards, 2 amps, a bench or stool, a guitar or 2, and maybe another guitar amp--into my well-loved Nissan Sentra (it was a '92 with 270,000 miles). Hauling all that stuff around taxed the Sentra's already worn struts, and required a lot of trips to/from the car. During a break between bands, around 2009, I re-thought the whole system.

Good Lord, I used to haul around 2 of these beasts. That's a 15" speaker in there! My current Kustom amp is about 1/2 the physical size of this Peavey behemoth.

First, I vowed to never play keys and guitar in the same gig again. It just got too complex. It was especially a pain on a small stage.

Second, I wanted to get my rig down to one keyboard. I'd grown pretty comfortable playing the keyboard "split"--different tones/settings in different locations on the keyboard--during a stint with a church "praise" band, and thought that, with the right keyboard, I could make a single 88-key keyboard work in almost every situation I played in.

Third, I wanted to get back down to one amp. I had used 2 amps to get a "stereo" effect with my organ tones, but it was hard to hear that on stage, especially with an enthusiastic drummer, or a guitarist and his 40-watt amp. The KB-100s were also never quite lined up with my ears. I often just put the amps in different places on stage to cover the room, not necessarily to get the stereo effect I was hoping for. Failed experiment. I tried a couple of small PA systems and a powered speaker/mixer combo, but they were more trouble than they were worth for just keyboards (see my unifying point, below). I realized I was really just using an amp to hear myself on stage and to have local control of my tone, and running an amp's line out through a PA (or another powered speaker) would project more volume to the crowd while keeping the stage volume low. To top it off, the KB-100s were big and heavy. I ended up selling them both on consignment at Candyman Strings & Things and searching for something else.

Fourth, I wanted to improve my organ tones. I started with an effects pedal (Boss RT-20) that helped tremendously (using tones from my Roland synth), but the source tone still needed some help. That would involve buying a dedicated keyboard, running a MIDI module, or using some sort of software on a computer. I didn't have the money or the storage space at home for yet another keyboard, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be at the whims of a computer in a live gig. So, module it was. (That said, the Hammond emulation in the Garage Band iPad app isn't too shabby, except for the non-adjustable key click.)

The unifying reason for the change, though, was that I wanted to simplify.  I wanted to reduce my trips to and from the car down to TWO AT THE MOST (at least for my personal gear).  I wanted to reduce connections and plug-ins to minimize setup time. I wanted to minimize the amount of stuff I had to keep track of. And I had limited storage space at home. So, after a lot of selling, shopping, swapping, buying, and trading, I ended up with this set up for most keyboard gigs:

- Casio Privia PX-5S (keyboard). Best keyboard out there for $1000 or less (I paid $850 on sale!).
- Kustom KMA-65 (amp). Good amp for the money ($250-ish, though it got in on sale for ~$200).

The Kustom amp. The FV-500 volume pedal and M-Audio damper pedal are on my home-made pedal board.

- Voce MicroB (module). Oldie but a goody, killer Hammond organ tone. $100 eBay find.
- Boss RT-20 (effects). This is a rotary effect pedal. Another $100 eBay find.

I built the MicroB and the RT-20 into a box side-by-side. It's a Hammond organ AND Leslie in a box! The plastic on top of the MicroB is there to hold down my set list on outdoor gigs.

- Boss FV-500 (pedal to control rotary effect speed, or volume, whichever; $100).
- Boss FV-50 (pedal to control volume, $50). (Boss stuff is awesome.)
- M-Audio piano-style damper pedal ($30).
- Proel platform-style keyboard stand. I use the 2nd tier for a music rest, if I use it at all ($100).
- PDP drum throne to sit on ($85).
- DoD direct box. Line out from my amp goes through this, then to the board to reduce ground noise.

All of this stuff--pedals, organ stuff, cables, direct box, powerstrip--fits into a single backpack/briefcase.

For shorter, simpler, piano-focused gigs I often leave the Micro-B/RT-20 and the FV-50 pedal at home. For gigs where I have to carry my stuff a long way (like the memorial service I played at recently at Bandelier National Park), I also have a Roland RS-70 (nice little 61-key synth I bought used) that fits in a backpack case.

