I Love "The Sound"

After my NaNoWriMo plotting workshop today, I detoured to the beach to eat my lunch and soak up the view. It was a glorious day. Blue sky, golden and russet trees, and Puget Sound was dark bluish-green with whitecaps. While I was there, a cargo ship crossed way, way out in the channel, moving from Tacoma to Seattle and eventually to the Pacific. The wind and the distance gave the ship a cloak of utter silence; this, too, was beautiful. At the tide line, I found a tiny clam shell, perfect and clean.

The tide was way in, leaving a narrow strip of sand. When the tide's in, it doesn't only make the beach smaller. The water level is noticeably higher, so that it was almost at eye level from where I sat. The difference in perspective from high tide to low is subtle but powerful. It really does make a difference if you're looking down on the water or straight across it. Somehow, high tide invites me to share the water experience. At low tide, looking down at a broad expanse of beach and water, the Sound is emotionally distant. High tide comes to play, to lap at the bulkhead, and taunts you to take out a canoe and paddle over to the overhanging trees against the shore.

In Case of Eruption -- RUN!

It started raining -- a very steady drizzle -- an hour before this weekend's football game. Bummer. That meant I had to keep the book dry, and could not wander the sidelines but had to sit in the stands. The good news? The stadium announcer (more about him another time) and his spotter were mostly accurate in announcing yardages and lines of scrimmage, so I had a good back-up if I couldn't judge the placement. The other good thing was that I got to sit with the coaches' wives, and didn't have to hear parents' criticisms.

Further good news was that I got material for a blog post.


I spoke with a staff member of an elementary school. A good part of her afternoon was spent conducting a lahar drill. In the event of a volcanic eruption of Mount Rainier, there's a good chance that tons and tons of mud and water and ash and mud will come streaming down the valleys around the mountain. Her school is in a valley, so at least twice a year they need to practice taking all the kids to higher ground. Quickly. Every one of them. If there's a lahar alert, the estimate is 30 minutes before that school building is history. Wow.

This situation is rather unusual, and perhaps where you live the students don't have these drills. A few weeks ago, a Red Cross trainer mentioned that Washington State has the potential for more types of disasters than any other state. Alrighty then. I'm quite pleased to live on a hill, where we don't have to run from lahars but only run from the people running from them.

As I was searching for photos of evacuation-route road signs, I found one that is hinged. That would seem to indicate that there's an "off season" for eruptions, when they can fold up the warning sign and let folks live their lives. Huh. If we ever have to move off this hill, I would consider living in that neighborhood.

What Comes Up Must Go Down

I've been putting off this post for quite a while. Although there is some artistic merit, the subject is difficult to address. My friends, however, insist that I cover this, and they won't stop reading my blog until it's in print, with a photo. Yes, I know I said way back in July that I would do this. Okay, here it is.

This could be a companion post to another recent entry, but if I associate them with one another I run the danger of establishing a theme. Please, dear reader, don't ask me to do that. Friends don't let friends...

Okay, I actually have two photos of this, er, subject. The first one, above, isn't too terrible. Before you see the second, however, I must warn you about its graphic content. (Pun not intended.) This is the antithesis of the earlier post on Honey Buckets, as this toilet not only flushes, but requires detailed instructions on proper procedure. This is a toilet in a public building, but it is not located in a public-access area. Complicated matters such as this are best suited for fully-trained staff members, not for occasional users.

A final note before I go. The City of Seattle recently sold some ultra-fantastic public toilets. They had to be rid of them because of the complication factor, I believe. These stainless-steel wonders not only flushed, but hosed themselves down after each use. You won't find any of those facilities in a public library, but you might check your neighbor's meadow pasture. Ebay is a wonderful place. I leave you with this:

83% of All Accidents

One of my responsibilities as Safety Designate for my library is to create and distribute a quiz regarding emergency procedures. The idea is that an interactive exercise will encourage them to consider their roles in responding to potentially dangerous situations. One of the questions I formulated had to do with proper use of a fire extinguisher on a spontaneously combusting children's book. Even though we aren't Boy Scouts, we should always be prepared, right?

One of my esteemed colleagues informed me that this scenario reminded her of an event from an actual movie (it happens to be her favorite movie of all time.) In the movie, the drummer of a rock band suddenly and without warning was consumed by spontaneous combustion!

As if that isn't bad enough, I realized that two of my sons play drums at our church... behind a Plexiglas screen. (The photo above is the actual drum set they play, with the shield in place.) If either of them were to burst into flame, could anyone reach them in time to put out the fire?

