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August 31, 2006

Crist v. Gallagher

The Florida governor primaries are pretty hot down here - with a lot of the focus being on the two conservatives vying for a shot: Charlie Crist and Tom Gallagher.

Gallagher's the worse of the two; he's been smearing Crist for supporting "some rights" for gay couples (neither support gay marriage). He's about as conservative as they come as far as social issues go (but when it comes to taxes, well....)

Race to the bottom indeed.

The two Dems look alright, though it's shaping up to be a bit like the Lamont-Lieberman thing - two different ideas of who's an electable Democrat. More on that later, though, I need to do some more research on both. So far the newspapers down here are almost evenly split on who they endorse.

Onward, Pioneer! Part II

'Kay, so I never really finished talking about traveling through Oregon. Or where I'll be living next year (I'll get to that soon). So first, the rest of the travelogue, in brief:

(By 'in brief' I mean I made it AS SHORT AS I COULD which is DIFFICULT FOR THIS LONG-WINDED SISTER.)

---

Eugene - Portland: Woke up at Tom's place, ate baked goods, hiked, purchased shoes at Goodwill, headed to train station. Instead of train, large bus arrived. Sighed. Took bus to Portland. Looked at public transportation map and weighed 1-hour public trans ride + walking (cheap!) vs. 15 minute taxi ride (expensive!) to destination. Opted for public trans. Walked. Got lost. Asked woman for whom English is not first language for directions. Misunderstood directions. Wandered through sketchy neighborhood. Spotted a train! Followed tracks to station, intrepid problem-solving skillz! Rode train to airport. Arrived at hotel plenty early. Sat around. Attended RARE meeting. Met hotel roommate, fellow RARE person. Met other RARE persons, since we invited all to come over and 'party' which meant sit around and talk. Determined that RARE people are certainly interesting but some are a little kooky. Carefully dodged pigeonholing as Ivy Leaguer or Dirty Hippie. Slept.

Portland - Veneta: Woke up early. RENTED MY VERY OWN RENTAL CAR. Drove down Interstate. Decided to take 'scenic route' along the coast. Drove over small mountains, through little rural towns, scenic, etc, arrived at the coast! Hello Pacific! It's been a while! Leapt out of car with excitement to take pictures and feel ocean breeze. Ocean breeze being 60 degrees, quickly returned to car. Drove along coast. Drove BACK over small mountains and cute rural areas, arrived in Veneta. Had successful interview. Learned that Veneta is essentially bedroom community for Eugene, decided it was not what I was looking for, want 'real rural,' etc. Stopped on the way to pick blackberries. Stowed them in leftover baked goods bag for later. Arrived back in Eugene. Went for walk, picked wild strawberries. Met up with Tom for dinner + beer + Halo. Got ass handed to self on plate. Tried old skool "just push all the buttons a lot" Mortal Kombat style. Avatar stared at feet and missed target. Had fun anyway. Went out to get a drink with Tom + Lesli, cool librarian. Lesli and Tom insisted I live in Eastern Oregon and lead austere rural lifestyle. Thought to self, yes but would THEY live out there? Had delightful conversation and EXTREMELY potent drink that happened to be made with Hendrick's. I tell you what any bar that serves Hendricks is my kind of place. Left tipsy, returned home, fell asleep.

