Photos from the Oregon Coast

The dock in front of Mo's, home of the best clam chowder in the universe.



Bird on a log in front of Mo's.


In front of Mo's.
The logs at the beach in Lincoln City.

More logs. I think they're cool.

Mark at the beach. I think he's cool too.

Mark on the pier.

Mark checks out the shack on the beach.

View from the shack.

Spazziversary weekend

Good idea, Ronelle.

As my cool cousin suggested, this weird anniversary is a good excuse to get out and celebrate somehow. Also Michelle has a brand new car itching to hit the road. So she's taking today off and we're going to drive down to the Oregon Coast for a long weekend.

Kind of a last-minute plan, but it seems just right. Beautiful weather too. We'll walk on the beach, have some luscious clam chowder at Mo's and probably play some cards at a favorite room, the nearby Spirit Mountain Casino.

Photos and a full report to come when we return.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Flashback: Kid photos

Weekend challenge: send us photos of you as a kid -- we'll post 'em! Here's ours:

Me and my sister Renee in 1965. I was one.


Five years later. Mark and family in San Francisco. He was 10.



Mark in college, at his college paper. What a cute young pup!

PS: what we're watching: Mel Gibson's The Patriot. Sappy and heavy-handed.

First time for everything

I've never been in the New York Times ... until today!

Unprecedented, you say? Not so fast.

As I've said before, "unprecedented" is one of those words that drives me crazy. So when I noticed this week that the New York Times editor who oversees language issues for the newspaper was responding online to questions from readers, I jumped at the chance to register my gripe. Today they used my question.

Here's my published exchange with the editor, Philip B. Corbett (that's his mug above, from the NYT):

An Unprecedented Question

Q. First, thank you. The current discussion is very interesting, and I admire the evenness of your tone and the thoughtfulness of your answers.

My question concerns the use of a pet-peeve word: unprecedented. A favorite editor, discouraging the word's use, once told me there's a precedent for almost everything. I agree, and yet I seem to see it cropping up more and more. The Times isn't as guilty on this score as many other publications, but even in your paper I see Moscow imposing unprecedented restrictions on election observers, an unprecedented federal aviation survey, unprecedented numbers of uninsured patients, and dairy costs at unprecedented levels. And that's just one day!

I've had trouble getting reporters and editors in my own newsroom to address this language tic. Or maybe it's just me. What do you think?

— Mark Matassa, Seattle

A. Mr. Matassa is in good company with this pet peeve. Al Siegal, who literally wrote the book on The Times's style, also discouraged use of this word, for the same reason. Our stylebook elaborates:

UNPRECEDENTED means for the first time. Do not modify the word with a term like very, rather or almost; either something is unprecedented or (far more likely) it is not. Use the term rarely, and only after verifying the history. Then carefully specify the aspect that qualifies.

It may be that since Mr. Siegal's retirement last year, our vigilance on this point has eroded. I'll keep an eye out.

There! See that, people?

Anyway, Mr. Corbett's entire "Talk to the Newsroom" Q&A is very good. I recommend it for language geeks, news hounds and anyone interested in good writing.

Spazziversary

Today is the first day of the rest of your life, the old saying goes, and it's true for all of us, every day. But a year ago today really was the first day of my new life -- nothing much has been the same since; some in good ways, others not so great.

I don't remember a lot about the day, except that I was exceptionally tired at work. I had no energy, even to walk across the newsroom or sit upright at the news meetings. I kept feeling like I was about to fall asleep. Michelle reminds me that my plan for that night was to go play cards because she had a night meeting to attend. But her meeting got canceled, and I was beat so I decided to stay home too. Also, I had just taken over management of the P-I sports department as part of a reorganization, and I was going to edit the paper's star sports columnist, Art Thiel, for the first time. I could do that from home.

While I was waiting for Thiel to file, we had some dinner and put on the TV to watch "Lost," the stupid show I'd grown tired of but Michelle still liked. Pretty soon I told Michelle I felt sick to my stomach and, sure enough, I went into the bathroom and was sick.

That's all I remember. Michelle tells me that shortly after that, sitting back in the living room, I looked at her funny and then suddenly went into violent convulsions. She, being a lover of technology, dove across the room and caught my laptop just before it hit the floor. And then (simultaneously, she says, but I don't know) tried to help me.

I woke up several days later in the hospital. I had had a tonic-clonic seizure. It's been a blur of surgeries, doctor visits, procedures and pills since.

Not long ago we were watching a terrific HBO documentary, hosted by James Gandolfini, about soldiers who were seriously injured in Iraq. They called the day they escaped death their "alive day," and that became the title of the show. Michelle and I immediately made the connection to my seizure evening. And although "alive day" seems a bit dramatic and overstated for my deal, it definitely feels like an anniversary worth marking. So that's what we're thinking about today.