Turtle Bay

This was the view from our hotel room on the North Shore of O'ahu.

Amateur

This is the first picture Zach ever took. It's the entry hallway to a restaurant in Charlevoix, 7/22/2000, 6:25PM. He was 11 months old. Not sure why the right wall escaped the blurriness. I'll have to ask him that. Maybe he invented a new photographic technique.

Snoozefest

I have a really hard time waking up. That is a fact known throughout the galaxy. It is as though there was a gas leak in my room, or a big heavy blanket wrapped around my head. Our bed, huge, comfortable, and covered with goose down, does not help this situation at all.

So, as you might guess, I will do anything to sleep as long as possible by cutting all unnecessary actions out of my morning routine, and employing sleep-enabling gadgets in my house, like my snooze-happy alarm clock.

This is an evil, evil alarm clock, insidiously equipped with a deadly "variable snooze button". I press once, I sleep 10 more minutes. I press twice, I sleep 20 more minutes. Seems straight-forward enough. But add in the fact that I am semi-comatose, and using mainly my rat-brain in that state of consciousness, and you begin to see the problem. A simple reinforcement process propels me into more and more presses of the button, just like a lab mouse pressing a lever to get food pellets. Pretty soon I'm playing the button like a semi-automatic rifle trigger in a firefight and sleeping until noon.

What I need is something that will make me totally uncomfortable, something irritating and dangerous, to get me out of bed as though my life depended on it. Perhaps a flame-throwing robot, or a giant billowing bag of itching powder precariously hovering above my head. Perhaps.

But for now, I'll keep setting my alarm for 5:30AM and getting up at 7:00, or 7:30, or...whenever.

A Tale Of Two Hammies

1. The Beginning

Several years ago, we briefly engaged in a foray into the care and rearing of Hamsters. Zach, just out of a bad relationship with three short-lived goldfish (Lilo, Stitch, and Molly), asked for a warm-blooded pet this time. So, we trudged off to Meijer and picked up a couple of, not JUST hamsters, but "Fancy Syrian Teddy-Bear" Hamsters (nothing is simple today). They were both female, fuzzy, and tiny.

Perhaps as a memorial, Zach named the hammies Stitch and Molly. No Lilo this time. Except I think he never really committed as to which was which, and their identities often swapped.

2. Diet & Exercise

The baby hammies grew into adolescent hammies as the weeks went by. They never really liked their standardized lab rat pellets. I suspect they were regarded as the TV dinner of small mammal food. We discovered that, in a pinch, they really enjoyed popcorn. They seemed to like it way beyond all reason, actually. Unfortunately, as happens so often with weak-minded fancy hamsters, their popcorn affinity eventually turned to addiction. One night I made Zach some popcorn and he said "Daddy, I'm going to eat the WHOLE bowl this time, and not save any for the hamsters." It was then that I knew they had a problem. So we cut them off cold-turkey and moved them on to the methadone of snacks, dried edamame beans. They grew to really like these green lightly salted snacks, in time. Their diets grew, and we eventually identified many common pantry foods that they liked.

Habanero hot sauce, however, was NOT among them. It got in their eyes and they would freak out and do spastic furry cartwheels for fifteen minutes or so.

3. The Great Escapes

Hamsters are pretty clever, which I think is why they are so darned interesting to watch. In addition to learning the use of the traditional running wheel though, ours learned how to escape their cage. I submit that small furry mammals escaping into the environment of a live rat terrier is pure suicide. Perhaps it was a call for help. Regardless, Jake left them alone until they could be caught and re-populated into the prison system. This happened several times. At the time, Zach (at the ripe old age of 4) commented that he had now seen "all of the things" that can happen: "a house on fire, a car on fire, and the hamsters escaping and hiding under the fridge."

4. The Tumor

One day Molly (or was it Stitch?) showed up for work with a large tumor on her neck that we had never noticed before. Without the benefit of MRI or biopsy I stepped in and diagnosed it as cancerous, probably a laryngo-tracheal tumor, which is common for these animals. I gave Molly/Stitch three months to live. As it turned out, I was pretty close.

5. Conflict

I was unaware of the well-known fact that adult hamsters are loners, and DO NOT get along with each other. Oh, as babies they are fine, but once they get that urge to get their own place with a widescreen TV and track lighting, they don't want roommates.

So it happened that one day the hammies started fighting. First little fur-biting tiffs, but these quickly evolved into full-blown knock-down, drag-out melees, complete with eye gouging, boxing, and the highly-illegal paw-biting.