Eugene - Ontario: Longest day evar. All ze way across ze state! Woke early, said goodbye, stocked up on delightful scones for road, crossed big mountains (Cascades) over very tiny road. Waved to car from top of observation tower made of lava rocks. Oooh. Waved to 3 Sisters peaks in distance. Exited mountains into desert. Was struck by austerity of it. Drove a long way. Drove more. Arrived in Burns. County population: 7,000. County size: 10,000 sq.m. It looked the part. Had ok interview. Drove some more - decided that desert was lovely, if sparse, big sky, lots of color if you look closely. Kept driving. Listened to bad-but-funny British chick lit book on cd borrowed from mom's friend. Again noted the austerity. Arrived in Vale. Had good interview, liked the Vale people. Felt unsure about living in place smaller than Arcadia. Went to hotel in nearby Ontario, another small town, pop maybe 10,000? Checked in. Called cool fellow RARE person, also in this hotel for the night. On phone: Hi, it's Sarah. I just got into Ontario. Want to get dinner? Him: Sure. Me: I'm in room 102. Meet me here? Him: I'm in room 100. Sure. (room 100 was right next door. 2 feet away. lolz. Hopped in his rented mini van and toured the town. Thought, maybe I could do this? life here? Went to restaurant. They served no beer. Left. Went to another restaurant. Ordered omelet and beer. Other restaurant patrons stared openly. Enjoyed beer and conversation. Did not enjoy omelet. HOW do you mess up an omelet? Poor form. Talked a long time about RARE and jobs and life and music and things. Returned to hotel, said goodnight, puttered in room for a while.

Ontario - La Grande: Woke up early, drove and drove through big brown hills. Stopped in Baker City for lunch, found lefty-looking cafe, ate delicious salad, found a copy of the BOISE WEEKLY which gave me hope that cool people do exist out there. Got really excited. Sent blitz to Pam from cafe computer about how Boise is the new Portland, or something. Moved on to La Grande. Drove around, kicked up dust on dirt roads, took photographs! Went to bed.

La Grande - Pendleton: Woke up, interviewed with awesome lady, drove around some more, purchased cinnamon croissant. Delighted in the pastry. Onward! Made it to Pendleton, noticed extreme Old West vibe, lots of Western stores. Wandered downtown, ate mediocre sandwich. Interviewed with group of people. Decided assistant city planner was cute. Left with bag of goodies including bumper sticker that says: PENDLETON ROUND-UP: LET 'ER RIDE! Yeehaw. Had 2 free! beers at cocktail hour at motel. Luxuriated in large bed in motel room. Puttered. Slept.

Pendleton - Hood River: Drove along the Columbia River! Lovely. Spent time wandering Hood River, which was full of rich yuppies and super obsessed windsurfers. Had mixed feelings about the place. Had great interview. Ate gumbo at Southern food restaurant but it was not real gumbo, sorry folks. But waiter was nice to the dorky girl eating alone with hulking copy of Anna Karenina. Stayed night in The Dalles, nearby town. Accidentally drove in parade-of-vintage-cars with several other confused motorists. Fell asleep to the sound of hundreds of old white men beeping vintage car horns over, and over, and over while driving around the block.

Hood River - Laramie!: Purchased AMAZING SANDWICH from fancy bakery, in addition to cheap and tasty cherry tomatoes. Drove on. Took scenic highway, oohed over waterfalls, kept driving. Made it to airport. Returned trusty rental car. Waved goodbye to its nice red paint job. For the record however I do not recommend purchasing a Ford Focus. It's a little jumpy on the accelerator. Ask that mailbox that I h nevermind. Got on plane! Slept! Made it to Denver alive!

And then I went to Wyoming, but I already told you that story.

Love,
Sentence Fragments Girl

Downtown K-town

This is an older piece from the St. Pete Times that I want to put here mostly for future reference:

City officials acknowledge they have no grand plan for downtown beyond preserving as many of its fine old buildings as possible. To that end, they credit Martha and Chuck Craven for their revitalization efforts. Although Arcadia's population of 6,800 has remained relatively flat, City Administrator Ed Strube agrees with the couple that the area is on the verge of a boom, one that will inevitably drive up real estate prices and affect the character of downtown.

There's some drama going on around here about the character of Arcadia's downtown - it's now almost exclusively antiques, and the dealers like it that way. Unfortunately, many of the store owners are also really shortsighted, and staunchly oppose anything downtown that's not, well, an antique store. Everyone now is kinda just waiting for the population boom - it's like a massive boulder perched on the edge of a cliff, teetering unsteadily, waiting for the right wind to send it careening on down.

Wyoming 2006 Photos



I've uploaded jillions of Wyoming pics to Flickr. Check 'em out by clickin' on the pic above!