This gear is all stuff that works well, is durable and lightweight, didn't cost a fortune, and fits easily into a car. It's easy to set up and take down. If it were stolen or broken, I'd replace it, and it wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg to do so. I could easily compare and contrast this rig with other options, and give you more details as to why I picked what I did over all the other choices out there (contact me if you want more of that info!) but it's a digression. At the end of the day, I bought the best stuff I could find for the money that I had, in order to put together the simplest, yet most flexible, rig possible. Pretty straightforward.

In action with DK & the Affordables, with the Casio Privia PX-5S. I'm probably playing some kind of split setting here with organ in the left hand and piano in the right.

Someday, when I'm rich and famous, I'll tour with that Hammond B-3 and Leslie 122, maybe a Roland V-Piano or/and a Nord Stage or two, a rack of modules and effects, heck, throw in a 12' grand! Who knows, maybe I'll relent on my vow to never play both guitar and keys during a single gig and will travel with a bevy of those instruments, too. I won't have to fit it in a car anymore because I'll be traveling by bus with a truck and roadies and tuners and techs. But for now, I'm hauling my own gear in my own small car so it has to be manageable by me and affordable if I have to replace it. Money-wise, I'd much rather have to drop $999 to replace my PX-5S if it was damaged or stolen than $5000 for a V-Piano, as awesome as the V-Piano may be.

I saw a post on Facebook recently that summed it up nicely: A musician is a person that will load his or her expensive gear into a cheap car and drive 100 miles to play 4 hours for $50. It's nice use that $50 for food or rent or gasoline or beer (or saving!), instead of paying off credit card bills accrued from financing dream instruments. In my opinion, it's snobbery that makes people buy the most expensive gear, especially if they are not sponsored, "top-tier" musicians. That's a topic for another day, but be assured: I do have more to say!

A final thought: Sam Maloof, the late great chairmaker, started his illustrious woodworking career with a 3rd-hand, small-bladed (7") benchtop table saw (most woodworkers use 10" saws for increased cutting power). His advice: don't go into debt for your craft, and if you do good work, you'll be recognized and rewarded for it, regardless of the equipment you have at your disposal (taken from the excellent Taunton Press book, Setting Up Shop by Sandor Nagyslansky). Guitar maker Bob Taylor made a guitar from reclaimed pallet wood, demonstrating that it was the luthier's skill rather than choice exotic woods that made a quality guitar (see Guitar: a Complete Guide for the Player published by Quantum Books for a lot more great info on guitars). At any rate, the craftsman makes the tools he can afford and the materials he has on hand work for him. The musician should do the same, which is part of the "do" and "jutsu" of music.

Take care, and thanks for reading! 

On Completing a Long-Term Goal

I'm sure you've been waiting for my next input with baited breath. I apologize for the delay! Fact is, I've been swamped. It looks like the next couple weeks will give me a bit of a breather, though. I just completed a long-term goal that should help free up some time and mental energy, and it feels great to be done with it and to have had it go off as well as it did.

Some of you may have read my post on quitting ski patrol. While I stand by that decision, it didn't come lightly, and there was one obligation I needed to complete before I could quit: teaching Mountain Travel and Rescue Level 2 (MTR-2) in my region of the National Ski Patrol, and laying the groundwork for the future success of the program in our region.

That's me, bringing up the rear at last year's MTR-1 class I led down at Ski Apache near Ruidoso, NM. That smile hides the fact that I'm secretly jealous of Brian's (the guy in front of me in black) lightweight, streamlined pack. Lightweight backpacking might be a next endeavor. Stay tuned...

Why, you may ask, did I need to do this class? Why didn't I just make a clean break, right now? I can't tell you how tempted I was to just call it good, especially with my recent bouts of back pain. But the short answer is this: I said I would (as far back as 2008). The long answer is, well, longer. I had the unique combination of coursework, rescue, practical, and teaching experience to plan and execute. I was interested in doing it and I enjoy the subject matter. I had been planning this thing for roughly 5 years. Issues with my back postponed it twice (and nearly cancelled it this year, for a third time). There were a couple people who were interested in becoming MTR instructors and needed this specific class to realize that goal, and since I've applied to jobs that would take me out of the area, I needed to get it done for those folks.