Rather than getting a brand new plastic habitat for the separation procedure, we added on. A few new rooms would help the fighting, or so we thought. And they did stay in their own bedrooms, mostly. But at night (hammies are nocturnal and hyperactive as all hell, remember that if you ever consider getting any) they would go at it and eyes were lost. And worse...

6. The End

One day I looked into the cage and was met with a grisly sight. I didn't know this was possible, but Stitch/Molly had eaten Molly/Stitch! Well, not ALL of her, but some really important parts. I spared Zach the details, and "buried" Molly/Stitch in the garbage can. If you recall, this is the one who had the tumor, and probably didn't have long to live. Still, it was a bad way to go, I only wish we would have separated them more fully.

Soon, Stitch/Molly was showing signs of, well...croaking too. She was not doing good. So we decided to release her into the wild. Well, I decided. Z was still a little too young for all this. As far as he knew, she just died. In reality, she lived out her remaining days/minutes/seconds under a lovely shaded tree with lots of good hiding vegetation growing at the base of the trunk. I left her with some food and she looked happy.

Jake and Z and I walked to the park the next night, and I made sure we stopped by "the release site", without letting on to Z what I was doing. I was somewhat relieved that there was no hammie carcass there, and in fact there was no hammie. The food was gone too, and to my surprise, there was a freshly dug hole in the ground! I think it was hers, by the way Jake honed in on it and started trying to dig it up.

So it is that I assuage my guilt by pretending that Stitch/Molly is still out there, somewhere, chasing down antelope and living in relative peace with the other creatures of Red Run Park.

Heatherbaby

I always liked this photo of my Heatherbaby.

Rock Of Ages

Old Stone Church, Kauai.

Bloated Bodies, Floating Downstream

We are in the final planning stages of the big Utah hiking trip. We plan to do quite a few hikes, but the longest is the Narrows hike at Zion. Sixteen miles in and out of the water, over slippery bowling-ball rocks. Sounds like a pending knee operation to me. But think of the adventure, the experience, the pictures...

We're hiking all kinds of other gulches, washes, and other names for dried up rivers. All of us are in "get in shape, because I don't want to collapse of a heart attack in Peek-a-Boo canyon and have to be dragged out by my horrified and infuriated family" mode. We are also reading up on flash floods, because we don't want the experience of being chased by a wall of water in a confined space. We have unanimously agreed that would be a bad thing.

Purple

Zach, being contemplative during a recent purple day.

Food Of The Gods

Baba ghanouj.

Crapdusting

We are going to build a fence in the backyard, something we can corral the dogs in when they need to "go". This will hopefully eliminate the "poopy slip-and-slide" effect we have now in the yard, and give us freedom to use the lawn as a grenade and landmine-free play zone.

I wonder what the half-life of dog poop is?

H2O Flow

Fountain, Belle Isle, Michigan.

Chillin' @ Dusk

Boat with sunset, Lake Michigan.

So Alien, And Yet So Familiar

Oceans Of Time and A Little Fuzziness

Allosaurus lived as long before T-Rex as the common fancy house hamster Mesocricetus auratus lives after it, each gap spanning about about 75 million years.

The three species never encountered each other, although I am quite sure they would get along.

What, No Picture?

This is my first post without a picture. See, I CAN do it. It wasn't easy though. I like pictures. But regardless...

No picture at all. Not this time. Nope. In fact, this post really has no real content of any kind.

Does it seem naked?

It's a little depressing, perhaps, close to minimalist. But not entirely pointless, despite the lack of substance.

So there.

Bug Light

Tosser

Slurping Culture Soup On The Left Coast

San Francisco is an amazing city. My brother and sister-in-law live in The Haight, surely one of the strangest, most interesting and wonderful neighborhoods in this country, or any country for that matter. I can't wait for our next trip there. So alive, so original. SF can't easily be defined. In fact, I don't think it can be defined at all. It's that diverse and quirky.

Pacific Heights. Chinatown. Catsro. Fisherman's Wharf. Golden Gate Park. The Haight. The Mission. Nob Hill. North Beach. Union Square. And many more. Each with it's own character.

San Francisco is like an array of dozens of the most interesting flavors you've ever tasted, all stirred uneasily together in a big pot of culture soup.

Baby McGee

A Teething Version Of Janis Joplin.

Night Of The Dead Living

The end of B-movies as we know them.

We Have Zinned

If you didn't have a big, fat Ravenswood Zinfandel yesterday evening on your deck, now is the time to ask yourself why.