Getting Back on the Music Train

So I'm a little behind in my music since getting back from out West - this is old news, but I HAD to make a note of it -

bluegrass
covers
of
modest
mouse
songs
!!!

Listen.

August 30, 2006

Linksss

Some good stuff from the internets:

  • Califone has a new album coming out (!!!!) and I've heard a few tracks and it sounds GOOD SO FAR. Check one out here, thanks to Bows + Arrows.

  • Orlando, meanest city in the country, terrible place to visit or live, might be getting light rail. That's fantastic.

  • Grass-fed beef is getting tastier. I talked to some beef people here in K-town a while back about grass-fed beef, wondering why no one does it, and they all told me that grass-fed beef is too tough, that people don't like it. Perhaps that's now changing?

  • Pat Michaels, the lone scientist on the global-warming-isn't-really-happening side, is getting a little heat from his home state, Virginia. There's an interesting comment on this entry too.

  • CAFTA fallout in Georgia - yet another example of corporations lying to get their way and then jerking the rug out from under their employees.

  • Nina Planck takes on the poor-people-can't-afford-healthy-food argument. Highly recommended.

  • Airport Security?

    Just in case anyone actually has any faith in TSA's ability to prevent terrorists (or anyone else) from bringing dangerous things onto airplanes:

    Today, as I was going through some boxes of junk brought home from Dartmouth, I thought to myself, Gee, I could use my pocketknife right now. I thought for a moment about the last place I'd seen it, which was on my desk when I was still living at the Pebble. Hmm, I thought, I must've packed it into the stuff-on-my-desk box that's been sitting in my room all summer. I dug out the box and emptied its contents. No knife. I got a little concerned. I checked my jewelry box. I checked my junk box. I checked the piles of junk-to-be-sorted-pre-Oregon-move on top of my desk. No knife. Oh NO! I thought. This knife is a special one; it belonged to my grandfather and was engraved for me as a gift. I ran through my mental checklist of places that I keep the knife. The most obvious one was my wallet - it's flat enough to stow nicely in there - but I'd been on 3 flights in the past month, 2 of them under heightened security. I must've taken it out before all that flying. Just to ease my mind, I checked my wallet. There it was. MY KNIFE WENT THROUGH 3 ROUNDS OF SECURITY UNDETECTED.

    (Thank God they didn't find it - I'd have probably had it confiscated. WHEW. Next time, must be more careful.)

    I also accidentally smuggled some lotion onto one of my 3 flights, which I later found. Umm, oops? And then of course there's that 12-year old who got onto a plane without ID, ticket, or boarding pass.

    Poker Night Photos

    Poker Night was pretty fantastic last night. We had more people than planned, including Alex, who I hadn't seen since graduation!

    I've uploaded a bunch of photos from the night - check 'em out at Flickr by clicking on that there photo below. That's me, attempting to shuffle the cards.





    August 29, 2006

    Oh, um, by the way -

    So I do actually have some interesting things to talk about on this blog. I've just got that problem where I sit and read and read and read about something (e.g. that Forbes piece, or the Gwyneth Paltrow African ads, or crack cocaine rings in citrus groves) and don't get to writing about it 'cause there just seem to be so many angles on the issue.

    I'm workin on it. I have tomorrow off work thanks to dear old tropical storm Ernesto, so perhaps I'll get to posting some more thoughtful pieces then.

    Poker Night

    It's Poker Night tonight! Tia and I are doin' it up for our friend David's birthday. She's got the Dollar Tree decorations and the poker chips, I've got the sweet tea, Lynchburg lemonade, and chocolate chip + nib cookies.

    Oh, yeah, there's that tropical storm a-comin' in too. But not to worry, we're not anticipating anything too major. Just some wicked rain - 5-15 inches!

    Eyesight

    Wow. Cows and manatees have some seriously bad eyesight. I should know, 'cause mine is almost as bad as that described below:

    By varying the distance between the lines, the researchers showed that Buffett’s eyesight was about 20/420, similar to a cow’s and far worse than a human’s.

