Photos from the Beach

A couple of weeks ago, I spent a marvelous weekend with 129 of my friends at a women's retreat on the Sound. Here are a few mementos of that experience.





 

 

A Guilty Pleasure?

I seldom stick my neck out to offer critical comments or reviews, but having watched a Deadliest Catch marathon last night I've got something in my craw. Following is a note I sent to a friend to dispute her assessments of some of the recent developments on the show. I write this, knowing that I have no basis from which to judge these men... but because I enjoy the show so much, I'll admit to being a pretty rabid fan. Disclaimer done.


Dear J:

Now that I'm up to date on the Catch, I have to argue with you about the Cornelia Marie captain. I don't think Derrick is a bad guy at all. He was put into a really tough situation, replacing not only an owner/captain but the father of two crewmen. And then there was "little Jake's" abrupt departure and refusal to take a drug test. Denial, denial, denial. There's a saying -- How do you know an addict is lying? His lips are moving. The Cornelia Marie had a terrible season of fishing, but so did a couple of other boats! The CM crew couldn't have known how badly some of the others were doing, but those crab counts at the bottom of the list were abysmal. On the other hand, he came right out and said to Josh and Jake that their dad had done them a disservice by not teaching them more before he died. Ooooo... low blow! Sure, Phil could have taught them more, let them run the boat, but he was busy earning a living, and he was teaching them. No one expected him to pass away so suddenly. The whole owner-but-crewman thing makes everything so complicated. In one way, it seems like it might be better for Josh & Jake to move to other boats to get fully trained, and then return to their boat as co-captains. But financially, that isn't workable. If you own a boat, you need to be there to oversee your investment.

Another point of interest for me was watching Wizard captain Keith "interacting" with his crew. I know, you're not crazy about Keith, but I like him. What got me was, after he had chewed them out and then had a long silent treatment from his brother Monty, Monty comes up and totally makes Keith lose it with laughter. ("Can we go in and get a candy bar?" I'm not sure what the joke was, but Keith was laughing so hard he couldn't finish a sentence.) Although they can fight like the best of them (i.e., Sig and Edgar), Keith and Monty have a really solid, loving relationship. That warms my heart!

So, there you go. Let 'er rip and tell me what you think!

Oh, and have a nice day... :-p

What's Back There?

I'm always curious about how things work behind the scenes. The first few years doing football stats for a 4A varsity team, I spent every pregame time agog at the field-level view of preparations. The few stage productions I've been involved in were fascinating literal behind-the-scenes experiences. I love singing in the church choir and looking out at the congregation, watching their responses to the service. And, like everyone, I sometimes wonder what "they" think of me or "us". Don't you?

This morning, I picked up The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University, by Kevin Roose. This young journalism student from a famed secular university wonders what like is like at, of all places, Jerry Falwell's Liberty University. What better way to learn about it than to go under cover and enroll as a student? I'm only a few chapters in, but it's a compelling read and I have to find out what happens. For once, I'm not going to skim and skip ahead in the story.

Because Kevin is not an evangelical Christian, will he be able to pull of an imitation of one? Can he keep his language acceptably clean, and will he be able to adopt the right amount of Christian-sounding jargon to fit in with the other students? Do I listen to what other people say, or am I too wrapped up in judging how they say it?

Are the "real" Christian students really, uh, real? Are they genuine folks, or are they cardboard cut-out facades with no depth of character? How long will it take Kevin to spot a fake? How do people view me -- shallow and conniving, or solid to the core?

If someone discovers Kevin's identity as an impostor, what will their reaction be? Will they ostracize him, out him, or will they pity him? How do I judge people, and how does that change how I act toward them?

One of my strengths as a codependent is a drive to be likable. I shrink away from anything that someone could find distasteful in me. Ugh. Let me rephrase that. My greatest weakness is that drive to be likable! It's tricky to balance those things that should be staunch convictions while also needing to be accepting and understanding. Most people do what they do, not to be bad but because they feel a good reason to do it. Some of those actions are bad, a few horrific, but many just happen without a lot of rationalization. I'm out of my depth in theological terms here, but I hold that mankind is predisposed to be selfish, and therefore makes selfish (and sinful) choices. It should go without saying that I'm in that boat with everyone else. It would be silly for me to deny this.

Am I real? I hope so. At least, I'm trying to be.

Thanks for listening.

Another Post by Polo

Hello. I am Polo, here to rite again. I know much more things now than when I first rite here. I been practicing. Still trying to understand "smellcheck" but Mom says it will make my words better for your reading. Silly 'puter -- I know it can't smell. Anyway.

