The Long Way Home

Rosemary Focaccia Test

2010-09-21T01:51:00.001-07:00

First try at focaccia.
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Location : lat=37.692, lng=122.168

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Blogging on the Go

2010-09-20T02:17:00.001-07:00

As my mind continues to meld with or melt into this portable touch-screen soul stealing freaking awesome new "cell phone," and I forget what it was like not to look up most of the time, of course now I've started looking for even more stuff I can do with it. I have succumbed.

Instant blogging is a bad idea. But because I can now, it seemed like a good idea to be totally prepared in case it suddenly became a good idea.

It's 2am now, almost, and here I am propped up in bed thumb-typing on a device I can't even see without my glasses. Hardly an emergency blog scenario. Well, for some people...

This is actually a test to get the old blog going again, something I've considered for some time anyway. There are still a million unwritten stories from days gone by and who knows what's in store in the next hour and beyond Some day I may see Kathy Griffin on a 30 Stockton MUNI bus and need to upload a photo and text to prove it immediately.

Too Many Topics

2007-11-07T00:13:00.000-08:00

My apologies to those who come here looking for more stories about Okinawa ("The Rock") that I mentioned at the Okinawa Brats website. Once I thought I had nothing to write about. Now I realize I'm about 50 years behind schedule and losing more time every day.

But it's not like I haven't tried. I'd sure like to have all the money back that I've spent on diaries over the years. Most of the time a few pages got used and then, later, burned. I've come a long way from keeping secrets to publishing blabber for the whole world. As they come to me, I will keep writing stories from my past.

Tonight, after servicing the cats in my care for my neighbor, I sat down to read the paper. First, I wanted to rest. Second, I haven't read a newspaper in ages. Third (but probably First), I wanted to lure Bingo to my lap. And it worked. She passed by a few times but didn't stay. While I was lost in some story, I didn't notice her rubbing on the stereo. Suddenly, I heard the voice of woman singing. Both of us jumped nearly out of our hides. She had somehow turned on the stereo and a CD had started playing. It's not fun getting freaked out in someone else's house.

I've just been reading the results of a search for "alternative plantar fasciitis treatments" online. I found a video fromt he American Academy of Podiatric Sports Medicine that demonstrates how to evaluate a good, supportive athletic shoe. Of course I immediately got my recently-purchased New Balance 474 and put it to the test. Yay! It passed. But I'm sure there are better shoes than the ones I have.

There was an ant invasion in the kitchen this afternoon. I stopped it before it became a full-scale attack on all fronts. But that required me pulling the fridge out from the wall; a very difficult task. When it was delivered, the little black rubber wheels got pushed the wrong way and they ended up in more of a D shape then an O shape, making moving the monstrosity very difficult. But I did it.

The port of invasion was where the water line for the fridge comes out of the wall. I saturated it with "earth friendly" poison and then sealed it up with tape. But I couldn't get the fridge to go back against the wall. The solution was a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond (with 20% off coupon in hand) to buy some E Z Sliders. Quick solution. I got the big variety set to reduce the chances of hurting myself on future missions. Seems like I'm always moving something heavy the hard way.

I also found myself wandering around in Long's Drugs tonight and ended up staring at the vitamin and supplements. Since melatonin was on sale (buy one, get one free) I decided to go for it. I took one about a half hour ago. I'm hoping to stay awake just long enough to finish this and then head for the first of many very restful nights of sleep. I told Brad that I'm going to experiment with it. He'd never heard of it and asked me if it's something "illegal."

I decided to try it first and then talk to the doctor about it. If he blows a gasket, I'll ship it off to someone who can use it. Or not. It depends on how well it works. But I can say that I'm pretty sleepy right now and am really starting to lose focus.

Seems like a good point to quit. Hope I wake up tomorrow!

"Docent of the Summer Quarter"

2007-11-05T00:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's meeting at the zoo was important. Yes, the one I missed. As the editor of the docent newsletter, The Scoop, I'm also on the Docent Council Executive Board. I don't know why since I don't hold an elected position. It's just a position I inherited with the job.

But I really should have gone to that meeting. It was a big, semi-annual meeting for all docents. Had I gone, I would have been very embarrassed by what happened there but it would have looked a lot better for me had I been there to accept the award I was given.

This evening when we got back home from an abbreviated shopping trip, there was a phone message from someone at the zoo wanting me to call her back. She wanted me to know "what happened at the meeting." Her tone of voice sort of bothered me. It sounded serious.

Even though I'm very appreciative of the recognition, I'm certain they chose the wrong person to name as "Docent of the Summer Quarter." I rarely make it to the zoo any more. I'm a lousy docent. I haven't put in any public contact hours in months. But I do work hard to produce a monthly newsletter. Still, I think they should give awards like that to docents who appear at the zoo once in a while.

As much as I enjoy volunteering at the Oakland Zoo, I've sure had problems since I went through training as a docent including pneumonia (I was in the hospital for 10 days), plantar fasciitis with all the associated leg and back pain and other complications and events that I don't really want to think about right now.

I will be getting a certificate, some kind of "gift" and an opportunity to hand-feed the giraffes. The latter is something I did when I was in docent training and it was an amazing experience. I'm totally psyched about doing it again. And I'm hoping they'll let me take Brad along to share the experience.

Below is a photo I didn't ever upload to Flickr. It shows the giraffe keeper, Amy Phelps, at the feeding deck which, as you can see, is at their eye level. It was truly one of the best experiences of my life. I look forward to doing it again.

Other than that, it was a very low-key day. The Amazing Race premiered tonight. I love how people who do crappy things to others on the show always seem to get what they dish out. Tonight the team who stole a cab from another team ended up being the first to be eliminated.

Better than that, though, was the third episode of The Amazing Mrs. Pritchard on PBS. Jane Horrocks (Absolutely Fabulous, Little Voice) is a fantastic actress and the show is great. PBS continues to be the one reason to own a TV.

Oh, by the way, all the Halloween stuff is still at the bottom of the stairs. Looks like I'll be hauling it all up by myself tomorrow.

Surprises

2007-11-04T01:21:00.001-07:00

It's 1:21AM, soon to be 1:21AM again since this is the night we turn the clocks back one hour. And I just finished working on a project about which I can say nothing because it's a surprise and the person for whom I'm surprising stops by and reads this. It's making me crazy because I'm terrible at keeping secrets. Growing up I frequently told people what their Christmas presents were before Christmas because I couldn't contain the excitement of giving them something neat.

So this is a good ending to a day that started out badly.

Last night I took a whole Trazadone tablet instead of one half because I really needed some good sleep. With chronic insomnia and being recently diagnosed with sleep apnea, sometimes I need help getting some rest. Even being physically exhausted doesn't guarantee a restful night.

But Trazadone is a harsh drug. It dries out my sinus, gives me a headache and only helps me fall asleep, not stay asleep or sleep peacefully. I try not to take it. And as soon as I swallowed the whole tablet I remembered that it was probably going to make me miserable.

And it did. My alarm went off at 7AM and I turned on my lamp. I was supposed to have gone to a meeting at the zoo but I was really miserable, still tired and my legs and feet were really aching. Bad morning. So I stayed in bed. I didn't even get up to go to Napa with friends.

I made it out of the house by 1PM to run errands. I tried to drop off the rent checks at the agency but they're located inside a building and it was locked. It frustrates me that they don't have an after-hours drop box. What a waste of gas and time to drive clear across town and couldn't even leave the envelope there. So I decided to mail it. But since I rarely buy stamps, I discovered that postage has gone up twice since I last bought any. Fortunately I had some extra 1-cent and 2-cent stamps. It took three stamps to come up with enough postage.

At OSH, I picked up three 40lb bags of wood pellets. I use it for cat litter. It's cheap and natural. One of the bags was for my "job" as a cat-sitter for a neighbor. She's using something similar that costs a lot more. I laughed out loud when I saw her litter box. It's something I saw in a SkyMall catalog on a recent flight that made me laugh out loud. I'll let the photos speak for themselves.

Okay, maybe this isn't too funny. But in the catalog, the "planter" was located next to a sofa in the living room. Now THAT was funny! Honestly. Can you imagine having guests over when suddenly there's a digging sound followed by the pungent odor of cat poop coming out of the corner? I don't know about your cat but when my cat finishes in the box, he must feel light as a feather and full of energy because he runs around like he's on Benny Hill.

Another high point of my day was using a Dyson vacuum cleaner for the first time. I don't know why but I kept thinking about our old Kirby and wondered if they're still around. Now that was a vacuum cleaner! Sure, dust leaked out of the bag. But it sucked up way more than it leaked so it worked out fine. These modern plastic things are all too wimpy.

It took HOURS tonight to pack away the Halloween stuff. And now all five storage containers are waiting for someone else to carry upstairs. I know I'll end up doing it but I just want to see if that particular someone else surprises me and lends a hand. It's sooooo unlikely but every once in a while I like to test him...

Thinking About Starting Again

2007-11-02T00:54:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about getting this thing going again (and hopefully not pissing as many people off) and I've been trying to figure out how to place videos here like a friend does on her blog.

Here's an attempt to post a little video I made several months ago:

I have so much video that needs to be edited and turned into something watchable that I doubt I'll ever get it done. Whenever I travel, I take a lot of what I call "raw" video thinking that some day I'll chop it up and make something decent out of it. I usually have at least 5 minutes of every 60 where I accidentally leave the camera rolling and end up with a sickening segment of motion sickness inducing garbage.

Anyway..

Today was the first day of a week of cat-sitting for a neighbor I just recently met. She put an ad on our community bulletin board looking for someone to take care of her "girls" while she's away on business. She's a lovely woman and her cats are warming up to me nicely. She thought that I'd never see one of them but it approached me right away when I went over to meet them all. How great is that? I must have inherited a little cat charming magic from Mom. Instead of running under the bed, they came right up to me when I went over to meet them. My neighbor was very impressed!

Here they are:

Gotta get all the Halloween stuff down and put away and the house ready for the next big event on November 10th. Another 35 people or so will be here for our annual wine and cheese party. I'm not a big fan of wine (except that muscat is mui delicioso) but the cheese selection is always totally amazing. I wonder if Patti will bring a can of Easy Cheese again.

Okay, that's enough for now. This is just a test to see if I want to get this started again.

Sadness

2007-08-08T00:57:00.000-07:00

It's now November 2, 2007. I was working on getting this thing going again when I noticed a "draft" I created back in August but didn't ever post or finish. I still don't remember creating this post and didn't know what it was so I published it to see what was going on.

This was the day my cat, Pewter, became seriously ill and we took him to the emergency vet in San Leandro. A few days later I had to send him to heaven to wait for me. It was an awful weekend. This reminds me of so much sadness. But since I started to make a post, I decided to finish it and explain what happened.

I miss him so much. I love my surviving kitty, Cootie, but Pewter was really special. He was so sweet. He scratched the crap out of Brad's furniture but that was because he was kinda stupid. But he was beautiful and we both loved him very much.

Life is rough. Sometimes I feel totally ill-equipped to handle all it dishes out.

My Cat's Food May Be Tainted!

2007-04-19T08:01:00.000-07:00

This morning I discovered the frightening news that the nationwide pet food recall has been expanded and the dry food I've been giving my cats has been added to the list. What a nightmare!

I'd be frantic right now if I hadn't just taken Pewter to the vet and, only yesterday, gotten a real good report from his blood and urine tests. He has chronic problems but at least there's no sign of anything else. His weight loss is probably due to his fussy G.I. tract.

It's unlikely that I got any of the tainted food. But I don't know. The company has recalled all of it even though the tainted sample was only used on specific production dates. I'll gladly return it and wait to buy more until Pewter's delicate gut is mended.

China seems to be very protective in their response to this problem. From the KTVU.com website story:

A lawmaker said Wednesday the Chinese have refused to grant visas to FDA
inspectors seeking to visit the plants where the ingredients were made. An FDA
spokesman later said the visas were not refused but that the agency had not
received the necessary invitation letter to get visas.
"It troubles me greatly the Chinese are making it more difficult to understand what led to this pet food crisis," Sen. Dick Durbin, D-Ill., told The Associated Press after
meeting with the FDA commissioner, Dr. Andrew von Eschenbach.

What troubles me greatly is the fact that we really don't know what's in our food any more because so much of what we eat is prepared and packaged somewhere other than in our own kitchen. I'm afraid this will become a more common issue in food manufactured for humans in the near future (if it hasn't already.)

DishTV Experience

2007-04-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

Neither one of us likes Comcast but if we want even the most basic television reception, it's one of very few choices. In Alameda, at least there's a choice. Here, in San Leandro, there isn't unless you go with a satellite system.

I'd been comparing prices, channels and service for quite a long time when a coupon for DishTV arrived in an envelope of "local business coupons." I made the call. I didn't know I was dealing with some company that wasn't even in California. That's no big deal, I guess, but they charged their own small fee for setting up the service.

In preparation for the installation, I had to get permission from the property manager, complete forms and make sure I understood the home owners' association rules. This place is one of those nit-picky communities where snitches report you for the least little thing.

One of our neighbors found out the hard way about the association when his DishTV was installed. But as an owner, he's in a more secure position to tell them where to go..

Installation day came and went. The guy was great. He was friendly and did an awful lot of work to get that dish attached in the right place so that all the rules were met. When he left he told me that if we weren't satisfied they'd come back and take all the equipment away and there would be any charge. Great! Satisfaction guaranteed.

Very soon afterward I found a problem. My computer is also a TV and DVR (like Tivo) and works just fine with cable. Using XP Media Center, it has its own channel listings and settings. It did not work at all with the dish. I had to point a remote control toward the opposite end of the house to change channels on the bedroom's dual tuner. I put that aside thinking I could eventually figure out a way to make it work.

That night we watched some TV and didn't notice any real problems.

The next night a storm had blown in. It was overcast, raining and windy. And the reception was awful. We spent most of the time looking at a blue screen telling us the signal had been lost.

That was it. I immediately disconnected everything and re-attached the Comcast cable. I hated calling them back but a deal's a deal. We were terribly unsatisfied and with our favorite shows coming up, we didn't want to have to go through a long adjustment period. Sometimes things just need to work when you plug them in, not later.

When I was told they'd take the equipment away, I took that to mean ALL the equipment including the satellite dish on the chimney. It took an incredible amount of complaining and calling to get a supervisor to issue a work order for the installation company to come back and uninstall everything.

When the guy came to remove the dish, he said he was only there to pick up the tuners. I told him that Dish was sending boxes via UPS and I was supposed to return them that way. And he said he knew nothing about removing the dish. But I gave him the tuners. I wanted to be rid of them. But I made him give me a receipt because I anticipated trouble when I didn't send them back in the UPS boxes. (Smart move.) They eventually did call and hassled me about not returning the equipment.

Another angry call. I was getting nowhere. When I was telling my neighbor about it all, I was standing outside with a pretty clear view of our roof. That's when I noticed that the dish was pointing directly into a huge eucalyptus tree. That just made me more upset. (I really don't know what caused the picture to go out so much; wind, rain, clouds, aircraft, trees, incompetence.) I just wanted them to remove that ugly thing off the roof. It isn't our house and I know the HOA doesn't particularly like them. I only wanted the company to follow through on their representative's word.

I think their goal is to stick an dish antenna on every house in America. They just don't want to have to come back and install again when the next occupant wants service. Period.

Time has passed. I've calmed down. We haven't gotten anything from the HOA telling us we've done anything wrong which is a relief.

But DishTV has been calling us and not leaving a message. I tracked the phone number online to find out who it was. (check this site out: http://whocalled.us/) People everywhere are getting solicitation calls from them. So today, knowing what "Unknown Name 866-668-8047" actually is, I answered the call. The rep knew I didn't have service but was soliciting to try again.

I didn't like that she asked for "Mr. or Mrs. Webb" because I think that was terribly presumptious of the company to assume there was a "lady of the house," (which is another term I've heard on soliciation calls,) but she was very polite and so I was very polite. We were sickeningly polite.

And I asked, politely, that they not make any more calls. She said she'd put me on the "do not call" list.

Meanwhile, Comcast continues to grossly overcharge for the most basic service. If we weren't addicted to PBS, news, Discovery, TLC, Animal Planet and Ugly Betty, I'd just give up.

Tilton's Treasure

2007-03-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

"UAL CEO Paid $39.7M in 2006"

Good morning fellow former/current United Airlines employees! Have you had your slap in the face yet? If not and you're not feeling like some piece of crap stuck in the tread of someone's boot yet today, take a look at the news about Glenn Tilton's compensation for last year.

Sure, a lot of it is stock and other stuff you can't exactly withdraw from an ATM. But the base salary ($687,083) seems to be sufficient to me. It should be enough for a very comfortable life.

If UA can afford to shower Tilton with an excess of stock option riches, it can afford to pay back the rest of us for what we lost in the ESOP debacle.

http://biz.yahoo.com/ap/070326/united_executive_compensation.html?.v=1

Somebody Shut Him Up

2007-03-22T00:00:00.000-07:00

Would someone please save this country from more needless embarrassment and shut Oklahoma Senator Inhofe the hell up? *big sigh* Once again I feel fortunate to find myself surrounded by people whose ancestors crawled out of the slime a few million years ahead of the others.

We recently saw An Inconvenient Truth for the first time. I was prepared to be absolutely floored. But it didn't happen. Why? Because it isn't news if you've been paying attention. And I've been paying attention to scientific information about everything from evaporating lakes to studies on polar ice for a long time and it all makes sense.

Since in today's world it takes a celebrity to get the public to listen to just about anything, I'm very pleased that private citizen Al Gore has been so effective in spreading the word.

I watched one of Inhofe's presentations online and I can say that he is one of the rudest and most ignorant elected representatives this country has. Is that the best that Oklahoma can do? Nobody seems to argue now that the cause of the dust bowl disaster of the 1930's was "inappropriate farming methods." Get it? *another sigh* I'm sure there are people who will argue that fact too.

My frustration with the term "global warming" is that it's become something people must choose to believe in or not. Forget about that term for a minute and tell me if it makes sense to stop polluting our atmosphere. Does it make sense to do everything we can to preserve and protect our planet? Hey, how does a LOWER ENERGY BILL sound?

It was such a pleasure watching Al Gore on TV tonight speaking to the U.S. Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works. Ah, the sound of an intelligent man speaking. That's something we've been missing enough of for what seems like a decade. What a contrast with that mottle-faced, sassy, self-righteous and misinformed Imhofe.

Two Shakes

2007-03-02T14:13:00.000-08:00

I don't like portable carnivals. But even if someone could convince me that those traveling spin and puke rides were safe I still wouldn't go because I don't like being hollered at either.

On the other hand, it would be a fun place to take photos especially if something went wrong. Ew.

The earthquake that hit at 8:40PM last night was the second in only a week or so and I felt both of them.

Until last week I'd wondered what it was like to be in the car during an earthquake. But while stopped, waiting for a light with absolutely no traffic moving, my car did a bump and shimmy that seemed impossible even if a big truck had been passing. I found out 10 minutes later that an earthquake had hit and BART trains stopped for a diagnostic.

Last night I had the above photo displayed in my photo editor when things started jumping around. Each one feels unique in how it bumps, jumps, shakes, rocks, twists and in how it's transmittted. Waves can preceed shaking. Waving and shaking can preceed peeing your pants.

I'm dry!

The Odd Couple Coincidences

2007-02-17T01:27:00.000-08:00

Tonight we had the pleasure of joining our friends Robin and Lynette to see "The Odd Couple" at the Douglas Morrison Theatre in Hayward. I'd never even heard of the place before just happening to walk past it a few weeks ago when I met up with the "new" Paula for a visit to the Japanese gardens next door.

At that time I remember thinking back to my experiences in community theater many years ago. Those were such fun times. One fond memory I have was when I played a sibling of Jesus in a play about the family of Jesus. We were all in period costumes and performed "in-the-round" in a very intimate setting where the audience was so close you could hear their hair growing.

Someone left a fig on a bench by mistake and I unknowingly sat on it. I sensed something was there but had no idea what was wrong until I was off stage. All I suspected was some kind of costume malfunction. But when I saw it, it was unrecognizable and I was horrified. It looked like poop but didn't stink. Someone had to tell me it was a fig. "It's a what?" (Until then I'd only heard of Fig Newtons and thought Fig was Newton's first name. ) I'd just been on stage for 10 minutes walking around with a big ol' fig stuck in the butt crack area of my costume one night. Great. The brother of Jesus poops his toga.

The reason we went to see "The Odd Couple" tonight was one of our friends, Emilie Frybarger, was playing the part of Gwendolyn Pigeon. I knew she was an eighth grade teacher but had no idea she was an actress. But I should have. She has a marvelous personality and impeccable comic timing.

She and Kelly Ball, playing Gwendolyn's sister Cecily Pigeon, were what gave this play its life force. Their performances were simply outstanding, outshining even the lead players. I could go on and on. And what a relief it was that the play (and Emilie's performance) was really good! When I found out that we were going to see the play and she was in it I was hesitant. I didn't want it to suck and then have to face her and have to come up with something polite to say. That's really hard for me to do. Much to my relief, it was a pleasure to watch.

And yes, twenty bucks is a lot to pay for a ticket to see community theater, especially for me. But tonight it felt like a good investment.