Cruel Sea

A force of nature, it arrived in the middle Jurassic, 165 million years ago. It remains, by far, the largest carnivore ever to evolve on Earth. Incredible power. Explosive speed. The only thing it feared was another of its kind. One bite could kill anything. Biting was rarely necessary though, because it could swallow creatures the size of a car, whole.

Liopleurodon ruled the Jurassic seas with absolute power.

165 tons, equivalent to 30 Tyrannosaurs. 82 feet long, the size of a large swimming pool.

How could this NOT be Zach's favorite creature?

Caninum Prandium

Wine, it seems, is more than 8,000 years old. I guess it makes sense. If you leave grapes in a bowl outdoors under the hot Mediterranean sun for a couple days you can't stop them from becoming wine. In the ancient world, wine was always served at feasts. The Romans even had a derogatory term for a meal served without it: caninum prandium, literally, "dinner for a dog."

Pads, Sans Frog

Totally Frogless Lilly Pads.

Saw The Sea

Old boat, Key West, FL.

Boobs On The Rocks

All manner of slimy, sticky, and otherwise wonderful creatures live in the tide pool zone of the oceans. A simple walk at low tide often reveals life forms that are wonderful and unknown to us. And for a seven year old, the wonder is multiplied by ten. Maybe even twenty.

For a week in the summer of 2005 the rocky shorelines of California were our laboratory, revealing a multitude of fun things every time the water receded. There were beautiful starfish of many kinds, mussels and shelled mollusks of every imaginable shape and color. Tiny, tiny things, almost at the limits of our vision, scurried about. Crabs scurried underfoot. Sea lions and seals swam offshore and watched us warily with big black eyes.

And there were green sea boobs.

Clinging to the rocks were anemones, beautiful many-fingered flower-like filter-feeding animals. When submerged, they flowed and shimmered with the passing water. At low tide, however, they rolled up into gelatinous blobs to keep from drying out inside. It is in this form that they resemble, just a little bit, green boobs. Zach was overjoyed by this fact, and got a lot of mileage out of it.

As the tide inevitably came back in, we would have to say goodbye to our boob-like friends until next time, as they receded under the water and became flowery anemones once again.

Snips And Snails, And Puppy Dog Tails

Typical tranquil scene of a large red dragon destroying everything. I hope that's covered by their insurance.

Beach Bums

Lazy lump of mostly harbor seals, Northern California.

"I Only Hope My Veruca Doesn't Want One"

It's almost hilarious how little kids want everything they see. They are pretty indiscriminate in their desires too. I think Zach would probably take a big rotten potato if it was wrapped up with a price tag at Toys R Us. And I'm pretty sure he thinks I work all day just for the pleasure of buying him toys. If I actually wrote down everything he asks to receive as Christmas and birthday gifts and added up their prices, the total would likely exceed the GNP of a small island nation.

So it was no surprise when he asked for a snowmobile after sitting on this one at the zoo a few years ago. I can't say whether he actually knew at the time what this machine was for, but he wanted it nonetheless.

Fortunately, the sheer enormity of items he asks for surpasses even his ability to track them, so he has long since forgotten about the snowmobile. Now, if I could only get him to forget about the time he saw that monster truck...

It Was A Freak Out

We had a groovy time this weekend, playing hippie for the cammer, man.

Twennny Fo' Sevin

Ingie, my viking friend, has grown up and started a blog! Check it out in my links list to the right.

Tree Writing

Bamboo trees, Kauai.

Just Leave It

Stuffing grape leaves with a goat cheese mixture.

A Twenty

I was riding along, somewhere near the church that stood behind my house, with my brother on the handlebars. Just then I saw a green bill on the ground - it was a twenty! Off the bike I went, just as smooth as if I was stepping off the curb onto the street. The bill was mine.

Oh, and the bike rode on for five or ten feet before falling and spilling my brother in a broken pile on the concrete.

But, the bill was mine.

Circling The Drain

Even when flying 500 feet above you, the California Condor is an imposing bird. A member of the new world vulture family, they look like grisly buzzards with 11 foot wingspans. They are a rare bird, once almost extinct. They now ride the thermals high above the American West, perhaps numbering 250 in all. I saw a film once of a group of these birds eating a Javelina carcass. There was ripping and shredding and jostling, it was not a pretty sight.

And that was the image that came to mind the during time we had four or five of these behemoths circling over our hiking party in a remote section of the Grand Canyon. Low on water, tired, overheated and slowing down, we surely looked like a good bet for a banquet. As four of us prepared to make a foray further into the barren wasteland in search of water, I silently wondered if the birds would follow us or just continue to circle the rest of the party.