    This NYTimes piece on manatees is pretty cool. It makes me feel bad for hating on Florida manatees when I was a kid (I preferred Florida panthers). If you, like me, were once a manatee-hater, check it out. They're not as stupid as we thought!

    Morning LOLs

    - This morning I was scanning the radio dial on my way to work (my iPod had a dead battery) and I hit on the 92.9 KIX Country morning show. They were running a trivia contest about football players, and the prize was a Cracker Barrel gift certificate and a shopping spree at Tiner's Western Wear.

    - One of my coworkers brought her mom in this morning to meet everyone in the office. She came in to say hello and she was completely sweet and friendly. And then she turned around to leave and I saw that she had the most amazing haircut: a ringlet mullet. Business in the front... Elizabethan in the back?

    August 28, 2006

    No More Nickel Creek?!

    When I went to a mini bluegrass show over at Craig's RV Park earlier this summer with Tia and David, I stopped on the way out to check out the merch table. There's a small bluegrass association down here, and they sell t-shirts and hats and the like. They also rent out bluegrass tapes and books to members. On the top of the rental stack was a beginner's mandolin VHS. Some pudgy blond kid was on the cover in a ridiculous Western shirt, and he looked as if he couldn't be more than 12. I thought to myself, Is this a kid's instruction video? Couldn't they have gotten a better model? Then I looked a little closer. It was CHRIS THILE! Lemme just tell you that Nickel Creek's mandolinist has DEFINITELY lost that baby fat.

    But anyway, the point of that story was to note that it looks like Nickel Creek is on an indefinite hiatus:

    After seven years of extensive touring in support of three records (seventeen years as a band), we've decided to take a break of indefinite length at the end of 2007 to preserve the environment we've sought so hard to create and to pursue other interests.

    This blogger thinks it's Chris Thile's doing, and I tend to agree. Son is WAY talented, only 25, a complete hottie, and he's been popping out solo albums for years. I have most of them. (I also wish he wasn't married, but that's another story...) It's unfortunate that NC is disbanding, since there's really no one else doing what they do right now. Nickel Creek made their name with a kind of americana-folk-bluegrass that was supremely easy on the ears - not in an easy listening manner - and accessible to fans of folk, country, alt.country, and traditional bluegrass, in addition to regular mainstream music listeners (obvs not the hippest band on the block, but hey, I like 'em).

    Chris's new solo stuff is definitely of a different vein - think of the strangest Nickel Creek songs and stretch them farther - revolutionary bluegrass, fast-picking twang with atonal fringes and drawled, jerked, sly vocals. Man. Seriously, this guy has got it goin' on. Apparently he also covers The White Stripes' Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground on this album, which I'm excited to hear, especially after they did so well in covering Spit on a Stranger on This Side.

    Chris Thile's new one is How to Grow a Woman From the Ground and you can hear some tracks on Chris's Myspace.

    OH WAIT!

    He isn't married anymore! Turns out the whole album is loosely about his recent divorce. Oh man.

    Jim Wooten: Fair and Balanced?

    The thing that's surreal about the South is that you can actually use 'fair and balanced' in a non-ironic way and get away with it.

    Two questions arise as this anniversary approaches. One is how fair and balanced the news media is in telling the Katrina anniversary story. And the other question may reveal the differences in how liberals and conservatives see problems and solutions. Suppose you rule New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina and are empowered to rebuild it as an experiment in liberal or conservative governance. What are the elements?

    In mine, public education is radically overhauled and reconfigured. Parents are held responsible for the financial support and conduct of their children. No more public housing projects are built. Easy loans are available for home ownership and for start-up businesses, but to prepare purchasers faith-based organizations are invited in droves to provide counseling, training and support. Homes are built above Katrina waters or not at all; those below would be required to have unsubsidized flood insurance for the full replacement value of the home or business. The state and New Orleans take responsibility for the levees. The dependent are encouraged to find jobs and stay where they fled. New Orleans is a responsible, working city composed of people who recognize a hurricane’s danger, prepare for it, and leave when their lives are at risk.