"Jim Webb; Jim Webb."

2006-11-10T00:48:00.000-08:00

Something recently reminded me of when I used to accompany my mom into Salt Lake City on Saturday while she made the rounds between stores shopping for clothes, furniture or whatever happened to be on the list.

There was a department store, Auerbach's, that was along the lines of the fancy New York stores with an elaborate cosmetics department complete with the overdressed, hauty department head who always stood out because of her striking appearance. The place was nice and it was where I made my first announcement about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be an elevator operator.

Now I was only three or four at the time, I think, (maybe eight or nine; always the under-achiever) and I don't know if it was the actual operation of the elevator, the personality of the guy who did the job or the cool uniform. But it was endlessly fascinating to me that the door would open, we'd get on and the fellow operating the elevator would perform some mechanical manipulations and the door would open onto another floor.

But the best part about going to Auerbach's was that a very elegant and soft-spoken voice would come over the loudspeaker, after the sound of a polite chime, and repeat my name twice.

"Jim Webb," the voice would say as if it were an inquiry. And then again; "Jim Webb," as if it were the answer to a question.

That happened for years. It started when I was too young to know what was going on and my mom probably told me it meant that they were watching me. And it continued until I was in high school. I was sad when I realized that I didn't hear them paging him any more. Whoever the guy was, he worked there for a long time but we never met.

Maybe that's when I first started feeling special. I mean to have my name broadcast throughout the entire store every time I went there and usually several times was sure to make some kind of impression. Gee I may have just discovered the root of my paranoia!

It Feels a Little Funny Being Jim Webb

2006-11-08T23:41:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, I imagined being so famous that I would be on all the talk shows. I couldn't ever come up with a fantasy reason for being famous but that didn't stop me.

I don't want to say that I've given up on that because I really, truly still want to do something in life to make a big difference. I want to be a household name. But I want to be respected, of course. I don't want to be infamous, just famous.

So I'm a little miffed that James Webb has taken my name and made history with it. Don't get me wrong. I'm really, really proud of him. He is a well-respected man and I thrilled with his win in Virginia. But he just made it a little harder for me to achieve my goal!

I will always be known as the other, other, Jim Webb since there was already a famous songwriter named Jimmy Webb. There is only one defining difference, something my dad thought of when I was named. I am really Jim. I'm not James or Jimmy or anything else. My legal first name is Jim.

Lately I've been thinking about all the people I've ever known. Well, not literally. What I mean is that if even for just a second, it's kind of nice that there's a good chance that when they've heard about Jim Webb of Virginia, they've given a thought to me.

A Refreshing Change

2006-11-08T22:42:00.000-08:00

Now if we could only go two more years without having to see or hear George Bush (either of them) speak. (Add Barbara to the list too.)

Waking up to today's political news was like having an extra birthday or Christmas coming early. All I hoped for was a proper balance of power in Washington but what we got was a tsunami of change that swept across the whole country. It's a good sign.

Growing up, I heard a lot about "blind faith" in church and was taught that it's each person's responsibility to study the scriptures, pray and develop their own personal relationship with the Lord. And doesn't this also apply to our government and society as well? I feel sorry for all the people who believe everything they've been told. They are ignorant.

I heard a little 12 year-old girl from Idaho on the radio the other day claim that Democrats are immoral and Republicans are blessed by God. Gee. I wonder where she heard that. Her mom got on the phone and said she came to that conclusion all by herself. Right. The poor girl will have some adjusting to do if she ever plans on leaving home or having friends from other countries, religions or backgrounds.

When I left utah in 1986, I was full of ambition and looking forward to a new life in California without dealing with snow and ice in winter and naturalizing myself among the people I'd found so interesting and stimulating in previous visits. An opportunity came and I took it.

Even though life took some very unexpected turns, I don't regret making the move.

What my friends, neighbors and associates don't understand, lately, is how people across this country can be so blind to what's really going on in America. I think parts of this year's campaign made it abundantly clear that entire groups of people have been blinded by their faith in leaders that only wanted the power of their numbers. I feel bad for those people. They were used.

Personally, I think that hearings on impeachment should begin on Monday. Crimes have been committed against this country. We are still dangerous close to a fascist regime, fueled by the passionate throngs of the blind faithful who eat what they're fed and believe what they're told.

The priority must be to take over leadership of the country, though, and try to get things under control. I can understand not wanting to cause more problems by "getting even," as I heard impeachment referred to today. The rest of the world already seems to know what's been happening here. It's vital all Americans know too.

I'm still very worried about the future of this country but yesterday was a refreshing change.

Night Photography

2006-11-06T22:39:00.000-08:00

Some of my Flickr friends are expert night photographers. I've been looking at their stuff for a long time now trying to learn from what they do. Most of the time you can click on someone's photo and find an incredible amount of detail about their camera, what their settings were, what time the photo was taken and other details.

The other night our power went out just as Saturday Night Live was about to start. After we got some candles lit and Brad went back to work putting together some savory pastries for next Saturday's party, I went outside to see if I could see how extensive the outage was.

It was nice, for a change, not having so many street lights on. The moon was full, though, so there was plenty of light. I'd like to have the power go out on a night where there is no moon so I can shoot photos of the stars.

But there was a beautiful big ring around the moon so I was excited about capturing it.

Tonight I walked down to Marina Park thinking I could get some nice shots across the bay. But I went to the wrong place. I took a few shots but just came back after seeing a skunk run across my path. There isn't much to see around here although window-peeping came to mind. The driving range is mildly interesting, I suppose, since it's a double-decker. I like seeing the golf balls stuck in random places in the big nets.

I tried to capture a moth in a very intense light but gave up and left a little short of what I hoped for. Still, I think this is an interesting shot. Click on it for a larger size. It's less headachy when it's larger.

Tomorrow is a big day. After voting, I'm going to San Francisco to see a quilt show at the new deYoung Museum. I won't be able to take photos, though, according to what I read because it's a special exhibition. Here's the link: http://www.thinker.org/deyoung/exhibitions/exhibition.asp?exhibitionkey=549 I saw something on PBS about these quilts so I'm excited about seeing them in person.

Enough is enough!

2006-11-02T23:43:00.000-08:00

Time doesn't fly when you have "I haven't written anything lately" in the back of your mind every single day.

Whenever I fall silent, and that usually means letter-writing, it seems to indicate some degree of trouble coping or some kind of ailment. It takes me a while to recognize it but then I seem to wake up and realize I'm not well. I don't know why I go through weeks of torture, though. That doesn't make sense. But it has something to do with grinning and bearing it only for me it's more like grimacing and enduring it.

My psychological care at Kaiser Permanente leaves quite a lot to be desired. My personal physician has taken over the prescription of medicines because I've been relatively stable for a long time. Visits to my psychiatrist always make me angry because it's blatantly obviously that I am unimportant compared to the stacks and stacks of folders of real psych cases piled all around the office. There's little interaction. Ah, I don't want to discuss this because it's a real sore subject. Everyone I've seen has either moved to a different facility or retired. The one time I tried to find someone new ended in a big fiasco.

It feels like I'm falling over a cliff, about to devulge lots of personal information. So I have to watch myself because I never save drafts of these entries to be published later. I just blurt it out and I'm done. I've never done more than fix a typo.

But lately my headaches and TMJ issues have gotten so much worse again that I'm beginning to think I may go nuts. I don't know what the cause is. I see my doctor regularly and, in fact, just saw him a couple of weeks ago. I had a headache then too. And I told him. I guess I expect by now that if I say I have a headache he should realize that I have a massive headache. Just like when I say I have trouble sleeping and my dreams are disturbing. That means I am tormented by nightmares and never, ever feel rested.

A few months ago I switched one of the ingredients of my psychological cocktail from Prozac to Celexa. It was supposed to have a positive effect on my libido but I think that boat sailed and sunk a long time ago. Anyhow, since then things have gone downhill. I think I just realized that even though my doctor has encouraged me to stick with it a while longer because "it takes a long time for the medication to re-wire your brain," I think I'm done with it. The OCD symptoms have started again. I hear a constant buzzing in my head. Phrases, tunes and words repeat in my mind until I want to scream. Maybe I should scream. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a BAD TRIP.

The headaches could be caused by something from the other medication cocktail I take. What a mess I am. I take medication to keep from getting sick but those meds make me sick so I have to take more stuff to help that but they have side-effects too and it just keeps going until I have to stop somewhere and just deal with it because there is no frigging end to it.

I thought that maybe if I wrote about how miserable I've been that maybe the curse would be lifted. That's unlikely. I have decided, though, that I'm going to contact my nurse and spill my guts. Maybe I'll just send her a link to this entry.

My 48 year-old body is a walking glossary of medical problems. One of my most hideous ailments is plantar fasciitis. Look it up. It's disabling. Hey! What a coincidence. I'm on disability. But seriously, it's the WORST. I never imagined I'd have mobility issues like this with anything short of a broken leg or a double amputation. The pain coming from the bottoms of my feet is second only to what that poor captive writer must have felt in the movie Misery (with Kathy Bates and James Caan.)

I've had cortisone injections in both heels twice now but that just masks the issue. The podiatrist says we need to find the cause. "We?" I haven't gone back because I'm afraid he'll want to cut tendons in my feet and that scares me. So I suffer. What a loser I'm sounding like to myself.

Enough for now. Go check out my photos on Flickr to see what else I've been up to. I do manage to have a life even though for the most part I'd rather be dead. No, I take that back. I'll feel much better after election day when enough people come to their senses and begin to put America back together again.

I advise all who read, though, to stock up on food, buy a gun and prepare to take back the country the old fashioned way in case this election gets stolen too. Enough is enough!

Okay, now to write that letter to my nurse.....

She Went There

2006-10-19T17:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was spent running errands to help Brad get ready for his road trip with his mom. They left this morning for Primm, Nevada which I'm not sure is really a town. It's mainly a large outlet mall a few miles from Las Vegas that has two or three casino hotels. Something for each of them.

The most important errand was to get an oil and filter change in Brad's Jeep. Second to that was a trip to the car wash although now I'm wondering how different the day might have turned out if I'd done things in a different order.

To digress for a moment, I need to mention that I've had situations in the past when I've gone to pick up my car after having it serviced only to find that the presents on my radio have been erased (explained by the disconnection of the battery during service) and the unexpected jolt of having music not to my liking come blaring out of the stereo upon start-up. The latter was the case when the car was supposed to have been road tested to find the origin of a squeaky rattle. And it was then that I exploded like a microwaved egg at the service manager. I leave my radio OFF and expect it to be OFF when I pick it up. Anyway, back to the story:

And so was the case yesterday. I really didn't expect to get back to the car, start it up and hear hip-hop rap come blasting out of the stereo. The people at the new Wal-Mart at Hegenberger Road in Oakland are all pretty nice and so I was very surprised. I was also surprised that it smelled like french fries inside the car too.

I comtemplated going back inside to complain but just blew it off because I had to keep moving. Brad was leaving work early and I still had to go to the car wash, pick up clothes from the cleaners and get back to San Leandro BART to fetch him.

I adjusted the volume, scanned for a better radio station and drove off. And I guess the woman in the photo above pulled out of her parking spot at about the same time.

As we approached the same intersection, she asserted her right-of-way by laying on the horn as she passed through. At the light I leaned out of my window and asked her why she honked at me like that. (It was NOT necessary.) She accused me of not paying attention and said she "had to protect her family."

I said "Your horn isn't going to save your life but some better driving skills might come in handy," thinking back to the days when driver's education was taught in public schools. I had no idea at the time what condition her car was in, other than the oxidized paint, because we were parallel.

She shouted a couple of other ignorant things at me and added "..besides, your need to wash your car." The insults! As a matter of fact, I was on my way to South Shore Car Wash in Alameda.

So I said "As a matter of fact I'm on my way to the car wash right now - and I suppose you're on your way to get yours painted?" And that's when she told me to have a good day. At the next light I remembered that my camera was in the car and took a quick shot of them before we went our separate ways.

When I viewed this online and saw the cracked lights, cracked windshield, missing chrome, variety of wheel covers (I think only one was a "spinner") I laughed out loud. I doubt seriously this car is even registered. You really must click ont he photo to see a larger version. It's a total mess. And late last night, a fellow Flickr photographer pointed out that the impound marks are still visible on the windshield.

Since I'm writing a story I might just as well keep going.

At the car wash, another strange thing happened. I walked around taking photos when I noticed Brad's Jeep coming out of the mechanized part of the wash. A worker got in and instead of driving it to the finishing area he drove it off the lot, out to Shoreline Drive and headed East out of sight!

When I went inside to ask what was going on I was told to relax. "We haven't lost a car in 40 years," she said. But I couldn't help but wonder how many had been stolen. Still, it wasn't my car so I'd really have hated to have to come home and tell Brad his car had been stolen from the car wash.

It turns out that the alleged car thief was simply putting it through the wash a second time. When it was done, though, I didn't give him a tip. I was still unnerved by witnessing Brad's car disappear right before my eyes.

After picking up his shirts from the cleaners I headed back to San Leandro, driving on a street I don't usually take. That's when I noticed something new in the neighborhood: Speed Lumps. And here's the photo to prove it.

Was jumping out of the car and snapping photos of this worth losing a lens cap? I don't know but I think this is where I last saw it.

Now, back to the main story, it was also about this time that I realized that there was something wrong with the radio preset buttons. I know for certain Brad doesn't listen to hip-hop or rap but his first two presets had been changed to exactly that.

And he hit the roof when I told him about it. He was on the phone talking to a store manager within minutes. That's when we found out that the clerk failed to give me a detailed invoice of the service performed which included the names of the people who worked on the car. (Something else to complain about.)

It was obvious I needed to make one more trip so I drove to Alameda to search for my lens cap (no luck) and back to Wal-Mart (store #5457 8400 Edgewater Drive Oakland CA 94612 (510)430-9606 Manager David George) to get the invoice.

I also had a chat with some people in the service department about the complaint. I spoke with Daryl (1120) to make sure that:

1- Listening to the customer's radio is not part of the oil change package and 2- There was no need for a road test afterward requiring the stereo to be tested as well 3- It was against store policy to re-program the customer's radio presets during any type of service order.

I think he got the message that Steven (1179) and the rest of the crew are going to be keel-hauled for this in a letter with copies going to just about every level.

And just to show that a cranky old man can still be benevolent, I'm not going to mention the smell of french fries.

After, before and during all of this I've found myself wondering why I'm doing business with Wal-Mart anyway. Fortunately the day ended well. Nothing else happened.

Freak Magnet

2006-10-05T00:59:00.000-07:00

Public transportation makes me nervous. Very nervous. I don't know all those people and they don't know me. We can see each other and there isn't anything I can do about it.

People cough, talk, listen to music, stink, eat and do all sorts of things other than sit or stand politely and try to remain invisible or otherwise unobtrusive.

BART is particularly heinous. The trains go through all kinds of neighborhoods. When the doors open an exchange of hostages takes place.

I've hated BART since my first ride on it back in the late '70's. It was a bad experience not because of the trip to San Francisco but the trip home.

Going to the city I was appalled by the extreme scenes of poverty, decay and filth below. I'd never seen anything like it inside the U.S. and didn't expect to see it in the bay area.

On the way home later that night, after seeing a play at the Curran Theater, we witnessed a fight in the station while waiting for our train back to Oakland. Two guys beat up a presumably queer black man, throwing him down onto the tracks. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know whether to go to his defense or stay put in case I had to defend my "date." Neither option settled well with me and I've thought about my decision ever since.

Fortunately my trips on BART are now very rare even though I go to the San Leandro station every morning and evening to deliver and retrieve Brad to and from his commute to San Francisco.

The photo above was taken on my last trip. I met up with Brad in SF to go see the new Bloomingdale's store which was about to open to the public.

I didn't want to schlep around inside a nice store like that looking like a hobo so I put on some of my better clothes, shaved, combed my hair and wore a sport coat. It was called "dressing for success" back in the late '80's at my job in the reservation center. (Which made little sense since people on the phone had no idea what you were wearing.) I, for one, never dressed for success.

Wearing three layers always makes me feel hot and being on BART makes me nervous. So I start to perspire shortly after getting dressed. It's very uncomfortable. And that day turned out to be warmer than expected making things even worse.

Before even leaving the San Leandro station, I had to pee. Bad. So I cautiously approached the station agent and politely asked her how one goes about getting access to the toilets, fearing I might get my head snapped off or be told that they weren't working and I'd have to go back to the car and pee in a cup; a particularly delicate and dangerous thing to do. She was incredibly nice and called me "sir" more than once. "It's the jacket," I thought to myself. "I look nice."

Maybe it was the camera. It's big. Or maybe a combination of both the camera and the jacket. Because what happened next really perplexed Brad when I told him about it later because, he said, people don't usually strike up conversations on BART.

Right. Maybe not during commute hours. But during off hours, the freaks ride the trains.

So I was pleased to find that the train was quite empty. There was plenty of room for everyone to have their own personal space. I fidgeted, looked out the window, read part of an abandoned newspaper and then put its pages back into sequence when I was done. I whipped out my camera and pointed it all around, looking for a good shot. And then I heard a voice coming from someone who had entered my personal space without an invitation.

"Aren't you afraid of getting into trouble for taking photos on BART?"

For a split second I thought it was BART Police. But it wasn't. It was a guy, younger than me, who looked and sounded like he might have been from Thailand.

Puh-leeze, I thought, and just shook my head.

"Are you freelance?"

"No," I said, wanting the conversation to end there.

"Oh, so you work for someone!"

"No." I thought maybe he'd think I didn't understand English when really I just didn't want to breathe his used air.

"I know," he said, "you're pa-pa-rot-zee!" (That was just plain stupid.) He was acting like he'd just met a celebrity and it was making me extra nervous.

I said "What? No." before I remembered that I didn't know English.

"That looks like the kind of camera they use. Is it?"

Of course my camera isn't the kind they use. The guy was a moron. And he kept warning me about getting into trouble for taking photos. So I got out my cell phone and pretended to listen to voice messages, just to end our weird conversation.

We were in the transbay tube where there's no signal at all. But it's the only thing I could think of. I was nervous, sweating and irritated and, for all he knew, was about to detonate a bomb using my new VirginMobile cell phone. I have to admit that I toyed with that idea (the false impression) just to mess with him a little bit. He did watch me the whole time.

So I was rather pleased with myself when he asked me which station I was going to. Mayybe he didn't like the way I was fidgeting with my cell phone and wiping the sweat off my brow. Maybe I looked nervous and it made him nervous. Maybe he wanted to ask me out for a drink. In any event, he got off the train one stop before mine, not bothering to say goodbye. And I was left to wonder what he was really thinking but very glad to be rid of him.

It seeme like most of the time I'm totally invisible when I'm in public. People walk straight into me. But for some reason that day was different. And since I always have my camera with me, I'm guessing it was the sport coat.

If it's going to turn me into a freak magnet, I'll remain unshaven with jeans and T-shirt and regular bed-hair (without gel) like every other hobo on BART.

Going Forward, Facing Backwards

2006-09-27T08:40:00.000-07:00

Last year at this time I was in Washington D.C. attending the national Association of Zoo and Aquarium Docents (AZAD) conference. But that was just my convenient, albeit worthy, cover story.

Let me see. How do I tie two story lines together? I'll start back in 2004. Was it really that long ago? I got an email from someone I've known since 5th grade. She had always been one of my most favorite people and one of only two friends who I had my picture taken with after our high school graduation ceremony. But after that night I lost contact with almost everyone.

Charlene was an exception, but just briefly. I was driving to work at my job as a travel agent in Salt Lake City one morning, scanning the dial for a radio station, when I heard her voice. She was doing the news for a country and western station. I was thrilled for a couple of reasons. First, I missed her friendship and second, it was great knowing that she was putting her exceptional talent to such good use. Her dramatic style, comic timing and delicious personality was what attracted me to her way back in 1968! In fact I thought it was funny that she was doing the news because I knew how hard it was for her to not be funny!

I called her radio station from work and we had a nice chat. But after that came a gap of some twenty five years. That's a long time. Five minutes is a long time sometimes. But during that long, long quarter-century when I managed to lose contact with essentially everyone from my childhood, came a marvelous invention: the Internet!

During those years I was blind to what was happening in the computer revolution. I was selling tickets, loading passengers and baggage onto airplanes at the Oakland, CA airport and working myself into a disabling condition in both arms typing furious using the United Airlines computer systems. One of my friends talked about buying a "Mac" but I had no idea what she was talking about. Other friends started having conversations including words like "email address" and "PC" but it just didn't register. But I do remember wondering why in the world anyone would spend hard-earned money on a home computer just to keep in contact with friends. Ha!

But, lest I digress too far, by the time I got something from Classmates.com in my "snail mail" I must have had some idea what was going on. It made me think about all the people from school and wonder what had become of everyone. But not so much that I felt like I needed to rush out and buy a computer.

Okay, now, fast forward about 14 more years. By then I owned a computer and had learned to search. I had found Charlene's name on Classmates.com but was too cheap to pay their membership fee to get her email address. And because she hadn't contacted me, I figured that: 1-She was as cash-poor as me, or 2-She would have contacted me already if she had cared to.