Apparently the members who remained behind looked tastier, because the birds stayed with them. Off we went to a dry river bed appropriately called "Cremation Creek". What we found, after much examination, were a few small green pools of water. We greedily scooped as much as we could into our bone-dry water bottles and returned to the canyon where we had left the rest of our hiking group.

Seeing that we had found water and would unfortunately probably not die this time, the great birds began to fly in ever-increasing circles until they were gone at last.

So it was that we left the Grand Canyon with a big dose of healthy respect for these giant scavengers of the sky, who were probably by that time stalking a new dehydrated and slowing-down group somewhere in the vast wilderness.

Leftovers

Tidepool, Sea Ranch, CA.

It Goes To 11

100-Watt Marshall. Nothing less than the sound of Rock & Roll.

They Came And Left

Abandoned factory, Detroit

"Let Me Go Oooonnnn, Like A Marlin In The Sun"

I suppose in retrospect it really wasn't a great idea. But real, authentic fish tacos are one of my favorite things. So I had some. Yes, they were from a dreaded taco "stand" operation, a hundred miles from the ocean, which would be suspicious even in the eyes of native Mexicans. And yes, it was more than 100 degrees outside and not a refrigerator was in sight. Yes, late afternoon.

But they were MUY BUENO!

Deep inside the host, the organism(s) began to replicate. At first there were but few. The geometric nature of virus replication, however, meant that soon they would populate the host in vast numbers.

Marlin. Lightly breaded and fried to a golden brown. Topped with shredded cabbage and bathed in a wonderful spicy sauce. All robed in a handmade corn tortilla. Mexican Heaven.

The organism had reached the point at which it would soon overwhelm the immune system of the host, which was powerless against the onslaught.

It was hours before the noticeable discomfort started. Then came the usual digestive maladies, headache, vomiting, and the general feeling of being hit by a bus full of linebackers. Then it got really bad and didn't let up.

And I was two thousand miles from home.

Now that the organism had reached critical mass, it would affect every aspect of the hosts life processes.

It was almost three weeks before the most dangerous of the effects ceased. I was home by then, clinically dehydrated and contemplating the writing of my will. The remainder of the glitches took a few more weeks to expel from the corridors of woe. Whatever organism had hitched a ride in the cabbage of my fish tacos had done its job well. It had lived a long and fruitful life, spawning colonies and cities inside me, mass transit, and even I think a few all-inclusive resorts, complete with shuffle board slabs and snorkeling mask rentals.

Was it worth it? Almost two months of torture, fear, inconvenience, doctors visits, medicine, lost productivity and intimate vitreous embraces with my bathroom hardware? All for a freaking fish taco?

Of course it was worth it! But next time, hold the cabbage, por favor.

Grab The Wheel

Classic car, San Francisco, CA. Duotone presentation.

Frozen In Time

Grasshopper in the Detroit Zoo, caught during a brief moment of peace right before Zach chased it away.

Skippy

Fun in the puddles on Belle Isle, Detroit.

Tin-Foil Helmets and Cardboard Busses

Zach's second grade class just had "Famous American Day" at school. Each little tyke was assigned a Famous American (although the definition of "Famous" was somewhat fluid, ranging from Thomas Edison and Abraham Lincoln to a Detroit Red Wings hockey player). The kids all looked cutely authentic dressed up as their American as they nervously leaked short bursts of semi-factual information at the class parents.

We had a little girl as Johnny Appleseed, complete with a stock pot for a hat, who "got food for everyone out west so everyone was even". George Washington was there, famous I was told, for being on the one dollar bill and freeing the slaves." Dolly Madison knew she was married to a president but couldn't remember which one. Eleanor Roosevelt did "good things" for people, but she had no idea what these good things might have been. John Glenn was present with a tin-foil-covered football helmet. Seems he is famous for "flying or something." And Abraham Lincoln had a nicely constructed miniature log cabin at his desk, and was twice as famous as George Washington because he was on the five dollar bill AND the penny.

Annie Oakley was very shy for a gunslinger. Jackie Robinson was famous for the dates he was born and died, I was instructed. Rosa Parks sat HERE (little girl pointing to the front seats of a cardboard bus) when she was supposed to sit THERE (points to back seat). Other notables were Dr. Seuss, the Wright brothers, and Alexander Graham Bell, all with similar adorable stories.