By all accounts--from students and my fellow instructors--the class went really well. I plan another blog post to describe the course and show images, but this post is an attempt to come to terms with the joys and sorrows I'm feeling. I incorporated ideas from other classes I'd taken and added a couple ideas of my own, like staying in a yurt/hut/cabin, doing a good bit of ski touring, and a night-time search & rescue exercise. I wanted to challenge people but not destroy them. We streamlined the lectures to coincide with and fit into meal times in the yurt, and spend most of our time during the weekend in the field. I had a blast.

A couple students putting an improvised splint and improvised litter to use in this year's night-time search & rescue exercise. Tracy, the Queen of Good Sports, acted as "patient."

I'm particularly proud of this class. I've organized 5 of the MTR-1 classes, and been involved in teaching several more. But the MTR-2 class required much more logistical wrangling than the level 1 courses. The level 2 course required me to refresh some of my knowledge in order to teach it, and to dust off some of those climbing/rope handling skills I'd learned and forgotten. It's said that in order to truly learn something you should teach it to others, and it is from that point that I have approached everything I've taught.

While it was enjoyable, I'm glad it's over. I'm exhausted. I typically get family and alone-time during the weekend, which I need to recharge, but that didn't happen this weekend. I was surrounded by 7 other people who, while they are great folks, are not my family. During the week prior, I was finishing up the details for this class and wasn't really focused on anything else, including sleep. So, my body says I need some catch-up.

There are, of course, mixed emotions. I was planning this course as a last "hurrah" in my ski patrol career for a while. I've pretty much left the Pajarito Mtn. Ski Patrol, and my involvement in patrolling at all has been minimal for the past few years. Like all big organizations, National Ski Patrol has its bureaucracy and corruption, the details of which I won't go into here, but it's annoying enough to make we want to avoid it. That said, I have really enjoyed the Mountain Travel and Rescue curriculum in its breadth and flexibility. No other discipline in the National Ski Patrol education programs offers the same range of topics. The MTR classes cover everything from nutrition and clothing to avalanche safety and search and rescue. And I love teaching other folks (I'm looking to make a career change to teaching, in fact). The people I've met, taught, and learned from have kept me involved this long and make it really hard to stay committed to quitting. Still, it's time for me to focus on my own kids, getting them out on the slopes and in the hills, and give them the opportunity to enjoy the activities that my wife and I have loved so much through our lives. Who knows? In 10 years, we may all be patrolling together! I guess the bottom line is this: while I enjoy teaching these courses, my energy is needed elsewhere.

Here, I'm (in red) demonstrating one way to make an improvised litter from skis and a snow shovel, again at Ski Apache. Lizzie the Jack Russell Terrier and her owner (in blue) look on.

Take care, and thanks for reading.

How to Make Yourself Feel Great in 20 Minutes

Okay, so you're probably already skeptical of the dubious claim in the title. Heck, statements like that persuade people to try all kinds of destructive behavior. Pssssst, hey buddy, I've got this stuff...

...or, you're expecting a late-night info-mercial. For 3 easy payments of $39.95, I'll send you my special blend!

No, I'm not talking about any of that, nor am I trying to sell you something.

And get your mind out of the gutter!

I'm talking about...

...wait for it...

...taking a bath. TA DA!

This fellow is very contemplative as he bathes. I found this Daniel Caspera painting (Man in Tub) here, and you can find more of  Caspera's fine work here.

I haven't been a big fan of taking baths since I was probably 8 years old, preferring the efficiency of the shower instead. Except, that is, for that period between 8 and puberty when I was feral and just didn't bother with hygiene until forced (kind of like my kids, come to think of it). However, I  re-embraced the idea after a recent visit to my favorite chiropractor/healer. Dr. McIntyre spent 30 minutes adjusting every bone in my spine, then suggested that 1) I might be a bit sore the next day, and 2) I should stay hydrated, and 3) I should take a detox bath.