Those were rough years for me. I avoided class reunions because I was supposed to have been a big movie director by then but only ended up as a travel agent and airline slave. I didn't reach out to anyone because I was ashamed for being a big failure.

That didn't stop me from trying to find out about former classmates and friends though. And Charlene was the one I searched for the most. About two years ago I thought I'd zeroed in on her. But being unable to find a current photo I couldn't be sure. And it didn't make sense that she would be working for a radio station in the Washington D.C. area. I don't know why not, though. I had moved to the west coast.

And at that same time, one day out of the blue, I got an email from her asking me if I was the Jim Webb that she knew. I was so thrilled. And when she said that I was the only person from high school that she wanted to "reunite" with, it felt like blood was percolating up into my head and bringing the rest of my half-dead body back to life. And yes, it was the same person I had found in online searches and she was still in radio, now with an "abc.com" email address!

We wrote back and forth and chatted for hours on AOL Instant Messenger, covering just about everything. Weeks went by. And then came our chance to meet for the first time since that photo was taken.

I went along with Brad on a business trip to New York City and arranged for us to take Amtrak to D.C. afterward, stay with Charlene for a couple of nights and then fly home from there.

Well, that turned out to be a really great trip. And talk about a trip! Charlene's oldest daughter was about the same age as we were when we posed for that graduation photo. I think we both felt like we were in a perpetual commercial for Classmates.com. It was just that good.

When we left, she invited us to come back. At the time I felt like it would be highly unlikely that I'd ever be back in the D.C. area so imagine my surprise when I learned only a few weeks later that the AZAD conference was being hosted by the Washington Smithsonian National Zoo in just a few months! I immediately made plans to attend.

But only a few weeks before the conference I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. It was my first hospital confinement since an emergency unilateral epididymectomy in the early 1980's. But three weeks later I was almost as good as new and flying off to enjoy the company of fellow zoo people, Charlene and her fabulous cats and human family. It was a great trip. (Except for the return flights but I'll save that for another time.)

Oh, I nearly forgot about the other story line.

At the AZAD conference, Emily, the editor of our docent newsletter, was trying to get me to attend a workshop with her relating to editing or writing or something. I felt bad for not going after I said I would but the previous workshops I'd been to were incredibly crowded and overwhelmingly boring. I actually fell while asleep during one of them and if I hadn't been sitting next to a wall I might have hurt myself. But the International Spy Museum and just about everything else in Washington D.C. seemed much more worthwhile.

Thinking back now I have the feeling that Emily has been buttering me up for quite a long time. She just recently managed to get me to agree, without any resistance, to take over as editor of The Scoop after her last edition in 2006.

I should be petrified but I'm not. Just because my most recent practical experience was in 1976 is no reason to panic. All I have to do is learn how to use a computer program and I'm sure the skills I learned as Editor-in-Chief of the Tooele High School Buffalog will be just like riding that proverbial bicycle.

Okay, now I'm petrified. I haven't put that bicycle theory to the test either.

But all of this seems related somehow. All my old friends were so incredibly talented. I thought I was incredibly talented too until after I left Utah and got out into the job market with the rest of the poor cake-eating slobs.

Old friends, new friends - old skills, new applications - dreams of being a film director, making my own movies using a PC - loving animals, working at a zoo - Is it all coming together somehow? Maybe I'm actually going somewhere, possibly in the "right" direction, but just facing backwards.

Uncrowned

2006-09-16T22:58:00.000-07:00

Around noon today I thought I felt something stuck between my teeth. Something didn't feel right and it was on my mind as we headed to San Jose for another visit to Macy's. If there's one kind of trouble I've had enough of in my life it's dental problems.

A few months ago I needed to have a molar "extracted." That means pulled out: tugged, yanked, twisted, pried and sometimes chiseled. Fortunately for me, only the first four techniques were used. It was not pleasant. For the curious, I took photos. They're in a set by themselves on Flickr.

People find it very hard to believe that when I was a kid and needed fillings, my Neanderthalian dentist didn't give anesthetic. I don't know how many times I had to suffer through sessions that seemed to last for hours as the cycle of drilling, screaming, sweating and crying would be followed by a moment of calm only to be followed by the startup of the drill and etcetera. All of this came rushing back to me years later during the movie Marathon Man. His excuse, I found out later, was that "kids are generally more frightened by needles than a little pain."

Asshole.

So I've been there, done that and don't wanna go back there no more. And I've had great luck finding new-age dentists who are more than willing to give as much anesthetic as an elephant would need and one who was very generous with the "gas."

But that's just it. I'm done, or at least I'd like to be. Today I put my finger in my mouth to see if I could figure out what was causing the strange sensation and a crown popped off. Yup. Right next door to ground zero from a few months ago.

I don't get all fainty or grossed out when that happens unless it stinks. Today it didn't. (Last time it did!) No, I see dollar signs and images of my wallet turning inside out and that cute little guy on the Monopoly board in jail - a.k.a. the "poorhouse." And that worries me because horizontal stripes are not flattering when you have a wider than desired torso. Ha! I know. That's out of date. But I positively hate orange clothing too.

With luck I thought I could just scrape out the old cement, clean the tooth, glue it back on and be done. I bought the junk at Long's and came home to work on it only to discover that the stump is a bit decayed. So I'll be calling UCSF on Monday to join the ranks of uninsured, common folk who go to the dental school as subjects for the students to practice on. Hopefully the cement I bought today will keep the loose crown stuck to the tooth until I can get there. I don't want it to come off and choke on it in the night.

Don't get me wrong. They're all thoroughly supervised. It's very refreshing and I have immense respect for everyone there. I just don't like the other patients. They're icky. And I don't like sitting in the waiting room with them. It's a relief when my student dentist comes to the doorway and calls me in.

So here we go again. Will I have it pulled? Crowned? One thing's for sure. I can't chew with two molars missing on one side, not normally at least. Stay tuned.

In other news: The current editor of the Oakland Zoo docent newsletter, Scoop, called today to give me a deadline for an article I need to write for next month's edition. I need to find a plant or tree that is or will be blooming in October to write about and have it done by Monday. Oh, and by the way, she wants me to take over her job in January for the next couple of years. Yikes! Somehow she thinks my ability to take a photo and my experience 30 years ago as Editor-in-Chief of my high school paper are good qualifications. I think she's just desperate to pass the torch.

Mystery: SOLVED

2006-09-12T23:50:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I decided I had to have a haircut and just let my car take me to Alameda since I'm more comfortable there than in San Leandro.

Anyhow, even though I wanted to save money and find a cheap but good haircut somewhere, I decided to go back to Tomo and get a haircut from whomever was available. It didn't matter. I called first and got an appointment with someone whose name I could not understand.

When I arrived, early, I was told that "____" was running late, which was fine with me, but I wanted to know who "____" was so I asked the receptionist to say and then spell the name.

"J a f e t."

Who? I've been going there for years and had never heard that name before. It didn't matter. I was just glad that it was a "he" because I've had bad luck with haircuts from "shes."

It never dawned on me that they'd hired someone to take Joey's space. But that's who Jafet was; his replacement. Things were working out.

I'm still a little concerned about his haircut but he gets big bonus points for:
1- NOT using the electric clippers
2- Having very specific opinions about his style
3- Giving a nice shampoo afterwards

Unfortunately he loses points because:
1- He continually sprayed my head with a bottle that spit more than it sprayed and the water was cold. The collar and back of my shirt (a polo) was drenched by the time I left.
2- My head was so wet with water and gel that I looked like I'd just gotten out of the shower when I left the shop. I don't do my hair like that.

But that's okay because it was his first time. I let new stylists do their thing at first and then let them know what MY specific opinions are all about later.

One of the reasons I told myself it was okay to go back to Tomo was I figured I could get more information about what happened to Joey. And I did.

Jafet told me Joey said he was "over" cutting hair and handed me one of his new business cards. It was one of those ceramics places at the former Southshore Center when you paint and fire your own mugs and stuff.

So the mystery is solved. And now I'm just annoyed. And hurt. Everyone once in a while in life I think I'm worth more than how I'm treated and I really thought I was a decent client and friend. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe it was all about exchanging money for service and nothing more. Boy do I feel stupid. Really foolish.

Joey, good luck with your new business. I thought very highly of your service.

A Major, Major Story

2006-09-10T21:36:00.000-07:00

I'd been in that building before, walking in, limping in, floating in and often without any recollection of how I ended up there. But I haven't really been there in over three years. I only go there when I'm asleep.

A bit of unfinished business in the back of my mind sends a message to another part of my brain that I must return. But I'm asleep. So another part of my psyche panics and puts together a scenario so something is ready for me when I arrive at that place again.

Five years ago I wondered if I was still asleep but, except for one detail, things seemed fairly normal. My window was down a little and the radio tuned to an FM station that didn't broadcast much of anything but music. So it seemed strange that I was hearing people talking. And their words weren't prepared like in a chatty commercial. I turned up the volume.

It was the words "..there's a major, major news story coming out of New York City this morning involving an aircraft that has crashed into the world trade center.." I switched the radio over to AM news, curious about why they were calling it a "major" story. And that's when the music and the cold air on my cheeks left off waking me up ended and unimaginable words entering my sleeping mind took over.

What started in New York City that morning by the light of day replays by night on location in the office building on Powell Street in San Francisco where I worked.

The idea of writing about my dreams here, in this blog, came to me after my last bad dream. You can't really kill your enemy and be sure it's dead unless you face it and see its severed head.
Although the end of my career at United Airlines was probably already in the cards, the closing of our office and furlough of everyone there is indelibly linked to the events of 9/11. We lost planes and passengers that day in the most terrible way imaginable. Any time a passenger is hurt or killed or a plane crashes, the entire aviation industry "family" grieves as if it was their own customer or crewmember or airplane. It's the hideous opposite of what you work for every day.

The first time it happened to me, as an official member of the airline industry family, was just after I was hired by United. A former PSA employee pulled out a gun and shot people aboard a flight from LA to SFO causing the plane to crash and kill everyone on board who survived his rampage. The newsflash came across the TV while I was in the break room.

First I was sickened and then angry. And I was afraid something like that might happen at United. Within hours I asked the first management-type person who came by what we would do if something like that happened at UA.

So I guess the real nightmares started a long time ago, certainly a long time before 2001. My innocence ended when that PSA flight went down. And that overwhelming sadness happened many times between 1987 and 2001.

But 9/11 was all I could stand. It put me over the edge. It was over. I'd had enough. From that day on it was like the world had ended and I'd been left behind to suffer with the sinners.

For the first week most of us were drawing emergency power from an unknown resource somewhere deep inside that kept us functioning even though the world was in chaos. We reported for duty, put on the headsets and did our jobs or what seemed like out job should be. We talked, typed, reassured, listened. Dear God in Heaven above, how we listened! People cried, babbled, pleaded and screamed at us.

First the planes started taking off again, and we felt relieved. Then the cancellations started pouring in and it felt like our future was being drained through a huge crack somewhere. The schedules started getting cut. Managers moved about the office with pale faces, sometimes repeating what they'd heard in meetings about how much money we were losing every day.

Our survival was in question.

It took a few weeks but I started getting sick. Every morning as I passed the spot where I first heard those words, "..a major, major news story.." I became physically ill. My hands went numb and my head felt like it was floating in a lake at night, detached from my body. My stomach churned as the profile of the San Francisco skyline became visible and the horizon brightened with the approach of the sun and another day.

I don't know how many times I threw up on the way to work. The first time it happened I made it off the Bay Bridge and down to a city street where nobody could see me before hurling out my car window. But I didn't always make it that far. It became routine. I had to look for new streets to turn onto because I didn't want to start drawing an audience.

Did I tell anyone? Did anyone ask how we were? I don't remember. But I do remember management passing out a paper with lists of the warning signs of stress and depression. But airline people are tough and don't often seek help. There's a lot of pressure to just "handle it," especially at the airports in the customer service area.

Now it's the five-year anniversary of 9/11. And I don't care to make it a landmark sort of anniversary because I don't want to go through it all again. It's been regurgitated so many times by the president and his people that I want to scream. Something holy has been stolen and made to do to unholy things for the people that want to benefit from its power.

I only want the past to realize that it doesn't belong in my dreams any more. I don't want to go back to the building on Powell Street by day or night. My subconscious needs to realize that it's over. The job is done.

But like the other night, I end up back in that building. Sometimes I go back to get something I left behind and find other people secretly still working there. I've dreamt that I'm still working and nothing has changed except that I've somehow acquired the ability to levitate and I go happily about, floating from office to office only to realize my folly and suddenly lose my power and end up on the floor at the feet of a supervisor who offers me a piece of her retirement cake.

The other night I was there again and found a whole floor of the building I'd never seen before. I discovered what seemed to be a happy and comfortable apartment that looked like someone had just stepped out for a minute except I knew that it had been many years.

I snooped, just curious at first. And then I started finding things I wanted to keep. There were a couple of hand-made quilts rolled and put away in a closet. I discovered a chair made by a prominent Danish designer. It wasn't usable since the seat was at a 60 degree angle, but I wanted it anyway. And as I made plans to start collecting things I heard voices and realized I was trapped. A realtor was showing the place to a young couple. So I pretended to have the same idea in mind and looked for a way out.

Suddenly a woman burst through a back door and said "I know why you're here! You've come to see my snakes.." She opened up a large cloth bag and hastily brought out a fat grey snake and pushed its head toward mine.

I screamed and ran out the door she came in through, my heartbeat pounding so hard my head hurt.

That's when I woke up, heart beating just like it was in the dream. And I was sweating.

Now I sit here, writing down this nonsense with no obvious way to conclude. I must still sleep though I rarely awake feeling refreshed. The joys and demons of my waking life are still at odds with each other like adversaries on a giant Teeter Totter. At times I want to be dead and finished with all this. But I know there's still something still out there waiting to be discovered. I don't know if it's a person or belief or some kind of understanding. I just know that I'm still not finished here and if 9/11 happens a hundred more times before I figure out what it is, I'll have to survive them all.

Ha! I remember when I asked my mom if I could take something of hers to school for show-and-tell in second grade. It was a huge, rough garnet still embedded in stone. She told me "Yes, but if you lose it, don't come home."

Sometimes I feel like I'm searching for that garnet.

The Boys of Summer

2006-09-06T00:09:00.000-07:00

After I learned that our friend was bringing her two young boys to the house for Labor Day, I had some time to let it all sink in and come up with a plan.

The youngest one never was too much of a problem but the oldest is another story. He earned the nicknames of "Damien," "Little Nicky," and others that I've forgotten because his behavior was so bad that he could only be the spawn of Satan. Only a child of such lineage could scream for hours on end, create havoc at every step and then perform a grand finale of such magnitude that I'm surprised the lights stayed on.

But things have improved. I suspect his mother is medicating him but it's possible that he's just growing up. In the old days I'd guess that Dad had "knocked some sense into him" but that probably isn't the case.

I guess my exposure to children at the zoo has had a remarkable effect on me. Now that I realize they're actually quite cute and fun and very, VERY precious, once again I'm back to wishing that I had some in my life so that I could experience at least a small amount of what it's like to have my own. It would have been easier when I was younger and I don't really like it when kids think I'm elderly, but I can't blame them. I move like I'm 95 years old.

Anyway, I thought taking the kids to the pool could be fun so I called up their mom the day before and extended the invitation. This would accomplish a few things:
1- Give their mom and our other guests some relief,
2- Increase the chances that our "things" would survive their visit,
3- Be a right nice thing for me to do,
4- Give me the chance to prove I can be trusted.

As it turned out, they couldn't wait to go and from their point of view couldn't get ready soon enough. Their mom told them I had her authority to "spank" them if they misbehaved and I added "or hold you under" quietly so she couldn't hear. And off we went for the fairly long walk past all the garage doors, through the three locked gates to the pool, the two boys talking simultaneously and incessantly the whole way.

I didn't ever intend to get in the water with them. I am too white, jiggly and hideous to be seen without clothes. But once we arrived I did pull off my shoes and socks and sit with my feet in the water. It was a beautiful day and the pool refreshingly cool. The kids didn't waste any time getting in but almost immediately I realized there was a problem. Those damn wasps that are plaguing the complex right now are also landing in the water. And I don't blame the kids for not wanting to get into the water with a bunch of floating bugs.

The youngest didn't have much of a problem. He was restricted to the steps where he could hold on anyway. But the older of the two was kind of a sissy about it. (I think he's going to have a full resume of issues for a future psychologist.) I took a couple of dead wasps out with my hands and promised that was all of them, something I realized at the time I had absolutely no authority to do, and told him to git swimmin. But the older boy kept saying there were still more bees in the pool.

And, yes, they both just kept talking. Talking talking talking talking until I nearly started belting out an Ethel Merman song as loud as I could.

Realizing that he was right and my eyesight was pure crap, I found the pool cleaning net and started plucking live and dead wasps out of the pool. It was a losing battle, though, because the stupid things seemed to land in the water as fast as I'd pluck them out. So I gave up.

I was sad about being so self-conscious because I really wanted to shed my clothes and get in the water. I don't suppose the kids would have said anything about my scary body. I even fantasized about being in such great shape and so totally uninhibited that I would pull of my shirt, drop my pants and jump in wearing only my cute black briefs. (Who would care about that?) I've known and admired people who are at ease with themselves like that.

I took some photos of the kids (but can't post them because their mom said "no") and several of half-drowned and dead wasps. The youngest boy didn't understand what "don't put your grimey little fingers on my lens" and "you splash this camera and it'll be the LAST thing you do" meant. (tee hee hee, not really) Finally I got the younger one to get out of the pool, got them both dried off and we went back to the house. They were then back in their mother's custody after a report on their excellent behavior.

Later, we were all in the kitchen. Their mom (who also just kept talking talking talking talking talking) was helping with dishes and stuff and the kids started to get in the way. The litle pre-schooler got caught throwing fridge magnets at the cat. (bad Karma!) That's when I amazed even myself. Brace yourselves, friends who know me well. I took him into the living room, hugged him and said I loved him just as much as I love my cat and would never throw anything at HIM. Then we plopped down in front of the TV and watched cartoons.

A little while later he held my hand, hugged me and said "I love you."

When they were gone and the house was quiet again, it felt empty. I found myself thinking, for a while, that maybe my life has been a big selfish waste of time. But I just couldn't live a day longer if I believed that to be true. So, true or not, in the interest of life I will deny it.

PROUD TO BE FROM UTAH

2006-09-01T11:46:00.001-07:00

There's a title you don't see very often unless it's accompanied by a photo of some big-haired woman or a family of 96 gathering for Sunday dinner.

On Thursday, the mayor of Salt Lake City spoke the truth while George Bush was there, playing it safe in a safe place in a safe state. If I still lived anywhere within driving distance to SLC I would have been at the protest where Mayor Rocky Anderson gave a passionate speech that "tells it like it is."

I know what it's like to be on both sides. I understand completely the notion of being a faithful follower. But what so many people in Utah and elsewhere have forgotten is that when the leaders have strayed off course, it's up to the people to do something about it. NO BLIND FAITH.

Usually a reference to Utah is a joke. I've lived with them all my life. You can hear them coming after "you're from Utah?" People have all kinds of wacky ideas. After today my attitude is "YES!"

Please take a few minutes and read what Mayor Anderson had the guts to say with the president just a few blocks away. It's brilliant.

http://www.slcgov.com/mayor/speeches/2006%20speeches/SPdemonstration83006.pdf
or watch it here:
http://kutv.com/video/?id=18850@kutv.dayport.com

Thank you.

Bad Movies, Bad Gas, Hair and Brunch

2006-08-29T01:33:00.000-07:00

No word about or from Joey. I had Brad call Tomo tonight and see if he could pump the receptionist for information. All she told him was that Joey is "no longer cutting hair." Crap. So I'm one step closer to writing to Joe Ducey at channel 4 to see what HE plans to do.

Dad called the other night. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds and then caught up really fast because he never calls any more. But he was just letting me know that his computer was sick again and was going out for repair. How inconvenient! We'll have to actually resort to writing or calling if we want to communicate. I don't even know how I would go about writing a letter the old fashioned way. Certainly I wouldn't use a pen and paper.

Sunday was one of the most miserable days in recent memory. I haven't felt well since returning from the road trip. My foot pain (plantar fasciitis) is back and just killing me. I had to take constant pain meds to get through the trip but I stopped when we got home. And I feel excessively tired too. I'm like a junkie when I travel. I wash Vicodin down with gallons of Dr. Pepper and the combination seems to keep me going.

Anyhow, Sunday I felt like crap but had to spiff up a bit to celebrate a birthday with friends.

I was so swolen that I couldn't wear the shirt I picked out and had to find another. And I made the mistake of wearing briefs that were one size too small. I just wasn't thinking. And of course brunch was a buffet and I was determined to get my money's worth. Ugh. I thought I would explode. And the nice shoes I wore felt like bricks. I spent the day walking like Robbie the Robot but with a giant swolen gut.

Then we went to see a movie. In retrospect we made the 2nd best choice available. Idlewild. The SFGate little man, I read later, was merely in his seat at attention. We could have gone to see Little Miss Sunshine for which the little man is out of his seat clapping. But who knew. We didn't anticipate going to a movie or I would have done some research. The rest of the 75 movies playing at the megagargantuaplex in Dublin were pure crap. Idlewild had redeeming elements and wasn't that bad, but was, overall, a thumbs down in my humble opinion.