    Not to mention his, uh, recovery plan. All you have to do is take a stroll through his August archives, however, to realize that he's kind of a yahoo. You know, censoring criticism of the President but not censoring hate speech, lovin' on nuclear power, hatin' on the government, and so on.

    Ernesto Round I

    First hurricane of the season! His name is Ernesto and he's pretty mild, looks like. My family is conveniently located at all major hurricane-prone areas (west coast, east coast, southern tip), so one way or another someone will probably evacuate to stay with someone else. People are on hyper-alert around here - after Charley, my mom did some major hurricane-prep pantry stocking, in addition to storm windows (also known as "sheets of plywood") and such necessities. Here's hoping it doesn't do any big damage.

    August 26, 2006

    Movie Not to Watch: The Missing

    Now, I like Westerns. I'm down with guns and dust and drama and stirring music and the whole aesthetic of it. I'm even ok with the stereotypes inherent in Westerns; it kinda comes with the genre. But you can take it too far. Way, way too far.

    Take The Searchers. Missing girl, lost soul kinda trying to find redemption and find the girl. Twist it around a bit. Make it longer. Remove all pretense of subtlety, beat the audience over the head repeatedly shouting, THIS IS THE EMOTIONAL SUBPLOT! LOOK AT HOW IT IS PROGRESSING! Add in some graphic, gratuitous, wrenching brutality, characters who seem connected to neither reality nor any recognizable archetypes, fail to engage the audience beyond a superficial level, and set things within some gorgeous-as-all-hell scenery.

    You know, I might even be somewhat ok with the movie at this point. But then, then, to make things completely intolerable, the evildoer happens to be an Apache / ex-Army officer / brujo witch with a penchant for extreme cruelty, snakes, and photography. He is, of course, terribly disfigured too. Where does this come from? Whose harebrained idea was THAT? What role does sadism and what seems to be some kind of snake-based witchcraft play in this film other than as a misbegotten attempt to make old material seem new without having to actually inject meaning into the film? There's not even a minimal attempt at anything beyond pushing the audience's fear and disgust buttons.

    W. T. F.

    W. T. F.

    I don't really have the vocabulary and language with which to critique movies, but I can say that I have a feeling most of y'all would not like this movie much. See something else on a Saturday night, k?

    August 25, 2006

    LOLZ

    All I can really say about this is that I had a hard time not laughing so loud as to upset the meeting going on in the next room over. I don't usually read the Dilbert blog, but I found this link, and couldn't resist. I had no idea that men's undergarments could be so problematic. Guys, is this for real?

    "No sooner had I freed Farmer Johnson from the cotton clutches..."

    UPDATE: I've received confirmation from several sources that this is, in fact, a real issue. Hehe.

    Borrowing words

    I love this Booker T. Washington quote that the Foxy Librarian used here:

    I had a difficult time trying to explain to a Chinese woman the different pronunciations of Warren Buffet (financial investor), buffet (to strike or beat), and buffet (piece of furniture, smorgasbord).

    God, English is a bitch! I told her that since English sometimes comes up short, it will assimilate languages’ words, which accounts for some of the variations in pronunciations. Or, as Booker T. Washington said, “We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.”

    (She also wrote a wonderful piece about battleaxes - man, I'd love to be a battleaxe someday.)

    August 24, 2006

    Small Town Po Po Beat - Aug 23

    There were some good items in this week's police beat. One even involves snakes, albeit not on a plane.

    * 1100 block of Southwest Golden Avenue: A woman reported a snake in her house.

    * 200 block of North Luther Avenue: A woman reported that a man, whom she referred to as "the phantom," had a gun and was going to get her.

    * 1600 block of Southeast Carnahan Avenue: A man reported some money and jewelry stolen from the pocket of a pair of his pants that were in a closet.

    * 2700 block of Northwest Rimes Road: A resident reported her neighbors were "spinning out" in her yard and were "ranting and raving" at her.

    * County Road 760/769: A caller reported people picking palmetto berries.

