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| Big Soddy Creek |
The annual revival of this ol' blog is back at it again with this year's list of favorite things.
Summer with The Boy
Two months of bike-riding, stroller-jogging, swimming-hole-hiking, and Publix free cookie-acquiring with The Boy™. Being a teacher is hard, but it's not lost on me how fortunate I am to have these months of uninterrupted time with my kid. Best part of my year, hands down.
My 2024 AP US Government & Politics class
Some of my AP Gov classes are super fun, while others are very talented, but this group was both.
Bedrock Mountain Clogs
When the bikepacking gods (influencers) started prompting my heart to the Mountain Clogs (wearing them in Instagram posts), I was an easy convert because I already loved my Bedrock Cairn sandals and the Mountain Clogs have the same zero-drop footbed and three-point strap system. The clogs feature Birkenstocky toe coverage capped with a Vibram outsole that give Vermont liberal arts college professor vibes and also keep rocks and weeds out of my toes on Appalachian single track (my only complaint about the Cairns).
One of our neighborhood's stray dogs wandered off with one-half of my Mountain Clogs in October. Bedrock's customer service was incredibly nice, and they were fast-acting to replace it. Thanks, Joey!
This Year's Birthday Challenge
I turned 36 this year and paddled 3.6 miles on the Tennessee River, pedaled 36 miles of gravel, single track, and road on Lookout Mountain, and ran 3.6 miles of trails for a DIY off-road triathlon. Felt good to take this one off the bucket list.
Sallow Moth - Vial e.p. (2024)
Progressive, Swedish-style death metal with sci-fi, horror, and fantasy-inspired lyrics that portray the intergalactic conflict between celestial anthropomorphic moths who seek to preserve the natural world and technocratic humanoids hellbent on colonizing space. Favorite track: "Gutscape Navigator"
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| Lookout Mountain |
The Kiddie Trail to Sunset Rock AKA the "Master P"
1,391 ft of quad-bursting elevation gain in under 2 miles just means there's 2 miles of knee-ruining downhill sprinting for this great after work trail run on the west face of Lookout Mountain.
Tolkien's Middle-Earth Legendarium
In 2024, I committed to reading, re-reading, and/or listening to JRR Tolkien's Lord of the Rings legendarium, starting with The Hobbit. I listened to the Andy Serkis audiobooks of the trilogy while re-reading along before I began to muscle my way through The Silmarillion. I re-watched all the movies this summer while Oliver napped and I still find it all so enchanting.
Disenchantment
A subversive fairy tale from the creator of The Simpsons and Futurama set in a medieval fantasy kingdom, this show hit the middle of a very Chet-centric Venn diagram. The serialized D&D-style side quests of Princess Tiabeanie, Elfo, and Luci kept me chuckling throughout each episode.
Mean Jeen's
Lo Main, I love you. But happy hour at this neighborhood bar simply can't be beat.
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| Magic and Merriment Fest |
Magic and Merriment Fest
Twelve fun-loving wizards full of joyous whimsy descended upon the Butterworth shire to revel in merry festivities, feast upon sumptuous fare, and test our mettle in thrilling games of Magic: the Gathering. I can't wait to do it again next year.
"One woman feral metal" by Eleanor Harper from the great white north of Missoula, Montana. It's blistering fast black metal that feels raw and old school yet fresh and exciting enough to keep listening to on repeat. Favorite track: "A Deep Gouge"
INOV8 TrailFly Ultra G 300 Max
If there's life after Hokas, then these are the trail-running equivalent of planet Kolob. Beam me up, Scotty.
Survivor 46
I've been underwhelmed by the "new era" of Survivor, but Season 46 was so good. Excellent players, incredible gameplay, and formidable challenge beasts made me feel like I was watching the golden years of Survivor with all the exciting new twists, advantages, and challenges of the post-Winners At War era.
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| Hawkins Ridge |
The latest iteration of the Monocog
It features Teravail Sparwood 29x2.2 tires and some On-One Geoff handlebars for maximum comfort, whether I'm cruising the Tour de Playgrounds with Oliver or going on "Long Way to Lo Main" ATB rides.