I'm ashamed of myself. I don't go to as many movies as I should and the ones I DO go to are really, really bad. Prior to Sunday, we saw The Devil Wears Prada on July 23rd. Yup, my birthday. At least the theater was cool. It was 115 degrees outside so I guess the $10.50 for 2 hours of comfort was kinda sorta worth it in a way. (But it sure was stupid.)

And folks, prior to July 23rd 2006 the previous movie I went out to see was July 23rd 2005. Brace yourselves. The choice was Willie Wonka or War of the Worlds with that homely twit who, in my physician's words, sucks the life out of every movie he's in, Tom Cruise. I chose War of the Worlds. And what a piece of crap THAT was. I think it was released on DVD that same afternoon and long forgotten by the next day.

How many days hath August? I never learned that 19th century ditty. Oh good. I have a couple more days to get my car smogged. What a racket that is.

And as I ramble to a close, tonight I go to bed angry, once again, about the GM conspiracy to eliminate all electric trolleys in America and replace them with filthy, gas guzzling exhaust belching busses. Yes, that's old news but it was such a horrendous crime against nature and a filthy backroom political deal that I think GM should be forced somehow to bring trolleys back to every city they screwed with their bus deal.

No, I'm not hallucinating. I've heard about this before but tonight an episode of History Detectives on PBS brought the subject up again. http://www.pbs.org/opb/historydetectives/investigations/410_electric_car.html

There. Almost every day I think to myself that the world is really screwed up. We're doomed. And I don't know where to go for a good haircut. I'm tempted to just get out the Wahl clippers and cut it all off except that I doubt it would make me feel any better.

Fat, Old AND Bald?

2006-08-15T21:07:00.000-07:00

Day 2.
No word from Joey. I'm starting to hear from people who think that "bald is in." They're saying "Go for it" even when I remind them how I looked the last time I got happy with the Wahl clippers.

This photo was taken 5 years ago at the Volcano House on the big island of Hawaii. The steam vents were clouding up my Armanis. The face is now a bit fatter and the moustache is mostly gray. I'm looking old.

Let's just try this all in a sentence:
Have you seen Jim lately? He's looking very fat, old and bald.

Sorry. That doesn't work for me. I haven't given up on finding Joey because I'd rather hear "Oh look! There's that fat, old Jim with the great haircut."

HELP ME!

"Joey doesn't work here any more."

2006-08-14T23:32:00.000-07:00

"Joey doesn't work here any more." Those were the words that have sent my world wobbling on its axis.

I called Tomo in Alameda this afternoon with my fingers crossed, hoping to make an appointment for a haircut either tomorrow afternoon or Wednesday. I never know what to expect. I could hear "Joey's on vacation" or "His first available appointment is September 19th" or "What time would be good for you?" But today's bad news took me quite by surprise. The receptionist didn't offer any further information and I didn't ask although I should have. Maybe I'll call back tomorrow and see what I can find out.

Before I start to panic or mourn, I need more information. Fortunately I have his email address and, yes, I wrote. And as I did I started worrying about not getting an answer. What if he doesn't want to cut my hair any more and doesn't write back? Should I have been a bigger tipper? Over several years of regular and faithful patronage I only went there with slept-in hair ONE time.

I've only had three excellent relationships with stylists (is that the right word?)over the last 30 years. Joey has been cutting my hair for several years. Prior to that was a man who had a heart attack one day on the way to work and crashed his car into a concrete wall. They weren't sure which caused his death. And before that was Andi, the brightest of them all. She gave me a mullet before they were trendy. I had Tom Bailey's hair before The Thompson Twins were famous. But she left town to move on to Hollywood and I never saw her again.

Granted, I could save a lot of money by being less fussy about my hair. I seldom comb it anyway. Maybe I should invest in a Flowbee, if they're still available, and master it. Shaving the head is a last option. I came very near to trying that once and it wasn't pretty. I ended up scaring a whole shipload of people and one of my best friends who hadn't seen me in a while. Sorry, Leslie. Oh, and sorry about scaring you with the pierced nipples too. They're long gone now, in case you didn't know. (The jewelry, not the nipples.)

So I may have to go out looking for a new cosmetologist. (Is that the right word?) Since I know that channel 4's Joe Ducey also sees Joey, I may have to find out what he plans to do. Maybe we can split the cost of a Flowbee and do each other with it.

Night Bandits

2006-08-11T01:47:00.000-07:00

Tonight I can't upload a photo because I didn't take a picture. I couldn't. I locked myself out of the house even though the little voice in my head was screaming "put your keys in your pocket!"

I was watching the BBC news reports about the foiled terror plot. It was just about midnight and the cats were sleeping on the back of the sofa like bookends. I heard a crash that seemed to come from outside. Cats are great at times like this because they tend to look directly at where the sound comes from. Well both of them were looking at the front door, wide-eyed and sort of frozen in time. I thought it was a broken window so I headed outside to the courtyard to see what it was.

On the way out I thought I'd adjusted the lock so I could get back in. That's when the voice in my head told me to get my keys in kind of a "don't say I didn't tell you" tone of, uh, imagined voice. But I didn't know yet that the door locked behind me.

I headed out into the courtyard we share with two other neighbors and the first thing that caught my eye, expecting to see burglars or a broken window, was the shadows of several small creatures coming down the stairway across the way. They were the cutest raccoons you ever saw and the littlest ones weren't much bigger than my cats.

They walked across the path and went about 5 feet up a tree, stopped and looked at me. They were only a few feet away and I could hear them breathing. So I started talking to them like they were my pets. "You're bad little boys aren't you! Yes you are! What did you break you naughty, naughty critters?" There were plants, soil, broken things and a basket all down the stairway and a basket that had probably bounced several times before landing near the mailboxes.

These raccoons stole my heart. They were adorable and probably quite tame. And they just stayed there in the bottom branches of the tree saying "take our picture!" But when I hurried to get my camera, that's when I realized I was locked out. My neighbor had heard the clatter and had now come outside to see what was the matter. I was ringing the doorbell repeatedly trying to wake Brad up, to no avail. Eventually he woke up and came downstairs to let me in, looking really scary, and didn't bother to ask what the "situation" was outside that got me locked out in the first place. He DID notice that there were 8 phone messages and said "who's been calling?" Uh, that would have to be me, using the neighbors cell phone trying to wake the dead.

Tomorrow he'll wonder who called his cell phone about ten times at midnight.

The Work of Relaxation

2006-08-09T00:37:00.000-07:00

The camping trip, the camping trip. I mentioned to a few people that we were going on another one of our camping trips and now everybody wants to know how it went. Did I make it sound like it was going to be memorable?

I promised someone that my photos would make it seem like they had been there too. Whoa! Where did I get that kind of confidence? And it's so not true. I censor my own photos to such an extent that you get a different, but not entirely wrong, impression of the truth. It's a skill.

This is the point where I intended to upload a photo but due to some technical problem, it seems I'm unable. This happens frequently and it really bugs me. Could it be me?

So the thing that made this camping trip different was that we (we?) invited 4 other friends to join Sam, Steve, Brad and myself for the weekend. And it couldn't have turned out better. We had two adjacent campsites each with a picnic table and fire pit. One of the tables was situated in the center of a ring of redwoods. That's where we set up the gazebo and main cooking and dining area. The gazebo keeps stuff from falling on the food and, in sunnier campsites, keeps us shaded. On the other end at our campsite we used the fire pit for after dinner socializing and S'more making. This time we remembered to take a broom and so I went about sweeping all around the tables and even made a path between the redwoods going between the two sites. Of course our plastic pink flamingos were there to show the way!

The best part of the trip, for me, was the long stroll on Saturday afternoon on a trail that goes down to and along the stream. We'd camped there one other time a few years ago and I've been kicking myself ever since because I didn't take my video camera. So I was happy this time to find that it was as beautiful as I remembered and took quite a few still photos with my digital camera.

At the bottom of the trail when you first reach the stream, there's a wide bend where people were out playing and swimming with their kids. I watched for a while and then noticed a group of ducks in the shadows of the ferns who seemed to be trying to swim upstream but were a little wary of the humans in their path. A few minutes after I started walking along the path I heard a lot of flapping and splashing and turned to see the ducks going upstream like they'd lit a rocket. I managed to snap a couple of photos as they disappeared around the bend.

I also enjoyed watching a red dragonfly take off from its perch over the water, do a figure 8 recon flight over the stream and return to the same perch. I watched it do this same routine over and over again. It was too far away to get a good closeup shot but I tried. Later I found a small blue dragonfly on a rock in the middle of the water and snapped his photo too, discovering after getting home that there was a fly on the rock too.

I was gone so long that I missed lunch. But that wasn't an issue for me because we'd eaten a big breakfast, something I don't usually do. The thing about camping is you have to start dinner early or you end up eating, cleaning up and doing dishes in the dark. "Quiet Time" is usually 10PM and I'm a real bitch when it comes to conforming to that rule. When I want to go to bed, I want it quiet so I insist that if people are going to be up past 10PM that they be extremely quiet, just for common courtesy. I've been known to shout at people who make too much noise, even total strangers.

The hardest thing about camping, for me, is the work involved with packing up, unpacking, and setting up all in the same day and doing the same in reverse on the going home day. Maybe that's why I haven't written about the trip until now. I was still tired from the work of relaxation.

The Cake Story and the Story of the Cake

2006-07-27T13:27:00.000-07:00

(Click on the photo for a larger version. Give your eyes a break!)

Thanks again, Leslie and Macario (and Emma Rose) for the thoughtful birthday gift.

(The following is an excerpt from Leslie's Blog)

That backstory is that a few summers back Jim and his friend were in Hawai'i, going around the islands on a cruise, and hung out with us the day their ship was in port at Hilo. It happened to be Jim's birthday, and I baked him a pineapple upside down cake, with pineapple from our garden, and it was a hit.

This year I told Jim to come over for his birthday and I'd bake him another one, and when he wouldn't/couldn't/didn't, I went online and sent him a pineapple upside down cake.

For awhile it was an "alleged" birthday gift, as he describes it, because there was some discrepancy between my definition of "overnight delivery" (over one night) and the company's (one day after they actually send it out for delivery, whenever that happens to be). So after awhile I asked Jim if something from me had arrived and then for days we chatted about the "alleged birthday gift" --without him knowing what it was (he was worried it was going to be a bunch of hula dancers doing a singing telegram).

It finally showed up at his doorstep today. I loved getting to see "the rest of the story" in photos.

Aunt Ardis

2006-07-26T01:26:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of trouble trying to upload photos to this blasted blog. Maybe that's one of the reasons I'm up so late because I try over and over and over again like I'm standing at the slot machines.

All I wanted to do tonight was post the obituary photo of my Aunt Ardis. She passed away in the early hours of the morning on July 23rd, much to the relief of the members of the family that wanted her suffering from Alzheimer's to end. She was 87 years old and lived an exemplary life of service and dedication to her family and church.

She was born in a rural setting and at a time when infant mortality was much higher. After her birth in 1919, her mother lost her next two infants in 1920 and 1921 shortly after they were born. The next child was my Aunt Beulah followed by Calvin, my father, and then Delma Jean, Elva, Fay (who died from polio in 1951), Gary and Herbert. Notice anything? All of the children who survived infancy were named in alphabetical order. I'll have to get the whole story on that.

I remember hearing stories about them taking Uncle Fay to Salt Lake City straight from the farm when he got sick and how he was frightened by the elevator. He was only 19. Sadly, polio landed him in an iron lung. He never recovered and his death affected his family deeply. My dad was 27 when he lost his little brother. He'd made it through WWII but nothing he could do could save his brother from a tiny virus.

Ardis is the first sibling since Fay to pass on. That was 55 years ago.

But my family has a rich pioneer heritage. It's one of those family history situations that can make you question if you really have what it takes to belong. People sacrificed to come to this country. They suffered plagues, famines, intolerance, hard work and meager circumstances. Their church called on them for further service, sacrifice and dedication. Yet the family stayed together and is still together. I'm the one who's on "the road not taken" and yet I still value all the things I've been taught. Though I've chosen a different path, I'm awfully proud of my family and respect the glue that holds us all together.

http://www.legacy.com/saltlaketribune/Obituaries.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=18605579

An Inconvenient Heat Wave

2006-07-25T15:09:00.000-07:00

The heat..the heat. It was fun at first, then it got ridiculously hot and has stayed hot. I haven't ever felt heat like this here in California. I wonder what the cats are thinking when they're stretched out downstairs on the floor like a sweater that's been laid out to dry. There are things I'd like to do but can't stand the profuse sweating. So I just sit quietly.

Last night the fog came in and the outside temperature dropped to around 60°. It felt great downstairs but the upstairs bedrooms stayed hot. There wasn't enough of a breeze to clear out the hot air. The fan didn't do much. It was still 75° inside when I woke up this morning at 7AM.

And now it's hot again. But the all time worst heat I've ever felt was on my birthday, last Sunday, when we left San Leandro at 2PM to go to Baker's Square in Pleasanton for lunch and a piece of banana cream pie. It was an unbearable 95° here but the temperature continued to rise as we got closer to the restaurant until it hit an unbelievable 115°. Un-be-lieve-able.

The restaurant was very comfortable. The pie was good. I'd been craving it for a long time. But when we walked outside it was like a blast furnace and this time I mean that as a literal analogy and not just an exaggerated description. As we drove home I kept thinking about that Twilight Zone episode where the world is being consumed by heat. Yikes. What a way to go.

The heat made me cranky but so did the fact that I spent $10.50 to see The Devil Wears Prada. That's a high price just to get some relief from the heat. I wanted to see An Inconvenient Truth but wasn't assertive enough to make that happen. At least that would have been more appropriate.

Somehow I came across an article about a U.S. Senator from Oklahoma who is still denying the whole global warming thing. Senator Jim Inhofe (R) ((of course)). He refutes every bit of evidence and says it's a mass conspiracy. What an idiot. He won't even concede that (even if it's a hoax) things like better gas mileage, alternative energy, cleaner air and lower emissions are a good thing and something we need to do.

See: http://www.tulsaworld.com/NewsStory.asp?ID=060722_Ne_A1_Heatw72040

My brother ended up in Oklahoma a few years ago. I was very distressed by that. He doesn't like it there and I hope he can leave A.S.A.P.. But until then, I hope he has the good sense to vote this guy out of office! Oh, dear Lord, I hope he doesn't support this idiot!!!

Blackmail and Eternal Friendship

2006-07-21T22:04:00.000-07:00

If you hear from a friend who says he/she has some "heinous" photos of you from a long time ago, what do you think your first reaction would be? Blackmail?

Several years ago in a happier time and place when I worked for United Airlines at OAK, I joined two of my friends and co-workers for a weekend in Honolulu. The photo above was taken as we taxied to the runway. Obviously Julie had been drinking before checking in at the airport. On the other hand, I must have been suffering from malnutrition back then. Yikes.

During the flight, I must have loosened up a bit myself! I do not remember this photo being taken but I do remember explaining to the girls what a "swimmer's jock" was.

We found a cheap hotel room and planned to go snorkeling at Hanauma Bay. Apparently these weren't the only photos taken that I had completely forgotten about.

The hotel room was one of the saddest little hovels I've ever seen. I can't remember the name but it was a hostel, I think, intended mainly for Japanese tourist students. We paid for two beds and a rollaway. I, being the luckiest, got the rollaway. No, it was I, being the MAN, who got the rollaway. Ha!

I wouldn't have fit on the bed anyway. They were only 4 feet long. At least that's what I thought until we realized that they were pushed under a table at one end. The room itself was a big problem. You'd have thought that a room with two beds and a kitchenette would be large enough for three people, right? Of course. No. Not at all.

It was tiny. The rollaway was too large for the room. It took up all the available floor space including the entry a.k.a. the kitchenette. So I had to use the mattress to sleep on the floor where my feet ended up under Anne's bed, one of my arms under Julie's and the other arm, if extended, went into the bathroom. My head was down the hall in the kitchenette.

Waking up crippled and miserable, Julie took pictures of me trying to make coffee. For some reason she gets a big kick out of these images.

(Well, I have one or two she might get a kick out of too. But since she just send me a nice birthday card, I won't post them..)

I had never snorkeled before and had never planned to. I'll never forget trying to walk with flippers on and then trying to float/swim with flippers on. If you take a close look, my feet already qualified as flippers anyway so they really weren't necessary.

But don't we look darling standing there with our faces all scrunched up in those little masks!

This must havebeen taken before we got into the water because after being in the water, to my horror, my trunks were 90% transparent revealing that alluring "swimmer's jock" I had been showing off on the plane.

Okay. "How I Learned To Breathe Through a Snorkel" happened when I finished practicing and actually got horizontal and started floating around looking at cool stuff. The very first thing I saw was an eel. I panicked like a little girl with a bug in her hair. I just started screaming into my snorkel pipe which must have sounded like part of the soundtrack from "Exorcist." I remember splashing, trying to swim/float backwards and get away. I'll never forget its beady little eyes looking up at my big buggy eyes on the other side of the snorkel mask I'd spit into and rubbed down to make the view clearer, as instructed by the girls. It was an awful sight, above and below sea level.

It took some coaxing but I did go back out again but never where I couldn't immediately just stand up and run back to the beach across the top of the coral if need be.

Ah, it was a beautiful day and one that we all remember well. Anne, unfortunately, has since passed on ahead of us. But we will be friends eternally and when I catch up I'm going to be so proud that I never, ever showed the picture I took of her in that hotel room to another living soul. (She made me promise.) She's tough and, yes, she scared me a little.

Bizarre! and, once again, George Bush is a Retard

2006-07-20T01:44:00.000-07:00

I really suck when it comes to maintaining a regular blog. I've been dividing my efforts writing too much description in the photos I upload to flickr. Well, not really. But sometimes when I'm typing away I think, "I could use this on that damn blog that nobody reads."

That reminds me of my mother again. She referred to my blog once as my "blob" and I just ignored it thinking she was trying to be funny. I haven't always been able to tell when she was trying to be funny and when she was just funny by default.

Once my sister was instructed to go downstairs and get a loaf of bread out of the freezer that she'd bought at the church bazaar. A few minutes later I heard laughing. She called me downstairs to ask if I knew which loaf of bread she wanted; the one that was obviously a loaf of bread or the one with the little label marked "bizarre bread."

Okay so the really big news, besides the gigantic spider I nearly got eaten by and managed to kill on the patio, is that this Sunday is my 48th birthday. It's safe to make that announcement here because nobody reads this anyway. It's kind of amazing to me that it's 2006 and all of us are still alive. I mean, we haven't blown up the planet yet. I used to think that December 31st, 1999 would be the last chance we would have to bend over and kiss our asses goodbye. Well, considering the news lately, maybe the last chance is still coming. I mean George Bush has done more than any one person in a thousand years to usher in the Millenium than anyone I can think of. What a retard. I'm so ashamed of him. Everyone I know who expresses an opinion just about chokes on their own vomit when his name comes up. He'll have us all learning Farsi before Spanish, you mark my words.

So where was I? Ah, yes. Getting old. It's a bitch looking 45ish but feeling 75ish. And this brings up the other subject. Leslie in Hawaii (as opposed to the Leslie not in Hawaii) has encouraged me to write a totally anonymous blog where I feel free to just let it all out without having to worry about anything other than letting all my feelings out. It would be therapy. The only problem is I couldn't tell anyone about it because then I'd be too inhibited. The proper way to do it would be to write it, have people find out about it some backasswards way and then everybody can pretend they don't know about it and I can deny it with plausability in case someone is so gauche as to mention it. Ha! That reminds me of Will's family (of "Will and Grace") and how they "handle things."

Enough for now. I've got to go read another blog so my life doesn't seem so bad. It's written by a woman who gives birth about every 6 months, according to my calculations.

The Response

2006-07-12T17:00:00.000-07:00

A few days I wrote about a nasty situation at the Chelsea Premium Outlet Mall in Vacaville, CA. For a refresher, please see "Photography is Not a Crime."

Today, taking me by surprise, I actually received a response. Predictably, though, it was unapologetic and actually misrepresented the circumstances by which they were made aware of my violation of their "code of conduct."

Code of conduct? Who are they kidding? Who goes shopping realizing that they are doing so under implied consent of a code of conduct?

Here's the letter:

click on it for a better view or see: http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=188397227&size=o

Just by coincidence, last weekend we stopped at another one of their fabulous outlet malls in Napa (mostly because we had to pee) and I noticed that the management office was right next to the rest rooms. I noticed a document taped to the window that turned out to be exactly what this letter is referring to. If it was much larger than a standard sheet of paper, it wasn't by much. It's not exactly something that would stop shoppers in their tracks and say, "Gee, I hope I'm acting within the mall's code of conduct!"

It was about 102° outside. I was hot, tired and miserable. I SHOULD have taken a photo of the document because it was fairly thorough. What was most interesting was the first 16 items on the list. It included things like shouting, causing disturbances, doing illegal things and other stuff I can't remember. Number 17 must not be very serious because it was near the bottom of the list.