Zach was Henry Ford. He had practiced his facts very well and I just couldn't trip him up. Zach is very good at remembering facts when he wants to. He was just as shy as Annie Oakley, though.

Grandpa had tried to drive the Model T to the school but it was cold outside and Lizzy wouldn't start up. So he brought lots of Ford memorabilia to grace Zach's desk. Zach really appreciated that.

All in all, an interesting and enjoyable romp through a kids-eye-view of history. What really matters, I learned, is not the dry facts of these notable figures existences, but the fact that we remember them at all.

Big Shoes

"You think you're having a bad day? I have to follow Steve Vai."

- Joe Satriani, taking the stage during a G3 concert.

Busted Chicken Head

Coco has a really nasty habit of getting into the trash. It's irresistible to her, like catnip to a cat. The trash is like a "Coconip". She knows better, of course. She's smart enough. She just absolutely can't resist a fresh chicken carcass or food-soaked paper towel if one is in the trash nearby. So we sit in the living room and listen for the telltale signs of Coco's trash addiction: little feet shuffling, bags rustling, or the dead giveaway, too much quiet coming from the kitchen, and and no Coco to be seen.

The other day I made chicken burritos for dinner. The aroma filled the air. Prime conditions for the garbage dingo. Time passed and we were distracted...

Coco really thought she had gotten away with it. The rustling wasn't noticed. Her absence too, went unregarded. But then she blew it.

Out from the kitchen came prancing Coco, smug as usual, but with an empty grocery bag wrapped around her neck and her head coated in nasty chicken grease. We could smell her ten feet away.

SO Busted.

Squeeze Bag Teaser

My lovely wife has a way with words. Not content with the hundred-thousand or so words we have in the dictionary, she will often mix things up and make new ones. These are called Heatherwords. She also switches the names of common things around the house. These are called Jumbles. She sometimes creates whole sentences using a combination of Heatherwords and Jumbles, to very interesting effect. This is called Heathertalk.

Really, Heathertalk must be experienced firsthand to appreciate. Sometimes it's just a word substitution game, such as in the way she habitually calls the "dishwasher" the "microwave oven". But other times these words are employed to create new products like the "Squeeze Bag Teaser", which most other people would boringly call a "Tea Bag Squeezer".

This way of talking isn't just fun and informative, it's catchy. The other day as we drove by a house we are considering buying, I said:

"...and it has a small mow to lawn!".

She laughed hysterically and high-fived me, knowing full well that Heathertalk will soon be a national craze.

"Doo, Doo, Doo Lookin' Out My Front Door..."

About a month ago I had ordered a package on the internet and was waiting for it to arrive. I hurried in the door from work and looked up the package on the UPS tracking site. The package was listed as "Delivered". So I got off the couch and went out on the front porch (yes, the same front porch I had just walked on to enter the house). There was my package. I must have missed it in my hurry to enter the house and check the internet for it. Gotta love the 21st century.

Running With Scissors

Heather has a hobby. I love that about her. I have hobbies, and they are important to me, and it really helps for her to know what that feels like too. Like any good hobby, "scrapping" has it's own unique set of buzzwords. My favorite is "journaling", which as far as I can tell means the same as "writing", but sounds more professional and thus adds substantive weight to the hobby of scrapbooking.

Also like any hobby, scrapping has upsides and downsides. In the good column, Heather's books are beautiful and they give us something special we can keep forever and show our friends. Her scrapping also fits in perfectly with my photography; I provide some of the pics and ideas for her books. So it's kinda like a common interest.

And the bad? Well, someone on the DIY network decided to make a regular show to teach scrapping ideas to the masses. Yeah, it's pretty much as bad as it sounds. A few good ideas, but mostly terribly ugly, evil things are made on that show. And if you have seen the dry host, Sandi Genovese, you have endured some of the worst clothing choices ever to grace the small screen.

All in all though, it's a good thing. Heather's pages are awesome, and it gives her a creative outlet. So we bravely endure Sandi and her clothes, I shoot as many photos as I can, and Heather snips, glues, and "journals" her way to scrapbooking craftiness. Everyone wins.

Eddie Would Go

Lifeguard tower at Waimea Bay, North Shore of O'ahu.

Giving The Finger

Christmas Day 2005 was ok, I guess...except for the part where I nearly severed my finger in an old and very poorly designed folding chair.

100 Years of Salsa

Heirloom molcajete with garlic, San Francisco

Grape Juice + CH3CH2OH

Just a quick reminder to my liver: run and hide, because FAMILY REUNION IS COMING SOON!!!!