That Damn Dog

So much for proving my existence

2007-02-14T12:24:00.000-08:00

We're off to New Zealand now. You can join us over here.

Still here

2006-09-06T11:19:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write a quick post to prove that I still exist. The last several weeks have been a blur with traveling, family visits and work. Hopefully things will slow down soon and I'll get a chance to write a decent post.

Alaska was amazing, although we didn't get the sunny weather I had hoped for. We did have a bear visit the bed and breakfast we were staying at, so of course we took lots of pictures. Sadly, no moose sightings, though.

I hope everyone is out enjoying the last bit of summer –– I wish I was!

Photo(s) Friday

2006-08-11T00:01:00.000-07:00

After many, many months I've finally gotten the Northern half of our trip to India uploaded. Check them out here.

Jam and Terror

2006-08-10T14:23:00.002-07:00

It's been a busy week of working and getting ready for our trip to Alaska next week. Any time we go on vacation I feel like I should clean the house from top to bottom before we leave. I don't know if it's misguided attempt to prevent anyone from finding out how messy we truly are in case we don't make it back, but it's pretty ridiculous.

I spent all day Tuesday dusting and sweeping, pulling out and shaking the rugs and ruthlessly organizing the family room. When I went in Wednesday morning and discovered that Jake had pulled all the Kleenex and paper products out of the garbage can and spread them around the room, I wondered why I had bothered. That damn dog.

Berries are ripening here and I've spent the last two evenings making jam – raspberry in the bigger jar and blackberry/raspberry in the smaller jars. We now have a total of 12 jars of jam, with plans for several more jars of blackberry, which should see us well into our 40s.

In other news, we're trying to decide just how many hours we should plan to stand in line to get through security at Seatac. The newscaster this morning reported that this latest ban on liquids is far more confusing to passengers than the previous ban on knives, box cutters and nail clippers. Lady, I've got news for you. Banning nail clippers still makes less sense. I don't care if they're the gigantic kind meant for cutting the thickest toenails, and have that swing-out thingy for scraping out dirt and whatnot. As Tom said, "I'd like to see someone try to take over a plane with nail clippers."

British airports have basically reduced passengers to getting on the plane naked, clutching a few select items in a clear plastic bag. I'm waiting to see if we'll need to Saran Wrap ourselves to qualify for some kind of express security lane.

Photo Friday

2006-08-04T12:58:00.000-07:00

The Last Daylily

In our garden, anyway.

Friends

2006-08-02T10:39:00.000-07:00

An old friend called the other day. The last time we spoke was during an exchange of letters not long before I left Arizona, more than five years ago. She also moved at about the same time and in the process we lost touch with each other. The occasional internet search turned up nothing on her, but as it turned out, she's also been looking for me and finally found my number.

We met through a mutual friend our senior year of high school and became inseparable immediately. Before high school ended her family moved away, reinforcing my long-held belief that to make a friend was to lose them sooner rather than later. Sounds depressing, but I seem to have a knack for making friends with people who soon move to the opposite side of the earth. When it happens often enough, you develop a real complex about it.

We managed to keep in touch through sporadic letters (these were the pre-internet days) and she was one of two bridesmaids in my wedding. My best friend since the age of eight couldn't be there because she was pregnant and on bed rest with her second child and another bridesmaid decided a trip to Brazil was a better option than a wedding. She was always unreliable, but still: not helping the complex.

Anyway, it was really great catching up with my old high school friend again. Other than the fact that she has a four-year-old son, it was like no time had passed at all. It was good to know that some people will still be your friend, no matter how much time you've lost.

Internet, I'm miserable

2006-07-31T09:02:00.000-07:00

Last week, Tom thought he was having a particularly bad allergy attack. Well, turns out it was a cold. Now he's passed the disease torch to me and I am suffering.

It seems to be some kind of hybrid monster of all the colds I've ever suffered: swollen throat, coughing, aches, lethargy, alternating runny and congested nose. My eyes feel so swollen and itchy that I'm ready to claw them out of my head. Most attractive is the panting; I can't breathe through my nose, so my mouth is always hanging open while I desperately gulp in air.

Sadly, I don't even have the comfort of staying home from work and sleeping the day away because I have a deadline in five hours. Guess I better stop hanging around here. Bye, Internet.

Photo Friday

2006-07-28T11:04:00.000-07:00

Vanity, thy name is camel.

I have never seen an animal more in love with the camera.

Heatwave

2006-07-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

We, like the rest of the country, are suffering from above-average temperatures. Hardly anyone around here has a pool; it rarely gets hot enough to make maintaining one worthwhile. Last year it stayed so cool that we never switched from flannel to cotton sheets on the bed.

Drinking water alone doesn't seem to combat the heat, so I've been making pitchers and gallons of lemonade and peach iced tea. Finally, a use for all those bags of lemons I keep buying!

Yesterday we decided to head out to the lake to cool down. Lake Crescent is a 10-mile-long glacial-carved relic of the last ice age and is fed by mountain snow. At more than 600 feet deep its crystal clear waters rarely warm up enough for comfortable swimming, but it rarely gets this hot here, either.

We got to the lake in the afternoon, after many people had already headed for home, so we were able to stake out a private bit of beach. We were soon joined by two teenaged girls who squealed with the chilly water before becoming acclimated to it. Their presence drew a crowd of boys who splashed and hollered in that particularly manic way of teenaged boys, while the girls ignored them to chat with the one boy who wasn't screeching like a fool.

After they all left we lay on the beach, soaking in the now-tolerable rays of the sun and enjoying the quiet. I was reminded that this is a rare place, with the ocean, mountains, rivers, lakes and beaches all within easy reach.

Photo Friday

2006-07-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Details

Mmmm, meat.

2006-07-17T08:43:00.000-07:00

Pot roast was on sale the other day so I bought a couple, had them sliced thin and made a big batch of beef jerky. For us, jerky is a road trip staple, but so expensive that I prefer to make my own.

When I was a kid, my grandma used to make her own jerky. Knowing how much I liked it she would have a batch waiting for me every Christmas. Yes, meat is a perfectly acceptable, and in fact welcome, gift in our family. I was given bacon for my eighth birthday...but that's another story.

Hunting, fishing and gardening was both a pleasure for my grandparents and a way to feed five children. When my grandpa built their garage, he made an entire room at the back for storing canned goods. There were rows and rows of peaches, pears, applesauce, green beans, corn, tomatoes and stewed venison, all grown, caught and canned by my grandparents.

My grandma made jerky by drying it at a low temperature in the oven, but I use a dehydrator. I marinate the meat overnight then dry it for 6-8 hours, depending on the thickness of the slices. It's a small thing, but in the age of convenience, canning and preserving my own food makes me feel more connected to slower times and my family's way of life.

Marinade
I'm usually a measure-it-by-eye style of cook, so this is more of a rough guide than a recipe. All measurements are approximate and are open to interpretation.

3 cups Yoshida sauce (original)
2 tbsp Honey mustard
1 tbsp Cidar vinegar
1 tbsp Olive oil
2 tsp Italian herbs (dried)
1 tsp Worchestershire sauce
1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 seasoning salt

I prefer more peppery jerky, so I grind pepper over the top of the strips as I lay them in the dehydrator.

Photo Friday

2006-07-14T00:41:00.000-07:00

Lady Washington

The Lady Washington, most recently playing the part of the HMS Interceptor in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, visited our harbor earlier this week. They offered tours by donation at the City Pier and "adventure sails" to those interested in paying the price.

It's relatively small and seeing it in person really made me appreciate the faith the crew must have in their captain to agree to cross the ocean in what amounts to a floating chopstick.

Harvest Time

2006-07-11T12:45:00.000-07:00

Our cherry and pear trees are producing bumper crops this year; they seem to do especially well every other year, as if to say that producing heavily is so exhausting they need a year hiatus between stellar crops. They're both fairly old trees, so it's entirely possible, I guess.

With the cherries, we usually leave the crown of the tree to the birds and pick our cherries from the lower and middle branches. There's plenty to go around, although I'm not crazy about the purple splats the birds leave on everything within a one hundred foot radius of the tree.

Fortunately the pear and cherry trees don't ripen at the same time. It would be a full time job dealing with all that fruit. I still have pears we canned summer before last. We'll have to start pushing them on friends and relatives to make room for the new batch.

When the pears are ripe it's worth your life to walk under the tree. They get big enough to at least give you a decent concussion when they fall. Once they've fallen, we have to get out and pick them up immediately because Cooper's developed a taste for pears and will take a bite out of each one before choosing a favorite to race around the yard with. At least they don't have the same effect on him that banana has on Jake.

Photo Friday

2006-07-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

Exploring Fort Casey

A couple of weeks ago we visited Fort Casey, a World War II bunker concealed in the banks of Whidbey Island, Washington.

New Zealand, here we come!

2006-07-05T23:54:00.000-07:00

It's official. We have honest-to-goodness, real-live confirmed tickets going to New Zealand next year. Using our frequent flyer miles, no less. We'll be taking advantage of our free layover to spend three days in Sydney, then going to New Zealand for six weeks. Woohoo!

Photo Friday

2006-06-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

Red

Columbine growing wild along the Gorge Trail in Watkins Glen State Park.

Watkins Glen

2006-06-28T23:43:00.000-07:00

In the Finger Lakes Region of Upstate New York is a lovely little state park named Watkins Glen. Watkins Glen contains many a waterfall, the picturesque Glen Creek and fabulous stone stairways and trails courtesy of the Works Progress Administration of the 1930s.

Glen Creek has carved its way through layers of sandstone and shale to create a narrow gorge full of rapids and pools in the water-smoothed rock. A different climate exists on each wall of the canyon; one side is the shade-loving wet side, the other is dryer, exposed to the sun all day.

After hiking from the main entrance to the upper end of the Gorge Trail, and stopping constantly for picture, we climbed Jacob's Ladder: 180 steps that lead to a grassy picnic area and Hallelujah! a restroom. Here we rested, ate lunch and wondered how the long the couple waiting for the shuttle bus would sit there before realizing that it wasn't scheduled to run that day. Later, we saw the man leave to hike alone back to the main parking area, so answer turned out to be: at least an hour.

On the hike down the gorge we found this flower from a poplar, or tulip tree, on the path. The species of tree this flower came from was featured on JLB's site earlier this month. I kept seeing the spent petals of these flowers on earlier hikes and couldn't figure out where they were coming from. This was the only intact one I found, but it's pretty clear where the name "tulip tree" came from.

The picture above is of Rainbow Falls. Apparently, there was more than the usual amount of water flowing through the canyon, so the waterfalls were bigger than usual. This is one of two falls on the path that you can walk behind. Mainly I jogged through, hunched over my camera to keep it from getting wet, although the view from either edge of the waterfall is just as interesting.

I think it's safe to say that although brief, our trip to New York was memorable.

Photo Friday

2006-06-23T09:58:00.000-07:00

Peregrine Falcon

This Peregrine Falcon was nesting on cliffs near Niagara Falls. We spent several minutes watching it swoop after seagulls before it came in for a landing on a small tree just below us. Talk about being in the right place at the right time!

Do you see the Peregrine in this picture? I was surprised to have caught it at all because, according to my bird book, they average 25-34 mph (40-55 km/h) in traveling flight, and reach speeds up to 69 mph (112 km/h) in direct pursuit of prey. During its hunting stoop from heights of over 0.62 mi (1 km), the peregrine may reach speeds of 200 mph (320 km/h) as it drops toward its prey.

Cross your fingers

2006-06-22T10:33:00.000-07:00

Mridula of Travel Tales From India is a finalist in a travel contest at Oktatabyebye.com where one person will be given a laptop, a digital camera and 50,000 rupees to travel for 15 days and blog live about it as they travel.

If you've read Mridula's blog, you'll be familiar with some of the amazing treks she's done and the fantastic photos she's taken. So get over to the Oktatabyebye website and leave a comment to show her your support (she's contestant #3). Good luck Mridula!

Leaving the Nest

2006-06-21T00:14:00.000-07:00

I found this bundle of feathers nestled in a bed of sunflower seeds under the feeder in the pear tree. He seemed quite undisturbed by my presence but when Cooper came over for a look, ran around in circles until he remembered he had functioning wings. I guess the dogs won't be going into the yard unsupervised until I'm sure that the local baby birds have a little better developed flight response.

Being a Tourist

2006-06-19T12:23:00.000-07:00

When I found out that I'd be doing my latest shoot in upstate New York, Tom decided to go along and we extended the trip by a few days in order to visit some of Tom's family. We haven't seen them in about six years and his now 17- and 12-year-old cousins have shot up in height since then. They're a tall family and I felt like I was in a grove of trees whenever we were all standing around together. At 5'7" I'm not exactly tiny, but I was by far the shortest person in the bunch.

After flying all night, we arrived early Friday morning and spent most of the day relaxing, catching up and in my case, napping. We decided to spend Saturday visiting Old Fort Niagara and Niagara Falls. I was really looking forward to it as I haven't been to either one. We took a scenic route along Lake Ontario to the the fort, through small towns and lush green countryside. Tom's uncle went with us and we spent about three hours exploring the fort.

The "French Castle"

Originally built by the French in 1726, it is the oldest structure in the Great Lakes area. It was twice occupied by the British before finally being ceded to the United States after the war of 1812. Located on the shores of Lake Ontario, it's a windy and exposed location and would have been miserably cold in the winter. Just across a tiny inlet is Niagara-on-the-Lake, Canada –– a community so close you could practically throw a rock through the windows of the houses there. It was clear enough to see Toronto, 25 miles across the lake.

On the way out, we noticed this groundhog and two babies out grazing on the slopes just inside the fort walls.

After the fort, we drove to Niagara Falls. It was too late in the afternoon to take the Maid of the Mist boat tour that goes to the base of the falls, but we were able to get out on an observation platform that looks like a bridge to nowhere and hangs out over the river. I'm not afraid of heights, but once Tom mentioned that we were basically hanging in space with nothing below us, I could swear that I felt that platform swaying and shuddering every time the wind gusted.

The traffic over to the Canadian side of the river was light so we decided to cross over and see the falls from another perspective. Just before we left the parking lot, we noticed that the bridge to Canada allowed pedestrians, so we left the car on the American side and walked over.

The picture above is taken from the pedestrian bridge, of the observation tower with the falls behind it.

The view from Canada was even more spectacular and allowed us to see the Horseshoe Falls with its enormous plume of spray.

We stopped for dinner at a restaurant overlooking the falls and watched the colors in the sky and water change as the sun began to set behind us.

On the walk back, the moon began rise and by the time we got to the car, we were treated to a gorgeous full moon.

Photo Friday

2006-06-15T14:50:00.001-07:00

Mystery Flower

Does anyone know what this is? Because I don't believe I ever planted it, yet it has appeared in my flower bed as if it was invited in. If it's a flesh-eating predator as I suspect by the tongue-like pistel and stamen, and the long hairs inside the flower, I'd really like to know.

Photo Friday

2006-06-09T13:28:00.000-07:00

Sunrise at 30,000 Feet

That's right: I'm traveling for another photo shoot. My flight left Seattle at 11:40 pm, had one layover and ended up in upstate New York. See y'all next week!

Lessons

2006-06-07T09:43:00.000-07:00

I learned something this morning: If you are standing in your kitchen, holding a bowl of cereal and you lunge for a man who looks like he's about to stab himself in the side while trying to cut himself a piece of watermelon, the milk and cereal will get there before you do.

Photo Friday

2006-06-02T11:57:00.001-07:00

How NOT to Launch a Boat

Lesson 1: A truck does not float.

Lesson 2: A dock is not the ideal place for your parking brake to fail.

Lesson 3: Insurance is a good thing to have. Too bad this guy didn't.