I had asked Chelsea for the complete list but, obviously, didn't get it. SO I will be FORCED to take a photo of the list the next time we are at one of their FABULOUS malls.

Now just for clarification, the only reason it "came to their attention" that I was at their Vacaville mall taking photos is because I wrote to them and said so. Their employees have no way of knowing who I was.

They may get to know me in the future, however.

Does any of this sound totally ridiculous?

A Burning Black Blob of Black Smoke and Bl, uh, Flames

2006-07-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

Traffic is unpredictable at any time and so I've learned to dial 511 to check for driving times and find out what incidents might need to be avoided.

511 is an automated system that calculates driving time between certain points in the SF Bay area using the bridge toll transponders that we keep on our windshields. It's a clever system. Aside from the potential issue of literally being tracked, it allows people to get an up-to-the-minute report on what's happening on the highways.

Yesterday I wasn't surprised to find a slowdown on the 880/980 Northbound interchange in Oakland because the system reported a slowdown there. But I was surprised to find a burning car. You don't see those every day. But I've seen several and they always make me wonder "why."

With my camera at my side and wishing my windshield was cleaner, I put down all the windows, got my camera ready and started taking pictures when I saw that something was burning and putting out a lot of smoke ahead:

And then I realized that I was about to drive right into the smoke with all my windows open. But I didn't think to hold my breath. I just wanted a few good photos.

But in the end, all I really got was my lungs full of black smoke that smelled like burning plastic and rubber and a photo of a ball of flames as I drove by:

I can guess what the causes of car fires are. I've seen some scary ones along the freeways in hot and cold weather. They must be frightening for the people in the car. And cars must not blow up as easily as they do on TV where when one little thing goes wrong and BANG the car blows up. Still, I'm curious about car fires. I'd like to see a documentary on them some day with profiles of the people and their cars.

Easy as Dell and an Icky Thing at a Happy Place

2006-07-06T00:15:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was on the phone for a loooooong time with a tech support agent at Dell. He did such a fine job diagnosing and solving my issue(s) that I'm still awestruck by the depth of his knowledge and the massive amount of assistance I got that I didn't even expect. He saved me a lot of money, too, and for that I'm extremely grateful.

Thank you, SHAILEN 01115972, for excellent customer service. You really did make it "Easy as Dell."

The situation at the Vacaville outlet mall kept me awake the other night. Only tonight did I start to feel better after receiving a few comments from other Flickr photographers who commented on my situation. Yes, Gary, I think we should converge on that stupid mall with video camera, tripods, cameraphones, Brownies (the camera; but fudge would be good too), and a KUTV Channel 2 news crew complete with reporter, cameras and a satellite link. Bastards. And no, I haven't heard anything back from management yet. Do you think I will?

At the zoo yesterday (July 4th) I witnessed something kind of icky. It was unexpected and violent. The zoo is supposed to be such a happy place and we forget that in nature animals eat each other all the time. Well, what I witnessed wasn't quite THAT bad but it was a bit shocking. So I've decided to mention it here and include a photo so that you, too, can enjoy life at the zoo.

Everything was lovely late in the afternoon. I was doing some "Primate Patrol" keeping the crowds under control around the chimps and the gibbon and siamangs' islands. Across from them the two pairs of blue and gold macaws were sitting in their shacks grooming each other and playing kissy face all day.

I noticed a squirrel jump into their exhibit and examine some of the stuff the keepers left out for the birds to bite, shred and play with. Then it headed for the inhabited shacks where the food is. There was a very loud shreek, a flurry of activity and the squirrel came running out again but not before suffering a bite to the left foreleg.

So of course I took some photos. Most of them didn't come out right because my settings were wrong but I got one good one of the poor fella just before he returned to the shack for another raid.

You can clearly see the wound.

I feel bad for him/her but to go back and risk it again left me quite astonished. It's leg was obviously useless. And the second time the macaws just let him take their food.

Strange.

Everything's new to me. I reported it to someone later and she said "they do that all the time." Really! I should carry the video camera too for some really entertaining reports.

PHOTOGRAPHY IS NOT A CRIME

2006-07-03T09:17:00.000-07:00

You're looking at what I saw as my parting glance after being harassed while trying to take simple, general interest photos at the Chelsea Outlet mall in Vacaville, California yesterday.

I'm way past being sick of people in little golf carts with uniforms and radios bothering me while trying to set up and take innocuous photos of things that in no way relate to any security, commercial license or legality issues. This time I've contacted the management company, asked for their written policy to examine for personal interest reasons and to scrutinize it for legality questions.

What's the big deal about taking photos in true public space and what the general public assumes is public space anyway? So what if you're on the sidewalk and want to take a photo of your friends in front of the Sanrio store or, in my case, are practically laying on the ground to get a unique photo of a fire hydrant?

Yesterday I noticed the color yellow for some reason and decided to devote the day to photographing things that were yellow, challenging myself to find interesting interpretations. Earlier in the day I had captured part of a grate in the sidewalk and later on after lunch (which I should also write about separately) I found this bright yellow hydrant across from the restrooms. There were some yellow flowers in the ground cover around it which I captured but didn't publish. And at the same spot was a bright yellow railing/barrier that looked great in the late afternoon light against the black asphalt pavement.

I missed that photo because that's when the first person stopped me. She said she wasn't "security" but was driving a security vehicle and warned me that security wouldn't like it that I was taking photos. I told her that I'm just an amateur photographer and wasn't breaking any laws but if she felt she had to sound the alarm or call in the troops to go ahead but I wanted to go back to work getting the shot of the paint on the railing.

She drove off, obviously in a huff over being talked back to. But I never got the photo I wanted because it was only a couple of minutes later that the real security person in the big truck (pictured above) stopped to ask me what I was taking pictures of. Feeling like it was none of her business but suspecting that it might be her business, I said "yellow things." She responded snidely, "yellow things?."

And so it went. I told her what I was doing and she did her best to tell me that I was prohibited from taking pictures anywhere on the outlet property and that the policy, though not posted anywhere the public can see including on the website, is posted in the management office. I don't remember what happened or who said what but I know she drove off after I suggested that if they don't want people taking pictures they ought to post some signs where people can see and she should go find her superiors and suggest just that and that I would be doing the same which I have.

Of course all during this intercourse I wanted to take pictures of her but was sufficiently intimated out of doing so. And as she drove off I suppressed my desire to yell something obscene and show off my middle finger, taking a fuzzy photo instead.

Probably 75% of people walking around these days is armed with a camera. They range in size from the Hubble telescope down to something small enough to hang from a keychain. They're in cell phones and tiny personal, portable computer devices. Spys have them in their coat buttons and writing pens. Some look like credit cards and mine just looks like an old-fashioned camera. So what's the big deal? We're being watched everywhere we go and in every thing we do. Our cars are watched on the highways and in parking lots. There are eyes on us on the sidewalks and inside stores. Our phone calls are logged and possibly listened to. Our purchases are tracked both in the stores and online. Next time you buy something and the clerk wants your zip code, take their picture and say "tell your boss it's none of your business."

A group of photographers on flickr.com have formed a group called PhotoMOB(ilization) because of the harassment we get for situations like this all the time it seems. Usually it's from pseudo-police who are overly aggressive and are all puffed up with patriotism and 9/11 paranoia.

I hope to hear back from the property management company and if I do, I'll post more info here. Regardless of what might happen next, I'm unscathed and will continue to exercise my right to take photographs. Photography is not a crime and neither is free speech, fortunately.

Magnets and Air Conditioning

2006-06-22T00:43:00.000-07:00

Please tell me I'm not losing my mind. The other night we went out for some pasta at Rigatoni's in Castro Valley and we discovered that the knives and forks are magnetized, as you can see in the photo. This is not a trick. You can attempt to do this at home because I doubt there's any danger.

The spoons, for some reason, wouldn't stick to either the knife or the fork. And nobody thought to check whether knives would stick to knives or forks to forks though having an answer to those questions would have only left us more befuddled.

I worked in food service at one time and I can't think of a single reason why this should be. We mentioned it to our waiter who wasn't in a very talkative mood but he already knew about it.

If only we could look forward to afternoon thunderstorms the heat wouldn't be so bad. But this week started off hot and it's just getting worse. I start to get miserable and feel sick when it starts to get warmer than 72° outside which, by coincidence, is how warm it is outside right now at 1AM. The temperature inside is 76° so I won't be going to bed soon. Those nice flannel sheets are going to have to wait for a while.

Still, there are brave souls who are coming to the zoo with children, pushing those SUV sized strollers up the hill, sweating profusely and some swearing profusely at their kids who seem to be oblivious to both heat and the rigors of walking uphill. It hit 90 yesterday in San Leandro so at the zoo where it's always warmer, it must have been 95. That's hot enough for anyone.

When I picked Brad up at the BART station he said it felt like Las Vegas but I was thinking, "..yeah, on a day with 48% humidity!"

The bengal tigers were playing in the afternoon sun but acting a little grouchy. A large snarl took us off guard as I was talking with two visitors on the upper observation deck, causing us to forget what we were talking about. The camels didn't seem to mind much but would occasionally go over and splash in their little pond. The lions were nowhere to be seen. Other docents were also scarce, all of them giving up and leaving before 1PM. Big, floppy hats are common and today I saw the largest umbrella ever; large enough to cover a family of three.

So until Mother Nature's natural air-conditioning returns, which it will, at least I am glad I've chosen to spend my time at the Oakland Zoo where the animals are respected, the public loves coming there, and nobody minds if you're found sitting in the shade unable to walk any further for a while.

It's only recently that I've seen cactus plants in blossom. Nature inspires me and I hope it's easy to see why. The complexity and detail that can be seen in the cactus flower here astounded me when I leaned over the railing and peeked inside. Every day brings new discoveries, new visitors and new experiences. This is how I imagined "retirement" would be, just not this hot and not this early!

My Jury Duty is Complete

2006-06-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

I've had sneezes that took longer to complete than this year's jury duty. Yesterday I got excited because I was told to call back today between 11 and 12. I let myself imagine that I'd have to hurry out the door to report to the court room by 2PM and then get selected to be on a case like the Susan Polk trial. No such luck.

It all started many years ago watching Perry Mason on TV. Somehow it seemed my mom was able to figure out who dunnit and I couldn't even follow the story line very well. But I got to bring one of those wax paper sandwich bags filled with potato chips into the living room to enjoy during the show. In those days I don't know what I enjoyed most. Maybe it was just how smart Perry Mason was. And he was always in charge and in control.

Today I appreciate the same things but I also notice the furniture, lamps, cars, clothes and most important of all the big breakdown scene in court at the end where the big reveal takes place. It was so dramatic.

I like the way the Perry Mason character's mind works. And later on I became a big fan of the Vulcans on Star Trek all the way up to T'Pol on Star Trek: Enterprise. I can't say enough about the virtues of emotional detachment.

A Pleasant Surprise

2006-06-18T02:43:00.000-07:00

Last night I quickly went through every one of my photos on flickr.com just to review what kinds of images I've been uploading since last September when I first got started. When I was done, I wasn't very impressed with my abilities as a photographer. I wasn't sure about my artistic talents and even though I have nearly 1500 photos online that have been viewed on more than 17,000 separate visits (and counting) I still had the feeling that I've been making some kind of a positive contribution. But until today I wasn't clear on what it is.

I had to remind myself about the many messages of gratitude I've received from people who lived on Okinawa around the same time I lived there for posting all my photos from the time. Most kids didn't take any photos and to summarize what I've been told, they said my pictures brought back a flurry of forgotten, happy memories from the happiest time in their lives.

One fellow wrote and said he lived across the street from me and that his sister, now deceased, is in two of my photos taken at Pacific Middle School. I remember her. She was a fun, happy girl whose death left family broken hearted. I had a feeling someone would eventually see themselves or a friend in my photo stream but I wasn't expecting to hear a tragic story like his.

On the other hand he agreed with others that my collection of random shots from daily life brought back good memories too. And that's something I enjoy hearing. Those two short years were such a magical time in my life and it gives me great pleasure hearing that by seeing my photos, other people experience the same rekindled emotions.

Just the other day I was contacted by someone who is putting together several new websites about Okinawa and asked for my permission to use some of my photos. I really can't guess which ones he wants to use but I still felt a rush of pride. Had I known, over 35 years ago, that these things would happen I would have done a much better job of taking and preserving my slides!

Okay, there's more! This is a little odd but tonight I checked my mail and found that the University of San Francisco School of Pharmacy had added me as a flickr contact. Since that sounded really odd, I decided to go to their flickr profile and see what was going on. I was pleasantly surprise by what I found. They don't post their own photos or select favorite photos by other people. Here's a quote from that profile:

We add Flickr contacts and join Flickr groups which we feel reflect the character and experiences of people in San Francisco, the Bay Area, and California so that our community can more easily see how we move and live in the larger world around us. Flickr enables us to share and build these connections much easier than we can do ourselves.

I was honored by that. It feels good to be recognized even in a small way.

When it's all over with and done I hope my one heart's desire is achieved. And that is just to have contributed something lasting and positive during my time. Maybe I've started getting somewhere with that.

Photos, Claws, Glasses and Lychees

2006-06-13T23:11:00.000-07:00

It was another evening out with the camera looking for new things, pretty things and unique things to capture. I've learned that if you want to meet your neighbors, hang out on the sidewalk. All kinds of nice people walk by ready to introduce themselves and tell you things.

This evening I met Sheila and Randy who told me that people have been killing skunks and dumping them in the field across from us. I really must stay up late at nights watching what goes on out there because I never hear or see anything. I smell skunk and even Robert, another neighbor closer to us, says he's come home at night and seen them right at his door. They come from the golf course area and drink water in our faux stream and forrage around for pet food that people leave outside. I can live a few more years without needing to surprise a skunk.

Randy said there was a peregrine falcon spotted here lately. And some people I met yesterday said they came out on their deck one weekend morning to enjoy their coffee and saw a turkey vulture on the fence across from their place. It's strange that we have all this wildlife in such a suburban and industrial area. It shows that wildlife can adapt if forced to.

When I came home, this is what I saw inside the window next to the door:

My days of single-vision lenses may be numbered. I've been fighting against bifocal lenses for years now. I've tried them, stumbled down stairs and run into things. I couldn't stand how I had to keep adjusting my head depending on what I want to look at. And progressive lenses were a joke. It was like being seasick and having the flu at the same time.

But I really can't see stuff close up. I wear my glasses to correct for distance, which isn't really as big a problem. When I'm in the store, for example, I just look under the bottom of my lenses to see tags, ingredients and etcetera or just take off my glasses. But it doesn't work for using the cell phone, adjusting the settings on my camera, reading maps...

Oh why can't big '70's lenses come back into style? They're much more practical for bi and trifocals. Not that I think they're attractive or anything. (But I guess I did when I had my senior photo taken for the 1976 high school yearbook. Eeek!)

But seriously, folks. One of the things I live with is Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Nobody really wants to hear specifics so I'll just say that lately I've been more irritated than usual. This is the opposite of what happened on our last road trip when I failed to pass anything solid for about 5 days. Just imagine that. Uncomfortable? Yeah.

This morning there was a breakthrough at my vacationing friend's apartment. Spooky was really glad to see me. She was very vocal, very affectionate and didn't attack when I brushed her, pet her and massaged her head. She couldn't stop rubbing her face against my hand and acted like she just learned to like it. She sat on my lap and kneaded my leg with her paws. Okay, that was uncomfortable because her claws are like needles. But she didn't do anything aggressive.

So I tried touching her paws gently and kind of giving her a paw massage. That was risky, I know. But she was very gentle. So maybe tomorrow or Thursday I'll take the nail clippers and see if I can cut some of those things down. It needs to be done. Yes, Mom, I'll have plenty of alcohol, hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls handy in case of a thrashing.

I'm still thinking about that last trip to Berkeley Bowl because the sight of fresh lychee fruit made my mouth water. I suppose I was denying myself things just so I wouldn't spend money but that doesn't explain the $1.68 white chocolate bar. I took a photo, though, and that's how I'll end tonight.

Perhaps I'll tackle some serious writing one day soon.

(Clicking on the photos will give you a larger version. All my photos are online at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_worm_turns/ )

Thoughts of Friends East and West

2006-06-10T00:25:00.000-07:00

My most sincere thanks to "Walt" in Frederick, MD for sending a wonderful collection of Ryukyuan music to me after reading a comment I made somewhere on-line about wishing I could hear those sounds again. Much of the music is contemporary, utilizing electronic instruments, but is based soundly on the classics in style, rhythm and verse. It sounds less like "an injured animal" (according to one friend) than the music I used to listen to on the radio during the lunch hour when I lived on Okinawa.

It brings back such positive feelings of my love for the island, the people and the cosmopolitan and idyllic two years I spent living on Okinawa in the early 1970's.

To my friend now vacationing in Hawaii: Your cat is alive and well, eating and pooping like a good girl. I hope my text message didn't alarm you. I know you warned me that Spooky goes kind of nuts when you're petting her and I'd get clawed if I didn't take it easy. How am I supposed to keep my hands off of her? She's so sweet and she purrs and talks to me. She lets me pet her and rub her chin and massage her back when she's on the floor. I thought she was going to let me pet her and brush her. Well, I soon found out that she's more likely to attack when her four legs aren't in use holding up her body, like when she's on the floor. Before I knew what had gone wrong she had all 98 claws in her four paws as well as her teeth sunk deeply into my right hand. The grooming session abruptly ended as I went in search of alcohol and bandages.

Tonight I looked over at my right hand and saw a few spots of blood which surprised the heck out of me because I didn't think she "got me" the one time she swatted at me. At least it was only a small wound. In fact I'm wondering if it wasn't just a spontaneous leak of some kind as a result of my subconscious apprehension of being attacked again.

I've joked that by the end of the two weeks all I'll have the courage to do is crack the door slightly and throw in a piece of raw meat.

My cat seems to be doing well. I haven't yet figured out an effective way of getting a pill down his throat every day, let alone TWICE a day. So his asthma is still a problem. However I'm very happy that I've found a brand and blend of food that he will eat that doesn't make him puke. At first I balked at Dick VanPatten having his name on a brand of cat food but I tried it anyway. The bagged dry version of Venison and Green Pea was labeled "Allergy Formula" so I tried it anyway, wishing that it was something Betty White had endorsed. Not that I have anything against Dick VanPatten, it's just that I'm more familiar with Betty White's involvement in animal issues. The brand name is "Natural Balance."

I wonder why someone hasn't thought to make a cat food out of mice, bugs and long blades of grass.

I'm still in shock after learning that our "docent goddess" at the Oakland Zoo resigned recently without notice. I missed the meeting where she made the announcement but a fellow docent sent me an email with the news. It's devastating news for the docents and the keepers. She is NOT replaceable. Something unpleasant has been going on but I don't know what. It isn't like her to give up on anything so it must have been a very, very difficult and painful decision to make.

It makes me angry at who/whatever caused her to leave. My first reaction was to never return to the zoo again. But she taught us well both in the classroom and on the job. Our first priority is the animals and their welfare. We signed an allegiance to them and promised to be there for them. The visitors are important too, of course. I have nothing bad to say about anybody at the Oakland Zoo. I haven't met a bad apple in the bunch. In fact, until working at the zoo, I thought that the best people on Earth worked for United Airlines. The reality, of course, is that good people are found everywhere. But the thing that bonds us together at the zoo is much deeper in a spiritual way.

Leslie, you've had a lot to deal with lately. A death in the human family, especially an unexpected one, is a tragedy. I think of you frequently, fondly and as I think you know, have a special place in my heart for you and your family. Can you believe that we first met nearly 20 years ago? Aloha.

Today there will be a family reunion in Hinckley, Utah which I will not be attending. It's on my father's side of the family encompassing the posterity of his maternal grandparents; my great grandparents. That has the potential of attracting a whole lot of people! When I was a kid we used to go to family reunions and I really only cared about three or four of my cousins. The rest were older, meaner and different because we lived in town and they all lived on farms.

I learned to dislike family reunions at about 6 years of age when my brother and sister told me I had to get up and perform "Two Little Ducks" on stage in front of everyone. I didn't care about performing, really, but that was such a stupid song I knew I'd be dead meat after my tough farm cousins ahold of me afterwards.

We always took our own drinking water with us because the local stuff was so nasty. It was always hot, dry and I suffered badly from hay fever. I couldn't imagine being more miserable. The corn on the cob was good though. Fresh farm grown corn is good stuff. But stopping at the A&W in Delta on the way home and getting one of those cone shaped containers of ice-cold root beer for the long drive home almost made the trips worthwhile.

All those memories are filed away in "my past." To go there now and see my cousins who, in my mind, are all still eight and ten years old now looking like our parents did the last time we were together would be upsetting. It's also upsetting that our parents now look like the very, very oldest people who we were afraid of when we were kids.

Jury duty is coming up soon and it would be great if I could actually serve on a jury, even if it's for a purse-snatching. It's just one of those things in life that I really want to do. Every year I get the notice in the mail but don't even make it as far as the courthouse. My number never comes up. If I never get to serve that's okay as long as I get a guarantee that I'll never be judged by one.