    August 23, 2006

    Brown blazer

    I'm pretty darn glad I wore my good brown blazer to work today. I brought it as a jacket, cause it's always cold in the office, but it turns out that this morning I'm giving a presentation. Zoinks.

    August 21, 2006

    Wyoming 2006

    So I went to Wyoming! This is my (exceedingly long) travelogue. Pictures coming soon!

    If you're lame and in a hurry and don't want to read the entire thing, skip to Day 4.

    Day 1 - Flying from Denver

    Alright. I flew into Denver from Portland and met Ritchie at baggage claim. In case you don't know, Ritchie is a friend and ex and co-environmentalist at Dartmouth. After nearly missing our bus due to a wrenchingly slow baggage carousel, we plunked down for a long ride to Fort Collins, where Ritchie's aunt and uncle were to meet us. I shared my precious Hood River cherry tomatoes with R and we chatted and chatted and chatted the whole way. Coming from the airport to Fort Collins, I understood why my friend Anne, who's from Fort Collins, is so distressed about the development enveloping her hometown - it's a lot like taking Highway 70 out of Arcadia and watching the slow, hideous march of subdivisions creeping across a place that was once beautiful. Sigh. We met Myron and Adele, R's uncle and aunt and our hosts/principal trip organizers, at the bus station and set off to get dinner - Indian food, which I've missed since having left Hanover. Dinner was laid-back and tasty, and on the ride to Laramie R and I caught up some more. We pulled into Laramie pretty late, so R and I essentially dropped our bags and headed to bed, talking until we fell asleep.

    (Sidenote: pretty much R and I just talked and talked and talked the whole week. We can do that. It's nice. The other people on our trip, most of whom are perhaps a little less talkative, found this pretty amusing, and there's a photo of us engaged in some conversation or other that I'll post when I upload my photos. It's funny.)

    Day 2 - Laramie, Climbing, Meeting the Crew

    Next morning we woke early to go rock climbing - and man was it gorgeous. Myron and Adele are just getting into leading climbs, so this made things work really well. Just a little ways outside of Laramie, big bulbous stacks of salmon-beige rocks were stacked and scattered across the dust against the most incredible Western blue sky. We did a few laps on a very chill face climb (with a few fun moves) and then set off to try some crack climbing.

    Now I've climbed a fair bit on very basic, easy face climbs. I'm comfortable at that nice beginner level, where someone else leads and I don't have to haggle with all the brightly colored metal niggly bits that real climbers use - cams, bolts, and the like - or deal with the actual real gnarly problems that experienced climbers like. Like cracks. Some of y'all will know all about crack climbing, but for those who don't, the basic idea is to use a natural crack in a rock face to get to the top - using your hands, and other body parts as blunt tools to jam into the crack. We taped up our hands, Myron led, and then it was my turn. I found jamming my entire hand into a crack and using the friction to be pretty useful - but my feet were another matter. They kept getting stuck or falling out. I fell several times, held by the rope of course, but banging myself against sharp rock crystals and losing confidence. I cut up my hand, my lower arm, and both knees, but by God I made it up that crack. And I felt pretty cool.

    That evening, R and I started packing our backpacks for the Wind Rivers. I've got a lovely small pack - it's just over daypack size and I love it because it's ultralight - aka I don't carry a lot of weight with me. However, a little while into the packing, my bag was full and there was still a pile of group gear left to go into my pack. Myron looked at my stuffed tiny pack, looked at the towering full packs he and Adele and Ritchie had, and offered me a larger pack. I took it. This turned out to be kind of a blessing, because it allowed me to more easily pack things like the ICE AXE AND CRAMPONS that were glowering at me from my pile of gear.

    See, Ritchie didn't tell me we'd be doing any hiking that would require SNOW GEAR. In case you don't know, an ice axe is a lightweight metal axe designed to help mountaineers climb up ice and snow. Crampons are essentially sets of 2-inch metal spikes that attach to boots so that one can cling to ice and snow. These are things that I hadn't ever used.

    So anyway, we packed, I stared down the ice axe, and we had a big dinner with the whole crew, ate well, heard some fun stories, and went to bed early.