Photo Friday

2006-05-26T09:12:00.001-07:00

Alpaca by Dr. Seuss

This victim of every effort by the universe to make him look as silly as possible lives at the Nashville Zoo in Tennessee.

Triumph

2006-05-24T17:04:00.000-07:00

I had a personal victory yesterday. I've mentioned before how I feel about spiders, so you can imagine how I might react to seeing a large-ish spider crawling across my desk from the vicinity of my elbow.

Surprisingly, especially to myself, there was no screaming and shedding of tears. Instead, I grabbed an empty water bottle and slammed it upside down on top of the spider. It wouldn't make the effort to climb up the side of the bottle that I had hoped it would, so I had to continue working with the little beast sitting in front of me, trying to type gently in order to not tip the bottle over.

This morning, it had climbed to the top of the bottle, so I slowly tipped it over and screwed the cap on. For someone who usually can't be in the same room as a spider, even if it is in a tightly sealed container, that was huge.

Photo Friday

2006-05-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

Sunset over Memphis...

...sunrise over Nashville.

Photo Friday

2006-05-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

Balancing Act

I know this goose has two legs because I saw him (her?) flapping it around, but you'd never know it by the Zen way he (she?) stood there.

Burn-out

2006-05-11T13:02:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's going on with me lately. I just haven't had the energy to write. I keep trying to write posts, but I get part way through, then, nothing. What should be an interesting post shapes up to be so dull, I'm even boring myself. And I'm usually really good at being entertaining in my own mind.

I think part of the problem is that I'm in the middle of a new issue of the magazine and the same photo shoot has been cancelled twice now. The first time was when I was nearly on the plane to Kentucky. I live three hours from the airport; it's a trip that required planning and multiple modes of transportation.

The shoot was rescheduled for Chicago, but cancelled the day before my flight. At least I hadn't left the house yet. Now we're back to shooting in Kentucky next week, on the day that the magazine is due. All these last-minute changes have left me with a screwed-up sense of time, and a feeling that I'm now well-qualified to become a travel agent.

Yesterday was Tom's 33rd birthday. He informed me that in four months his life would be one-third over because he's intending to live to be 100. Anything over that will be a bonus.

I spent the day making carrot cake (his favorite) and enchiladas. In his family, you don't mess with the enchiladas and I'd never made them by myself before so I was a little nervous. Despite only being able to get hold of green chile sauce instead of red chile sauce (enchilada sauce is nasty and should be banned from supermarket shelves) they turned out pretty well. Of course, enough cheese makes anything taste good.

The carrot cake was also a success. The dogs were happy because they got the tops and tails of the carrots as I peeled and grated them. As I was about the shove the peels into the garbage disposal, I realized the dogs would be equally excited about those and doled them into the dog bowls. After they were both finished gobbling them up, Cooper ran back and forth checking for strays and licking Jake's bowl spotless. Cooper adores all foods orange, up to and including oranges themselves.

A little more interesting to the humans in the house was the cake itself with its lemon cream cheese frosting. Now I just have to think of a use for all that left over frosting...

Photo Friday

2006-05-05T14:54:00.000-07:00

I had planned on posting photos from Chicago but my trip there was cancelled, so...

Amber Fort in Jaipur, India

This is from the road that approaches the Amber Fort. There are often elephants being bathed in the lake.

These arches create a shaded walkway around the perimeter of the walls.

This courtyard is the first point of entry after walking up the switchback path from the road below.

If you prefer, you can pay for an elephant ride to the fort.

The fort was military in nature, but there was no reason it couldn't be beautiful also.

The world's best customer service

2006-05-05T10:45:00.000-07:00

I received this email today:

Dear Lily B,

Your Epson $20.00 rebate check has been sent via 1st class mail on
12/28/2006. Please allow adequate time for delivery.

Sincerely,

Epson Rebate Administrator

It doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary until you read the date that my check was sent.

I haven't recently bought anything from Epson that was eligible for a rebate, so the only logical conclusion is that they are anticipating my buying habits and have already issued a rebate check for a future purchase. That, and Epson has obviously perfected time travel.

Payback for all those years of jumping through hoops

2006-05-02T17:19:00.000-07:00

I love boating all of kinds, but I've always secretly harbored an irrational fear that a playful Orca will create his own Sea World show out of me. Guess that fear's not so irrational after all:

Photo Friday

2006-04-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

I've been considering starting a photo blog. I'm not sure I can maintain another blog right now so I'm going to try posting every Friday to start.

"Vicious" Dog

This photo looks so unlike Cooper that it makes me laugh. By the way, his teeth aren't really that big.

This will not go down as my favorite day ever.

2006-04-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

I should be on a plane to Nashville right now. I should be returning my seat back and tray table to their upright positions. Instead, I'm sitting on my couch at home.

Long story short, just after boarding the ferry to Seattle I got a call telling me that the photo shoot I was heading for was cancelled due to a family emergency on the part of the subject. Everything else that could go wrong did, including the news that a crane had wedged itself onto the Agate Pass Bridge, blocking the only route off Bainbridge Island, which is where my car was parked.

Once I finally got to my car, I booked it out of town to get in line and off the island when the bridge was clear. I was a little disappointed to find that the crane had been cleared from the bridge when I got there. I was hoping to at least get a good picture out of the day.

While the day wasn't a disaster of the sort that results in the loss of life and limb, it was exhausting. And now I'm working on making last-minute travel plans to Chicago where we will try again to shoot next month's cover story. Crystal, I wish you still lived in Chicago so that we could meet for dinner.

Moving on...or staying put.

2006-04-21T23:20:00.000-07:00

A few weeks from now will mark the five year anniversary of moving to this tiny Northwest town. Five years. It's the longest I've lived in any one place since leaving home for college more than 13 years ago. In fact, the three years we've been in this house is another record.

Sometimes I feel the pull to move again. The desire for change. The urge to start over. This place is different from the others, though. There's an equally strong pull to stay here. I feel rooted in the forest, the mountains and the ocean. I discovered while living in Arizona that I couldn't live without water. I couldn't be a desert fish.

I grew to hate Arizona so much that it would probably have meant the end of my marriage if Tom hadn't felt nearly the same and been ready to move also. I ended up moving to Washington by myself while he stayed for another six months to sell our house. I just couldn't bear to live there another second. The funny thing is, I clearly remember thinking how much I liked it there right at the beginning.

Anyway. This wasn't meant to be an Arizona-bashing post and the perspective granted by a five year separation will allow me to grudgingly admit that there are many nice things about the state but for me, it's a better place to visit than to live.

Eventually the need for change will force me to tear out my roots and move on. Maybe even transplant myself to another country for awhile; I've always wanted to learn another culture and language. Preferably a place with lots of water...

Better late than never...

2006-04-14T15:00:00.000-07:00

My mother-in-law gave me this amaryllis in one of the those bulb-in-a-box kits for Christmas 2004. I brought it home, planted it, put it in an upstairs window and it promptly shot out four leaves...and that was it. Until now.

A few weeks ago a flower stalk poked its way out of the bulb. I've been watching its growth with interest, wondering what prompted its appearance, more than a year after being planted. Was it the time change and the longer days? Does it somehow know that Easter is coming?

Whatever the reason, I'm glad I didn't throw it out like I considered doing several times. My patience (or laziness) has been rewarded with lovely glowing red blooms.

Happy Easter and have a great weekend!

Salmon, garlic fries and chocolate-covered strawberries: baseball in Seattle.

2006-04-11T19:29:00.000-07:00

We were very kindly given tickets to last Friday's Mariners baseball game, which marks the first time we've been to one since college, when the Mariners played in the Kingdome, prior to the roof tiles falling into the crowd and the whole stadium eventually being demolished. In other words, it's been awhile. Now the Mariners have a lovely new stadium with a roof that opens and no one has to worry about being crushed by crumbling architecture.

There's not much to say about the game itself; the Mariner's lost 0-5 without putting up much of a fight. We had great seats looking down the third base line and much of the evening's excitement came from trying to anticipate where the foul balls, of which there were many, would land. I entertained myself by taking rapid fire pictures of the pitchers and wondering if I'd see a stray ball before it hit me square in the lens.

One of the great things about the early season is that the stadium was nearly full. If the season goes badly, attendance drops and so does the energy of the crowd. The people behind us were particularly energetic and happily sang along to every song played over the loudspeakers. Fortunately, they were funny rather than irritating, although I could have done without sitting next to the man scarfing garlic fries. Whoever decided that serving those foul things in a confined public place is either an idiot or completely lacks a sense of smell. I love garlic, but the odor bordered on offensive.

Anyway, despite the run-in with nasal death, it was a fun night. 'Nuff said.

Third Beach

2006-04-03T13:39:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we decided to get out of the house and stretch our legs, so we drove out to the coast and hiked to the imaginatively named Third Beach. It's fairly easy 1-mile hike, but it takes me three times longer than the average person to complete because I stop constantly to examine my surroundings and take a dozen pictures of the same thing. At one point I asked Tom – a power hiker – if it made him crazy that I stopped all the time. After a pause he said, "No, because that means you're enjoying yourself." Aw, I don't care if he was lying, that was sweet.

We managed to get there just before the tide was reaching its lowest ebb and walked down the beach to find a sheltered spot to eat our lunch. Third Beach is one of my favorite beaches in the area because it's close to home, easy to get to – but never crowded – beautiful, and there are plenty of places to explore, especially at low tide. We've even been lucky enough to find a glass float there.

There are several streams and small rivers that flow into the ocean at Third Beach. The waterfall in the picture above is one that falls over the cliffs at the south end. We decided to turn north from the trailhead, which meant crossing a wide stream that flowed across the beach and must either be crossed at the top, where there are logs spanning it, or at the bottom, where it spreads and becomes shallow.

I decided to tiptoe gently through it at the bottom, but ended up crashing across in a particularly ungraceful style. Tom tried it jump it a little higher up and forgot to calculate for the poor take-off the soft sand would cause, and fell a little short. Of course, neither of us brought a change of shoes, so we both walked around with soggy feet for the rest of the day.

The low tide left most of the rocks, and the critters on them, exposed to our curiosity and the seagull's appetites. I saw several seagulls attempting the nearly impossible feat of eating a starfish.

This extreme act of greed involves a lot of juggling of the starfish to find the exact angle that will allow a creature with five arms, all pointing in different directions, to slide down a narrow chute. The job is complicated by other opportunistic seagulls who will steal that tasty morsel in an unguarded heartbeat.

Now, I know that many people dislike seagulls, but they're one of my favorite birds. They have huge personalities, are actually pretty smart and are survivors. They're like the weeds of the bird world.

At the north end of the beach is a rocky point that is only exposed at the lowest tides. Of all the times we've hiked to Third Beach, this was the first time we were able to go around the point. We were rewarded with a hidden cove with large rocks, lots of tidepools and its own stream.

While Tom decided to explore around the next point, I poked around in the tidepools, looked for hidden treasures under the rocks, watched eagles soaring far out over the ocean and tried not to fall in the water with my camera. Eventually it was time to head back to the main beach, before the tide rose high enough to trap us in the cove.

Because of the high number of cargo ships and fishing boats that pass the Oregon and Washington coasts, there is always something to find, caught among the driftwood. We usually play an informal game of "If I Was Stuck On A Deserted Beach..." and I've come to the conclusion that if you got lucky and landed on the right beach, you could make a nice life for yourself.

This time there were an unusually high number of rubber gloves. I even found a matching pair just a few feet from each other. Because no trip to the beach is complete without creating "art" from our found objects:

Sadly, there were no dried clumps of eelgrass anywhere to use for hair.

On the hike out I stopped to take pictures so many times, Tom finally reminded me that if we planned to get to the car before the sun went down, we had to keep moving. One of these days we're going to spend three or four days doing a long hiking and camping trip down the coast. Anyone interested?

Redecorating

2006-03-29T12:41:00.000-08:00

Looks like someone got a little overly ambitious while setting up house in this nesting box:

Plumber's Crack

2006-03-27T18:30:00.000-08:00

There's something a bit off with our shower. Lately it's been offering tepid water or scalding hot water, no in-between. The water shoots directly out of the shower head even with the diverter thingy down, which should mean that it comes out the faucet. It also has a tendency to randomly switch to cold water in the middle of a shower, and then back to hot.

Because I pick the scalding hot option every time, I come out the color of a cherry tomato and walk around in a sweat for the next three hours. This is where you'd think that having a contractor for a husband would come in handy, but he's really booked up right now and he won't return my calls.

Grill me up, Scotty!

2006-03-24T13:31:00.000-08:00

I declare barbeque season officially open! At least in this part of the country.

Our first BBQ meal of the year was Carne Asada with all the trimmings –– grilled yellow pepper, grilled onions, guacamole, tomatoes and grilled tortillas. Tasty!

Last year, feeling slightly traitorous, we made the switch from charcoal, to the cleaner and more convenient gas. I have to admit, having the BBQ ready to cook in just a few minutes, being able to easily regulate the temperature and not getting dirty hands from the charcoal is nice. For some reason though, it makes me feel like I'm getting old. Like when we started sleeping on an air mattress when camping, instead of on the ground in our sleeping bags. But I'm willing to ignore that feeling when it means I can have barbequed chicken a few minutes after the craving strikes.

Have a great weekend and happy grilling!

India on my mind

2006-03-19T13:47:00.000-08:00

We recently watched Born Into Brothels, a documentary about children of Calcutta who live in the red light district, are given cameras and taught photography, and take the opportunity to change their lives. Because the children speaking to the camera was a large part of the film, but there were no subtitles, I spent a lot of time looking at the scenery in the background.

It's been two months since we came home from India and traveler's amnesia has set it. The frustration of dealing with touts, the discomfort of long-distance travel and the itch of ant bites have faded to dim and painless memories. While we didn't visit Calcutta, the surroundings of the movie were familiar: Rickshaws darting through traffic; cows, dogs, goats, pigs, cars, bicycles and people all competing for the same bit of space; tiny corner stalls selling everything from laundry soap packets to potato chips; more people than seems possible packed into one vehicle.

Though I managed to take more than 2000 photos during the trip, there were many photos I didn't take, usually when I preferred to interact with the people around me rather than put a camera between us. The memories of the moments I didn't capture on "film," rather than fading like the unpleasant parts, are crystallizing and remaining strong. A few of my mental photos:

Driving through a tiny village in Rajasthan, a tiny girl by the roadside bends down to scoop up dirt in each hand, stands up with her arms extended and throwing her head back, spins to let the dirt fly.

Bicycles with enormous loads of brilliantly colored plastic jugs and buckets tied to the back.

Weaving through the outdoor market in Ooty. Light filters through the canopy overhead and highlights hanging bunches of bananas, neatly stacked piles of oranges and pinapple, cabbages and eggplant. A vendor offers me a piece of fruit, no charge, when I stop to ask what it is.

The peace and quiet of a hidden courtyard when a family lets me in to use their bathroom because there is no public toilet in the small town. From inside it's impossible to tell that the road passes just a few feet away.

The look on the rickshaw drivers face when eight of us ask if we can fit into two rickshaws; a feat Indians seem to accomplish with ease, but we only managed with much squeezing and laughter.

Walking confidently into our guesthouse in Jaipur only to realize that, in the dark, we had walked into a private home next door.

I have no doubt that we'll visit India again; there are still so many good memories waiting.

A Walk on the Waterfront

2006-03-13T11:27:00.000-08:00

The sun finally started producing heat, so I decided to get out of the house and take a walk on the Waterfront Trail. My mistake was forgetting that it's about 20° cooler along the waterfront than at my house, but it was still a lovely sunny day.