BED TIME

Etcetera

2006-06-02T13:42:00.000-07:00

How about a chit-chatty post for a change, just to get back into the groove?

Today's top story, so far, is the new kitchen faucet AND food disposal, efficiently installed by a very perky yet stinky young man from Service One. That's who the property management uses for rental repairs. Our faucet was beginning to form a geyser under the plastic "H / C" cap and could have blown at any time. While extracting the faucet (he said it was WAY over-installed) a piece of the disposal broke off so that had to be replaced too. Yay!

Yesterday I picked up the keys to my friend's apartment so I can perform my "Spooky Babysitter" job starting on Saturday for two weeks. Spooky is the cat's name. To entice me to spend some time there with her each day, I've been offered the entire Buffy The Vampire Slayer DVD collection to watch. Spooky's human is convinced after I watch the first episode I will be hooked. I suppose that could happen.

His apartment is downwind from the Ghirardelli factory and the air often smells like someone is baking chocolate brownies. It's nice for a while but then it gets annoying. It's funny how one of the most pleasant smells can become so sickening when you can't get away from it.

The day before, he brought us treats from his business trip to London. I enjoyed white chocolate chip and macadamia nut "biscuits" from Harrod's and my cats got a very cute battery operated hamster in a clear sphere for their amusement from Hamleys (http://www.hamleys.com/invt/0000000549923) which is a very OLD toy store.

We've just returned from a recent camping trip to Big Basin and a road trip vacation to Zion, Bryce and Grand Canyon National Parks (which also included some camping) and now we're discussing another road trip to Yellowstone, Grand Teton and Glacier in August. That $50.00 inventment in the National Park Pass was a good one! Individually the entrance fees add up to much more than that.

In the back of my mind I'm thinking of upcoming jury duty this month. I SO want to be on a jury! I get duty notifications every year but never even make it to the courthouse. I also have a lot of zoo work coming up starting with a meeting tomorrow morning. And I still have a lot of photos to process and post to my Flickr pages. The video I took on vacation has yet to be reviewed but eventually I'll be adding clips to my Vimeo collection as well.

Now it's errand time. I have things to do before picking up Mr. Happy at BART and we all meet at La Pinata to bid our vacationing friends a bon voyage.

Feeling Small

2006-05-16T15:17:00.000-07:00

It's similar to looking out an airplane window and realizing how tiny you really are.

On the ground, in the shadows of giant redwood trees I got the same feeling. I felt like that while I reflected on my cat, my life and myself. I felt like a tiny dot until the mosquitos came out.
Then I felt bigger.

The drive from San Leandro through San Jose and on to highway 17 seemed to go by quickly. While we were sailing past the scenery I tried to imagine what someone from the covered wagon era might have thought if, one night in a dream, they'd had a vision of being in my seat in the car for a few minutes. How could anyone describe that? Maybe that's why seers have written such symbolic accounts of their visions.

I thought about a lot of things looking up at the sky, trees and birds this past weekend. I thought about being small, large, old, young, helpless and powerful. I thought and thought and got a stiff neck from looking up so much. Unfortunately I couldn't really find any answers this time. I just felt very small most of the time. Weekend camping trips are too short to experience major edifying events. On day three, I was ready to relax and enjoy the day but it was time to go again.

Pewter's health problems continued to be on my mind all weekend but I had a comfortable feeling inside that he would be okay OR that I would be okay with whatever happened. When we got back in cell phone range, there was a message to call Brad's mom. That's the only time that I got nervous. But it turned out that we had left on Friday without closing the garage door.

So in addition to all the above feelings we got to feel stupid too. Yay.

We returned to find the cats happy, healthy and relaxed. I hope to repeat that discovery every time I come through the front door no matter how long I've been away.

Drama and Thermometers

2006-05-11T22:56:00.000-07:00

I'm not used to much drama in my life and when something happens to one of my cats, it's a big deal.

Things seem normal and stable right now. Pewter's visit with Dr. Grossman went well and left me optimistic and much more relaxed. He seems much, much better now that the IV port (I'm sure that's the wrong term) is out of his arm and that bandage is gone. I know now that Pewter is totally right-pawed because he just couldn't clean himself by using his South paw.

Pewter seems like he's in better shape than I am now. I'm exhausted from the anguish and have yet to process my sadness. By process, I mean cry. I imagine that will happen tomorrow sometime in the car as we drive off for a weekend at our favorite campground at Big Basin in the redwoods near Santa Cruz. It doesn't matter where I go. I just hate leaving my cats. I am, however, capable of going away AND having a good time. It's just a little drama I go through every time. Mom, does this sound familiar?

There's a line somewhere between normal and crazy where cat people sometimes linger on or near the crazy side. Obviously I'm not unfeeling. And I wouldn't go on this trip if Pewter needed me. But from his perspective, as much as he seems to hate it when I go away, I'm sure he will be okay. He will be fed and checked on a couple of times a day. He may just appreciate the total peace and quiet. This all reminds me of a term we use freely at the zoo:

anthropomorphize - To ascribe human characteristics to things not human.

I would never want to underestimate the intelligence of our fellow non-human beings but I know there is a limit to a feline's sense of self. I also know that humans can seriously over- anthropomorphize animals. I see it at the zoo all the time. I also see total disregard for the integrity of the animal kingdom. It's such a difficult subject. I only hope to err on the side of compassion if I must err at all.

This post isn't going to get a proof reading. I'm tired and have a bag to pack. And I want to do it while Pewter is sleeping downstairs. As long as Cootie doesn't go blabbing what I'm up to, Pewter will probably just enjoy his slumber in his favorite spot, glad to be home in familiar surroundings with plenty of good food and water and nobody sticking a thermometer up his butt.

Neurologic Episode

2006-05-11T12:30:00.000-07:00

Or is it neurological?

Pewter held up well, patiently waiting in his carrier in the back seat while Brad did a little grocery shopping after we picked him up from Alameda Pet Hospital last night. He was a little doped up but I couldn't really tell.

When we got home I put him in a laundry basket made all comfy with towels because I was under the impression that he'd just want to pass out. But he was only in it long enough to jump back out again and head downstairs to the feeding station. He was hungry and thirsty and he wanted dinner NOW.

The rest of the evening wasn't normal because he didn't come and sit by me while we watched The Amazing Race. Cootie, still unable to smell the Pewter he was familiar with, didn't know what to think and hissed everytime they got close. I felt bad for him but Pew didn't seem to care.

Before bed I had time to think about the long visit we had with Dr. Jen who showed me Pewter's x-rays and blood test results and went over everything in great detail. They can explain the sneezing and coughing but not the neurological event. It's a big mystery. And (now this is funny) short of doing a CAT scan, there's no real way of knowing what's happening in his brain.

At 3AM it happened again. His crying woke me up. Well, the smell from the cat box partially woke me up first. He had just gone potty and by the time I turned my light on and went into the hallway he was on his side showing signs of another episode. His eyes were going back and forth like he was watching an imaginary ping pong game and his head dropped to the right.

He knew I was there. Instead of just crying, he seemed to be complaining. I just did my best to support his head and talk quietly to him and comfort him. And he purred the whole time, even when he was crying out. When he calmed down some I got up to get a towel. Fortunately he didn't lose control this time so it was a "clean" episode. But he then walked backwards half way down the stairs. So I went down, got a towel and wrapped him up like a baby, went to the recliner and held him for about an hour while the episode ended. The whole thing lasted about 90 minutes.

Afterwards I brought him up to bed where he stayed for quite a while. When I woke up, he was gone. At about 7 when I got up to take Brad to BART, he was downstairs waiting for breakfast.

I was supposed to take him back to the vet today for observation while I went to the zoo and did other things. But I was exhausted and went back to sleep. The vet called at 10:30 wondering where I was and I told him I was going to stay home with him today. So I'm taking him in this afternoon at 4 for a follow-up appointment.

What happens after that, I don't know. I have decisions to make.

Grief

2006-05-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

I was prepared to start writing until I attached the photo of Pewter's beautiful face and now I can barely think.

Today he had a seizure of some kind. It involved losing bowel control, losing his ability to walk and vomiting. My first reaction was that he had had a stroke.

And indeed he may have had a stroke. That is one of two possible scenarios at this point. There may be brain damage. If so, I'm afraid that he won't be with me any longer.

On the other hand, there's a possibility that he is having an inner ear issue related to allergies with they say can be treated. Cured? I don't know. There's so much I don't know right now. But what I DO know is that I won't be as selfish as I was with Orlock. With him, I waited too long before I sent him to wait for me in heaven. He was very ill and I went to extreme measures to keep him alive and comfortable for as long as possible.

Pewter's sweet face is something I'm not prepared to go without seeing every day. But I've also had feelings that he is more seriously ill than anyone suspected. This is one time that I'd like to be proven wrong.

It's almost 3PM and I expect a call any time now. I need to find something to keep me busy. Writing this was meant to be a way of expressing myself. All the while I've had a prayer in my heart that I can think clearly and do the right thing, make the right decisions.

UPDATE: 3:52PM The vet called while I was in the shower (of course) and left a positive message. Pewter is doing much better. The x-rays indicate that he has allergies and suffers from asthma. They've given him various medicines, including a narcotic to calm him down, and said to come and pick him up. We'll decide at that point whether he needs to go back tomorrow and what kind of treatment plan he'll have.

In the mean time, Cootie has been very sweet and affectionate. He has a way of calming me down and I just love how he rests his head on my hand or extends his arm, cupping my finger in his paw, and curls his toes as if he were squeezing my finger.

The last time Pewter went to the vet alone, Cootie didn't like the way he smelled when he got home. He hissed at him for two days. This time I don't care. It looks like Pewter will survive this so what's a little hissing in the long run?

Concerning "Mission Accomplished"

2006-05-06T01:29:00.000-07:00

The dialogue continues in the comment thread below the "Mission Accomplished" photo in my Flickr photostream. Most people have viewed the photo without comment. Many have "fav'd" it meaning they have created a connection between their own photo pages and the ones on Flickr they like. And some have chosen to make comments.

While I feel that the primary purpose for posting photos on Flickr is so that, as artists, we can be mutually supportive and offer constructive criticism, there comes a time when it's okay to be provocative. I have such strong feelings about our current administration and the war in Iraq that I felt motivated to post the photo as a reminder to all those with feelings not to forget. An armless soldier, faceless Iraqi civilian or burned corpse of a civilian contractor would have been an entirely different message than the one I wanted to put across.

Some people question why I would post such a photo (flag-draped coffins being unloaded from an aircraft) and accuse the photographer of having some kind of agenda. After reading the latest comments tonight I responded with a few of my own. What follows is my contribution.

I don't know who took these photos. I DO know that photography isn't a crime and these images should be seen by everyone.
We'll all have different reactions. But I'm quite certain that the purpose for distributing them is to remind all of us that our soldiers are being killed. It isn't about the "good guys" and the "bad guys" because that's the stuff of fiction. Don't over-simplify the intentions of the photographer and those who keep these images alive in our minds. I, for one, have immovable respect for those who serve our country including the ones who question our leaders and their policies. That's what makes it all work.
We must continue to THINK, LISTEN, LEARN, QUESTION, and stay involved. Otherwise we will be lead astray. I believe we were purposely mislead. But even if we were mistakenly mislead we have indeed been mislead by people who are not worthy to hold the trust of the people.
That's what makes this photo so incredibly powerful. We see the absolute respect and dignity in the way the caskets are draped in our beautiful flag and the way they are being handled. The photo itself is balanced, cropped and exposed in such a way as to suggest nothing but respect.
Growing up in a military environment I did very little thinking for myself on the subjects of war, politics and patriotism. But I'll never forget the day my hero, Richard Nixon, resigned in disgrace. It was like my world had shattered. And then on subject after subject I learned the truth about many more things including the Vietnam war. And friends, the truth just isn't always pretty. Growing up was hard enough but learning that my country isn't perfect, isn't morally clean, isn't always run by saints and is subject to mistakes and evil influences was a very
tough thing to accept.
Welcome to the real world. Choose your battles, leaders and heroes carefuly but pray to God that you know the true face of your enemy.

The link to the photo and comment thread is: http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_worm_turns/136505221/

This Won't Play Well in Peoria

2006-05-04T02:02:00.000-07:00

Amen
Originally uploaded by Miss Makita Drill.

The big marches and demonstrations are over for now. The effects they had, besides the immediate and measureable ones, will be known in time. I was busy at home that day so it didn't impact my life in the slightest. But come to think of it, I didn't hear the usual sound of leaf blowers cutting through the morning calm. Does that count?

There were news reports, photos, opinions, editorials, comments, video and audio. And then it was over. So what happened? A whole lot of people got together, this time waving American flags instead of Mexican flags, and made a clear and deliberate point that our laws need to change.

What good is a demonstration en masse if you end up turning the people who you want support from against you instead? This "backlash" is something that was quickly learned during the dress rehearsals for the May 1st rallys. The country was aghast by the display of Mexican flags. The old expression, "This won't play well in Peoria" certainly applied then as it does to this photo.

Americans tend to love their laws and know that the rule of law is the cement that keeps our loose bricks from falling down.

I'm nowhere near Peoria but my heart is in the vicinity. The situation is a certified, complicated mess and scenes like this will not be useful in finding a solution that can be supported by the majority of U.S. citizens and many immigrants as well.

"Mission Accomplished" Anniversary

2006-05-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

When I posted this photo on my Flickr page I had no idea it would get so much attention. The host site was referenced in a letter from Gold Star Families for Peace along with some other information. (http://www.newshounds.us/2005/04/26/project_madman_images.php)

America needs to be reminded daily, like we were during the Vietnam war, about the horrors of war. Even though this is a powerful photo it's very different from the experience of having dinner while Walter Cronkite related the day's events in Vietnam, complete with footage of the battles, massacres and killed and injured soldiers being evacuated.

This current war has been sterilized for us. Only a few programs have been produced showing soldiers with missing limbs, reconstructed craniums and artificial eyes. And you have to search the foreign press websites to find photos from the Iraqi perspective although we do get glimpses of their ruined homes and shattered lives.

This is also true of the Palestinian people. Occasionally we get to see Israeli heavy equipment tearing down the house of a terrorist but to find out what life is like for the people, you have to search. And these days can we turn our backs while Israel builds a wall to divide the land? In this age, in these times, the Berlin wall is gone and there are gift shops in the Great Wall of China. And some in the U.S. want to build a wall along the border with Mexico. I doubt they have plans for gift shops.

http://www.newshounds.us/2005/04/26/project_madman_images.php

Poltergeist Spring Cleaning

2006-04-26T22:44:00.000-07:00

Things are starting to move here. Furniture is coming and going and stuff is coming out of closets and other stuff is going to the garage. It's spring cleaning time. Yay!

I think I have a great master plan but I haven't written it out yet. So for the fans of the tedious writings of obsessive-compulsive, clinically depressed persons with memory loss and other disorders, this is for you.

The problem is we need more storage space AND we need to put what space we do have to better use. So the first objective is to create more storage space. The only place where this is possible is the garage. Recently I got rid of a bunch of unnecessary junk and then got busy trying to plan for new shelves.

My first attempt didn't work out so good. I put together the double wide shelves I had at my last apartment and then drove the car in for the night. Well, I couldn't open the car door. So I had to get out the power drill, disassemble most of it, put it back together as a single unit and try again. That was a lot of wasted time. And yes, thank you, I DID measure first. Just drop it.

Tonight I finished adding shelves to the wall. It only took - two trips to IKEA, -three trips to Home Depot and a lot of measuring, calculating, drilling, cussing, sweating and improvising.

So, tomorrow the poltergeist begins. The camping equipment we extracted tonight (from under the stairs behind the coat closet on the main floor) will move into the garage. The Christmas decorations and etcetera will move from the walk-in closet in the little bedroom (#3) upstairs to the "room under the stairs."

Then, I can move my clothes into the walk-in closet of bedroom #3 from my current bedroom (#2). The closet in bedroom #2 will become storage for things currently in #3 that don't go to the garage or under the stairs. Eventually I will make #3 my actual bedroom leaving #2 as a library, office, computer room, exercise room, den - - whatever.

The funny thing is, nothing is going to happen in bedroom #1. Nothing's going in and nothing's coming out. There is a storage closet outside bedroom #1 just off the deck but it's full of Halloween decorations. Since we only use that stuff once a year, they may as well just stay there. And beneath the deck there's another storage room/hot water heater room just off the patio. It's full of potting soil, planters and a charcoal grill that may never get used again. So that's off to the garage as well.

The thing that put this all in motion was the purchase of a new dining room table and chairs, replacing the one Brad brought from his previous apartment. The new one is much larger and will require the original one to be moved into the kitchen which will, in turn, cause the one in the kitchen to go bye bye in some manner. I think the latest method will be to turn a few screws, put the pieces in the garage and deal with it later.

There is an urgency to all this. The new table and chairs arrived last night about two weeks ahead of schedule. We weren't ready. I had just finished moving the old computer desk down from the bedroom #3 closet to the dining room in preparation for transit to Brad's niece in San Lorenzo. So now the main floor, consisting of two basic rooms, the kitchen and the dining room/living room, is totally cluttered. In these two rooms we currently have two sofas, three dining tables, 12 chairs, a computer desk, two display cabinets, two CD cabinets, a huge TV, an armchair, a recliner, two lamps and lamp tables, a coffee table and a few odds and ends. And after watching The Amazing Race we emptied the contents of the room under the stairs so in addition to everything else, we have two tents, a gazebo, three camping chairs, two coolers, two cots, various lanterns, sleeping bags, and other equipment waiting to move to the garage.

And when all this is done I promise the car WILL FIT comfortably into the garage once again. Something tells me that I may be given a "poltergeist" job in the next life.

Leapin' Lemur

2006-04-26T02:12:00.000-07:00

Earth Day 2006 is over now but I have something to remember this day at the Oakland Zoo from every other day.

Our "Holy Docent Goddess" (the boss) send out an email the following day with a summary of what happened:

· Kudos to Jim Webb: While working at the bat exhibit, he noticed that one of our lemurs apparently decided it was time to look for greener pastures and leaped out of the lemur exhibit! While the keepers prepared for a recapture, Cassady Hudson and Janet Nakao cleared the lemur deck. Jim (and probably others I don’t know about) dashed to help keep the crowds away while the errant lemur was enticed back into its enclosure. Good work!!!

Earlier in the day I was at the lemur observation deck taking some video of my new favorite animals moving about in their huge, new exhibit. The lemur and Malayan/Island fruit bat exhibits are next door to each other and even though I managed to get some cute footage of a lemur actually leaping, I wasn't able to catch them going bananas when the bats were flying around.
One of the things docents absolutely must have is a radio that works properly. Just like when I worked at the airport, maintaining two-way radio contact is essential. I had no idea that I would actually witness an animal out of exhibit but knew shortly after getting to my first assignment that my radio wasn't broadcasting so instead of just dismissing it, I did the right thing and had another one delivered to me at the bat exhibit.
In the afternoon, as the temperature dropped like bat guano and my arms and face got colder and the bats became less active, I noticed something odd in my peripheral field of view. There were lemurs on the fence looking toward the bats. Earlier in the day when that happened it was because the bats were flying around. But the bats were, by now, mostly inside the night house or, if outside, hanging motionless all wrapped up in their wings. And then I realized that I was seeing the backside of one of the lemurs on the fence which couldn't be possible unless he was on the WRONG side of the fence.
For a minute I didn't want to believe that I was seeing an escaped animal. Several months ago I thought I saw an escaped golden weaver bird hanging out above the baboons and spider monkeys. It turned out to be a plain old native bird of some kind that I had never seen before. I felt a little stupid.
But on Sunday, it became clear that we had a problem. I called in the situation and stayed on scene, as trained, reporting on his movements. Soon several keepers arrived and enticed him back inside with some yummy grapes.
It wasn't like the lemur was really trying to escape. Once he was out it was clear from his movements that he was trying to get back in. That's where his family is; that's where his food is and that's the environment he's comfortable with. He almost seemed panicked that he couldn't find a way back in. Now I can't explain this because I don't know how he got out. And I didn't witness his recapture since I was maintaining crowd control.
Since opening, the lemurs have had several escapes and each time exhibit modifications have been made. This is a brand new part of the zoo, open less than a year, and it took the little critters a long time to venture away from the nighthouse into their big new habitat. It's so nice to see them out and enjoying all of it. They're a little like cats, in some ways, and while our escapee was trying to get back in I sort of laughed a bit thinking of my cat, Pewter, who also recently escaped from his habitat for a minute, got a little wet from the rain and ran back to the door crying to get in.
Yup. This is where the food is. This is where the family is. I won't be making any modifications to the house to keep him from making another escape. I just have to hope that he's as smart as our lemurs.
***30 April Update: Silly video now playing at Vimeo.com: http://www.vimeo.com/clip:68299

Mom's Suggested Blog Topics

2006-04-20T22:38:00.000-07:00

Not long ago my mom sent a list of things I could write about. I quickly read the list and then assigned my subconscious to work on it for a while.