Anything "detox" smacks of new-age, Yoga, Pilates, tofu, Spandex, green smoothie, hybrid car, hippy nonsense to my Southern Idaho roots. Might as well try to sell a Ford to a Chevy Truck man, or try to get a "meat & potatoes" guy to eat a mixed greens salad with arugula and a dressing based on fancy vinegar. I think my chiropractor suggested this same mineral detox bath idea the last time I visited her, 2 years ago, and I was too stubborn to try it. But this time (just like last time!) I was indeed sore, and, rather than prolong the back pain--I was (am) on a fairly tight schedule with an upcoming ski patrol class, and life with pain just sucks--this detox bath sounded appealing if it meant I could move a bit more freely, and sooner rather than later. So, I took one. And I felt great afterward.

(This discussion reminds me of the old Volkswagen Passat ad from the early 2000's, where a woman gets on the radio and says, over ominous background music: "We were going skiing. It was snowing. We were in my Passat with 4Motion. We got there. And we parked," as in, well, duh).

Without further ado, here's the recipe.
- 2 cups baking soda
- 2 cups Epsom salts
- lavender essential oil (optional)
- a bathtub full of water as hot as you can stand without burning yourself

Here's an easy way to measure. 2 cups = 16 oz, so dump a 16 oz box of baking soda into the tub (with the water running), refill the box with Epsom salts (happens to come in larger bags), and dump that in. Fill the tub as full as you can, and slosh the water around to make sure the salts dissolve. I list the lavender essential oil as optional, but it would be a nice touch. I haven't used it yet because we don't have any in our apothecary right now.

Immerse your aching bones and soak until you're sweating; for me, that's 15-20 minutes. Sunday night I took a good book with me, which was a nice touch.

Need more proof? I did a 7-mile run Sunday morning (longest one in a while!) AND did a snow hike with the family Sunday afternoon. I was already sore when we got home from the hike, including an ache in the back. After getting the kids in bed, I did my soak. I was a bit tired Monday, but the soreness was gone.

I wish we had a bigger, deeper tub so I could soak all my bones at once. Or me & the Mrs. could, uh, detox together.

Maybe one of these beauties will grace our home someday. I am, of course, talking about the walk-in tub.

Take care, and thanks for reading!

------------------------------------------------------------------
In light of my anti-hippy rant earlier, I should tell you:
- I drive a Prius (but deep down I want another mid-90s Toyota 4x4, 22R-E engine, 5-speed)
- I attempt Yoga & Pilates every night before bed to keep my back supple and core strong
- I sometimes run in tights that have some percentage of Spandex in the weave
- I enjoy a good green smoothie (especially when made with my sister's VitaMix blender)
- Olive oil and Balsamic vinegar make my favorite salad dressing.
So, yes, you can bring an Idaho country boy into the 21st century. He may require some persuasion, but he'll eventually come around.

Do and Jutsu: the Way and Art of Music

Note: "Do" is pronounced "doe" as in the female deer, not "dew." 

A while back on this blog, I mused on my experiences in martial arts. I still love the systems of movement and thought that are involved in studying a fighting art. However, there are greater lessons--other than just how to fight another entity--to be learned. Two overarching philosophies that govern martial arts are Do and Jutsu (find a reasonable, and typical, discussion on the topic here). Recently they've returned to the fore of my consciousness, but with respect to music.

It is times like these / when I wish I understood / Japanese better.

To roughly define, the symbol "Do" is "the way" or the philosophy while "Jutsu" is "the method" or the art, science, or practice. In other words, Do is the the thought process while Jitsu is the activity. The Karate master Chosin Chibana (1885-1969) said succinctly that "Do without Jutsu is pointless." What martial artists muse (or should muse) on, though, is how we can apply the principles we learn in the study of fighting to our lives. I'm not just talking about how I might survive a knife attack in a seedy back alley, but how to conduct myself on a daily basis, how to face adversaries that are not necessarily violent or even human. As a corollary to Master Chibana, we could also state that you can't have Jutsu without Do (as Dave Lowry does in his excellent book The Karate Way). In other words, the mechanics are meaningless (and potentially dangerous) without a philosophy to temper it.

As I write this, it occurs to me that trying to describe the "difference" between Do and Jutsu is like trying to describe the difference between various shades of gray. It's also like trying to compare an apple and a pear when they're mixed together in a fruit salad. Martial arts practitioners often align themselves more with one than the other, but the concepts are inevitably intertwined in a fighting art. They are impossible to separate. And so it goes with music.