The trail runs from City Pier, downtown, along the harbor and eventually to the next city over. It is prime bird-watching territory, with lots of benches from which to watch them. From the bench where I stopped to eat my sandwich I could see a pair of eagles fishing together, a great blue heron gliding to a landing on a piling, cormorants and a loon fishing and dozens of ducks.

American Widgeon

Harlequin Ducks and Seagull

Bald Eagle Pair

Red-Breasted Merganser

Barrow's Goldeneye

At the beginning of the trail is a small pond with clumps of cattails, water low at this time of year, where mallards nest and raise their families. In warm weather, raccoons come out to beg for handouts from passers-by. Under the canopy of maples, ferns thrive and salmon-berries are just beginning to flower. Outside the harbor, a container ship passes by on its way to Seattle. In the summer, children will play on the beach and swim in the water, but now the tide line is marked by piles of red seaweed, drying in the sun. Days like this are what make small coastal towns great places to live.

Hanjin container ship bound for Seattle. The hills of Vancouver Island, Canada are in the background.

A nuclear cloud...or is it nucular?

The Ongoing Saga...

2006-03-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

This has lately turned into a blog about my animals, but they're causing all the drama in my life right now, so whatever.

[A brief sidenote: yesterday was our ninth anniversary. I was planning on writing a lovely entry and sharing some photos, but force feeding the cat took up all my spare time.]

The vet was never able to diagnose what's wrong with Meg, but after extensive research on the internet, we think we may have it figured out (thank you internet) and the vet acknowledges that we may be correct. There is no treatment for Hepatic Lipidosis, if in fact that's what it is, other than force feeding until they'll eat on their own, so we're in the same boat regardless.

Yesterday, the vet gave us Oxazepam, a drug he just got in that stimulates the appetite, with the directions to give her two 10 mg capsules daily. Tom gave her one capsule this morning and the effect was almost immediate. From the Feline CRF site:

When giving these tranquilizers to cats, it is extremely important to always keep a close watch on them when the drug takes effect to make sure they don't fall off anything. They may be a bit unsteady, wobbly and uncoordinated as their central nervous system is affected by these drugs.

Yeah, no kidding. She started plowing nose-down through a plate of wet food like a near-sighted drunken college student after an all night pot smoking binge. After we finally took the plate of food away she teetered over to her cat box and crawled inside. I was worried about her drowning in cat litter so I made a bed from rolled up towels and a flannel sheet and put her in it. We were concerned about her reaction so, back to the internet.

Turns out the dose prescribed is enough for an adult human, more than enough for an 8-pound cat. She is currently high as a kite and we're hoping we haven't just managed to kill her.

Toxic

2006-03-05T11:26:00.000-08:00

This is all that's left of the lovely loaf of banana bread I baked yesterday. We went out to dinner last night and returned to find my first experiment with making nutty, fruity bread missing and one very guilty dog: Jake.

Jake has discovered that, though he's not a large dog, he is agile enough to reach the countertops in the kitchen. The bread was pushed to the back and left unwrapped because it was still cooling when we left. Obviously the back of the countertop is no longer a safe zone.

To add insult to injury, banana is among the most toxic of fuels that you can feed a dog. Jake spent ALL NIGHT LONG trying to kill us in our sleep. I woke up several times gasping for breath. At one point I got up and started flapping the bedroom door in an effort to let in some untainted air. Why not kick him out? He feels entitled to sleep in the bedroom and if denied the privilege, will scratch at the door and whimper until let in.

I'm ready to declare Jake a chemical weapon and send him to the front lines. Or maybe the White House.

Crazy is as crazy does

2006-03-03T14:10:00.000-08:00

After three days and two nights at the vet and $600, we finally have our cat back. When we left for India, Meg (Piglet, Crazy) was a fatty. When we got back, she had lost several pounds and was becoming rather bony. Her behavior was normal, if friendlier than usual, so we decided to keep an eye on her. When she still wasn't putting any weight on we decided to have the vet take a look at her.

At first he thought it might be hyperthyroidism and took some blood to test. By the end of the day he was able to report that the test was negative for hypertyroidism, but he needed more blood for more testing. We took her in the following morning and over the next three days he ruled out diabetes, lymphosarcoma and god only knows what else. Because she is our cat and nothing is simple with our animals, there is still no diagnosis. The vet is down to the possibility of a strange form of hyperthyroid disease or a mysterious brain fungus found in cats from California that causes craziness. I'm betting on the brain fungus.

We had chalked Meg's increasing craziness up to a rattlesnake bite she sustained when we lived in Arizona. Tom found her in the workshop lazing around in the cool concrete, brought her inside and put her on the cat perch. When I got home an hour later she was draped over the edge like a wet noodle and we decided to take her to the vet now. The vet was stumped by her behavior and thought she might have been in a fight, so she started shaving patches of hair off Meg, searching for bite marks. After partially denuding her and still coming up with no answers, the vet left the room to retrieve some further equipment. While she was gone I was petting Meg's few remaining tufts of hair and discovered a small rattlesnake tooth embedded in her head just below her ear. Eureka!

Meg spent a night at the vet office and then was sent home on the theory that cats recover better in their own house. She was completely paralyzed; she couldn't even swallow or blink her eyes. We set her up in the bathroom off our bedroom with her IV bag hung from the shower rod. Our vet visited her every afternoon and after three days she started kicking her legs and swallowing tiny amounts of liquid. After that her recovery was speedy, but she's never been quite right since.

Now that we have her back at home, we have to give her pills twice a day and force-feed her a liver-flavored slurry of wet food and Ensure for cats. That glop dripping down my hand is what hasn't been squirted in her mouth, up her nose and in her ear. The dogs behave pretty well during Meg's feedings, but they both stare at her and lick their lips like she's a turkey being basted for their consumption.

The vet is still running tests to determine which disease our crazy cat has and as soon as she starts eating on her own, she'll be in the market for a part-time job so that she can help pay for her vet bills.

Cheesecake is the best cake of all

2006-02-28T16:39:00.000-08:00

I love cheesecake. Because of that it never lasts long in my house, so I try not to make it often. Cheesecake has a reputation of being hard to make, but this recipe from Eagle Brand® is really easy. I would have taken my own picture but it disappeared too quickly.

I N G R E D I E N T S
1 1/2 cups chocolate cookie crumbs
3 tablespoons butter or margarine, melted
2 (1-ounce) squares unsweetened chocolate
1 (14-ounce) can Sweetened Condensed Milk (NOT evaporated milk)
2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, softened
3 eggs
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 (21-ounce) can cherry pie filling, chilled

I N S T R U C T I O N S
Preheat oven to 300°.
Combine cookie crumbs with butter; press firmly on bottom of 9-inch spring form pan. In small saucepan over low heat, melt chocolate squares and sweetened condensed milk, stirring constantly. Remove from heat.
In large mixer bowl, beat cream cheese until fluffy. Gradually add chocolate and condensed milk mixture until smooth. Add eggs, cornstarch, and almond extract; mix well. Pour into crust.
Bake 55 minutes or until center is set. Cool. Chill. Top with cherry pie filling before serving. Refrigerate leftovers.

S H O R T C U T S & E X T R A S
Use a premade graham cracker crust. I happened to have a regular graham cracker crust, so I used that instead of a chocolate crust and it was just as tasty.

Use chocolate syrup instead of melting squares of chocolate. I just squirt a bunch in but if you like accuracy, 2-4 tablespoons should do it, depending on your love of chocolate.

Add chocolate chips. I added them to the mix but they sink to the bottom anyway, so save yourself some grief and just sprinkle them on the bottom of the pan before pouring in the mix.

Put a small oven-proof dish of water on the rack below the cheesecake. It helps keep it from drying out and getting cracks.

The City of Brotherly Love

2006-02-23T19:07:00.000-08:00

I'm at a hotel in Philadelphia waiting to take a ridiculously early flight home tomorrow. I flew in yesterday for a photo shoot in Wilmington, picked up a rental car and proceeded to spend two hours giving myself the grand tour of Wilmington under the guise of looking for my hotel. And when I say grand tour, it means that I think I now know Wilmington, Delaware better than the town I live in. Below is a map of the city with my approximate route drawn in red. I'm pretty sure those aren't the only streets I drove down, but it all started to blur in the second hour.

The whole trek started because the directions I was given said to turn left after exiting the freeway instead of right. Once I decided that the original instructions were useless, I decided to try the drunken sparrow method of navigation. There were enough street names given that I figured I could find at least one of the streets and follow it until crossed another. But, nope. It lasted far longer than it needed to because I didn't stop for new directions until it started to get dark. Eh, what else was I going to do with myself? The up side was that I knew exactly how to get to my appointment this morning.

After the shoot I headed back to Philadelphia to return my rental car, hoping there would be time to visit a few sights, including the Italian Market. What with the train schedules, being at the far south end of town and early closing times it turns out I had time to do exactly nothing. I thought a hockey game would be fun and found out that there was a ticket available in row six at center ice, for tomorrow's game. Gah.

I was dying to get out of the hotel room so I walked over to the only restaurant around, Ruby Tuesday, for dinner. From where I was sitting I could see the large swinging kitchen doors that were marked with 3-inch block letters screaming "YES" and "NO" in an effort to prevent unpleasant accidents. Two waitresses, one in training, walked by on their way to kitchen. The trainer asked if the other girl had ever worked in a restaurant before and got a negative answer to which she said: "The most important thing is that you walk in the right door." Awesome. And actually true to the extent that no one wants to wear a trayful of food for an entire shift.

When I walked back into the lobby the guy at the front desk yelled "Lily! What's up?" Apparently we became friends at some point during check-in. I wish he was our neighbor.

Right now it's midnight here, 9 p.m. my time, and I have to get up at 5 a.m. to get to the airport. I'm really torn between staying up for another five hours or trying to get a few hours sleep. Either way, I hope the hotel is open for breakfast early enough to get something to eat. US Airways didn't even serve peanuts and only one drink in five hours. At least there was no danger of having to use the bathroom.

Update: I compromised and only got two hours of sleep.

I can dress him up but I still can’t take him out.

2006-02-18T16:12:00.000-08:00

I have no children to amuse myself with and Tom won't let me dress him up, so occasionally Cooper has to bear the brunt of my need to torment another living creature. He's pretty good about humoring me and doesn't seem to mind hysterical laughter at his expense, especially if there's a treat involved.

He really has no dignity, so I'm not worried humiliating him. Besides, how else can I pay him back for crawling under my desk and farting while I'm trying to work?

Neighbors

2006-02-14T21:48:00.000-08:00

When the house next door went up for sale late last summer, we hoped for neighbors that were at least friendly, unlike the previous owners who would look right through us and keep walking when we waved or said hi. Hoping for someone we could become friends with seemed like too much to ask.

Eventually the realtor's sign disappeared, but after a month of vacancy we still had no new neighbors. Finally, a few days before we left for our trip to India a U-Haul van pulled up, backed onto the lawn, nearly knocked down the mailbox, and started disgorging household items. There were so many people coming and going that it was impossible to tell who would be living there, so our new neighbors would have to remain a mystery until our return.

Two months later the occupants of the house are still a mystery. My only introduction has been hearing the property management agent standing at their front door and yelling so loudly that I could hear her through a closed window about the $1600 they already owe in back rent. Oh, and the commotion at 6:30 a.m. that woke me up and was loud and dramatic enough to get me out of bed and have me glued to a window.

As best I could understand from the teenage boy sobbing on the front porch, "he didn't do anything" but wondered if Scott was okay, apparently after being shoved through the front window to judge from the broken glass. After a half hour and a screamed threat from the next neighbor down that she'd call the cops, the sobbing teenager was let back in but was soon sent away in a cab. I still don't know if he actually lives there or not.

A few weeks ago a travel trailer was hauled into the backyard. I'm trying to figure out if any of the people who come and go from the thing are actually living in it or of it's just a mobile meth lab. Short of running a stakeout from the bedroom, a police raid or a large explosion, I'll probably never know.

Things have been quiet lately, other than a penchant for chopping firewood at 10 p.m. They've even started making improvements to the front yard:

Call me crazy, but I think we're going to be good friends.

Early Signs of Spring

2006-02-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

I should probably apologize for that last rambling, and ultimately boring, post. I should know better than to try writing anything after 18 straight hours of working. Thank you, JB, for finding something in it to comment on, and helping me salvage a little dignity.

After yesterday's rain, today started out clear, sunny and a little warm. I decided to take advantage of that to clear the flower beds in front of the house of dead leaves and the decaying debris of autumn. Hiding among the weeds that even winter can't kill, in the most sheltered part of the flower bed, these snowdrops are blooming.

They're very tiny and delicate and usually the first flower to bloom in our garden. Tulips and hyacinth are rocketing up and the roses, hydrangea, clematis and phlox are putting out new growth. I refuse to use chemicals in our yard, so every summer I go to war against the dandelions, pulling them up by hand. After two summers, their numbers have drastically decreased but I noticed today that they're already sending out new flowers, so the winter cease-fire will soon end.

The plan is to eventually turn more of the front lawn over to flowers and small shrubs although I'll have to add dirt rather than digging into it. The root systems from the cherry trees at either end of the yard are so extensive that I can't plant anything without excavating out large chunks of wood; at some point I would take out one root too many and the entire tree would come crashing down. It's bad enough that mowing the lawn involves slicing layers off the biggest roots protruding from the ground.

My next maintenance chore is cleaning the bird feeders and refilling them. Watching the goldfinches and chickadees from the front windows provides hours of torture for the cats. For now though, I am happy to have found several fat healthy earthworms in the formerly lifeless dirt sheltered by the eaves. They are a benefit to a garden and it gives me pleasure to know that they deem the soil fit to live in.

As I worked, the clouds started rolling in and by the time I was ready to put my clippers and gloves away I felt the first raindrop hit my nose. I can live with the rain, knowing that spring is on its way.

I live in a hole.

2006-02-01T03:00:00.000-08:00

So, after climbing out of my hole long enough to write the last post and have a snack, I promptly crawled back into it. Except this time the hole was called "Magazine Deadline."

It's 3:00 a.m. and I'm uploading PDF files to our printing company that I've spent the last three hours creating, preflighting and stuffing. Rather than being able to use my handy uploading software that allows me to start sending a batch of files and go to bed, the printer has an online form that I have to fill out, attach ONE FILE AT A TIME to, and send, before starting all over with the next file. They can only accept smallish files this way, so I have to split the magazine into 27 different files to have any chance of getting it to work. I'm at the stage where all I have left to do is babysit the uploads, so I thought it'd be a good time to write a post. I'm multi-tasking.

Except I haven't done anything but work since we got back from India; I've barely even left the house. Speaking of India (did you like that abrupt left turn?) I knew I'd lost weight while we were there because my clothes got looser and looser, to the point where I was hitching my pants halfway to my armpits to keep them on, and I could see the difference in the pictures we took. Also, because our scale said so. Anyway, I was flapping my hands to illustrate some story the other night and my wedding and engagement ring flew off my finger and clear across the room. Sheesh. They also spin and slide around a lot, which is kind of annoying. Maybe I'll get one of those things that you wrap around the band to make it fit. Does anyone know what it's called? And no, I don't mean scotch tape.

As the wee hours of the morning, after working for 20 hours, are not prime creative writing time I'll leave you with this photo of a pink pelican (yes, pelican) from the Mysore Zoo.

Between Two Worlds

2006-01-19T00:51:00.000-08:00

Now that we've been back home a week, I think I'm finally ready to crawl out of my hole and admit to being alive. Yesterday was the first day I haven't "taken a nap", which is code for "slept all day." It's taken some time to adjust to the daylight hours at home instead of the ones half way around the world and I'm pretty sure the cold I came down with the day we got back isn't helping. By the way, I think my quota of colds has been filled.