I thought she'd mention the incident in the Hong Kong airport when I wandered off to watch planes from the observation deck but she didn't. She thought I'd disappeared but, of course, I knew when to come back to the gate and was never lost but I was only about 14 years old and to her I was missing and presumed gone for good. I was really embarrassed that she had become so frantic but also sorry that I had made her worry. Of course I never told her about the last part. I was too proud to admit that I was ever in any jeopardy of getting lost or abducted. These days, though, I would NEVER let a kid that age wander away in a foreign airport or even Safeway for that matter. It's a good thing I don't have kids. I'd smother them before they ever had a chance of leaving the nest.

One of the things she mentioned which left me befuddled was, and I quote, "suggesting maternity treatment when mother mashed her finger when the safe lid fell on it cause that's all the first aid you knew." I have no idea what that is all about. I've asked her to explain. What did I do, Mom, boil water and put your feet in stirrups?

Here's the rest of the list with my comments:

Broken thong in (East)China Sea, dodging sea urchins.
She's referring to my flip-flops, not my swim suit, that broke leaving me far from shore without protection against those spiny sea creatures and sharp coral.

Natives running for the little plane on that dumb little island.
That was on the Ishigaki trip. When they began boarding the plane, people went nuts and ran under the plane, between the propellers and jostled each other on the stairs just to get on board. I witnessed scenes like that watching the evacuation of Saigon on TV. We never learned what the cause of the bedlam was. Didn't I mention this already? I meant to.

Cockroach running up your pajama leg.
Roach? Cockroach?? Try CockROACHES!! About thirty. Oh, that still makes me weak. I'll have to tell that story later, after my dad has passed on. I still have a bit of anger left in me about that and don't want to say anything to jeopardize my inheritance. (wink wink)

Thermos to school during water rationing.
Yeah, on Okinawa we had a drought one year. It was awful. We had to bring our own drinking water from home and there was never any way to bring enough. It was so hot and the fountains were turned off. Not only that but we only had running water at home for a couple days a week. We took showers using only about 2 quarts of water. (I'm not kidding. You washed only the vital parts.) We saved the laundry water in the big deep sink in the utility room and used it to manually flush the toilets on days the water wasn't on. I remember missing the toilet a couple of times and having to mop the floor and try again.

Playing super spy at airport trying to find out why we couldn't get to the Philippines.
This is another one that I need explanation on. I know we always flew standby on MAC charters so I must have been looking at the boarding priority list to see who got on ahead of us and why.

Cutting the wire on Doug's little radio cause you didn't like it.
Doug, my brother, is lucky I didn't cut his throat in his sleep. He made life a living hell for me when I was little. Hell, I was little for YEARS since he was nine years older than me. We shared a bedroom when we lived in Alaska. His little transistor radio kept me awake at night. Or maybe I was jealous because I didn't have one. Anyway, I decided to clip a wire when he wasn't home to solve the issue. But I think I got concerned that it might still work so I clipped every wire inside the thing without thinking that I would be caught. I think that frightened Doug a little bit because, as we now know, scissors lead to knives which lead to .... However, I never hurt him. Even years later when we went out with rifles for some target practice it never occured to me to get back at him. I really only wanted to earn his respect. And I did. He put the target dead center with the fence post and when I hit the "bullseye" I basically blew the fence post into two pieces. Oops!

Eating dog (probably) in Japan.
Okay, now that's a strong accusation. I don't remember exactly what she's talking about here but we did get some rather mysterious meat in the restaurants. You couldn't count on the plastic replicas in their windows to taste like how it looked.

Leaving camera in restaurant in Honolulu and getting it back when we returned from the Arizona Memorial.
Talk about shitting bricks. I bluffed my way through the whole memorial tour and then had to ask meekly if we could go back to the restaurant where we had had breakfast. Luckily, it was there. They held it for me. What can I say? It wasn't 2006, it was 1972!

Bringing the crowd to tears when you sang 'I Am A Child of God" in (our church service)in Alaska.
I had dimples, could carry a tune and humbly believed in what I was singing. I vaguely remember singing in front of everyone and I know I wasn't nervous. Then a few years later my family tormented me by telling me I had to sing "Two Little Ducks" at a family reunion in Utah. (Simple Life-esque) What a dumb follow-up to "I Am A Child of God!"

Screaming your head off when Dr. Gubler tried to take your T-shirt off to examine you. You wouldn't remember that.
I do remember that. How old was I, three? Four? But I thought it happened in Alaska after witnessing Doug play a game of basketball where one team had to play shirtless. ("Skins and Shirts") Maybe I thought I was going to be forced to play basketball. Maybe I was just modest! Maybe I didn't want to be stripped by a stranger! Whatever!

The kid in the bed next to you when you had your tonsils out that went blue and, if we hadn't been there to yell for help, probably would have died. Guess you don't remember that either.
No, but I remember the newborn baby that was in the same room (there were a lot of us lined up in that room) that cried nonstop. And I remember you coming in to change my diaper and how ashamed I was of that, plastic pants, diaper rash and all. I was a serious bedwetter. It went on for waaaay too long. At least now there's an explanation. Okay, TOO MUCH INFORMATION!

Getting conned into picking berries in Alaska. Not just Alaska but everywhere we lived. Even in Utah on my birthday once I got tricked and manipulated into going up Middle Canyon to pick those damn awful chokecherries. I remember the steep canyon walls, those scrubby bushes and thinking that I'd just rather plunge to my death than have to keep picking those nasty little berries. Of course, years later, I look back fondly at it all.

It was/is Mother's passion, one of them, and I never got hurt. Raspberries, blueberries, chokecherries, gooseberries, blackberries; we had to pick berries wherever we found them. We had to go out in search for them. I'm glad we never had to go picking cranberries because I would have drowned.

Forgetting to take a belt when we went to Hong Kong. (Didn't know) what to do when had to go to that cocktail party or whatever it was!
I was thirteen years old. What did I know about packing? I also forgot pajamas when we went to the Philippines. You should see me now when it's time to travel. I absolutely go into a panic. And I dream about leaving on a trip but forgetting my passport or tickets. I have a lot of travel anxiety dreams. Actually, I have a lot of basic anxiety dreams. But I digress. I'm sure my travel stress dreams are due now, mostly, because of my stressful airline career. It was a wild 15-year ride that pretty much ended on 9/11.

So that's the quick and dirty version of all those topics. Keep 'em coming, Mom, because that was fun.

"So..she's snacking?"

2006-04-09T23:21:00.000-07:00

When is a job more than just a job? In my experience it's when you have to go home afterwards and do some research on the Internet about something you've never heard of or seen before.

The date is unimportant. The tour group that day was two cartloads of senior women from an assisted living facility. That's not important either except that I'm grateful for the way they reacted to what we saw. We could have just as easily had a rowdy group of grade school children or some nasty teens.

Perhaps this would be a good time to see the video if you haven't already skipped ahead. This is a very short video accompanied by music; my second effort. Enjoy, please, but not at mealtime.
Click here when ready.

I'm so glad I had my video camera with me that day. And in a way I'm glad the elephant wasn't satisfied with his first trip up the bum because I caught the second one on tape. We were all still stunned from the first time. It was a very awkward moment and will occupy a high position on my list of docentia experiences. During the second helping (the one caught on tape) the only background noise is someone asking, "So she's snacking, is that what's happening?"

Up until then, the only time I'd ever witnessed this before was one very cold winter morning many years ago. My grandmother's next door neighbors' German Shepherds were outside running around in the snow. Then one of them stopped and dropped a hot, steaming dump and to my utter amazement, the other one came over and ate it. I don't think anybody believed my story, with the exception of a psychologist or two.

Back to the day of the video, after getting home from the zoo I went online and started looking into it. I discovered that it has a name: coprophagia. And although disgusting, it's not terribly uncommon. I haven't done enough research to write a paper on the subject. I haven't even done enough research to write an article for our zoo newsletter even though I'd love to interview some of the keepers from various zoos to see what they're doing to discourage it, if that's their strategy. Don't get the wrong idea. The elephants are NOT deprived of food or nutrients.

First Prize for the most revolting comment from among the witnesses that day goes to the guy that said his dogs eat the cat turds right out of the box which saves him from doing maintenance. Now that's just sickening.

So, enough about this. It's just one of my absolute best captures on video but highly unlikely to win any money from America's Funniest Home Videos. World, it's all yours. Enjoy.

When Friends Die Young

2006-04-06T11:26:00.000-07:00

I guess you know you're an adult when you keep up with the obituary section in your home-town newspaper. It's always such a shock to read that someone your own age has died, whatever the cause. Even at 47 it seems so strange to be outliving my friends.

Fortunately my attitude about so-called "death" is healthy because of my religious upbringing. It's sad, of course, but not the end of life (except the temporary separation of body and spirit) and we'll eventually all catch up. I don't know how people can cope without this foundation.

Again, just recently, another friend has passed on. We were very good friends in high school and she was someone my mom thought would make a good wife. (hint hint) My mother didn't make a comment like that about any other girl I know. I have no doubt that she was a good wife and mother. She was perfect in so many way and delightfully silly too. I've never tasted a cookie that was as good as her "Gockneys." They were huge, white sugar cookies and I've thought about them frequently for 30 years.

We called her "Crazy Jilly" and she lived up to her nickname in purely entertaining ways and with grace and style. She loved the camaraderie and attention. I have a photo that brings back all those wonderful memories. http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_worm_turns/67535128/in/set-1426515/

She was delightful.

I know that those who love her, particularly her family and neighbors, must be feeling a deep sense of loss. She reportedly battled cancer and so while I'm sure she is glad to be free from her pain and discomfort, I'm certain that she's lovingly watching over you.

I think I understand grief now. It's personal and egocentric. It's about "my" loss. And I'm discovering why I tend to keep myself detached from others. Sometimes the loss has been too great, singularly and collectively. Since I haven't seen Jill in over 25 years I can't say that I'm grieving. But my soul wants to reach out to the people who love her, share their grief if it's possible, and help lighten their burden.

My thoughts also turn to Brian, Tom, Eric C., Ted, Kile, Coral, Mark, Annie, Robert, Richard, Leticia, Eric W. (who took his own life) and so many others including my cat, Orlock. Life is short, looking back. But looking ahead it can seem painfully long. If they could come back and tell us all about what's next, it seems to me that would render our existence rather useless.

I guess that's about all we need to know. It's "The Long Way Home." This is what the journey is all about.

Resign NOW

2006-04-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

"To: George Bush,
Due to the recent revelations by disgraced aide to Dick Cheney, L. "Scooter" Libby, that George Bush authorized the leak of CIA Valerie Plame's name to reporters, thus by compromising her safety, the safety of many Americans working undercover and reinforcing the lie that Saddam had WMD, the leadership and members of Gold Star Families for Peace call for the resignation of George Bush and Dick Cheney.

We have paid dearly and permanently for the lies of this administration. The "yellow cake uranium" lie was a lie of historic and nefarious proportions that led to the deaths of our loved ones in Iraq and the devastation of an innocent country and the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent citizens of Iraq.

George Bush said that the person who leaked the information would be "dealt with," and Scotty McClellan reiterated this position at a later press conference.

So, George, considering that this is just one of the many lies you told to justify the illegal and immoral occupation of iraq, the members of GSFP are calling on you to finally do the honorable thing and deal with yourself and resign and we also call for the resignation of anyone else in your administration who lied to America, our families, and the world about the reasons for killing our dear loved ones.

Our respect and best wishes also go out to the Plame/Wilson family for what they have also endured for doing the right thing to try and expose the lies to stop this regime's headlong rush to disaster in Iraq and by the attacks on their family by our own government.

Signed:The Needlessly Devastated Families of Gold Star Families for Peace

You're The Top

2006-04-04T15:31:00.000-07:00

Where have I been lately? Right here with my face in the computer working on something creative. Check this out:
http://www.vimeo.com/clip=60082
It's part of a larger project that was a birthday present-ation to a friend. Slide shows w/music are fun but now that I own the proper cable, have hours and hours of video, watch out for some new types of entertainment!

Human Trafficking

2006-03-30T23:52:00.000-08:00

That stupid, immoral war in Iraq has been so distracting that it took a million people in Los Angeles and other cities to get some front page coverage and actual dialogue on the subject and problem of illegal immigration. I've known there was a problem for a long time. But ever since George scared us into starting that war, I've considered our corrupt and immoral leadership to be our worst problem followed closely by the plight of our soldiers being sent to die (and worse) defending Iraq from Iraqi and the freshly hatched terrorists our policy is spawning.

While in the car this afternoon, I listened to a few callers talking to Ed Shultz on Air America Radio. A woman calling from Texas told a tale that made me very uncomfortable because it seemed to be tainted with statements that could easily be branded as racist. I remember thinking that daytime talk sure gets its share of crazy people.

The caller detailed how immigrants are coming to this country, sometimes legally but often not, and in an organized way reaping the benefits of our economy and sending the profits back to their country of origin. She said there were Mexican, Central and South American illegals as well as Japanese, Korean, Chinese and other nationals living, working and going to schools in her state. She detailed the organized ways they arrive and stay in this country after they get here. She blamed various problems on them and I found it difficult to listen to what I heard. She didn't sound like a fanatic but her words did. I think many other talk show hosts would have cut her off and indeed, Ed sounded like he was only letting her talk out of common courtesy.

And then tonight I watched a program on PBS that validated everything she said and went much, much further. The program Wide Angle presented "Dying to Leave." As the introduction on the website says,

"Human trafficking is on the rise worldwide. Many nations are affected --
serving as source, transit, and/or destination countries where human beings
are procured, transported, and enslaved."

I have no doubts that terrorism is a global concern. There have been bombs going off my entire life. I personally feel that our fear of terrorism is worse than the threat and blame that on our inept president and his administration. But from what I learned tonight, I'm now much more concerned about this terrible assault on the human spirit. If ever there was a need for a global war, a global emergency, it's now and it needs to be waged against those who participate in the trafficking of human beings and the corporatists who allow the trades to thrive while doing nothing. The war should be waged on failed global trade agreements that ravage one country and indulge the next.

Our current administration, shamelessly pro-corporation, must not be aware of this sad state of current human affairs or its own "moral high ground" would absolutely behoove it to create a global coalition to bring down this horrible and tragic trade. I'm ashamed of the leaders of California too, from the governor on down to school district administrators, for letting the problem of illegal immigration lapse into such a massive problem. And the government of Mexico hasn't done anything worth noting that I'm aware of to curb this problem. Somehow Mexico has enabled the US to grow their corn and sell it back to them (Read about the history of corn and see if THAT makes sense!) and allow the export of their people to work in our fields. And now they're constructing a new Pacific port and trucker's highway from it to the US border. This is one example of how Mexico is complicit in the global problem, not the solution, and risking its own economy and the economy and security of this hemisphere.

There will always be people who try to get into other countries illegally. But this terrible cancer eating away at the soul of the human spirit is being fueled by the evils of an out of control globalization of capitalism. Corrupt and ignorant leaders either ignore the issue, fail to understand the scope of the problem or are woefully incapable of dealing with the problem.

I lack the stamina to get into the fight for all the causes I believe in and realize that by writing articles here, I may only be helping myself to focus my own thoughts. But to anyone who may read this, please pay attention to the issues. Watch the PBS program! Read about it on their website. Get just a little bit involved and voice your opinion. I believe that by working together to solve the problem of human trafficking, illegal immigration and the ill-effects of globalization, we would also severely reduce the threat of global terrorism. I'm afraid capitalism and colonialism are to blame for this century's biggest threats so far.

And now I have yet another reason to write to Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer. That's how I've chosen to get involved. One thing I've learned from history is the "power of the pen."
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PLEASE view the following web page to learn more: http://www.pbs.org/wnet/wideangle/shows/dying/map.html

Impasse at Creativity Junction

2006-03-30T00:21:00.000-08:00

Not too many decades ago I discovered the pleasure of photo manipulation. By that I mean I would take a No. 2 pencil and eraser and make changes to people's photos in the newspaper. Usually blacking out a tooth was funny enough. But adding hair, erasing hair and changing the eyes was also part of my repetoire.

In 1975 (?) I discovered Art Afterpieces by Ward Kimball and in the early 1990's the "Aberrant Art" of Barry Kite. (http://www.aberrantart.com/) His photo collages made me laugh, and I mean REALLY laugh, after a long dry and sad period of time when I did very little laughing.

Not too many months ago, a friend attempted to give me a crash-course on Photoshop 5.5. Liz was my computer-age heroine making a good living as a web designer. I doubted too much that I could ever learn to do what she did so well. But there I sat, nodding my head like a Jim Webb bobble-head doll acknowledging that I understood what she was showing me during my one and only Photoshop lesson.

As soon as she left my apartment I tried using it and failed. I tried again and again, each time failing to do anything more than adjust the photo's brightness.

Fast forward to 2005 when my fingertips were tapping away on the keyboard of a new and powerful computer designed for a whole variety of audio and visual arts. "Della," as I call it (her) is my new best friend; a baby, purchased - I mean adopted - strictly to satisfy my paternal - uh, I mean artistic - urges.

Months went by before I started feeling the satisfaction of an artistic urge made manifest. For this triumph I have my friend Chuck to thank. He introduced me to the http://www.flickr.com website. Besides being a place to sort and store photos, I discovered photo manipulation once again. And this time it was being done by Chuck and thousands of others. And this time I was determined to play too!

So I found a free photo editing program, downloaded it, learned how to use it (often with the help of others) and started creating like an obsessive-compulsive inspired artist. Actually, I probably am an obsessive-compulsive artist. I found acceptance and enough praise to encourage me to keep going for several weeks.

But now I seem to have run out of gas. My mind is blank. I can stare at a photo for hours and not come up with any inspiration. When I do try something, I can't manage the technical end and end up ignoring the project. I'm stuck.

I've completed 4 or 5 in the past few weeks but I had been doing 2 or more per day. It's become a chore instead of a pleasure. And this is how my mind works. That's why it can be fun for a while but difficult to live with over time.

I'm now flying a bit too low. The tops of the trees seem uncomfortably close and yet just a few weeks ago I was so high I couldn't breathe.

Welcome to my life. I take two pink tablets in the morning, two green and white capsules and two white tablets at bedtime. Amazingly this combination keeps me as stable as I am. But this is not a fun life. Depression is a cruel bitch.

Focusing on a single creative effort is, for me, a magnificent way to neutralize all the superfluous wavelengths and let my inner self come through. Being engaged is the key.

Writing is also a way of focusing. And that is why I am sitting here at 2:05AM trying to put my feelings into words. I am at an impasse. I'm letting my thoughts flow through my fingers to the keyboard. The amusement park that is my brain is temporarily closed while the staff looks for the wrench in the gears. I'm having a personal seance seeking help from an unseen influence. If all this works I hope to back in business soon because creativity is life.

When I'm feeling creative, that's when I feel most alive.

And now I can wrap this up without a clever ending because I've just written my own excuse. I will now go to bed, wait for the cats to find their spot wedged into my side or on my feet and then I will sleep, with luck, while my subconscious mind goes out to play in dreamland. If I'm lucky, tomorrow will bring a little inspiration.

Good night.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-The photo above is a real family photo, manipulated at my request by Liz for a special occasion. It continues to be a source of much pleasure for myself and many others.

-My photo manipulations can be seen in a set called Manipulations and Abberations using the following link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_worm_turns/sets/1809738/ Click the link under each photo to see the original photo prior to being "tweaked."

Forty Years Ago in Third Grade

2006-03-24T03:01:00.000-08:00

Ah, cute little me with my buck teeth, buzzed head and little ivory husky dog bolo tie from Alaska.

I guess my lips had healed enough to smile without bleeding by class photo day.

This was my worst year in public education. I don't remember hating the teacher, although she was difficult to look at, until AFTER she taped my mouth shut using surgical adhesive tape and kept me after school for talking in class. When she pulled it off it ripped my lips enough to make them bleed and it hurt like hell. It was impossible to hide the swelling and the injury from my parents. When my mother found out about it she left the house in a rage. She was hysterical. I thought she was going to kill her. But, alas, she didn't.

Mrs. Jacobs was a foul teacher. She scared some of the kids so badly they wouldn't ask for permission to go to the bathroom. I'm not sure now who she was, but a girl sitting behind me peed in her chair. She had been wiggling intensely for some time. I could hear it and I was curious so I turned around in time to see it spilling off her seat onto the floor. And then she burst into tears and I felt bad for her. Of course she ended up with a pile of sawdust under her desk to soak it up.

So I became her friend. But she went on to tell me weird things like "babies come out of their mothers bums." I assumed that was the truth for quite a while.

Luckily I never puked in school. But I seem to remember seeing that odd sawdust stuff soaking up vomit quite frequently. It's no wonder, though, since at that school you weren't allowed to leave the lunchroom until you'd finished everything on your pastel-colored divided tray. And they frequently served cooked, canned spinach. So there was a lot of barfing going on. We learned to load up our milk cartons with what we absolutely couldn't eat.

I was only in this school for one year, thankfully. Besides getting my mouth taped shut, I got into trouble for trying to burn down the school with a magnifying glass. At recess I was outside looking at things and to be fair, I had burned a hole in a piece of paper to amaze my classmates, but I got dragged into the principal's office by my ear and lectured about the dangers of starting fires after some moron saw me looking at the bricks after my hole-in-the-paper demonstration. It was humiliating and I didn't know who snitched or I might have gone psycho on their ass.