I've been teaching piano lessons now for about 3 years to folks of all ages. For kids, we of course start simple--a finger or two on each hand, then add more notes, then add symbols and dynamics and phrasing. As the music gets more complicated, we introduce "theory." In jazz music, the theory becomes a consuming pass time. We learn scales, chords, scale extensions, alternative voicings, chord substitutions, modes, and methods for improvisation. This practice, this theory, is the jutsu. Many people all over the world are very good at the practical matters of music, and it takes many hours of repetition and study to become so.

But we also learn to listen. We pay attention to the way the masters phrase their musical thoughts, and the scales, chords, or notes they use. We listen to each other, for spaces where we might throw in a little flourish, for our proper dynamic level to make the ensemble better. We try new things. We fail, we try again. We practice instead of watching TV or going out on a Friday night. We go to rehearsals. We pack expensive gear into the back of a cheap car and drive to a gig. We sometimes play for free. All of these activities are part of the Do, part of being connected to other human beings through an esoteric and spiritual process. It is no wonder to me that music is a part of church worship, regardless of denomination. Music takes thoughts and places them on a higher plane.

I love playing music outdoors. Here I am, in a photo taken by my wife, playing my Mom's guitar at my cousin's wedding in Idaho in 2005.

While the spiritual side of music is definitely present, I can't tell you how many people become technically proficient at an instrument--whether through piano lessons or school band or whatever--and don't stick with it. Maybe they enjoy it, but something else pushes it aside. I blame that on the de-emphasis of the emotional side of music. I have talked to so many people who said, "I used to play music, but I quit to do something else." Others tell me, "I wish I'd never quit." Why did they? I would argue that they didn't embrace the "Do." They were told music is a hobby, not a viable career option. It wasn't "cool." I don't know all the reasons. I do know that these thoughts have gone through my head, and, as a result, I'm not a career musician (I'm a chemist, if you don't already know). I played in a college jazz band for 4 years, accompanied a vocal jazz group for 2 years, and have played in various other "extra-curricular" groups since I was in high school. I currently play in 2 bands and teach lessons to students of all ages. Despite pushing through graduate school and pursuing a career in science, I've never quit playing as it allows me to attempt to express what I'm feeling and sometimes burn off a little steam if I need to. Devoted musical pursuit isn't for everyone, sure. But I'd say that, in many cases, people learn the technical proficiency on an instrument but fail to embrace the emotional or conversational aspects of the art. If you have an emotional connection, you will stick with it. You will practice the Justu and embrace the Do.

Another outdoor gig, this time at Fuller Lodge in 2013. I'm pretty sure local "man about town" Skip Wecksung took this one.

And what is music-Do? It is exploring the expressiveness of music. It is allowing us to feel comfort that is sometimes unattainable by our interactions with people. It is conveying emotions without words. It is transcending cultural and language barriers. It is practicing past the point of hitting the right notes. It is the quest for the long line, or the most profound passage. It is the greater enlightenment that occurs when everything falls into place, when you are past thinking and on to feeling, when your fingers play the notes without your brain. It is also love. If you have embraced something in your life that you look forward to every day, that, even when working through a difficult piece, you enjoy the journey, if the joy of playing comes through with the technical proficiency, then Do is practiced.

Thanks for reading!

Arming My Children For Valentine's Day

I had some time tonight, so I'm posting now instead of my usual Tuesday.

The title of this post could have multiple meanings, I suppose. My wife posted recently about the public school Valentine's Day exchange kind of stuff in her blog post last week (she led the charge to make medallions; the whole family teamed up for that effort, which was pretty cool). However, I have been--quite literally--making weapons for my kids.

Okay, they're fake, but still.

Here's my son's sword

and my daughter's, which I suppose is more of a dagger than a sword. But then, I'm not really up on the vernacular of antiquated cutting implements.

My daughter also recently acquired a cheap bow, and I made her a quiver for her arrows from an old pair of pants. It's been fun to watch her stand up on top of their backyard "fort" (pallets screwed together) and shoot.