    I met the rest of my hiking crew at dinner and in total we were 6: me, Ritchie, R's aunt and uncle Myron and Adele, both 50ish, who work for the U of Wyoming, and their friends Ben, a retired 60ish professor, and Janet, a 50ish free spirit type. It was to be an interesting crew, judging from the dinner conversations. Ben is just that kind of amiable, intelligent friend who makes everyone comfortable, and Janet, well, in her own words, "I boil my shit."

    (she uses it for compost in her garden)
    (yes, really)


    - The rest of the travelogue can be found by clicking the link below. -

    Day 3 - Dad's Lake, Realizing What I've Gotten Myself Into

    The following morning we set out at 6 am. The drive to the Wind River range from Laramie clocks in at just over 6 hours - this is some remote wilderness, and it also happens to be just about across the entire dang state. Upon arrival, we shouldered our packs and set off for our first night's camp. It was only something like a 6 mile hike over relatively mild terrain - a great way to start off a hiking trip. I had, however, as I usually do, forgotten how heavy a full pack feels. This sucker was hitting in at around 40 lbs and I could FEEL it. I also started getting blisters within 20 minutes. I resolved at this point to purchase some new boots. Good ones. After a while I got used to the pack and got used to ignoring my feet. This tends to be my usual backpacking routine. I really need new boots.

    Within 20 minutes of hiking I learned three things about the Wind River range:

    One, people frequently take horse-packing trips in through the Big Sandy entrance, as evidenced by several trains of grumpy horses led by wizened Wyoming fellers and the omnipresent horse poop on the trail. Myron assured us, however, that once we got farther into the backcountry we could hopefully avoid the frequent pungent land mines.

    Two, Wyoming is dusty. I mean, really dusty. Dusty enough to coat your entire body and make you sneeze and get into everything.

    Three, high elevations definitely affect one's breathing, especially if one has spent her entire summer at or below 30 feet above sea level. We started at around 9,000 feet above sea level in the Winds. I didn't have altitude sickness, but I did certainly feel out of breath most of the time when moving at any pace faster than "rolling over in sleeping bag."

    It's hard to describe the scenery without being cliche - it was very postcard stunning. We came in through the Big Sandy entrance, which is known for having rewarding views just about as soon as you leave the parking lot. Sure enough, we spent most of the afternoon crossing long open meadows bordered by spruce and small, silvery lakes, with the bare, rocky shoulders of distant mountain peaks looming large. Myron and Ben pointed out the peaks we'd be climbing later in the trip. They were very large. There was also much discussion of a snowfield, and that scary winter gear, and what the guidebook called 800 vertical feet of "unmitigated scree." Also known as, "Hey! How'd you like to send rockslides down upon your friends below with every footstep?"

    Upon arriving at Dad's Lake, our campsite for the evening, R and I set about assembling The Walrus - our tent. The Walrus was a cinch, if a bit, uh, damp and funky, went for a QUICK dip in the coldcoldcold lake, and soon we and the rest of the group were sitting out on a big rock by the lake, sipping scotch poured from a titanium pack bottle and watching fishermen try their luck below us.

    We went to bed at dusk, in typical backpacker fashion, but R and I wanted to see the stars, so we stayed awake talking until it was dark enough to see. Instead of having to get re-bundled up (while the days were warm, nighttime was VERY chilly) to stargaze, we just stuck our heads out of the tent's back flap and gazed up into a dense, bright mesh of stars, with the Milky Way stretched clear across the bowl of sky. It was just stunning. As we lay quietly gazing upward, a shadow swept in JUST above our heads - it slowed, hovered, and then swooped off in complete silence - an owl! Probably determining whether or not we might be edible.

    Eventually I started to fall asleep so we zipped up the tent and as I unzipped my fleece vest to use it as a pillow, I noticed a spark of light across my arm. I blinked and pulled the vest across my arm again. A trail of sparks leapt across the fleece's path. RITCHIE! I whispered (well, probably it was louder than a whisper, I was pretty excited). And I demonstrated my exciting luminescent qualities. Apparently this phenomenon has something to do with static electricity. It was awesome.