I went to the same school for 4th grade too but fortunately it didn't last longer than a few days. There was a huge fight outside during recess and I thought I was doing the right thing by running inside to tell somebody about it. The fight got broken up and I got into trouble for "telling" by the kids AND the principal. I had had enough of that school. My mom had heard enough and graciously took me to Central school where I had gone for a very idyllic second grade and re-enrolled me there.

My primary education was salvaged! I was delighted to find myself in Miss Arellano's classroom with "old" friends. My life returned to normal learning things like The Pledge of Allegiance which I couldn't recite without forgetting parts of to save my life when I was awake but could, according to my grandmother, recite over and over and OVER perfectly in my sleep. Once she told me about that, it gave me confidence and I relaxed and was able to learn it. I stopped talking in my sleep and went back to grinding my teeth.

Hmmm. Reciting the Pledge of Allegiance repeatedly in my sleep; maybe I was just trying to keep away the bad dreams about babies coming out of their mothers' bums.

Like Hitting Speed Bumps in a Big Limosine

2006-03-23T02:14:00.000-08:00

The 100-year anniversary of the 1906 California earthquake is coming next month. A hundred years doesn't seem like such a long time to me any more since I've lived nearly half that number already. They just keep telling us that there's a "big one" due any time now, not on just one fault but two or more. It's just a matter of time.

I've experienced two large earthquakes and innumerable tiny ones in my time. After the 1989 Loma Prieta quake there were so many aftershocks that I started wondering if I was having swarms of personal temblors too. Many of us were nervous for quite a while. I was in the Oakland Cost Plus store when I was sure I felt an earthquake starting and I just froze for a few seconds then realized I was in an aisle of pottery and glass. As I was about to run and after not breathing for a few seconds I heard a train horn blasting outside and remembered that the store is right next to the train tracks. Every time a train passes by, all the buildings rumble.

When the '89 earthquake hit, I was working for United Airlines at the Oakland airport. I was out on the ramp away from the terminal waiting for a commuter flight from Fresno to arrive. Just as it landed, the ground started moving. First it shook and I knew it was an earthquake. Then the waves came. Not water, but concrete waves. The concrete below my feet moved as if it had changed into a pool cover. It was extreme movement, bordering on violent, and all I could think about was the huge cracks in the earth I'd seen in Anchorage, Alaska after the 1964 earthquake. I was truly afraid the earth would split and I would fall in.

The Alaska earthquake was surreal. We'd had a few before we moved to Fairbanks, Alaska but they weren't anything I was afraid of. Even though it was milder there than in Anchorage, it was still a wild ride. The doors in the hallway were swinging back and forth. The power lines looked like somebody was playing jump-rope with them and the oddest part was that the house across the street looked like it was higher than ours, then lower, then higher. These were the waves pulsing through our neighborhood.

So why don't we have a preparedness kit? Maybe I want to drink water out of the toilet. Maybe I want to get stranded at the Oakland Zoo without a change of clothes in my car.

The other day there was a swarm of earthquakes a few miles from here. I only felt the biggest one at 1:46PM. It's hard to describe an earthquake. Maybe crank up the stereo volume and hold your hand by the bass speaker. If you feel the shock waves from the sound, imagine that force traveling through the ground. Or try this: It's like being a passenger in a long limosine when it drives over a speed bump. At least that's how the little 3.7 quake felt the other day. It's an odd experience because you don't see what's causing the movement but things like pictures on the wall rattle, the bed moves and makes that creaking sound, glasses standing close together make that "ting" sound and at the same time you might think you just heard a truck hit the side of your building.

The brain has only a couple of seconds to think but it presents your conscienceness with a large number of explanations for what's happening. At the same time you wonder where the cats are, how badly you need a haircut, what's in the freezer and how long it'll stay fresh without electricity and then go on to debate whether to stand in the doorway or run outside. I wasn't wearing pants so I decided to stand in the doorway. But I didn't make it to the doorway because my inner voice said "you don't want to get stuck in rubble without pants" so instead I did neither and sat down at the computer instead to look up its size and epicenter.

I can say that we are somewhat prepared, in all fairness. We have a large amount of camping equipment that would come in handy if the house is wrecked and we could still get to it. If the house survives but we have no water, we have a shovel we could use for digging a hole outside to do our business. But something tells me that the homeowners association would still be issuing citations even after the big one.

Even though it feels like no matter what I do to prepare it'll turn out to be the wrong thing, I'm going to start with getting a water supply. In 1964 storing an emergency water supply was much more difficult than it is today. So that's what I'll do to start. And if the earth decides to give us another good shaking to celebrate the anniversary, at least I'll have clean hair and something to cook my oatmeal in.

I Was a Teenage Illegal Alien

2006-03-20T23:36:00.000-08:00

The biggest surprise of my life was on April Fool's day, 1970. My parents chose that day to reveal to me that we were going to Okinawa for two years. I was stunned. And when it turned out NOT to be a prank, I went absolutely giddy. After spending two years in Alaska earlier in my life, I was fully aware that we were going to be transplanted and heading into a great unknown.

My favorite toy in Alaska was a little Pan Am 707 jet. As the years went by, I longed to take a ride on a jet airplane. Moving to Okinawa meant that my dream would come true.

Once the travel bug bites, the sickness just gets worse. After being on Okinawa a short time I decided it was time to travel again and so I went to a little travel agency at the Plaza House shopping center and discussed my agenda with a very nice lady while my mom was shopping at another store.

Somehow I convinced my parents to take a little weekend trip to Ishigaki island. It was close to Okinawa, we could travel by air (the airplanes are shown in the previous post below) and most of all it would establish my credibility as a 13 year-old travel agent.

The trip went well. My dad enjoyed himself and that was the main objective: to loosen up Dad for a greater possibility of future trips.

The second trip didn't go well at all.

Taipei, Taiwan was the next destination. My parents went along with the idea and were impressed that I had looked into things such as what immunizations we would need. The shots we had to get needed to be done a couple of weeks before the commencement of travel. I wasn't crazy about that part but off we went with our yellow "shot books" to a base hospital.

Our shot books already had several stamps and certificates inside because of all the shots we got before leaving home. At the hospital, somebody must have filled the stamp pad with new ink because their certifying stamp was a bloody mess and was barely legible.

On departure day, the Kadena AFB MAC counter agent scrutinized our shot records for some time. He said we couldn't go because the date stamp was illegible. He couldn't verify the date that the shots were administered. They were too blurry. We went back and forth for some time, showing him our arms and the big purple bruises the shots had created two weeks earlier. He seemed immovable in his resolve to keep us on Okinawa.

Then somebody got the bright idea to call the hospital and verify the information. They had started boarding the flight so all my hopes were on this brilliant plan.

It worked! At the very last moment, the hospital verified the date in the shot book and the MAC agent took our bags, checked us in and off we went, boarding passes, shot records, passports and carry-on baggage in hand.

The flight from Kadena to Taipei was fairly short. It was such a rush to be taking off in another plane. After reaching cruising altitude, I pulled out a magazine and was surprised to find a whole lot of information about Taipei including important details about required immunizations and how to get a visa.

Visa? Visa? We had our passports. Surely that's all we needed! They were green official U.S. government passports. I kept reading. Forwards, backwards and side to side. I can only describe the thought that went through my mind in terms I use today. My reaction was "oh shit!" I had royally screwed up.

Actually, three people screwed up. I screwed up by not doing enough research but I was only 13 so I had an excuse.

The MAC agent at Kadena was so focused on the immunization issue that he forgot to do the rest of his job. We never should have been allowed to get on that plane. He screwed up.

My dad screwed up because, well, he's the dad and everything is his responsibility. This part worried me because I knew he was going to have to take the hit for this and it was going to make him hate me even more. I knew I was going to pay for this one big time!

So after crapping my pants and dropping my jaw to the floor, I tried to quietly recover from the effects of my discovery. My heartbeat, however, was beating like it was in an Edgar Allen Poe story. I just didn't know what to do.

After landing at the base in Taipei, I dawdled and hesitated getting out of my seat so that everybody else would get off first. Then as we walked into the building, everyone holding their passports and shot records out for inspection, I created another diversion claiming to want to see a big 747 take off in a couple of minutes. Mom and Dad obliged me, knowing how much I enjoyed watching planes. I never once let on that I knew we were going to be in big trouble.

Finally it was our turn to go inside. We were the last three people. I was behind my mom, probably hiding behind her dress and big hair.

This is where my memory blurs a bit, possibly to keep me from remembering something painful. But I do remember being escorted into a small room by two Chinese military guards holding guns with knives sticking out the end. The room was unlit but had a large window looking out toward a larger waiting room.

As our eyes adjusted we realized we were in a children's play room. There were some beanbag chairs and sort of a rocking horse thing with springs. An adult would not have been able to find a comfortable place to sit. The lights didn't work. There wasn't a water fountain or rest room. And we were held in there for a very long time, the guards with the guns and knives standing outside the closed door.

The atmosphere in that room was tense. I could see the blood vessels in my dad's head getting larger as he went to the window, surveying the scene outside. Again, my memory is hazy but I know I was compelled to confess that I had screwed up and only learned about the visa requirement after we were in the air on our way.

There wasn't a clock to measure time but it seemed we were in there for hours. And we didn't know what they were planning to do with us. Sending us home seemed like the most optimistic option.

Then my dad realized that he had a personal friend who worked somewhere in the local government and he wanted to contact him for help. I guess if they weren't going to torture or kill us they would surely just send us back to Okinawa on the next flight. The next flight, though, wasn't for another day. That's what made being locked in that little room so terrible. Plus, none of us had ever been held captive by guards with guns and knives before. It seemed so "Mission Impossible" but we had no fancy gadgets or rubber faces to help us out of our predicament.

Dad bravely knocked on the door and opened it which startled the guards a bit. I didn't overhear the conversation but one of them took him away. I really didn't expect to ever see him again at that point.

But after he'd been gone for quite a while he returned with a positive outlook. He didn't share the details but we were able to gather our things, quickly leave the room, pick up our luggage and leave the air base by cab for a hotel downtown.

On the way to the hotel, Dad explained that his friend was able to speak to a General Fung, an important government figure who understood our dilemma and gave us permission to enter Taiwan as long as we, and this is the important part, as long as we wrote a letter thanking him for his kindness, detailing the beauty of the country and describing the pleasures of our trip.

Really. That's all? That's great news! It seemed extremely, extraordinarily odd but hey, we can do that!

We went to a lot of places, shopped, traveled a bit and even changed hotels. We were only there a couple of days but we managed to get around. And so did the strange guy with the camera that seemed to follow us everywhere. By the time we got to the National Palace Museum, we were waving to him and even posing for him. He was so obvious about following us we decided to just go with it. It helped make the fact that we were being followed and photographed less creepy and more fun.

My dad got a typewriter from somewhere; maybe the hotel office, I don't know. But I remember the three of us in the hotel room trying to help him compose that "thank you" letter.

"Dear General Fung" it started. "Thank you so much for allowing us to enter the country and visit the many beautiful, interesting and historical sites Taiwan has to offer."

I don't remember the real content of the letter but that was the gist of it. And it took a lot of work to come up with a letter of sufficient length so that we would please General Fung and have no more problems. The thing was, though, we weren't sure what we were supposed to do with that letter. I think Dad understood that we were to mail it back to him once we got home.

What a strange trip. And on our last day, the man who had been photographing us contacted us at our hotel. We met him in the lobby, a little apprehensive about the situation. We don't know why he followed us, if he was working for someone or just what the deal was but when we met him, he showed us the photos he'd been taking and we were aghast at what we saw. He had been taking pictures of us long before we noticed him. And now he was trying to sell them to us! Well, my dad thought he'd just better buy a few, at least, just in case - in case - well, he didn't know why. It just seemed like a very good idea.

When we left we tried getting on MAC flights but they were too full and since we were flying on a stand-by basis, it didn't look like we were going to get on. So Dad decided we would buy tickets on Japan Air Lines and fly into Naha. I'm sure he just wanted to get the hell out of that country by then. So we took a cab to the commercial side of the airport and proceeded to buy tickets and check in.

That's where the trouble started again. Yes, we had legitimate tickets and reservations. Yes, we had passports. But the passports didn't have an official entry stamp in them. This, as world travelers know, presents a problem. It can be a big issue. All we had to offer was a typed letter to General Fung thanking him for letting us into the country. Nice but no dice.

That just wasn't going to fly with the JAL people. Talk about "aghast!" They had the most serious, incredulous expressions on their faces. Some laughed. We were embarrassed and we'd had just about all we could take. We were, in essense, quarantined at the check-in station while a big discussion ensued between various JAL agents. They made phone calls. My dad tried to explain but it just sounded SO stupid that he just gave up. And to my horror, a friend from Pacific Middle School checked in with her family while all this was going on. She was looking at me like we were some kind of criminals. Everybody was.

Soon it was past departure time. The plane was being held, presumably for us, and finally, to our relief an agent who had been on the phone for some time, hung up and came running over to say we could go. He kept the letter, checked our bags and off we went. Just like that.

The passengers already on board knew the plane was late and as we made our way to our seats we were acutely aware of their curious faces glaring our way wondering, I'm sure, what kind of problem we had.

The plane finally departed and to say the least, it was a relief to be going home. It was a lovely airplane with beautiful Japanese flight attendants serving snacks, beverages and even a warm moist towel to freshen up with.

There was just one more issue, though. And that was the contraband which was packed away inside my luggage. I still don't know what gave us the courage to smuggle banned items in our luggage. We'd purchased bootleg records (of dubious quality) for just a few dollars and a few books including a dictionary and thesaurus, also just for a measley few bucks. And my mother decided to bring along a big bag of mangoes that she coddled much like a precious sleeping baby. This too was prohibited, as we would soon learn.

And so I was back in the air taking another ride on a big ol' jet plane. It couldn't be better for a 13 year-old kid. I loved every moment of the flight but as we arrived, I started getting nervous about the immigrations and customs problem. I had become a smuggler in addition to an illegal alien on this trip and was about to do my best at getting my contriband past the inspectors.

But that's the subject of the previous story titled "I Was a Teenage Smuggler." That's a story all by itself. And it's just one of many from that exotic, exciting two years I spent living in the Far East. General Fung, if you're still out there, thanks again. We really did enjoy our trip and we sincerely appreciated your influence getting out of that makeshift Taiwanese prison.

I Was a Teenage Smuggler

2006-03-14T01:38:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the Naha, Okinawa airport twice. The first time was on a plane like the one pictured above from a weekend trip to Ishigaki island which I had planned. Except for the hotel restaurant spaghetti incident, the trip was pleasant and uneventful.

The other time was on a Japan Airlines stretch DC-8 from Taipei. The whole trip to Taiwan was the strangest and most thrilling adventure I had with Mom and Dad during the time we were all together. However, here I'm only going to tell about the voyage home.

Just before flying home, my mom purchased a sack of delicious mangoes that she enjoyed so much while we were there. She carried them on board the plane. (The plane they held back from departing while we had that terrible scene in immigrations where we tried to get OUT of the country without an entrance stamp in our passports and only a typewritten letter to General Fung thanking him for allowing us to visit his fabulous country. See what I mean?)

The mangoes were prohibited from entry into Okinawa, something I discovered later, but since our departure was so unconventional, to say the least, we didn't notice any signage and nobody mentioned it to us. Besides, all I cared about was getting through customs with contraband in my suitcase!

We had cleverly packed several bootleg copies of record albums we bought for pennies in my suitcase. At the time Taiwan didn't honor any copyright laws so music albums and books were reprinted without fear of the law. The US, though, didn't allow these items and were confiscated at customs if discovered.

The records were all cleverly packed inside a round cookie tin my parents went out and bought expressly for the purpose of smuggling. They even bought extra pieces of paper and twine so that after we ate most of the cookies we could put the records in the bottom, replace the remaining cookies on top and then wrap it all up again. Devious, huh? It was my idea. I had seen the tins and thought they might be the right size and suggested it when we were in the hotel room conspiring.

The plan had an excellent chance of working as long as a customs/immigration/agricultural inspection agent didn't lift the package. Otherwise they'd never know that instead of cookies inside there were actually about 30 vinyl records.

It wasn't my idea to pack the contraband in MY suitcase. But that's what happened since, as my dad explained, I had the most room. It weighed a ton and my poor, skinny little arms strained to lug that suitcase along.

When we arrived at US Customs in Naha I was so nervous and let my mom go ahead of me, clutching a mesh bag of fresh mangoes with both hands held behind her. I remember seeing a sign saying that all fruits and vegetables had to be surrendered due to agricultural reasons. Mom knew about that too, by then, but that didn't stop her from trying. And she got away with it too until I got really nervous when one of the agents started fussing with my suitcase and appeared to be on the brink of discovering my filthy little secret.

To save my own ass and distract the agent I said, "Mother, you can't bring MANGOES into Okinawa!" Their attention went straight to her. In fact another agent came out of the back room where he'd been reading the newspaper. I wasn't sure they could see the bag so I pulled it out from behind her. She gave me the look of bloody murder and immediately I felt relief that the spotlight wasn't on me!

I shut my suitcase and left while she was in there trying to save her fruit. But it didn't work. She walked out with a big bag of nothing, fuming.

She reminded me of that situation many, many times afterwards. She was never again to taste a mango as sweet as the ones the Naha airport officials undoubtedly sat and ate after we were out of sight.
______________________
The very first time we went to Naha airport was to meet my sister who was arriving from the US after her first year of teaching 2nd grade. She couldn't pass up the chance to come and live with us on Okinawa for two years.

I remember seeing her walk in across the tarmac from the observation deck and wondering why her hair was totally straight and wet-looking and hanging down like she had just washed it. I laughed out loud. I'd never seen her look like that in public before. I was too young to make the connection between straight hair, curlers and humidity.

The second time was when we went to meet my brother who was arriving after a long trip from France via Tehran, Delhi and Hong Kong, among other stops. He didn't show up and so we eventually went home, not sure what to think or do. There weren't any reports of planes being shot down over Vietnam, at least not commercial jets. Later he called from a Hong Kong hotel saying his flight had misconnected and Pan Am had put him up for the night.

We returned the next night for our reunion after not seeing him for two years. To my delight I was much, much closer to being able to look straight into his eyes. And he said he wouldn't have recognized me because I had grown so much.

Ah, Pan Am. The assumed airline for everyone and everywhere for so long.

The Most Amazing Photo I Have Ever Seen

2006-03-09T01:04:00.000-08:00

Flickr.com photo by Billy Law
You've heard about a cat's tongue and you've felt it. But I'd be willing to bet that you've never really seen it. My jaw dropped when I saw this amazing photo. People are taking such fantastic photos with "macro" lenses. Take a moment to see something truly remarkable.

Click on the photo for a larger view.

The photo has been viewed well over 5000 times and nearly 400 people, including myself, have marked it as one of their favorites. To see his other photos, you can use the link below.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/alliwantforxmas/

Growing Pains

2006-03-08T02:23:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of self-promotion, I thought this would be a good place to add the link to my submitted photo for the Jones Soda Co. label contest.
My main goal in life isn't to have my photo (taken 34 years ago) appear on a soda bottle label but it seems like fun so why not try? Click on the link and cast your vote! It could only boost my sagging ego.
http://www.jonessoda.com/gallery/view.php?ID=565930&offset=6

By the way, I don't recall ever drinking a Jones Soda so I have no idea what flavor this would be. It might have a warning, though, "May Cause Growing Pains."

Up But Not Running

2006-03-08T01:35:00.000-08:00

Wouldn't you know, just when I begin writing my first entry, my cat, Pewter, takes a big stinky dump in the litter box. His are abnormally awful and I'm working with the vet to see what can be done about it.

Just like with people, the pretty ones have all the problems. My other cat, Cootie, is just a normal black cat. He never pukes, his poops are normal and he'll probably live to be 40.

Pewter, on the other hand, is a gorgeous silver tabby and people always gush on him when they see him. I think "yeah, he's pretty, but he has problems."

He's supposed to be making solid stools that stink less since switching to the expensive prescription cat food. So far, it's not working. The dump I just dumped wasn't even formed. They're getting worse. I'm not about to quadruple my cat food expense for these kinds of results. It looks like we'll be visiting the vet again.

When we got home from the last visit, we had to deal with a new issue at home. Cootie, his lifetime friend and constant companion, smelled "pet hospital" on Pewter and wanted nothing to do with him. He'd hiss and swat - a behavior I've never witnessed except when asserting himself with Brad. After a couple of days he calmed down but for a while I was on edge never knowing if I was about to be caught in the middle of a cat fight.

So once again the cat does something annoying but loveable. This time doing what comes naturally in the next room and then running away, downstairs, as fast as possible without covering it up. Why, oh why, didn't I teach them to do it in the toilet? I can't count the number of times I've just settled down in a hot bath when suddenly that smell permeates the air. Or there's the mad dash upstairs during dinner when my ultrasonic hearing detects digging in the cat box and guests are present. Or not.

It's just too late at night to try and get this blog up and running. I thought this would be totally simple and now it appears I'll have to learn some new tricks in order to make it work right. It's too bad I don't have a spare 4th grader handy to answer my technical questions.