The swords were made from broken axe handles (hickory?) I found in my Dad's stuff, and the hand-guards are maple that I had lying around. I made the hand-guards in 2 pieces and sandwiched the sword between them. I cut the rough shapes on the bandsaw and shaped them more finely with a disc sander, hand planes, chisels, and my new favorite tool--the card scraper. I plan to inscribe them on the handles with a Dremmel tool. Not pictured is the slingshot we also handed down to my son. My Dad had it, but I used it when I was a kid. I have no idea how old it is. We've already launched a rock over the fence, but nothing was broken.

Today felt like Spring. We would have gone for our long Sunday hike, but my son is fighting some virus that has him down and out. So, we did chores we've been procrastinating. I tend to put off washing the cars for as long as possible, but my daughter and I washed both cars and the dog today. We also gave the trees and shrubs in our yard a good drink, all while the neighbor kid practiced sneaking up on me (and then we had a nice conversation). It is bone dry here in NM, and without moisture, we could have a scary spring and early summer. Contrast that with the rest of the country where record snowfalls and freezing temperatures are literally killing people. At any rate, the weather seems to be going crazy. I hope we are not entering an era where climate models become meaningless and the weather changes radically from year to year. If we are, it will change human existence. I hope we can adapt.

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

Ghost Ranch, "The Secret," and Upcoming Events

It's been an interesting few weeks of pain and recovery. My back was giving me fits, so I took a trip to a chiropractor last week (Merry McIntyre here in Los Alamos) and she got me all straightened back out. I'm feeling a lot better this week and am contemplating a run or two (went to the gym Monday). The family & I had a nice hike on Sunday up at Ghost Ranch (to Chimney Rock), and the imaginary needle that's been stabbing me in the lower back and hip went away.

Almost there. It's only 1 1/2 miles each way, so it's a great trip for those with short legs. In the right half of the picture, you can see Cerro Pedernal (the flat topped one) and Chicoma Mountain in the background, Abiquiu Reservoir a bit closer, Chimney Rock almost straight to the right of the people. And in case you're wondering, it is damn dry right now for February. And warm. I could have been hiking in a short-sleeve shirt.

If I was a crow, I'd hang out there, too. Fantastic view. You could watch stuff die for miles in every direction. Chimney Rock is just out of the picture on the left-hand side.

I've been thinking a lot about "The Secret," and while I couldn't get very far in either the book or the movie (too much of a sales pitch for the goal of becoming rich and famous, which I don't care about), the premise has stuck with me. That premise: you can shape your own destiny, not just in your actions but by your thoughts and words. In their (the Secret people's) words, "Everything is possible, nothing is impossible." So, while I've been thinking a lot on back pain and recovery, and my mantra has been "no more back pain, please" the universe hears "pain" and throws it back to me. A couple nights ago I changed my mantra to "wellness, wholeness, strength, flexibility" and I'm already looking at it differently and feeling better. Part of the good vibe is certainly the chiropractic adjustment mentioned earlier, but PMA (positive mental attitude; term courtesy of Scott Beguin!) goes a long way.

I'm working toward a couple fitness goals. First, I want to get back into Karate. I'm starting to miss it, especially for the hip flexibility it promotes, but I'd really like to avoid landing flat on my back again (which is what precipitated this latest bout of back stuff). I'm still at least a month out from that goal, as I need more core strength first. Second, I'd like to run another half-marathon (I'm looking at the one in the Valles Caldera in June). I'm hoping to start training for real this week (got a nice trail run in tonight), which should give me plenty of time to get my mileage up. 

That's all the insight (and time) I have for this week.

On my calendar:
- Feb 22 gig with DK and the Affordables, Pajarito Pub & Grill, 8-midnight, $5 cover
- Mar 8 fly tying class at Warm Hearts Yarn, 1-3 pm, $20 per person
- Mar 15 gig with Craig Martin Experience, Betty Ehart Senior Center, fundraiser for the Empty Bowls Project.
- Mar 21-23 weekend, Mountaineering class for ski patrol.