My 32 oz Owala FreeSip® Water Bottle
Becca bought me one of these so I would drink more water. It worked. I've never been more hydrated in my life. What makes the Owala so great? Let me break it down into a pros and cons list:
- PRO: led free
- PRO: locking flip lid makes you look like a koala bear when you drink
- PRO: FreeSip® mouthpiece allows you to drink from a bottle or from a straw
- PRO: the FreeSip® mouthpiece looks and feels like a giant Black and Mild cigarette tip, which reminds me of my old skateboarding days
- PRO: drinking water is like a million times better for you than smoking a Black and Mild
- PRO: fits in my Monocog's Arundel Looney Bin water bottle cage
- CONS: sounds like an explosion when it falls onto a hard surface
Shire Oak - The Cardinal (2023)
Wendell Berry might scoff at the idea of synth-based electronic music mediating the presence of the natural world. Still, Shire Oak manages to pull it off. The Cardinal makes me feel like I'm watching snow flurries fall on a cedar swamp from the warmth of a cozy log cabin. Favorite track: "First Frost"
Chicago, Illinois
I've said it before; I'll say it again: I was supposed to be born and raised in the Midwest. Cold? Grey? Public transit? Malölrt? Chicago has it all.
Missionary Ridge Water Tower O&B
Trail running is best, but it's hard to get to the mountains multiple times a week with a full-time job and a toddler. Luckily, the ridge is right out our backdoor, and I can get in a decent quad-busting climb up to the water tower and back via Old Ringgold Road faster than Becca can watch an episode of Gilmore Girls.
Sleepy Head Coffee
Sleepy Head is a short walk from our house and it's such a treat to have baristas who know your name and order (a cold brew for me and an iced latte with oat milk and maple flavoring for Rebecca). They treat Oliver like a sweet prince and it rules.
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| our pocket park |
Ridgedale and the hope of urban living
Leon Krier argued that cities are like pizzas and neighborhoods are the slices. Just like a slice of pizza should have a little bit of all your favorite ingredients, each neighborhood should have a little bit of everything that makes you love your city. Well, we love Chattanooga and we love our Ridgedale neighborhood.
Parks. Chattanooga is one of the top outdoor cities in the nation and is attempting to become America's first national park city. Neighborhoods should have accessible, beautiful, shared outdoor spaces too. In Ridgedale, we can walk to a pocket park, the Blue Cross Blue Shield healthy place park, and a lovely little greenway.
Restaurants and commerce. It ain't no secret anymore: Lo Main has the best dang ol' burger in town. And where else in town can you get a shot of Malölrt and a can of Old Style? And for five bucks at that. See my comments above about Mean Jeen's and Sleepy Head. Yellow Racket Records, Redbud music venue, and half a dozen tiendas line the Main Street side of Ridgedale.
People. Of course, neighborhoods are more than the buildings and the spaces between them. Most importantly, neighborhoods are made of neighbors. (This is why the proliferation of Air BNBs in residential areas is bad.) The spacial limitations of urban living encourages residents to know and accept their actual neighbors. We don't watch our neighbors; we see them. In fact, we love them. We babysit each other's kids. We gift each other plants, food, and helping hands. And our yards become communal spaces for play and conversation.
Ridgedale is a historically redlined neighborhood in Chattanooga's urban core. It features many of the systemic physical, political, and economic problems entrenched in the city since Reconstruction. Think poverty, inequality, underfunded public schools, and so on. Across the street from our house is a massive abandoned factory, riddled with bullet holes and graffiti-- a monument to the economic decline of the post-industrialized South. The sidewalks are crumbling and largely unfit for human-powered (or wheelchair) movement. And, for a while, my dog walk route followed a trail of blood from a drug deal gone bad. Yet every time we attend our neighborhood community meetings, we are reminded that there are good people, ordinary people, trying to make our little corner of the world -- which is so often forgotten by private enterprise and policymakers -- better.
I'm under no illusions that the alternative would have been significantly better, yet the election of Donald Trump will undoubtedly accelerate the now sixty-year neoliberal assault on our already struggling patchwork quilt of democratic institutions and social safety nets that sustain the common good. Rebecca and I will likely be fine but many of our neighbors will suffer. In the last few weeks, I've had many conversations with friends, neighbors, and students about "what do we do now?" So here is my parting word:
Do not succumb to the fatalism of neoliberalism. It is an anti-utopian, patron-client worldview that threatens the hope that a better world is possible. Under such conditions, failure becomes a metaphysical principle: not if but when. I hear this fatalism everyday from students and peers. "It's always going to be this way." They -- the powers and principalities -- want you to believe that nothing you do makes a difference and that another world is not possible. But I am absolutely convinced that "the future is unknowable and will be determined by how hard we fight for a loving world." I'm starting with my block and working my way out to my street, neighborhood, community, and city. Fighting cosmic pessimism with hyper-localism, tactical urbanism, and radical personalism.