I have been working on many many things in family and house. I very, very good at getting treats out of Kong Toy. Mom and Dad laff and laff, for five minutes. Then I win and eat good treats.

When Mom makes food in Kitchen, I pay close attention. I wanna learn how to make food. I like food very much. Mom doesn't let me see what she does up high, but I watch everything I can and remember all. One day soon, I make food. If I make enough, might even let Family have some.

I have a crate in Kitchen. I don't have to use it except when it's raining outside. Mom goes to work a lot. I wait. Crate is okay place now. I even go in without Mom leading me. I can sleep there and then Mom comes home and makes food. Yum! Soon, very soon, I do that too. Mom will be suprised. Anyway.

ManBoys aren't scary as I thought at first. But I still must bark at one who looks like Jesus picture. He's quiet and worrysome. I bark, he pets. I bark, he pets. It's okay, but I bark and then he pets. Other ManBoys are nice, except when I take their shoe toys to chew. Yum!

When I first come here, I did not know Stairs. It was hard and slow to climb bumpy leg-tangling hill from Bedroom every morning. Now, I can do Stairs much better, hardly ever trip. And, of course, Stairs help me play with Kong Toy and ball. I drop toys down, Stairs make them go fast, I chase and catch. Fun stairs.

Mom still makes me go in awful Car. Yuck. But walks are good. Here's a picture she took. We're both smiling -- Mom thinks I'm cute; I see Bird behind Mom and want to chase. Anyway. We're happy.

I Love a Parade!!!

When I was a kid, The Parade* was a big deal. I was fortunate enough to be able to play in a school band starting in the fifth grade, and it was tough for me to choose between learning the very melodious french horn or playing the drums so I could make other hearts pound with my cadence. I chose percussion, although I later spent a summer trying to learn the horn. (One upperclassman had said I'd get beaten up if I showed up to play drums in the high school band.)

 

These assorted photos are a little memento of three hours spent standing on the sidewalk with a good friend. Since I like to keep my blog semi-anonymous, the images are jumbled and blurred and tiny. However, in honor of my trombone-playing brothers and *that* high school, I included a photo of the back of their mascot's head in this collage. The rest of the photos are either percussion-related or some other special interest.

 

 

There's a little more to the story. My friend had to listen to my rants about how they've changed the parade route (no more waiting for the train crossing), no shoes could be worse for your feet than discount-chain deck shoes, no uniform could be uglier than my band's, and no drums these days are as heavy and ungainly as those I carried. And it was uphill both ways, in the snow, in 90-degree weather, with lots of reminders that there were mounted units ahead of us. That's how it was, back in the day.


*Actually, there are four parades in this neck of the woods. All on the same day, all celebrating the gloriousness of daffodils and the joys of a capitalist economy.

And now for a P.S.
The photo collage that looked so good on my screen was apparently too good to load, so it had to be replaced with a few individual shots. Those shots were hand-pasted into the text, taking much time and effort because they kept covering bits of said text. Argh! Since I'm doing this postscript, I'd like to add that my favorite band uniforms are shown in the last drum line photo. The school's mascot is a logger, and the band gets to wear tan Carhartts, work shirts, and orange suspenders! Too cool for words!

Polo's New Tricks

Polo pup has a few things in common with his grand-sister Blackie. He loves people food. He loves to be outside. He's good at taking naps after eating and being outside. How's that for a repertoire? Unfortunately, that's only the beginning.

I've mentioned before that Polo likes to solve problems. When he's restless but has to stay indoors, I put a dog biscuit inside his rubber Kong toy. That used to keep him occupied for quite a while, but now it only lasts about five minutes. One of his best solutions for getting the biscuit out is to drop the Kong down our stairs and let it bounce... bounce... bounce... over and over, until the treat falls out. Now I cram two biscuits inside, thereby increasing the degree of difficulty. That might earn me ten to fifteen minutes of peace.

When he's outside, Polo makes up all kinds of doggy games for himself. One of my favorites is run-back-and-forth-across-the-yard-as-fast-as-you-can. He's a white streak racing hither and yon, clomping across the deck, from one corner of the yard to another. Good thing we have such a big back yard.

Another favorite outdoor activity is digging. (Um, this is his favorite, not mine.) So far, it's a series of small holes randomly arranged around the deck. We call them ankle-breakers. I'm sure Son #3 will have a name for them when he tries to mow back there.