Anyway, back to the real fun: India. We arrived at the train station in Gokarna at about 9:00 p.m. armed with the name of a hotel and a lot of optimism. The plan was to find a hotel for the night, then walk down the beach to a place we had heard of that was only accessible by foot or boat. Only one other group had gotten off the train with us, so there was little competition for the waiting cabs and one of the rickshaw drivers assured us he knew where the guesthouse we were looking for, the Flower Garden Cottages, was.

After a bumpy 20 minute drive through the dark we arrived at the head of a unlit path leading away from the road. Tom decided to go with the driver to have a look at the accommodations while I waited with our bags. Soon after they walked away a man approached the rickshaw and tried to take my pack, telling me he would carry my luggage. "No, no. No luggage," I told him while I got a good grip on the other end of my pack. He stood outside the rickshaw for several minutes before finally clutching the top of his head and wandering off down the road.

When Tom and the driver returned we asked the driver to walk back down to the guesthouse with us as Tom wasn't sure he could find it again in the dark. Fortunately we had bought a flashlight the day before. Without it and the driver's help we probably would have wandered all night looking for the right place. When we walked down that path in the daylight, it turned out to lead through an enormous garden and private living areas; we ended up passing the turnoff even then and had to enter from the beach.

The barbeque fire was going strong when we got settled in and went to the restaurant, so I took up the owner's offer of grilled fish for dinner. It. Was. DELICIOUS. The restaurant is an open air structure with a palm frond roof and a tiny kitchen. As soon as I saw the four hammocks set up along the beach end I knew I was going to like this place. The cottages are run by Anand, but owned by someone else. The restaurant, however, is owned by Anand and run by himself and his wife, Bonita. They have two adorable little girls named Livia and Nikita. The place is frequented by long-term visitors, many of them Italian, so the menu had several wonderful pasta choices and I would have liked to stay long enough to try them all. After stuffing ourselves (which is still happening far more quickly than at home), we waddled off to bed.

The next morning we got up and went for a walk on the beach. Even though it wasn't incredibly early, the beach was nearly deserted. The only other occupant was a small black cow who was doing an excellent imitation of a statue while staring out to sea. It took at least five minutes to reach her and she didn't move once the entire time. As we passed in front of her I looked back. Her head very slowly swiveled to follow us, then swung back to her contemplation of the ocean. I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to see her wade into the water and turn into a mermaid.

The sand on Gokarna Beach is very fine, almost powdery, and the ocean is warm. The beach is shallow for quite a distance, so wading is easy and no serious commitment to swimming has to be made in order to get wet and cool off. The cottages had boogie boards available to borrow and once Tom discovered them, he spent hours in the water. I was less active and was content to lay in a hammock and read or solve crossword puzzles. We decided fairly quickly that we were happy exactly where we were and rather than pack up our things yet again, we settled for hiking to the next beaches. Our motivation levels were such that it took us three days to get around to actually going anywhere, though.

There are headlands between Gokarna, Kudle, Om and Half Moon beaches that can be hiked over with some effort. It's a little strange going from beach and jungle to the semi-barren volcanic landscape on top of the headlands, but they do offer excellent views. By the time we got to Om Beach, I was fed up with hiking in the heat and humidity, so we took a boat to Half Moon Beach. While Om Beach was nice, it was the most crowded and they were also in the process of building an enormous resort on it that will open in a few months. We heard that they plan to offer water sports like jet skiing, which is a shame.

Half Moon Beach was tiny and the most underdeveloped. It's where the people go who are looking for a place with no electricity where they can meditate and play their instruments around the campfire. As there was no shade and and we quickly ran out of things to do, we caught the first boat that came along back to Gokarna Beach, happy that we were staying on the beach we liked best. That evening, as the sun went down, about a dozen dolphins swam by just off shore and we stood on the beach watching them leap and twirl until it was too dark to see them anymore.

The big entertainment at night was watching Anand's older daughter, Livia, learn to jump rope and counting the revolutions for her. After four weeks of almost constant travel it was all the entertainment we needed. There was a brief side show when Nikita got hold of a bottle of coconut oil and doused her legs in it while sitting in the middle of the sandy floor. Bonita put a quick stop to it when she found out and from the sobs coming from the kitchen, you'd have thought the dinner special would be fried Nikita. She recovered nicely, though; I got the feeling that sort of thing happened frequently with her.

We were very reluctant to leave Sunday morning for our train to Mangalore where we spent one night before catching the connecting train to Mumbai. In Mangalore we wandered near our hotel and ended up in an indoor shopping area that was a maze of narrow passages through tiny stalls. Being a Sunday, most stalls were closed, but we were able to find what we needed. On the way out we heard an outraged shout and and came upon a lone English women who had just witnessed what must have been her first public urination episode. I flapped my hand at her and said "Eh, it's like that everywhere," which probably wasn't the most sympathetic thing I could have said. Poor woman, I hope she wasn't scarred for life.

On the train to Mumbai, we met two English men who were also on their way north to fly home. Toward the end of the train trip they, and their bag of cashews, attracted two college instructors traveling on some sort of agricultural field trip with 40 students. The men insisted that the train wasn't going to Victoria Terminus (CST) as we had originally thought and that we needed to get off at the same stop they were, about an hour by taxi from Colaba, the part of Mumbai the four of us were staying in. I thought this advice was very strange, so as everyone was getting off, I asked one of the car attendants if CST was the last stop. He confirmed that it was, so we called for the English guys and they managed to get back on the train. We learned early on that it's best to double and triple check directions in India because everyone seems to have a different opinion and no one says "I don't know."

In Colaba we managed to find a good hotel with with a minimum of searching that had the added bonus of being next to the restaurant that Tom liked so well the first time we were there. It was the only room we stayed in the entire trip that had air-conditioning and by 3 a.m. it was like a deep freeze in the room. Poor Tom was so cold he went looking for a thermostat and finally said he was going to turn it off. I thought he meant to go to the front desk and have them do it, but a minute after he left the room, I heard a click and then the slapping of his shoes on the marble floor as he ran back to the room. I starting laughing when I realized he had turning off the master switch for the entire floor and was running back to the room before he could get caught.

The next morning we met our Swiss friends from Ooty for breakfast. Afterwards, we checked out, left our bags with the desk clerks on our floor and went shopping with the last of our spare rupees. After wandering the city for several hours, we went back to cool off and watch TV with the desk clerks. One of the clerks was very interested in America, so we chatted for a few hours, answering as many of his questions as we could. One of the burning questions on his mind was whether professional wrestling (WWE) was real. He was very amused to find out that it's not and was delighted to let a co-worker know who happened to come up and mention it. It was fun talking to him because it would have never occurred to me that anyone would think so much of what they see on American TV or movies is real, but of course, how would they know? American movies and shows are made so seriously, as if every bit of it happens every day.

Eventually it was time to go to the airport and we got there so early, there was almost no line and getting on the plane couldn't have gone more smoothly. We managed to sleep a few hours on the first flight and then had a five hour layover in Amsterdam. Thanks to the time zones we crossed flying west, we landed in Seattle only 45 minutes after leaving Amsterdam. Neat trick, huh?

India is an amazing country, filled with both chaos and calm, often side-by-side. We met some wonderful people and, of course, the advice, information and support given to us by fellow bloggers Mridula and Emma was incredibly valuable. I hope I can repay the favor some day. I never got tired of seeing monkeys, elephants and camels, and actually missed the camels after we went south. I was charmed by the fruit and vegetable markets with their narrow paths, sacks of grains and artfully arranged stacks of produce. I loved the color everywhere; nearly every surface was lavishly decorated and even houses in the country became handpainted billboards advertising everything you can imagine.

India is far more rural that I ever would have thought. The cities don't sprawl endlessly, they just end. I saw so many things I wanted to take pictures of that we'd still only be a few miles from Delhi if I'd had the driver stop every time I wanted to. I took as many pictures as I could from the car, but most of them will have to live in my memory. So many things there were so foreign to us, but looking around, we saw similarities. The teenage Tibetan monks snapping each other with their scarves could have been teenage American boys with towels.

There's not much I'd change about the trip, other than spending more time in certain places. I can understand why people go for months at a time. We're already talking about our next trip to India. It may take years, but I'm sure we'll be back.

We saw a tiger!

2006-01-02T05:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, now that you know the most exciting part of this post, I'm going to make you wait for details.

We spent three nights in Mysore, exploring the city. We spent most of one day at the Mysore Zoo, which is a very nice zoo and at Rs 50 for the two of us, a great bargain. The barriers between us and many of the animals were not as vast as in American zoos, so it felt more like a walking safari with fences than the zoos we're used to. The Indian Elephant enclosure had 4 babies and a teenager, so we spent several minutes watching them tease each other and harass the two adult females who were in with them. The otters were also entertaining; one otter was perhaps a little demented and kept biting onto its own tail and dragging itself around the enclosure.

Most of the other full day in Mysore was spent making travel plans for the rest of the trip and going to the railroad station to buy tickets. Mysore Train Station is the most organized station I've seen yet. The other stations we've been in to buy tickets had queues that looked "more like protest groups," to quote an India Mike member. The ticket office in Mysore had rows of numbered chairs and you entered the room from the back and sat in the last available chair. As people moved up to the windows, everyone would shift chairs until it was their turn at the ticket window. The customers were very vigilant for anyone trying to cut in early and offenders would immediately be sent to the back of the room.

We ended up deciding to hire a driver again as our planned route included several stops in a short period of time. Our first stop was Bandipur National Park. We arrived in time to take a minibus tour where we saw one large male elephant and dozens of spotted deer. We had hoped to take a jeep tour, but they were all booked for the day and a tour the next morning would cost Rs 2000 unless we could find someone to share the cost with.

After thinking it over that night, we decided to stop at the office in the morning on the off chance that someone else had booked a jeep and wanted someone to share with. While we were standing at the counter, a family of three came up to the ticket window to ask about a jeep tour and we fairly jumped on them to share a jeep. They agreed to share the cost, and even though we didn't end up seeing anything new, it was still a nice drive through the forest.

After Bandipur, we went to Ooty for two nights. At Reflections Guest House, we met three other couples that we ended up spending quite a bit of time with. There was an English couple, and English and Italian couple living in Greece and a couple from Switzerland. They were all really interesting and a lot of fun and we were sorry to move on, although we all exchanged addresses and invitations to visit. The Swiss couple is flying out of Mumbai the day after we are, so we agreed to meet for dinner the night before we leave for home.

Our next stop was Nagarhole National Park. We were a little worried about staying there because the only places we could find contact information for said they were full. We talked to a man at a travel desk in Ooty who said there were plenty of places to stay, so we decided to chance it. Once we got there, it turned out that "plenty of places" was a slight exaggeration, but the Jungle Inn had one room available that the original reservation hadn't shown up for. We were hesitant to stay because it was so pricey, but they gave us a Rs 3000 discount that made it sting a little less.

The evening safari left about an hour after we arrived and after playing musical jeeps with the other guests we were finally on our way. About a half hour into the trip we hadn't seen much and were wondering if the expense was worth it. We were tracking a small bird that wouldn't hold still when the driver gasped, "Aaahh, tiger!" While we were all looking out the left side of the jeep, a tiger had wandering out of the brush on our right side. We all lunged to the right and my first shot was taken just as the driver started backing the jeep. The second was taken as the tiger turned and was walking back into the bushes and is the only clear shot I got. Jay, the other passenger, who was sitting next to the driver, didn't get a shot at all.

It was the first tiger spotted in three days and the only one on New Years Eve. Our driver got a lot of mileage out of telling all the other drivers about our sighting and insisted I show the picture to everyone we came across. While I wish the tiger had been interested enough to stay a few more seconds, it was still exciting and I'm glad I managed to get any picture at all. We went on to see lots of other animals, but of course nothing as thrilling as the tiger.

The next morning we got up early for a mini-safari and a trip to elephant camp. They had a baby (5-year-old) elephant that we were allowed to pet and Tom got himself and the elephant in trouble by playing tug-of-war with him. Apparently that's not a habit to be encouraged in working elephants. the baby was very curious and would reach out for anything unusual. He ended up whacking one guy in the head with his trunk and knocked his glasses off. After that, Tom and I were the only ones that would still get near him.

After elephant camp it was time to check out and we went as far as Madikeri for the night. This morning we drove to Mangalore, the end of the trip with our driver. Tomorrow we catch a train to Gokarna, on the coast, and will go looking for a hut on the beach that we hear is a good place to stay. Internet will probably be limited for the next several days, so I hope everyone had a great New Year and we'll try to check in at least one more time before heading home.

And...now we're down south

2005-12-26T01:48:00.000-08:00

After the rat temple we stopped at Bikaner where we stayed for two nights. The second day, we arranged a rickshaw to take us to the fort, a Jain Temple and the old city. We've visited so many forts that I won't try to describe any of them except to say that they're are all unique with amazing sandstone carvings and decorations. What made this one different was a cavernous hall with carved sandstone pillars and arches and carved wood on the ceilings. It was definitely designed to impress.

What's really amazing in all the forts and temples is the intricacy of the sandstone and marble carvings. The tiniest details are included in scenes of hunting, parties, jungles and wars, and many of the windows are filled with sandstone screens with designs that pierce the rock to allow the women to observe activity below them unseen. We drove through a section of countryside that was lined with yards where men still chisel away at the stone to create these same works of art. We would have liked to buy several pieces but decided it would probably exceed our weight allowance with the airline.

The old city was a charming place of narrow clean streets with different vendors in each section. One area was all shiny metal goods: shop after shop of bowls, tiffin carriers, jugs, cups, trunks and more. Another section was filled with piles of spices that exuded clouds of scent. People were friendly and most waved and called hello. Teenage boys kept nonchalantly reaching into the rickshaw to touch Tom's knee as we passed.

After the tour ended we decided to walk to the internet shop on the corner. On our way back we were followed by two boys who asked all kinds of questions about where we live, languages we spoke and our hobbies. The older one was a little intense and would lean in very close and speak in a near shout. As we got near the hotel he demanded to have Tom's sunglasses and they both finally left after Tom declined to hand them over.

The next morning we left Bikaner for Jodhpur. The countryside between all the cities is very rural and beautiful, aside from the occasional brick-making plant. Bricks are made by hand by packing the clay or mud into forms and, judging by the smokestacks, baking them.

When we got to Jodhpur we went directly to the fort. The top level was closed while a movie was being filmed, but the place was so huge there was still plenty to see. It also included an audio tour that had a nice explanation of the details of the fort like chips in the walls left by the cannons of an army attempting to invade (an impossible dream) and the handprints left by departing widows as they walked through the gates for the last time. Along the top of the wall, which soared above the city was a wide rampart lined with cannon. By leaning way out over one section of the wall that only had two iron bars instead of stone, we could see a baby vulture on a ledge below. His parents were absent and he seemed very puzzled by our presence above him.

Before dinner we decided to explore the main bazaar. It turned out to be quite a walk and trying to cross the street could be worth your life, so we got a tuk-tuk to take us to the clock tower at the heart of it. The place is insane! Everything in the world is for sale there and it seemed like at least half the people in the world were there also. At one point I was sharing walking space with a fuzzy calf headed in the opposite direction. Once it got dark, we decided to call it quits and head back to the hotel.

The next morning we left Jodhpur for Ranakpur. Along the way we drove through several small towns. Sandstone is the most common building material in this area and it's used in plank shape as well as blocks. Fences are often 6-foot "boards" of stone buried upright as posts with barbed wire stretched along it or a solid wall of upright planks. Some of them are quite decorative and alternate red sandstone vertical posts with blond sandstone rails.