Here's where safety principles learned on the job can be applied at home or church, for immediate and practical benefit. I am going to go out this very afternoon and purchase belt-mounted fire extinguishers for both of my boys to wear every time they play. The extinguishers must be within easy reach at all times, and the only way to do this is to attach them to their physical persons.

Wow. Just think of all the nights of sleep I should have lost over this before I knew there was any possibility of bodily harm. Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be percussionists -- unless they've got CO2 belt holsters.

Great Potential!

Cribbage is a wonderful game. I grew up playing with my Dad, my brothers, my uncles, cousins, and any innocent bystanders who could spare an hour. Often, I got to experience the joy of winning. One of my brothers -- I suppose he's a realist -- would rather teach me something than let me win. I had an almost-great hand. If the right card was turned up, I would've had a fantastic hand. As I considered what to discard to his crib, I couldn't see past that awesome potential if only a five or a seven were turned up. Since I had a couple of options, I thought the odds might be in my favor.

Nope. It was a three. What can you do with a three? Well, with that hand, at least, a three was nothing. I pegged only four points, and then Tom noticed what I'd had.

"You can't play to the potential. Just go with what you've got."

I argued that the points I could have had would have put me around the bend, poised to win.

"You have to play what you've got, not plan around what might happen."

A similar conversation has occurred repeatedly over the years with my husband, discussing our favorite high school football teams. At the beginning of every season, we hear all about how much potential this year's team has, and what a great record they may achieve. Then, they lose a couple of close games, and he notes the dropped passes that could have led to first downs and even touchdowns, and the running backs who were too busy playing another sport to show up in the weight room. If the receivers could catch, if the backs could push through, we might have won a few more games.

Now, I don't mean for this to sound like all he was doing was criticizing. There's more to these conversations, but I highlight this to bring out that lesson my brother taught me. You've got what you've got, and that's all. There's nothing the coaches can do to make the players perform at the very peak of their abilities, every play, every game. Sure, that runner would have been stronger if he'd had time to lift weights all spring and summer, but he's here now and this is what he can do. The receivers have every right to be nervous, but I'm hoping that they'll learn to focus on the ball and not the hit that's coming. We can't count on going to the playoffs, just enjoy the season and the record the guys earn. Period.

Just as I was disappointed in the outcome of that one cribbage hand, so I have to learn to deal with the outcome of a football game and the standings at the end of the season. Take what you get, make the most of every moment, and go on with the rest of life.

The writer of the book of Hebrews addressed a hoped-for potential like this:

Let your character be free from the love of money, being content with what you have; for He Himself has said, "I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you."

All Things New

All things? Well, not really. But what do you think about the new look? Extreme Makeover -- Blog Edition! Silliness, but it was time for a new look. I like the clean appearance of this template, and it seems easier to read.

Another new thing coming up soon is NaNoWriMo. I'd heard of National Novel Writing Month from folks at the Christian Writers forum. The basic idea is, you commit yourself to attempting to write 50,000 words of a new work of fiction during the month of November. Can't start early, can't use an ongoing work in progress, but you don't have to "finish" this novel beyond the 50,000 words. It's a jumpstart, with a little competition thrown in to entice you to keep going.

In case you haven't heard, I started working on a novel [several] years ago. I'm slowly editing it now, and considering my options for the ending. I had set the manuscript aside quite some time ago, so it's been a very long time since I wrote any fresh new fiction. (Really, the stuff I write here on the blog IS ALL TRUE. Mostly. Especially the part about my son refusing to listen to Bela Fleck.) Anyway, I think NaNo will give me an opportunity for a good long workout of those unused fiction-creating muscles. Oh -- and the county library system and my library in particular will just happen to be hosting some special activities to support NaNo! How convenient!

When NaNo begins, my first priority will have to be fiction. If you don't hear from me for a while, do not be alarmed. I was thinking of having Blackie take over the blog, but her arthritis prohibits her from sitting at the computer. Rufus would be the next candidate, but he doesn't do anything unless there's a tennis ball to chase. He did recognize a Target bag today (that's where we buy his preciouses), but he's still pre-literate. But, in order to prepare for NaNo, I should be ramping up my writing... and what better place to write than on the dogs' blog?!

Thanks for reading.

Visitor Facilities

I've had to think long and hard about this post. Originally, it was going to be a rant about extremely sub-par stadium facilities. The largest school classification in the state ought to have indoor plumbing on the visitors' side of the football field, don'tcha think?