This weekend I'll be working in the wood shop/garage finishing some projects for the kids, teaching my daughter everything I know about archery (which isn't much), practicing Affordables tunes, arranging some music for CME, and working on an art project (giant flies tied from recycled materials) for an upcoming show at Fuller Lodge. Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

Time versus Money: Financial Experiments from Our House

The discussion of time versus money probably dates back to the origins of money as a medium of exchange. They are both nearly intangible concepts created by human beings. Time, however, has a finite amount, a limit above which no more time is available. Want more than 24 hours in your day? Forget it. It is physically impossible (unless you are theoretical physicist Mitchell Feigenbaum and can wrap your head around living a 26 hour day in the same space as our current 24 hour day, and even he had to quit that experiment) (1). Money, it seems, is limitless. Consider this:

There are 10^11 stars in the galaxy. That used to be a huge number. But it's only a hundred billion. It's less than our national deficit! We used to call them astronomical numbers. Now we should call them economical numbers. --Richard Feynman

Through sleights of hand, the quantity (and value) of money in circulation is constantly manipulated. I'd love to see the balance sheets. Or maybe not.

 My wife and are borderline obsessed with the topic. The more we learn about money and how it works, the less we want anything to do with it. We are constantly experimenting and analyzing just how much money we need to live, and how much work we should do ourselves versus what we should hire done. I suppose the experiment will constantly evolve as we and our children get older. But our current situation, and the experiment that's taking place, can be illustrated in a series of recent events from our own life.

#1: My son enjoys Star Wars, as does the rest of the family. What's more, he likes the Star Wars Lego sets and would love to own the Lego Death Star (pic courtesy of Lego).

Admittedly, that thing looks pretty cool, and depicts the significant scenes from A New Hope and Return of the Jedi. It also costs $400, which is well past what most reasonable folks (including us) are willing to pay for a pile of plastic bricks. Honestly, (and despite its cool-ness) it's ridiculous. No 7-year old should possess a toy that costs $400. It can only be built one way--as the iconic Death Star. Currently, he has to cobble together an Imperial HQ from the green, pink, red, and blue pieces in his collection using his imagination and ingenuity. His fairly significant Lego collection, incidentally, exists largely due to the tub of bricks my wife took in trade for tutoring work a while back. Chalk one up for time. (Grandmas have added to the collection, though. Chalk one up for money.)

#2: The kids have chores they are expected to do, like clean up their playthings, put away their clean clothes on laundry day, and help at dinner time. They each get a small weekly allowance (1 quarter for every year of age) that they have to split between a "save" jar and a "spend" jar. (Yes, it is an "entitlement" program by the strictest definition, but they need to learn to manage money, and they can't do that without, well, money). They can also do additional jobs for cash, usually also doled out in quarters. Yesterday, the job was moving and stacking firewood.

This picture was taken a couple years back, but you get the idea.

 Now, as far as income goes, the money that my kids are paid for the more onerous tasks is pretty lousy--they each made about $2 for their hour of work. But how much money does a kid really need? A couple bucks is a good chunk of money for a 4-year old.

When they quit for the day--even though the job was only half done--my first impulse was to bring up the money required to purchase the aforementioned Lego Death Star as a carrot to get my 7-year old back out there stacking wood. My back sure appreciated his help. But then I thought better of it. First of all, at $2/hr, the thought of saving up even $400 is quite dispiriting. Why use a carrot that is unattainable on a kid's timescale, and which I may or may not even allow him to buy? More importantly, though, he and his sister were playing together, using their imaginations to create a new setting in (read: make a mess of) the living room. I would much rather have them spend time together building a relationship than obsessing about money and the material goods they can procure. Our society is materialistic enough without me pushing it on my children. Chalk one up for time.

#3: But why were we stacking firewood in January, you ask? Why wasn't that job done at the beginning of the winter? Well, it was, but we were almost out and had to actually purchase a cord to get us through to April. The guy we bought from has a dump bed on his 1-ton truck and used it to deposit a cord in the driveway. Thus began the moving and stacking, at which the kids and I took turns at first. My wife came out to help soon after, and she ended up doing most of the moving (while I stacked and split some of the larger pieces) after the kids called it quits. (To be fair, my son is home sick from school today, so I don't think he was feeling really awesome yesterday, either.) Chalk one up to money.