Yesterday, I discovered Polo's newest yard project. It's been windy here this week, and the tarp on our neighbor's broken car must have blown against our fence. You know, the chain-link fence that NOW keeps the dog in our yard? Polo has pulled about six feet of tarp into our yard. Through the fence.



I tried to get Polo to pose with his prize accomplishment, but he was camera shy. If you look closely [and if this photo stays loaded] you can see his running-away paw in the lower left corner.

Yep, this is a dog with time on his, er, paws, and a brain suited for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Too bad for us.

Photo Day on Campus

I spent the day at a major Division I university and found some of my favorite things...

cool architecture

pretty forsythia

a railroad hero

(I know I *should* rotate him, but it is April Fools Day, so he stays.)

hungry academics

earthquake retrofits

and a familiar face


I'd tell you more, but I'm preparing for another photo shoot this weekend. Gotta launder my batteries and charge my socks.

A Brush With Fame

Today I shook the hand of a rock star. Good, strong grip. Great eye contact. Friendly confidence as he said, "Hi, I'm --" Wait! I'll get to that in a minute.

Folks are sometimes surprised that we have musical groups booked in the library. Yes, a real concert, right there next to the magazine racks! The building wasn't designed for this kind of acoustic assault (and I mean that in the nicest way) but the performers make it work. The audiences are always appreciative of both the music and the up-close experience. That is, the audience who intended to be in the audience. (grins)

We have quite a range of musical styles represented in these performances, from bluegrass to classical to jazz to world music. Many of the concerts are aimed toward adults or families, but some are especially for young children.

The musician I met today has a background in commercial songwriting and performance. He's probably best known for his role as lead singer/songwriter for a quirky rock band that I had actually heard of before this event. (My lack of knowledge of all things pop culture is legendary.) It turns out that he also, uh, moonlights as a children's entertainer, and he has several CDs to his credit under this umbrella. His real fans know him as Chris Ballew, but he walked up to me this morning, stuck out his hand and said confidently,

"Hi, I'm Caspar Babypants."

And suddenly I have a craving for fresh peaches. Lots of them.

No More Fudging

Alternate title for this post:
Even Dumbed-Down Smart Phones Know Some Tricks

I got a Nokia E73 for Christmas, thanks to my son's bonus points. I wanted a smart phone because of the calendar and camera, but I refuse to buy a data plan. Hence, a dumbed-down smart phone. The camera is great, I love the qwerty keyboard, and the other features are mostly good. I'm still exploring and tinkering.

Today, I realized that there are GPS capabilities on the phone, even in its limited no-data state. Hmmm... And there's a trip odometer that shows distance, average speed, maximum speed, and elapsed time. Hey -- I could use this for walking!

The good news, after one trip, is that it works. The bad news? I can't record my mileage based on how tired I feel! If I use the GPS feature, I've got to believe the data it gives me. Today, I went a little farther than what I thought was the halfway point for a three mile walk. When I took out the phone, though, it said I wasn't there yet. I kept going until I hit 1.5 miles, then turned around. But when I got back to the car, the odometer was stuck on 2.9 miles rather than the full three miles (or more!) that I know I walked. Oh, well. My average speed was 2.8 miles per hour -- no surprise there. I've had a rotten cold with associated impediments for a month now, so anything is better than being home on the couch coughing. Although we made a couple of stops along the way, Polo and I were on the trail for 53 minutes. Not bad.

The real benefit of this GPS thing is that it feeds my competitive spirit. Now I'll have something to pit myself against! Even though I can't fudge my stats anymore, I'll be able to know for sure when I improve or surpass my last record. Yes, strive I will, because it's fun to compete with myself, and because I'm really tired of being totally out of shape.


**MONDAY UPDATE**

We were able to go out again today, on a different route and with no stopping to chat. Total 3.1 miles, average speed 3.7 mph, 50 minutes. Yay! And again I say, YAY!

The Next Time You Make Fish Head Soup...

...count the fish heads before and after serving.

The daughter of some friends is spending a term studying in Ghana, Africa, and writing occasional blog posts about her adventures. Anna has a heart for people, a yearning for justice, and a great sense of adventure. One little story in a longer, serious post tickled my funny bone and showed Anna's terrific ingenuity in exercising gracious discretion during a homestay.

Imagine you're visiting a private home in a far-away country. Although you are a vegetarian, your hosts serve a soup made with... fish heads. What would you do?

You can check out Anna's blog here. Then you'll understand why you might want to count your fish heads.