Ranakpur is a secluded area in the hills near a lake and a Jain temple. There are just a few small hotels surrounded by trees. Our driver dropped us at the temple, which is set on peaceful grounds, surrounded by trees, flowers, fields and hills. The temple itself was built from 1433-96 and has 1,444 carved marble columns that are all different from each other. We were given a tour by the high priest who blessed us and dabbed our foreheads with saffron.

The walk back was a quiet stroll in the country and at one point we saw a fruit bat hanging from a power line. When we reached the hotel we decided to sit at a table on the lawn and have a Pepsi. Near us was an area where the staff spread seed for the birds and it was attracting a large flock of parrots at that time of day. While we were watching, something spooked all the birds into flying away, except one. He continued to peck away for a few seconds before realizing he was alone and you could practically hear his panicked thoughts while he looked around for his friends.

The next morning we left for Udaipur, the final destination on our tour of Rajasthan. The section of the city we were in was a maze of streets, shops and hotels lining the lake and while the water was nice, there was a brown haze in the sky so thick you could barely see the Monsoon Palace or the hill it stood on less than a mile away. This is where I developed a persistant cold that I'm finally starting to get over.

We were originally planning on staying a few days, then heading east to a wildlife park, but decided that with the amount of time we had left and the time it would have taken to get to the park, it would leave us with little time to see much else before our flight out of Mumbai. We instead chose to go south to Mysore, where there are other wildlife parks, then work our way up the west coast. Because the trains were already fully booked we had to catch the bus from Udaipur to Mumbai on the 22nd and take tickets from the tourist quota on the train departing Mumbai December 24th.

The bus ride was a 15-hour misery, even though it was the luxury Volvo bus. Both of us are taller than the seats are designed for and my cold was kicking into high gear. After arriving in Mumbai at 6:30 a.m. we went searching for a room to crash in, finally finding a small guesthouse with rooms available. It was more like a dorm room than a hotel, but it had beds and that's all that really mattered. I spent most of the day and night drifting in and out of sleep, then we got up at six the next morning to catch our train for the 25-hour trip to Bangalore.

Compared to the bus, the train was positive luxury. We had sleeper berths in the 2-tier AC section and I was content to lounge on the top bunk sleeping, reading and doing crossword puzzles. From Bangalore we caught a 2-hour express train to Mysore, and here we are! We walked around a bit near our hotel last night. Many of the shops were closed for Christmas so everything seemed a bit sleepy, which was fine with me. We walked down to the palace, bought some fruit that we'd never seen before from a street vendor and went for a walk in the park. A boy who looked around six years old ran up to offer us packs of cigarettes and seemed undeterred by our refusals, so I offered him the rest of my fruit. He happily said "okay!" and couldn't run off with it fast enough.

Today we're doing a bit more exploring and checking on our potential route after here. Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

2005-12-25T03:55:00.000-08:00

We've just arrived in Mysore after 42 hours on buses and trains and I just discovered I don't have my journal with me, so I'll save a longer post for tomorrow and just say Merry Christmas and we miss you all!

Still on the move...

2005-12-21T02:01:00.000-08:00

Phew! I have a lot of catching up to do.

After Bharatpur we headed for Jaipur. We stopped to do some shopping and then went to Amber Fort. Here we had the option of riding an elephant up the hill, but decided to walk instead. Amber Fort is an impressive structure, but I was really tired and not in any mood to appreciate it. Frankly, I was a little burnt out on cities and most of Jaipur was wasted on me.

We decided to move on to Pushkar and do some relaxing. There we stayed at a brand-new hotel located a few minutes walk down a dirt road from the main bazaar. It was a lovely, quiet place surrounded by flower fields and hills with a friendly staff and bright, clean, airy rooms. The restaurant was excellent and the cook made really good Italian food.

The first day I stayed in the hotel room relaxing and recovering from my headache while Tom went walking through town. He came back and told me he had booked a camel ride for the next day. Now, camels are very tall and I've heard lots of stories about grumpy camels throwing off their riders so I was a little nervous, but how many chances do you get to ride a camel?

Two young boys came with the camels to pick us up and they seem even taller when you're actually on one. However, the view from 10 feet up is pretty good. They led us down the road to a drinking trough where the camels slurped up some water, then the boys climbed onto a nearby brick wall to get into the back seat of the saddle. Tom's camel was fine with the arrangement, but mine was balky, backing up and swinging his head while complaining loudly. The boy, Dendri, eventually jumped down and went back to leading him until we got to another wall where he was able to try again, successfully.

Our ride led through the back roads of town and out into the desert to a small lake where we had a chance to get down and rest. I was able to take several pictures of the camels and noticed that they seem to really enjoy having their picture taken. If the camera was pointed at one camel, the other one would swing its head and flutter its lips until it was the object of attention again. Then it would adopt a look of comedic dignity and pose for as long as the camera was aimed its way.

The ride back to the hotel led us through the main bazaar where we became quite the attraction and even had pictures taken of us. I was only able to take a few pictures during the ride because it's almost impossible to keep a camera aimed at one subject from a camel's back. After we got back to the hotel, we decided to stretch out legs and walk into town.

Pushkar is a small town with narrow streets and friendly people. The lack of touts and pushy salespeople, along with dececnt prices in most of the shops makes it a fun place to roam. When it started to get dark, I discovered I had left my glasses back in the room and only had my sunglasses, so we had to cut our shopping expedition short. We still managed to do some damage in the time we had, though.

The next morning we were a little sad to leave Pushkar. A few more days of peace and quiet would have been nice. Our next destination was Bikaner. The driver, Vicky, took a wrong turn and ended up on the old road; a single lane of patchwork asphalt with fairly heavy traffic to negotiate. That road proved to me that if our driver was a fair example, Indians must be some of the best rally car drivers in the world. We eventually got back to the main highway but not before seeing three mongoose (mongeese?) cross the road in front of us.

Just before Bikaner we stopped at the Rat Temple in Deshnok. We weren't sure what to expect, but it was actually really clean and not completely swarming with rats, which was fortunate becasue we had to go barefoot. We did have to keep moving because young rats would come to inspect our feet if we stood still too long. We saw the white rat which is supposed to mean good luck. The rats are actually more like large mice than the size I was expecting. We took several pictures of the rats drinking from a large bowl of milk and they looked like a rat wreath. Merry Christmas!

Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary

2005-12-18T00:56:00.000-08:00

I tried to write this post last night, but had to stop because my computer was equipped with an epilepsy-inducing flashing-strobe-light mouse that made it impossible to think.

When we got to Bharatpur it was early afternoon, so we checked into the Hotel Pratap Palace and headed down the road to the bird sanctuary. Along the way we hired a cycle rickshaw driver to take us through the park who turned out to be a good bird spotter and guide. Prices for official park rickshaws are set at 50 Rs per hour and they're identifiable by a painted yellow placard with a number for each rickshaw.

The main road through the sanctuary is a paved, level avenue lined with trees. The first section of the drive is through dry forest and this is where we saw two jackals cross the road in front of us. This is also where we first saw the benefit of hiring the driver, rather than renting bikes, when he stopped the rickshaw and led us off the road to point out a sleeping collared owl nestled in a tiny hole in a tree trunk.

The dry forest soon gave way to marshes and then the lake area. Thanks to heavy rainfall earlier in the year, the lake is very full and stretches as far as the eye can see. The water is dotted with small islands and clumps of trees and a low mist gave the scene a sense of unreality. There are almost no motorized vehicles in the park so the only sounds you hear are the cries of birds and the occasional howl of a jackal. The largest of the cranes, while too far away to see clearly, have a cry like a trumpeting elephant that carries very clearly.

It seemed that every time we turned our heads we spotted a different bird. Indian Darters competed with egrets for space to spread their wings. Herons stalked the shallows and parrots screeched through the treetops. Some of my favorites were the little herons poised nearly vertical on branches, staring intently into the water, waiting for unsuspecting fish to swim by. Another scene that sticks in my mind is of two large deer standing belly-deep in the lake, grazing on weeds while the sun set behind them.

We stayed to see the sunset, after which the batteries in the camera died, making it a good time to head back to the hotel. We seriously considered staying another day or two and renting bicycles to explore the park, but that would take a talent for simultaneously driving a bike and looking in all directions that I just don't have.

Bharatpur has easily been one of the highlights of our trip so far and no one traveling in Northern India should miss it.

Driving in India...it really is different.

2005-12-17T05:16:00.001-08:00

Driving in India is conducted like a national game of Chicken where everyone has agreed not to hit each other, but only to come as close as is humanly possible. Even the animals seem to be in on the "rules".

The lines on the road, if there are any, are fluid boundaries and more than one vehicle may share a lane -- even while going in opposite directions. Horns are used to signal one's approach, before going around corners, to claim right-of-way, or for no apparent reason at all. While the noise this creates is tolerable as a passenger it is deafening as a pedestrian. Turn signals are not so much for signaling your own direction, but to let the approaching driver know he needs to move out from in front of you.

Our driver told us that to drive in India you need three things: "Good horn, good brakes and good luck."

Has it really been a week?

2005-12-13T02:55:00.000-08:00

Well, almost. We spent two full days traveling, so this is really only our fifth day; it feels like so much longer. We just found a place to upload pictures, but the connection isn't lightning fast, so I'm just posting a few on Flickr.

Edited: the internet place we're at doesn't have any way to downsize the photos, so the upload was only partially successful. I'll look for a place with Photoshop and try again later.

In Delhi we stayed in the area of the city call Pahar Ganj, popular with backpackers, but considered a slum. It has narrow streets with dark alleys, cows wandering the streets and an enormous number of people. The market stalls are packed with colorful textiles and goods and can be very overwhelming for anyone remotely claustrophobic. Smoke from dung fires choke the streets of the entire city and there is constant traffic noise. The hotel rooftops are a haven from the crush of the streets and are a good place for watching the activity below.

On Friday we wandered down to Connaught Place and picked up a "guide" along the way. He was more persistent than most and insisted he didn't want any money, so we gave up and he ended up showing us around part of the city. Being our first day, we were a little suspicious, but it turned out all right. One of the places he took us was Lakshmi Narayan Temple, a quiet oasis in the heart of New Delhi. He also directed us to the government office where we were able to book a taxi tour of the city.

The next morning we met our driver and went on a whirlwind tour of Delhi. Our driver was a cheerful older man who would say, "Sir! right side...India Gate." and gesture grandly out the window. "Sir! left side...National Stadium." We spent about six hours driving to all the highlights in the city, jumping out to take pictures of some and wandering for an hour in others.

Our favorite of all the sites was the Qutb Minar Complex. It's a sprawling park-like area of stone buildings, intricate carvings and an enormous ornate stone pillar. It's a quiet place to wander and relax, away from the crowds and noise.

Than night we met Mridula and one of her nephews for dinner in Gurgaon. She took us to a beautiful Indian restaurant and introduced us to some new dishes. The food was wonderful, but we have been surprised at how quickly we fill up and felt badly that we couldn't eat as much as we would have liked. Mridula's nephew was a little shy but quickly discovered that we had many favorite bands in common. Tom has promised to make him some CDs when we get home. We had a great time talking to them and would have liked to have spent more time with them.

Saturday, we decided to arrange a driver for two weeks, leaving Sunday. Our first destination was Agra. Along the way, we stopped at Akbar's Tomb, a large sandstone complex populated by antelope and monkeys and another park-like oasis.

In the countryside, there are large fields of mustard in bloom. The vivid yellow of the flowers is a beautiful backdrop for the bright colors of the saris worn by the women working in the fields. We also saw our first elephant and carts pulled by camels, two funeral processions taking bodies to be cremated and trucks heaping over with sugarcane.

In Agra we stayed at a hotel that had a view of the Taj Mahal from the rooftop. Monday morning we woke up at 5:30 a.m. to get to the Taj for sunrise. Early morning is definitely the time to go. It is nearly empty and it was nice to watch the sun come up and slowly light the domes. While standing in line we met a man who was originally from Sri Lanka but had gone to school in the Northeast US and is currently living in Arizona. He had been there the afternoon before and walked around with us, telling us what he had learned from his guide.

The Taj Mahal is an amazing monument and you could easily sit all day and look at it. There's an amazing amount of detail in the building that can't be appreciated in a photo. The vine and flower patterns are individual pieces of stone, cut and fitted tightly together into the marble. Unfortunately pictures aren't allowed in the tomb area where the most intricate work is done.

After seeing the Taj we had breakfast and checked out of our hotel. Our next stop was Fatehpur Sikri, an abandoned palace city made entirely of red sandstone. The intricate carvings had me wishing for paper and charcoal to take rubbings with. After Fatehpur Sikri we headed for Bharatpur, a bird sanctuary.

It's getting dark, so we're going to head back to the hotel. More later!

We're here!

2005-12-08T23:46:00.000-08:00

We made it! Other than a three-hour delay in Amsterdam, the flights were smooth, quiet and almost turbulence-free. All the seats were equipped with personal entertainment sytems, so we caught up on our movie watching during the flights. Even the delay wasn't bad, because the airline gave us money to buy meals with, so it was a little unplanned relaxation time.

I keep waiting for chaos to show up; so far everything has been far quieter than I expected. I'm sure part of it was our arrival time - 2 a.m. - but the noise and smells I've read so much about have not made an appearance. The taxi ride from the airport was fun; the most exciting part was when our driver shot into a gap between two trucks that was getting smaller by the second. Lines on the road seem to be only a generel guideline and after about the first minute I was rooting for our driver to use his horn even more enthusiastically than he actually was. They truly are a survival mechanism.

Breakfast this morning was a leisurely meal on the rooftop of our hotel. It catches a nice breeze and seems to be sheltered from much of the road noise. Tom's jumping right into trying new food and it's been a successful experiment so far. Our next plan is to wander the market for a bit and maybe venture out a little farther - and hope to find our way back.

I've been writing down impressions and thoughts I've had, so I'll write a longer post later, but I wanted to let everyone know we're here and doing well.

Nearly on our way...

2005-12-06T19:09:00.000-08:00

In just over 12 hours we will begin our trip to India. Right now we're both pretty tired from working long, long days trying to get everything done that we would otherwise be doing in the next five weeks. Slowly, the items on my to-do list are being checked off and fewer are being added. We're also cycling between excited and nervous as the weeks stretch out in front of us with no real plan to fill them.

India is such an enormous and varied country that it feels as if no amount of research can prepare you. Neither of us are big "schedulers" when it comes to vacations, so we'll just jump in the deep end and hope our swimming skills are up to scratch. Thanks to the kindness of folks like Mridula and Emma, and the excellent travel forum India Mike's, I think our chances are pretty good.

The plan is to keep a handwritten journal during the trip and use the entries to create the posts here. If you look to the right, I've bumped my Flickr badge to the top of the links list and it's set to take you directly to the India photo album. I'll try to upload as much as possible, but efforts may be restricted by connectivity and upload speeds. I expect to take thousands of picture because that's just the way I am, so at the very least I'll have plenty to share when I get back.

To the family and friends who are visiting this blog for the first time, feel free to leave comments. I've set them up so you can comment without being a member of Blogger, although it would be nice if you left some sort of identifier rather than stay anonymous. I'm already looking forward to reading everyone's comments and I'll reply as often as possible. If you'd like a postcard, email me your address and I'll do my best to send one, although if I've never heard of you, don't hold your breath.

Well, it's time to go pack. Nothing like waiting until the last minute to find out if everything will fit in my backpack.

What kind of joke is this?

2005-12-01T14:38:00.000-08:00

Can someone please tell me who ordered the snow? Because that person is dead to me. DEAD.