#4: What does firewood have to do with the topic of time vs money? Here's the rub: it cost $200 for that delivered cord (which, according to a quick perusal of Craigslist, is about the going price), and took another chunk of time to move and stack it. In contrast, this spring I spent $20 on a permit, went up into the mountains with my neighbor, spent a morning loading up his truck, and spent another several hours over several days cutting, splitting, and stacking. People who read this and deal regularly with firewood know that this isn't unusual or really even noteworthy. But I really enjoy the work, and surprisingly, it does not affect my back the way other strenuous activities do (like digging; just thinking about using a shovel to move dirt makes my back tingle). What's more, swinging the 6-lb maul is a good shoulder workout, and I get to spend a nice bit of time outside. So, next year, I plan to spend a lot more time with my $20 permit getting and putting up wood. Not that Ernest with the dump truck does a bad job, but since I enjoy it and it costs roughly 10x more for me to buy from Ernest as it does to do it myself, I think my DIY nature prevails. Chalk one up for time.

#5: Right before Christmas 2013, I paid to have the timing belt on my Toyota 4Runner changed. This job required a fairly large sum of money--the shop I like charges roughly $100/hr for labor--but was made slightly humiliating by the fact that I could have done it myself. I had the parts on the shelf in my garage, and they'd been sitting there all summer. What I didn't have (or didn't think I had) was the time. The fact that my day job requires 36-40 of any given week's prime daylight hours, the fact that our 2-car lifestyle necessitates having two running vehicles at any time, the fact that we have exactly 2 cars, and the cold, nasty weather in late December that would have made both the car work and a 30 min bike ride to work uncomfortable at best, kept me from tearing into it. I've done jobs like this before that have taken me a couple weeks or more. I hate having inoperable cars in the driveway or garage. But I can't shake the nagging feeling that I should have just sucked it up, done the job, and saved several Benjamins. After all, I do my own oil & "consumables" changes, and I've done brakes, shocks, wheel bearings, U-joints, tailpipes, and mufflers.

Ooooh, shiny new brakes on an old rusty truck. The shocks were next on this rig. That is my great grandfather's torque wrench on the floor.

 It wasn't outside my ability, just a little outside my comfort zone, I guess. Then again, the mechanic did the job in 4 hours, and I got writing and work on the computer done while I waited. Furthermore, I completed my upright piano project as I kept putting off the timing belt job. I'll probably never have to think about again, unless I still have the 4Runner 5 years from now. Did money win this one? Maybe. Fear certainly kept me from spending the time.

#6: This past summer, we had a large patio installed. Again, we traded money for the materials and labor. Oasis Landscaping did a great job, and it made the back yard much nicer. This job, in my opinion, was totally worth having someone else do. They did in 3 days what it would have taken us months to complete. I think we could have done it, but it would have aggravated me to no end not having it done or only having it half-done. That said, We did move the old, smaller patio to our garden "faux-zebo."

You can almost make out the faux-zebo floor from this angle. The one we paid for extends out of the right of the frame. The pallets cover a French drain I'm working on. This was taken last July, when stuff in New Mexico actually grows.

 My wife and I installed that in a few evenings (while my kids danced around on the piles of pavers), but then, the consequences of an incorrectly installed  "faux-zebo" patio are relatively minor compared to mistakes right up next to the house. Yeah, I was glad to have enough money saved up.

These examples beg several questions--
- how much of my day job hours did I put into making money to pay for firewood, car repair, and patio work this year?
- if I made less money would I have been as willing to pay for those jobs? 
- would that time at work have been better spent actually putting up my own firewood and doing my own car repair?
- did I enjoy working at my day job enough to offset the cost of these services?
- would I have enjoyed dealing with firewood and my cars more than being at work and bringing home money?
- who do I know that would have traded their work for other work in my fields of expertise and/or interest (rather than money)?

There are some other questions and issues as well, but I think these are the most relevant. Of course, the universal, overarching question that comes up in these discussions of time versus money is this: am I living to work or working to live? I hope most of us choose the latter, though with the way money works in the global economy, I'm not so sure that we have a choice if we elect to be a part of the mainstream.

The question--is time or money more valuable?--really depends on point-of-view, but I lean toward valuing time more highly than money, mainly because paper money itself has no intrinsic value other than as kindling for a fire. "Credit," or "account balance," is a flow of electrons arranged in patterns of 1s and 0s. How is that going to keep me warm or feed my family, especially if our ongoing social contract regarding financial media changes?

Food for thought, definitely.

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

(1) Chaos: Making a New Science, by James Gleick, 1987 Viking-Penguin, Inc..