But then I reconsidered. This school district is next door to the one in which I grew up, and it's less suburban and more semi-rural. Read, lower property values. It's also bordered by not one but TWO military bases, which means there's a lot of transition of population. I don't know what their voting records are, but my guess would be that this district doesn't have a lot of money. Would I want to make indoor plumbing for the off-side of the football field a high priority? Nah. And at least there were three Honey Buckets for us to use.

On our way home from the game, we were fortunate enough to squeak into the drive-through at Krispy Kreme less than one minute before closing. Thanks to this good timing, the whole family had happy tastebuds for two days. Yeah!

UPDATE: Son Throws Out Cosmic Hippo With Bath Water

Darn. One of the reasons I was so excited about the Flecktones' music was because of the fantastic bass playing. I've got a son who plays guitar, and I thought this CD would be something we could both enjoy.

Wrong.

My guitar-playing son listens to the same jazz station I do, and he had already heard Flight of the Cosmic Hippo and was not impressed. Totally not. There was no way he was going to listen to any more of their music, thank you very much.

But then... He heard this AMAZING bassist but missed the identifying commentary after the song, and was bummed. I showed him how to find the station's playlist online (yes -- me!!! I did that for him!!!) and you'll never guess what we discovered. Try. Can you guess? Yep, the bass player was none other than Victor Wooten, bassist for the Flecktones! Score one for the square mom!

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Suburban Mom Impacted by Flying Hippopotamus!

All I was doing was driving home from work one night. Sure, it was kind of late, and it was dark, but not THAT late. The hippo just came at me from out of nowhere, flying across the airwaves of my favorite jazz station. One line of that ultra-smooth, super low bass, and I was a complete goner. I saw that hippo floating across the night sky...

The tune was Flight of the Cosmic Hippo, by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. The title track's name was goofy enough for me to remember when I got home, and the second-busiest library system in the nation had a copy available for me.

Along with needing to listen to more of this stuff for myself, I thought this might be something my guitar playing son would enjoy. Oh, wrong. He has heard one piece by the Flecktones, and wasn't impressed. Too bad! But I still can't get enough of them, so Pete's going to have to put up with me listening to it as often as I can... when he's not around to complain.

Amazing music. If you're not already turned off, here's my description. It's a little of Randy Newman's tonality, some incredibly low rumbly bass, percussion lines a la Mutemath, and pure fun. And banjo! Of all things, banjo and harmonica! Best of all, listening to it made me laugh. It was that much fun!

I'll be checking out more CDs once I get my fill of the Cosmic Hippo. A word to the wise, though. Copying music from library CDs is still a violation of the law. Don't go there. Thanks.

"I Need a Four Who KNOWS Something!"

The action in this weekend's game didn't bring me near the players so that I could overhear any incriminating comments, but I did catch this one from the head coach.

It was kind of a sorry excuse for a game. The other team, according to my sports-history-buff husband, might never have had a winning season. Ouch. Lots of reasons for this year not getting off to a good start, and all I can say is that I'm glad it's not us. It's one thing to have a horrible, awful, three- or four- or seven-year losing streak. But what about never attaining better than a .500 record, ever? Plodding along, trying to build a program, teaching fundamentals and evaluating your players' strengths and trying to come up with an overall plan that maximizes every potential, so that maybe this year you might come out ahead of your main rival.

During the second half, late in the second half, the other guys were moving the ball up the field against our subs. Our coach has never been one to run up the score, and he wasn't going to put in any first-string kids, but OH MY GOODNESS he got a little upset when a particular player didn't perform his duties adequately. Thus, the imperative statement quoted above. Sorry, I don't know what a "four" is, but that's beside the point.

It's hard to be a sub. It's hard to be ready, knowing that you're only going into the game if there's a significant injury or a substantial lead. It's hard to be out there under the lights and remember everything you've been taught in practice. Everything. And it's hard to play for a team with a mediocre record. No matter how good your best effort is, there are probably several players on the other team who are bigger, faster, stronger than you are, and they'll eat you for lunch.

What do you do, then? Keep practicing, learn your position (even you "fours"), and make sure you've got all your gear on for every game. You never know. You just never know. It could be just a short series of plays, or it could be the game on which the whole season depends.

Servants, in all things obey those who are your masters on earth, not with external service, as those who merely please men, but with sincerity of heart, fearing the Lord. Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men; knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance. It is the Lord Christ whom you serve.