This is from two hours ago:

And this is now:

Stop laughing. Yesterday was warm and sunny and today we're getting snow. Sorry, mom. I didn't know when you called yesterday to ask about the weather that this was coming. Good news though; Accuweather says it won't last and they better be right, because I have to drive east on Sunday.

Seriously, stop laughing. There's a reason I don't live in Minnesota.

Happy Holidays

2005-11-27T11:31:00.000-08:00

Since I won't be around for the Christmas holidays, there will be no decorating this year. Which means that the hundreds of lights I bought last year will have to sit in their little boxes for another year. My neighbors would be grateful to know that even were I to break out the holiday cheer, it would look nothing like this.

Warning: you can't watch this without the sound, and it's a tad loud. You might have to scroll down to see it; don't be thrown by questionable content on the rest of the page.

Being an adult means...

2005-11-22T13:13:00.000-08:00

Miss Jackie posted yesterday about what her 28-year-old self has in common with her 18-year-old self. It got me to thinking about the occasional brief ruminations I have on how to recognize when a person's finally become an adult, regardless of age. For example, last night I ate a piece of homemade fudge given to us by one of Tom's customer's.

Fudge is usually too sweet for me, so I rarely eat it, but this stuff was pretty good. About 20 minutes after eating it I was zooming around the house, flapping my arms and singing at the the top of my lungs. In the midst of this mania, I was able to recognize that I was suffering from an intense suger high and that it would be better for all of us if I didn't eat any more fudge. I thought to myself, "Being an adult means I can be a complete idiot, but still know when to say when."

What does being an adult mean to you?

What day is it?

2005-11-20T16:29:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it's been almost a week since my last post. At this rate, we'll be leaving for India the day after tomorrow and there's still so much to do.

Yesterday we went to look at property for Tom's parents. They plan on moving back up to the great Northwest soon and have an eye out for property or a suitable house. They were actually up last weekend but couldn't get into one of the houses they wanted to look at, so we met the real estate agent for a tour. I don't if it's exactly what they're looking for, but it sure was entertaining to poke around.

It's obviously owned by a single man who doesn't mind spending money on entertainment. Outside was a basketball hoop, a large boat, a pool (aboveground), a hot tub for 12 with bar and a huge barbeque grill. Inside, half of the downstairs was devoted to an entertainment room. It looked like every man's fantasy and I thought the real estate agent was seriously considering moving in right then and there. The room was divided in half with steps leading down to the lower portion which contained, among other things, a pool table, a pinball machine, two bubble gum machines, a juke box, about 30 lighted beer signs and a Christmas tree. The upper half had a bar and to be honest, I don't remember what else, other than a popcorn machine. It was one of the rolling ones with the big hopper and the plexiglass box. That was the only thing I coveted in that entire room. To me the rest of it was tacky as all hell, but to a man, it was heaven:

Once Tom and the agent had torn themselves away from sheer bliss on earth, we headed upstairs. I was lagging behind taking pictures when I heard an ear-piercing squawk from upstairs. They had discovered a room dominated by parrots, luckily all in cages. The alarm had been sounded by a Muluccan cockatoo and was fortunately not picked up by the other birds. Parrots have a way of starting screeching contests with each other that can wake the dead. There was also a very social Macaw that I promptly tried to corrupt. No, I didn't teach him any dirty words, but his owner may wonder why he now bobs up and down while making a hissing laughter sound. I would have liked to pet him, but parrots like to taste your fingers and it's hard to tell if they're just going to keep it at that or actually take your finger off. Either one is equally likely.

Whether or not my in-laws decide to buy the house, it was worth the trip just to see it. I always like to look at houses and this one was definitely unique.

Salmonella? Why no, that’s typhoid fever.

2005-11-14T23:36:00.000-08:00

In case this is my last post, I want you all to know that I just took the first of four pills containing the live typhoid fever bacteria. Second phase typhoid fever is described thusly:

2nd phase (and clearly the most exciting): in the second to third weeks of the disease, symptoms of intestinal infection are manifested and the fever remains very high and the pulse becomes weak and rapid. In the third week the constipation is replaced by severe pea-soup-like diarrhea. The feces may also contain blood. It is not until the fourth or fifth week that the fever drops and the general condition slowly improves.

With the incubation period, if we do manage to contract typhoid from the vaccine it should hit just as we're leaving and be clearing up just as we return. The good news is that it's treated with antibiotics, of which we already have a generous supply to be taken for the prevention of malaria. I prefer to look at the positive side of things.

I’m so excited. . .I guess that makes me a geek

2005-11-09T17:00:00.000-08:00

Introducing the latest addition to my little technology family:

A brand-spankin’ new 17" widescreen Powerbook. This will make it possible to take the magazine files with me during proof checks and make immediate changes instead of traveling back and forth and making changes when I get home, emailing them to the publishers for approval and then off to the printers. It will also let me work while traveling, meaning that 2-month trip to New Zealand next winter can actually happen. I won’t be taking it to India, however, because we’re traveling extremely light there and this size laptop doesn’t fall into the extremely light category.

Speaking of India, we leave in 28 days. I’ve booked a hotel for the first three nights and after that it’s a big mystery. We went to get our polio vaccinations today and also to pick up our typhoid pills. They are a series of four pills that must be kept refrigerated, so they were given to us inside a styrofoam cooler with an ice pack, looking much like we had just been presented with a live organ (liver, anyone?). After all this, we really ought to be nearly invincible.

The Dream is Dead

2005-11-06T10:36:00.000-08:00

Eeyore's hopes of ever finding his tail have come to a crashing halt:

Poor Eeyore.

Addicted to Dum-Dums

2005-11-01T19:19:00.000-08:00

No, not me — our dog Cooper. Along with our Halloween candy this year came an assortment of Dum-Dum suckers. Tom unwrapped a mystery Dum-Dum last night and was highly disappointed to find out that it was butterscotch, a flavor he is not fond of. So what do you do when a food item is not to your satisfaction? You feed it to the dog, naturally.

Cooper didn't have any complaints about the flavor and now, every time we open a sucker, he is in our faces waiting for his share. Tonight I offered him sour apple, which also met with his approval.

The blurriness of these photos is due partially to my failed attempts to control my laughter while shooting and partially to his enthusiasm for the treat.

I particularly like this shot of his incredible see-through tongue.

Next I'm going to find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, since he will actually lick it instead of biting right through it, like I do.

Back From Vacation

2005-10-30T18:07:00.000-08:00

Finally, the vacation photos I'm sure all three of you have been anxiously awaiting. I did some vicious editing to spare you all from slogging through 200+ photos. This was partly a working vacation as the point of going to L.A. was to paint Tom's parents house, but we managed to get plenty of playing done. Our first playdate was San Luis Obispo.

Tom's parents kindly let us borrow the car for what is the longest three-hour drive on earth; Los Angeles to San Luis Obispo. When we lived in SLO, it was always agony making that trip. We decided to drive by our old house, which looks exactly the same, before stopping in Pismo Beach for Thrifty ice cream and a walk on the pier. Anyone who has a chance to eat Thrifty ice cream, should. For $1.49 you get a generous double scoop of some of the best ice cream made.

On the pier, we saw a seagull trying desperately to swallow a fish that was nearly his size. We also saw a man with an impressive handlebar mustache, but I couldn't figure out how to take a picture without being completely obvious. I really wanted to get a good picture of the pelicans that usually frequent the pier but they weren't cooperating and all I got was several flying by. I may have to write a strongly worded letter to the Pismo Beach Tourist Board about their unruly pelicans.

After a walk on the beach we headed into SLO to visit the Thursday night Farmer's Market and tootle around the mission. One of the many things I miss about the Central Coast is the plethora of missions and the influence of Spanish-style architecture. Stucco and clay roof tiles look a little out of place in Washington. The SLO mission has a lovely garden that is nearly always deserted and is a huge contrast to the busy market on the other side of the walls. The Farmer's Market has always been a good place to fill up on tasty food and it seemed to have even more BBQ than it used to. We sampled food from a couple different vendors and bought some fresh fruit before making our way to our hotel in Cambria.

I mentioned the hotel and the tour of Hearst Castle in my previous post, so we'll skip directly to our Friday dinner stop before heading home. If you're ever extemely hungry and happen to be in San Luis Obispo, go straight to Chili Peppers. They have great cheap food and you get a lot of it:

My favorite is the Mediterranean Chicken Burrito (shown here) and it really is the size of a plate. I have yet to be able to eat the whole thing at one sitting. After dinner we got back in the car and drove our stuffed bellies back to L.A.

Saturday was a work day. Ah, the joys of masking windows! Sunday was a family play day (and my birthday) so we went to the Long Beach Aquarium. Although crowded, as most aquariums are, we had a good time. I really like watching jellyfish and could have taken pictures of them all day. The highlight of the day was feeding the lorikeets. They are sociable little parrots who will sit on your hand to drink the juice that's sold outside the entrance. That day there were a gang of lorikeets dive bombing from one end to the other of the enclosure, often passing close enough to ruffle hair or brush cheeks with their wings. The lorikeet I fed was a greedy little bugger and would periodically look up and chatter at me before burying his head back in the cup. On our way out, a bird was stationed at the exit looking desperately for handouts. Tom offered him the last drops left in his cup and boy, did that little parrot get pissed at the lack of juice! I found a nearly half-full abandoned cup that he managed to drain in the minute that it took to transfer him to a birdless little girl.

Monday I flew to Las Vegas for a conference and company team meeting. We all met for dinner and went see the Blue Man Group afterwards. I've never seen them before and the show far exceeded my expectations; just don't ask me to describe it. Also, the Venetian is the only hotel on the Strip that I've ever stayed at that I would highly recommend. My room was the size of a small apartment and very nicely furnished. I didn't get to enjoy it long because Wednesday I flew back to L.A. and Thursday we came home (technically we got home very early Friday morning).

I've decided that 3 flights in 4 days is a little too much and of the Seattle, Long Beach, LAX and McCarren airports, McCarren in Las Vegas is the worst to deal with. Nothing worked the way it was supposed to and I was so tired that a strip search probably wouldn't have fazed me. It's good to be home.

On Vacation

2005-10-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

We've been on vacation in California since last Sunday and I've been busy taking pictures with my new camera. Above is one end of the indoor pool at Hearst Castle. We drove up to San Luis Obispo on Thursday, walked on Pismo Beach, went to the Farmer's Market and drove up to our hotel in Cambria. We stayed at the Cambria Pines Lodge in a huge jacuzzi suite that could have fit a family of six with no trouble at all.

On Friday we toured Hearst Castle, which is overwhelming. There are several different guided tours and I barely heard the tour guide, I was so involved in shooting as many pictures as possible. Of course it helped that her voice was so soft, she would have needed a megaphone to hold a normal conversation with someone three feet away. After the tour we drove up the coast another few miles to find the elephant seals.

The stretch of coastline between San Luis and Monterey is absolutely beautiful and was a favorite camping area of ours when we lived in Pismo Beach. You used to be able to walk down on beach, but now they've got it closed off with a boardwalk above the beach, which is probably better for everyone.

Below is supposed to be a picture from the overlook above the beach where the elephant seals hang out, but I'm having technical difficulties, so I'll have to wait until I get back at the end of the week. Tomorrow we're going to the aquarium and Monday I fly to a conference in Las Vegas, so I'll have plenty of photos to share.

Tidbits

2005-10-15T00:19:00.000-07:00

I just watched The Late Show and hardly cracked a smile. Part of the reason is that I harbor an intense dislike of Paul Schaeffer. Every time I see him or hear his voice (which is far too often) the red mists of rage rise up and take awhile to settle back down. It doesn't help that the expression on his face is usually that of a man trying to pass a cantaloupe and that his "songs" sound like something I would have made up at age 3. The writing is also kind of blah. Or is it just me?

I'm amused that Qwest has changed their idiotic, but more truthful, "Spirit of Service...Inaction" ads to just plain "Spirit of Service." I realize that it was supposed to be In Action, not Inaction, but no one could pull it off apparently and someone must have clued them in.

Because our furnace has never worked properly, we've relied solely on a wood stove to heat the downstairs and portable electric heaters for the bedrooms. We tend to like a cooler house, so it's never been more than an inconvenience, except when we're going on a trip and don't want to come back to cat-sicles.

This year, we've been particularly slow about getting an adequate wood supply for the winter, so we've been a little worried about making the wood last. The other day, Tom had a brainstorm and figured out that the problem was a set of circuit breakers, so for a $50 part, we now have convenient heat. Yay, heat! The down side is that Cooper has never experienced warm air blowing out of the floor and it appears to be an experience that terrifies him. We're hoping he'll get over it.

All is right with the world again

2005-10-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

I FINALLY found my camera! It managed to wedge itself firmly under the driver seat of my car and the only way I could see it was by nearly standing on my head with my face mashed up against the seat. It feels like a missing limb has been restored. It's similar to losing my left hand; I could get along without it, but I'd really rather have it. Although if I really did lose my hand, I'd want one of those cool hooks. Or maybe the kind that you can screw different attachments into.

I knew a guy in Arizona who had lost both his hands by grabbing a live electrical wire and he had them replaced by hooks. He had a spot carved out of one wrist that he glued a watch face into and he handed out business cards that gave his title as "The Town Hooker."

Anyway, as I've driven around town lately I've been wanting to take pictures of the fall leaves, so that's exactly what I did.

Edited to add: In all seriousness, I really do think it's amazing what people can do after losing appendages. Most people have probably heard about Aron Ralston who cut off his own arm after being pinned under a boulder for several days. His hand has now been replaced by a prosthesis that he can switch for various climbing equipment. Talk about taking advantage of a bad situation. Tom Whittaker is another great example of determination. In 1998 he was the first disabled person to summit Mt. Everest. I was lucky enough to work on the print campaign for the Ester-C Everest Challenge and watched their progress up the mountain daily.

All these years I thought I was an only child and it turns out I have a twin.

2005-10-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

I have long, unusually thick hair. Everyone who's ever cut my hair swears I have at least 3-5 times the normal amount. As a result, I shed 3-5 times as much as most people. Can you guess where this is going?

Tom walks in the room with a grin on his face and his hands behind his back. "The good news is that you have a twin," he says. He whips his hand out and shows me a big wad of hair. "The bad news is that the rest of her went down the drain."

Writing

2005-09-30T23:48:00.000-07:00

I used to write a lot. I kept a journal for years and won my first (and only) poetry contest when I was eight. I considered double majoring in journalism and graphic design in college, but then reality and a heavy classload took over and I left the English classes behind. One of the things I enjoy about blogging is that it gives me a chance to write again and a voice. And the fact that my voice is heard and is responded to makes it all the better.

As I was sorting through paperwork in my office tonight, I came across a poem that I wrote in my last college English class. If you could see my office you'd understand how a 12-year-old poem could be mixed up with current work. It is modeled on a sestina (although I don't remember which one, exactly) and the same six words are repeated at the end of the lines, with a particular syllable count in each line. I've always liked this one and this is its first time in print.

December wind blows through the door.
The candle sputters, and the weak old man
stands up and steps over his dog
to shut out the howling wind
that threatens to scatter the pages
on which he slowly records his life.

He hopes that someday this colorful life
that is ending in the wind blowing through the door
will speak its tale from the yellow pages,
and never die the death of man.
The thin walls sing with the gusts of wind.
He pauses and says to the dog,

Come here boy, but the dog
is dreaming dog dreams of his own long life
and does not even hear the gusts of wind,
that pound and scrape at the flimsy door.
Sighing quietly, the old man
again begins to fill the pages

with his thoughts. Ghostlike, the pages
float off the table and settle around the dog,
float down to rest around the old man
and his wrinkled hands that save his life.
He shivers and glances at the door
that rattles, and moans with the animal wind.

You can't stop me, says the hungry wind.
I know what you know, say the thin pages.
They have become a portal, like a door
to another world. Then the dog
breaks the spell by coming to life
and resting his head on the knee of his man.

But slowly, while the old man
plays games with the will of the wind,
time trickles and slips away until life
is nothing more than marks on frail pages
that no one will read save for the dog
and the monster finally creeps under the door.

I am your life, whisper the pages.
The old man gives in to the greedy wind
and the dog dreams of another long-ago door.

Regionalism is Alive and Well in Canada

2005-09-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

THE SCENE: Sitting at a window table in a "Mexican" restaurant in Victoria. Outside, a reasonably well-dressed man, approximately mid-20s urinates in the bushes apparently unaware (or uncaring) that light from the restaurant has put him at center stage.

FROM THE NEIGHBORING TABLE: "Well, he must be from Saskatchewan."

Really? Is peeing in public so common in Saskatchewan that it's considered an identifying trait? How interesting.

Ahhh. . .there's the light.

2005-09-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

It's been a very busy week around here. Today was the deadline for the magazine I design and the last week is always a big push to get it finished. Last night I was up working until 4 a.m. and then was up again at 9 a.m. to go back to work. I am uploading the last of the files to the printer's FTP site as I type. That's the down side of working from home; you're always at the office. Tom's also been working long hours and as a result, we haven't had time to go grocery shopping.

Because we ran out of bread four days ago I've been getting inventive with tortillas. I've become addicted (and in such a short time!) to eating them brushed with a little olive oil, sprinkled with garlic salt, cut into wedges and baked until the edges start to brown. I can testify that topping them with egg salad or tuna mixed with Italian dressing doesn't hurt them one bit, either. Once we started scrabbling around the back of the fridge in search of leftovers that weren't too old I decided to make an effort to get to the store ASAP.

My opportunity came today when I took the magazine proofs to UPS. I made an real adventure out of it and stopped by the post office, too. You'd understand if you had ever tried to get in and out of our post office parking lot. It's very tiny and oh-so-busy. Most people choose to disregard the rules of right-away when backing out of their parking spot, which is not good when it causes a chain reaction that ends in me (or anyone else) slamming on the brakes while still in the street. Anyhoo, I digress.

The store was relatively peaceful today and I loaded my cart with goodies. I even managed to get in a check-out lane that moved right along instead of my usual wait for a little old man to count out 87¢ in nickels and pennies and the clerk who chooses the moment right after I finish unloading my cart to go on break and count out her till. Although, I must say, the worst clerk was the one who was trying desperately to keep from projectile vomiting everywhere. I admire her dedication, but seriously. Oops, I digress again. I must be tired or something. Welcome to my stream of thought.

Anyway, I clearly remember paying for groceries, taking three trips to bring them inside from the car and putting it all away. Somehow, though, when I went to make dinner we had nothing to eat! We do have tortillas still. Mmmm, tortillas. My next project is laundry. That's the upside of working from home. There's no one to care if those are the same sweats you wore yesterday.

Just for the record, it does NOT feel good when a half-gallon of ice cream falls from the freezer onto a bare foot.

Around the House

2005-09-22T22:48:00.000-07:00

This post is inspired by Crystal's earlier post about the beautiful flowers she's been growing on her balcony. Of course, it also reminded me that I've badly neglected my yard this summer. I think every year is going to be the big "landscaping year" but obviously I'm deluding myself. A more realistic vision is the gradual changes we've been making over the last three years.

When we bought our 1921 Craftsman it was covered in faded red shingles that were more than 50 years old and the front door was obscured by enormous camellias (the picture to the left is of one of the cherry trees). Now, I like camellias as well as the next person, but whoever planted these things against the house was either not familiar with the tenacious nature of camellias or was deranged. It is nearly impossible to kill a camellia. We chopped ours down, removed the roots and still get sprouts from the scraps we missed. Normally removing a healthy plant would not even cross my mind, but these were out of control and made entering our house a little like stepping through the doors of a haunted house at a county fair. Their influence was so great, one of our neighbors even came to thank us for getting rid of them. On the plus side, the house came with two cherry trees, a laurel and a well-established pear.

This is a branch of the pear tree last summer. It was so loaded that a light rain pushed it beyond its weight limit and the branch came crashing down. Regardless, we gave away, canned, ate and threw away several hundred pounds of pears.

Even before we had closed escrow we were at the house planting bulbs and were rewarded in the spring with thriving tulips. The smaller purple flowers were already there and had naturalized all over the property. They multiply like crazy and we must have thousands. My dad also donated lilys, sunflowers, asters, phlox and gladiolus from his garden. I've since planted clematis, hydrangeas, lilac, trumpet vine, hostas, bleeding hearts, daffodils, crocus, African daisies, Shasta daisies, lupin, ferns and roses.

One of the reasons I fell in love with the house, even in its run-down condition was the woodwork inside. A lot of care was put into this house when it was built, and it still shows. Not even destructive renters could erase its character. Another reason was the abundance of mature trees. The largest cherry and the laurel grow next to each other in the side yard and their boughs arch overhead to create a cool retreat in the summer. This is a picture of the laurel outside the dining room window before we moved in. It's the same one I see out my second floor office window and is a popular congregating area for birds. I especially value the mature trees after having lived in Arizona where there is no foliage taller that your ankle for miles.

This is a view of Hurricane Ridge from the house and is yet another reason to love living here, despite it being somewhere near the back of beyond.

Spahm Sapm SPAM!

2005-09-21T10:08:00.000-07:00

Usually I delete spam without doing more than glancing at the sender to ensure that no legitimate email went astray, but these caught my eye this morning:

Gilbert wants Coupons List 3 (I assume that's me), to get the car and credit [I] diserve

and Perscription Drug Danger awaits Vioxx users.

C'mon, how can I take these offers and warnings seriously if they obviously don't?

Victoria, BC

2005-09-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week we took a day trip to Victoria, BC. Click more photos to see the rest of our trip. Victoria is the capital of the province of British Columbia and is located on Vancouver Island. It's a city that holds tight to it's British roots and is fun to visit at all times of the year. For us it's a nice day trip or weekend getaway, especially when we need to get out of town and spend time in a city. It has the advantage of having excellent public transportation, so we just walk on the ferry and don't have to worry about a car. On a clear night we can see the city lights across the Strait and it never fails to amaze me that less than 20 miles of water separates a big beautiful city like Victoria from a little backwoods town like ours.

One of our favorite places to visit while there is Beacon Hill Park. It's just up the hill from the Royal BC Museum, but most people I've talked to have never heard of it. The park itself is huge and includes several ponds, a petting zoo, a putting green, baseball fields, an outdoor stage for concerts, a playground, and is a mix of landscaped and wild areas. I'm a sucker for the petting zoo and insist on going there to play with the pygmy goats. There is a heron rookery there as well as a couple of pairs of bald eagles. The eagles swoop down on the heron nests in spring and try to snatch the babies, so the adults keep watch and every time they see an eagle, set up the most ungodly racket I've ever heard. It's something like the sound a horrific train wreck might make as it slides through the steel skeleton of a skyscraper.

A few of the pictures are from our last visit in the spring. A place I hadn't been in 20 years, but could still remember clearly was Craigdarroch Castle. It's a fairly easy walk from town if you're feeling spry (listen to me; I sound 60) or a short bus ride if you're tuckered out. It was built in the 1890s by coal baron Robert Dunsmuir for his wife. He died before it was completed and she lived in it until 1908, when she also died. Even though it's been passed through many hands in the last 100 years, it's in beautiful shape and is a monument to good craftsmanship.

One of the places I have yet to visit there is the Butterfly Garden located just outside Buchart Gardens. I passed on it this time because I want to have a digital camera when I visit and there tend to be more butterflies in the summer. Before they closed recently, the Crystal Gardens in downtown Victoria had a small butterfly garden that we visited frequently. It was always a warm place to spend a quite hour or two until a visit when I turned around just in time to see a little boy stomp on a butterfly that had landed on the ground in front of him. His parents were completely oblivious and it sort of ruined the moment for me.

Victoria also has a Greek restaurant, Milos, that serves my favorite calamari ever. Usually calamari is too heavily breaded and cooked too long, but they make it just right. It's been on my list of favorite restaurants since my first visit there at 10 years old. They also make excellent chicken and steak for the anti-seafood crowd.

One of these days we'll drive over and spend a week or so camping and exploring the island. Until then, there's always something new to find in the city.

Pimpin’ the Cheese

2005-09-15T14:18:00.000-07:00

This is kind of a weird thing to blog about, but I'm not going to let that stop me. I remember eating many a grilled cheese sandwich as a kid and loving every one of them. Buttery toasted bread, gooey dripping cheese. . .mmmm, heaven. My mom spread on a little mustard before grilling, which added a nice tang. Now that I'm ~~all grown up~~ an adult, I still enjoy a good grilled cheese sandwich, but not with the same passion. Until now:

I discovered this cheese over the weekend at our local grocery store. It's an aged white cheddar with just a touch of sweetness. I initially worried that the mustard seeds would make it a little crunchy, but that wasn't the case. It was especially good between slices of yesterday's loaf of sourdough bread, paired with Tuscan Tomato Basil bisque. All hail the grown-up grilled cheese sandwich! I think I'm in love.

Spider!

2005-09-11T11:54:00.000-07:00

This morning I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher and after lifting the last plate out of the sink, I uncovered a GIANT spider. How I managed to not sling the plate across the kitchen, I have no idea. Now, understand that I am terrified of spiders. No other creature on earth can petrify me with absolutely no effort the way a spider can. I've come to terms with smallish spiders and the garden variety ones, but this spider was special.

I have no idea what kind of spider it was –– I didn't stick around long enough to get its name –– but my mom, who happens to be visiting, was also impressed by its monstrous size and appearance. After an extended shrieking fit failed to move my husband from in front of the football game, I hollered for him to get into the kitchen to perform his official duty of Spider Remover. Even after the beast was removed, I felt tears come to my eyes. That little horror really scared me! When I mentioned I was going to cry, my mom chuckled a little. "No, I really have to go cry for a minute," I said.

I spent several minutes huddled on the couch recovering from the shock. Telling my husband that I wasn't going back into the kitchen for a couple of months just made him laugh. He thinks I'm kidding.

Moving

2005-09-07T23:21:00.000-07:00

No, not right now. I just realized that I've lived in this town longer than any other since leaving home for college at 17. While at college, I had five different homes and every time I moved there were more boxes that remained unpacked. However, for me, moving has always remained a reliable method for purging unused and unwanted...stuff. I find that, really, it's the best way to clean. A little extreme maybe, but there you go.

Tom and I both spent most of our lives growing up in Washington. After college we decided it was time to live somewhere else, to get away and try something new. At the end of my senior year I had fulfilled my contract with the art department, all courses the college required and many more, and still came up 11 credits short. This was due to the credit system the art department used; one credit for every two class hours, instead of one for one like every other program. I decided to arrange an internship instead of paying for another quarter of school.

We chose San Luis Obispo, California as our new home. By coincidence, a speaker in Professional Practices class had just hired a magazine editor from there and offered to put me in touch with him. This man, I think his name was Bill, suggested I call the president of a large printing company in town to ask for an internship. I did so and managed to convince him to hire me. After waiting a week for the promised application, I called Human Resources directly and told them Dick had hired me, but I needed to fill out an application. They sent it out and we were on our way.

When we chose San Luis, it wasn't because we had been there or had family there; it just sounded nice. We packed up all our stuff, drove 18 hours and bought a newspaper. The house we found was in Pismo Beach about six blocks from the ocean. It had a big deck on the roof of the garage, quiet neighbors and a landlord who smoked pot and couldn't care less what we did to the place. The only down side was that the house was for sale. We used to play games with the real estate agents and would-be buyers such as asking them to tell us if they saw any fleas, because we were having such a problem with them. Another favorite was guiding them to the front door and letting them yank the door knob right off instead of explaining the trick of turning it a little before pulling. We managed to squeeze a year and a half out of that house.

On New Year's Eve 1997, our landlord called to let us know the house had been sold and we had 30 days to move. After about 15 minutes of panic we pulled out an atlas and chose three cities to research. Prescott, Arizona became our next destination and it was time to load up a U-Haul and move on to our next home.

Hurricane Katrina

2005-09-03T13:16:00.000-07:00

Ironic, Don't You Think..
Originally uploaded by brandonj74.

I've been reading many news stories, personal accounts and personal opinions of the hurricane and relief efforts this past week and I'm impressed by the magnitude of the response by this country and by the world. I've seen many people question the lack of action by the international community, and I have to say: if you think the world isn't paying attention and is letting America suffer on it's own, think again.

Global Aid Offers Pour Into U.S. in Katrina Aftermath

This is only one of many articles that pop up from a simple Google search. Those of you familiar with the photo sharing site Flickr, may be interested in this fundraising effort:

Flickr Photo Auction

And finally, this article blows me away.

Taking refuge in the Astrodome

To think that this kid had the nerve to take the initiative to rescue so many people and think he could get away with it. That he could actually steal an abandoned bus. . .I don't know what's to become of this country with this kind of dangerous criminal on the loose.

The Good and the Not So Good

2005-08-31T14:42:00.000-07:00

We'll start with the Not So Good:

My digital camera seems to have run away from home. I feel the loss deeply and the only reason it only rates as "not so good" instead of BAD is because the viewscreen recently stopped working. I hadn't had it looked at to find out if it could be repaired, but I was thinking of upgrading anyway. Maybe it knew this and left me before I could leave it.

I went in for my second round of Hepatitis A/B vaccinations today and OUCH! It burned more than the last one and also cost twice as much as I thought it would. I don't currently have health insurance, so it burned my checkbook, too. We're debating whether or not to get a rabies vaccination. It will cost about $900 for the two of us, so if insurance (when it kicks in) covers it, we'll go ahead. Otherwise, we might just take our chances.

The Good:

I had a facial and foot reflexology this morning, so I'm too relaxed to be all that worried about the above.

Lions and Tigers and Bears. . .okay, forget the lions and tigers.

2005-08-26T22:49:00.000-07:00

There's a game farm near us where many Hollywood animals retire when they're tired of the spotlight. It's a drive-through "expedition" with fenced sections for llamas, yaks, a rhino, buffalo, deer, elk, ostriches, zebras, lions, tigers and bears. It takes at least an hour to drive through and you can go as many times as you like. You can take bread to feed the animals or buy it at the entrance. One of the biggest hits at the game farm are the grizzly bears.

Most of these bears are trained to wave at the cars in exchange for bread. They sit on the other side of an electric wire, less than 10 feet away from passing cars. The more talented bears can catch even the most wildly thrown bread ball by casually hooking it out of the air with their giant claws. Sometimes, though, a bear will become bored of it all and forsake the free handouts for a leisurely lounge in the dirt.

Of course, laying out is nicer when there isn't some idiot blocking the sun. One bear gives real value for the bread and waves very enthusiastically. He must be new. The more jaded of the grizzlies simply flap a paw before opening their mouths for the reward. And then, when a bear is closed for business, he makes it pretty clear:

Countdown to India 2005

2005-08-24T22:56:00.000-07:00

It's official. We bought our tickets and we're going to India in December. We're flying into Delhi and flying home from Mumbai. Now we have to get our visas and innoculations, practice packing all our stuff in our backpacks and about a thousand other things.

Death By Jake (for whom this site is named)

2005-08-23T16:46:00.000-07:00

I just walked into the living room, only to be assaulted by the foulest stench ever to meet my nostrils. Jake was innocently lying on the rug and no one else was in sight. I tiptoed up to him as if stalking dangerous prey and lightly sniffed at his back. After gagging long and hard, I herded him upstairs to the bathroom.

As I was gathering towels and shampoo, I realized what the reek was. Dead seal! I have no idea how he found a decomposing seal in our backyard, but if any dog could, it would be him. If you've never smelled a rotting seal corpse, count yourself lucky. The odor should be illegal.

Jake hates water, so giving him a bath is usually no treat for anyone, but this time he stood in the tub without a struggle. No climbing the walls, no attempted escape out the back, no flying leaps over the side. Maybe he finally found the fragrance that is too much, even for him.

Lake Ozette: of Marshmallows and Robotic Deer

2005-08-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

One fine weekend recently we went on a camping trip to Lake Ozette on the coast of the Olympic Peninsula (click on "Lake Ozette" to see pictures). We ended up getting a late start, so were surprised to find an empty camping spot at the lake; we had expected to stay at a campground back up the road a bit. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Tom's aunt, his brother Dave, one of our nephews and Dave's dog Rose, came out to go camping with us. Now, Rose is generally as sweet and good-natured a dog as you'll ever meet, but for some reason she developed a hatred for our youngest dog Cooper when he was just 7 weeks old. Two years later, the bad feelings persist. Cooper, being extremely friendly and a touch dim, persists in trying to make friends with her every chance he gets. To try to spare her Cooper's attentions, her new bed was brought in and placed upstairs.

As it turns out, Rose is very fond of this lovely new bed and doesn't appreciate squatters. However, she vacated the premises to socialize with Tom, and Jake, not one to pass up a good opportunity, moved in. Rose attempted to evict Jake and he let her know in no uncertain terms that he will NOT be pushed around in his own house, and gave her a few puncture marks on her head as a souvenir. Tom and I decided that our dogs would stay home for the weekend, in the care of a friend.

The next morning we headed out and were lucky enough to find a campsite that looked more like someone's well-tended front lawn than a typical site. After setting up the tents and having lunch we hit the trail for a 3.3 mile hike to the beach. This particular trail is mostly boardwalk that is passable all year round and is one of our favorite hikes in the winter and spring when storms have washed debris onto the beach.

On our way down the trail we gave our nephew a list of items to hunt for on the beach. It turned out to be an exercise in frustration because this time of year the beach is surprisingly clean of "treasures" and it became a group effort to find everything. Something we've never seen there before that showed up in abundance were unopened waxed paper cartons of milk with Japanese writing and cartoons on them. I think somewhere a ship is missing its rations (possibly deliberately).

Back at camp it we made dinner and started a fire. Our nephew started taking marshmallow orders and did an excellent job of roasting everyone's marshmallow to the proper shade of burnt. Rose ate an enormous number of uncooked marshmallows and seemed to become more mellow as the evening went on. Tom's aunt had brought Wolfgang Puck self-heating mochas that we doctored with a little Bailey's (the extent of our wild drinking ways) and we all relaxed and enjoyed the fire until it was time to crawl into bed.

The next day I woke to discover the thick coating of waterproofing I had applied to the tent had done its job and saved us from the heavy dew that covered the land. Next test, torrential rain! During breakfast we had a visitor. It was a doe who checked us out so thoroughly I began to wonder if she was a robotic spy deer in the employ of the National Park Service. But maybe that's just paranoia talking. Anyway, I took her picture, so if I ever disappear without explanation. . .

An Open Letter to Certain “Special” Drivers of US HWY 101, Washington State

2005-08-17T16:09:00.000-07:00

Unless we sprout wings and learn to fly, thereby making our vehicles unnecessary, Hwy 101 is virtually the only road to our little neck of the woods here on the peninsula. It is a two lane, low-priority-to-the-state highway with very few passing lanes, wide shoulders or straight stretches appropriate and safe for passing. It is also fairly heavily trafficked and slow moving RVs, log trucks and semi-truck’s with long trains of vehicles behind are a common sight.

I have previously mentioned the high number of fatality accidents that occur and my recent trip to Seattle as well as four years worth of grievances has prompted this letter to certain special drivers of Hwy 101. You know who you are. Don’t try to deny it.

Hey you, back there riding my ass. Yeah, YOU. I realize gas prices are high, but I’m still not going to give you a free ride, so get off my bumper. Do you actually think you’re going any faster by driving three feet behind me than you would be from 50 feet back?

Being so close, you probably can’t see this, but there are cars in front of me, too. Tailgating me will not change this fact.

If you intend to pass, the proper way to do it is by staying far enough behind me to see oncoming traffic without these little forays into the oncoming lane that you seem to enjoy. Once you see an opening approaching you can accelerate and be at or near passing speed when you pull into the oncoming lane to pass. This will allow you to pass in the shortest distance possible and save us all a few minor heart attacks because you misjudged the acceleration ability of your car.

Out here, even passing everyone in sight won’t get you all that far ahead. There was once a truck that passed me and everyone else on road in such a way that other cars were braking and swerving to keep him from causing an accident. An hour later, he was two cars in front of me in the ferry line.

If you choose to drive slowly to better enjoy our lovely scenery, or for whatever reason, really, please take advantage of the pullouts and permission to drive on the shoulder that the state has given you. Those signs telling you that the delay of five vehicles is illegal are not merely decorative.

When we actually get to one of the precious passing lanes and you’ve been driving 50 MPH, don’t suddenly speed up to 75 only to slow back down to 50 at the end of the lane. This is infuriating to your fellow drivers and only contributes to the problem.

When an emergency vehicle is making use of their lights and/or siren, GET OUT OF THE WAY. They may be coming for you some day.

In closing, please use your best driving behavior when traveling Hwy 101. We’d all appreciate it.

Thank you,
Lily

Waving the Freak Flag

2005-08-15T12:19:00.000-07:00

You are dependable, popular, and observant.
Deep and thoughtful, you are prone to moodiness.
In fact, your emotions tend to influence everything you do.

You are unique, creative, and expressive.
You don't mind waving your freak flag every once and a while.
And lucky for you, most people find your weird ways charming!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

So that's what I keep waving. Good to know.

So...where's the pizza?

2005-08-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

Shortly after coming home from shopping on Tuesday, I received a phone call from Tom announcing that he's going to Seattle on Wednesday. "Okay, why?" I asked. Turns out Tom's brother entered his girlfriend in a radio contest to fly in a Red Baron Pizza biplane without letting her know, and she won. It also turns out that she's not crazy about flying so they've offered the flight to Tom because Dave exceeds the weight limit for the flight.

"Where are you now?" I wondered. I can hear through the phone that he's practically bouncing off the walls with excitement.

"I'm at the store weighing myself. I'll be home in a few minutes." Because he was a few pounds over the weight limit himself, he felt compelled to bring that instrument of the devil home with him, thus ending my streak of refusing to have a scale in the house. I may have to put my foot down about having it as a permanent houseguest and insist that it goes back to the store [hell] where it belongs. Forty minutes on the treadmill takes care of the extra weight and the skies are clear for the next morning's adventure.

The part of this trip that he fails to mention until later that evening is the ridiculously early hour at which we'll have to wake to get to Seattle on time. I've never been a morning person, so 4:45 a.m. is not a time I see very often, unless I'm still up from the night before. Actually being dressed and in a car instead of my warm bed at that hour, well...I just don't want to talk about it.

The only thing to really hope for at that hour is that you'll have the road to yourself. Our particular stretch of Hwy 101 is host to numerous fatality accidents every year, so any sign of erratic driving makes me nervous. On this fine morning, we were fortunate enough to follow a car that appeared to have a magnetic attraction to the lines on either side of the road, and a driver that seemed to have no fine muscle control when attempting to redirect the car. Luckily for my nerves, they turned the opposite direction after crossing the Hood Canal Bridge, and left us to drive the last fifteen minutes in peace.

After a sprint up the walk-on passenger ferry loading ramp (why are those things so long?) we settled in for a relaxing ride across Puget Sound. Dave, his girlfriend and her daughter picked us up on the other side and we all drove to the airport which turned out to be nearly to Idaho.

Fog delayed the takeoff for nearly three hours, which gave us plenty of time to inspect the planes carefully. The planes are fully restored Stearman biplanes, all built between 1941 and 1943. They travel North America performing at airshows and giving rides at promotional events. Their next stop is Abbotsford, B.C. and then onto Chicago.

Once the fog cleared, the planes took off and headed out to clear airspace to perform their aerobatics. They were out of sight of the airport, so we missed out on the manuevers, but when they got back Tom was grinning from ear to ear. The stunts were replayed with much hand flapping and arm waving and I'm thinking, "Well, I'm glad he had so much fun, but where's the pizza?"

Artsy Fartsy

2005-08-08T20:39:00.000-07:00

We recently had an "arts in action" weekend that, as far as I can tell, is mostly an excuse for vendors get together and sell stuff. The highlight that makes it seem legitimate (and worth going to) is the sand sculptures. The one above was sculpted in front of the fountain downtown and has 200 individual coins in the treasure chest.

The artists were given 16 hours and a theme and let loose on the sand. The three I've pictured here were my favorites.

In addition to these there was Harry Potter Riding the Hippogriff, Trojan Horse, a wizard spewing something or other out of a magic wand, a man in a strange Siegfried and Roy-esque fantasy, a physiologically frightening (impossible?) Medusa and a slightly pornographic mermaid and siren.

Virgo was sculpted down on the beach and was voted the people's favorite. The features were incredibly lifelike and the rocks surrounding her were so realistic, people kept mistaking them for real rocks and trying to stand on them.

Sadly, when we took some visitors down to see them the next weekend, the head of the dragon and the top of the castle had been destroyed, despite signs asking the that the sculptures be left alone until August 8. I just don't understand the complete lack of respect that causes that kind of behavior.

I like this picture of the castle because of the sky behind it and that it could easily be a real building. Also, this one was sculpted in a parking lot and it was impossible to take a picture without a barricade in the background.

Camping Part 2: Washington Coast

2005-08-06T18:01:00.000-07:00

The other part of our 2-week camping trip was down the Washington coast. The day we got to the beach, the campgrounds were pretty full and sites were few and far between. Because it was so late in the evening, the park ranger allowed us to camp in an unreserved handicap spot. The photo above is the beginning of the beach trail that started next to our campsite. The drizzle that had been following us all day stopped long enough for us to take a walk down the beach and search for sand dollars.

At first we had no luck, though there were broken bits of them everywhere. We eventually found a newly washed up one that still had the little spines attached. These are not the prime sand dollars for collecting as they can be a little irritating to the fingers and tend to smell. It's not the kind of smell that's easy to identify and would tend to make the people around you stand a little further away. They do, however, make excellent frisbees. Each time I'd fling one back into the ocean, T would yell, "Wheeee" in a scratchy falsetto I found hysterically funny. Of course, he was required to yell it every time I found another one. We eventually collected some perfect samples, so the trip wasn't a complete waste.

As soon we got back from and ate dinner, it started drizzling again. That was when we found out that the tent wasn't quite as waterproof as we had thought. No problem, we were sleeping on an air mattress, so an inch of water in the bottom of the tent was no big deal. About an hour after going to bed, I noticed that my hip was beginning to touch the ground. I realized then that we were in for a long night.

By the next morning the rain had moved on and having survived the flood, we drove farther down the coast to Long Beach. Long Beach hasn't changed much since I was last there years ago. Neither has Marsh's Free Museum which according to funbeach.com, our trip would have been "...incomplete without a visit to..."

This is the Cape Disappointment lighthouse. This picture is taken from in front of the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center. The hike to the lighthouse is a winding trail through the forest that takes a little bit of guesswork and faith to follow. There were some kids working on rebuilding the trail, so maybe it's a little easier now.

The interpretive center is built on top of two gun emplacements built in 1905 and decommissioned after WWII. We wandered all through the facility looking into storage closets and exploring tunnels. We even found one room with a fireplace. With the plants growing everywhere it was easy to imagine we were in the middle of a tropical jungle and I immediately wished I could take this section home for our backyard. Doesn't it look like a perfect patio with a pond or fire pit in the middle? Cape Disappointment was not at all disappointing and we look forward to going back when we have more time to explore.

This photo is of our dog Jake who is, at best, a reluctant traveler. This is after he slid off his bed in the back seat and wedged himself in behind the driver's seat and the console. Those who know Jake will not be the least bit surprised by his behavior. Jake's favorite place to hang out is on a stationary couch rather than a moving vehicle thankyouverymuch.

Be Fri

2005-08-03T22:13:00.000-07:00

My oldest friend called yesterday, mainly, I think, to remind me that I have been horribly neglectful and it's been several months since we last talked. It doesn't seem to matter; we always pick up as if we just spoke last week.

When I was eight, we moved in down the road from her family. We lived in the country and between us, we had acres and acres to roam; I think we made use of almost every one of them. In the winter we gave her mother nightmares building sled runs that ended where the hill was cut away above the yard and challenged us to come to a screeching halt before we embedded ourselves in the back wall of the house. In the summer we raided the garden and built mud towns to run our Tonka trucks through.

As an only child, B and her sisters were the next best thing to having sisters of my own. Our phone calls always turn at some point to remembering all the trouble we used make (mostly for her older sister) and the fun we had. Although our lives have taken very different paths and I don't see her nearly as often as I'd like, I still feel as close to her now as I did 22 years ago. Everyone should be so lucky as to have such a wonderful friend. I love you, B!

Camping Part 1: Snake River

2005-08-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of July we went on a 2-week camping trip that included rafting down the Snake River over the Fourth of July weekend. Above is a photo taken from Suicide Point. I opted to take the couch potato route around the point and stayed in the raft. The Hells Canyon section of the Snake River is a pretty amazing place where the weather can change in an instant and if you keep your eyes peeled, you may see deer, sheep, bear, otters, snakes, mountain lion (we heard one across the river one morning), and a huge variety of birds and butterflies. Our camera died just before the trip, so these pictures were sent to me by JG. Thanks JG!

We couldn't have asked for better weather and there was surprisingly little boat traffic for a holiday weekend. Our guides set up camp every evening and stuffed us so full of food, we could have floated down the river without the benefit of a raft.

Here I am in a "rubber duckie" in a fairly small rapid. Even small rapids look MUCH bigger in a boat this size. I discovered that the only way I'm very effective at running a rapid is to kneel, instead of sit on the bottom. Of course, kneeling makes it more likely that I'll be sent flying from the boat, but that's so much more entertaining for the spectators!

Even in the oar boat you can easily get soaked. Our guide was an expert at finding the best places to send us through a wave, instead of over it. Fortunately it was sunny and hot, so we didn't complain too loudly. We broke up the trip with a few small hikes to see pictographs and a settlers cabin. I can't imagine living where a trip to the store takes days or weeks instead of a few minutes.

We spotted this wild sheep across the river from Kirkwood, a former homestead now staffed by volunteers. Kirkwood is a popular destination for day-trippers on the jet boats. There is a nice little museum that gives a pretty comprehensive history of the early settlers of the canyon and a good overview of the geology, flora and fauna of the area.

Sadly, about an hour down the river was our take-out point. We were having so much fun we would have liked to keep going for a few more days. Farther down from where we took out is another ranch-turned-visitor-center where we plan to spend a week or so next May. Can't wait!

Overheard at a BBQ

2005-07-25T12:23:00.000-07:00

"This shrimp tastes like dog food, doesn't it? DOESN'T IT?"

First Post Ever

2005-07-23T15:42:00.000-07:00

After months of faithfully reading other blogs, I'm finally starting one of my own. I hope this will be a good way to keep in touch with family and friends (and maybe meet some new ones), rather than sending out separate emails and attachments to everyone I know. You'd think a (youngish) graphic designer would move a little more quickly through the digital world.

I plan to share our travels, our monster house renovating project and anything else that seems interesting enough to write down. Thanks for caring enough to look.