    Day 3 - In the Valley of the Glaciers

    This day was a hiking day. We hiked for a good long while, and just as I was getting exasperated by a lengthy scramble-with-packs through some gnarly rockfall, we popped out into what would be home for the next few nights - the East Fork Valley. The East Fork Valley is a textbook-perfect glacial valley, with a wide, flat floor dotted with lakes and bound at its sides by steep, rocky peaks. We set up the ol' Walrus again and then relaxed. Janet trekked around our small lake to chill a cheesecake for dessert. We went to bed early, because the next day we were to be out of camp by 7 am to summit Mt. Geikie.

    Day 4 - Climbing Mt. Geikie - Or, Learning to Self-Arrest

    Ben decided not to summit Geikie with the group - he'd climbed it once before and was looking forward to a day of relaxing. He laughingly told us he'd watch for us on the summit and sliding down the snow. The rest of us packed our daypacks with food, extra clothes, and, of course, the ice axes and crampons. We spent the first hour huffing it up some rockfall, and when we reached the snow, we strapped on our crampons. Turns out walking in crampons was fun and easy. I tromped steadily upward along the snowfield. R and I had learned how to self-arrest with our ice axes in case of a fall, so as not to slide out of control to the bottom - you hold the axe a certain way, and if you fall, you dig its long blade into the snow and put your full body weight against it. If you don't do it right, you'll just keep sliding, and probably slam into a rock or off a cliff or something terrible. It's kind of important that way.

    The coolest part (ha ha) about the snow was that it had long, spiralled streaks of pink in it - watermelon snow! This pink snow is caused by some sort of algae, and by gum, it really did smell just like fresh watermelon. My oh my. All I could think of while tromping on it waswatermelonwatermelonwatermelon.

    We had one brief, scary scramble through some very loose, damp, messy scree, and then we hit the steep part of the snow. Myron showed us crampon newbies how to kick into the slope and 'walk' up the wall with our feet and the long blade on the ice axe. I felt pretty badass when I got to the top.

    While climbing the steep slope, one of Janet's crampons came loose, so at the top of the slope she pulled it off. There was still another hump of scree to climb before reaching the flat shoulder where we'd rest before heading on up, so she shouted up to Myron - Hey Myron, I'm going to toss you my crampon!
    He replied, I don't think that's a good idea- and was about to instruct her to carry it up herself when, after a second's hesitation and with a shout of glee, she wound it up by its straps and flung it upward with an underhand heft. Straight up, up, up... and backwards, flipping in slow-motion behind her and down the snow slope. We all gaped. Myron climbed down to get it. This story is a lot funnier if you have ever met Janet.

    But anyway. We stowed our crampons and axes and then set off for the last bit of the ascent - a long scramble up the ridgeline to the summit. This took what seemed like forever, but eventually, we made it! All 12,378 feet above sea level! It was over 2,000 feet above our camp below - the tents were so small as to be nearly invisible.

    Then came the hike down. The first part was alright - I'm no fan of clambering down unsteady, rocking, rumbling, heavy, sharp-cornered rocks, but, well, going up is optional, but getting down is mandatory. When we reached Geikie's soft shoulder where we'd left our snow gear, I learned how to descend the steep slope - pretty much as we'd ascended, using the crampon spikes to kick little steps out of the softening snow, and digging the ice axe in deep for a solid hand-grip. This was pretty easy, and I didn't even mind skidding and stumbling along with everyone down the scree between snow slopes.

    Then we were all standing at the top of the long snowfield - all several hundred feet of it. I looked down and it gave me that squirrely, nervous feeling I get when I'm looking down a steep snow slope (sledding down the Dartmouth Skiway by moonlight comes to mind...). Especially one that terminates in a field of sharp boulders. Adele kicked at the snow and deemed it too soft for walking down. She and Janet promptly sat, unstrapped their crampons, and proceeded to skid down the slope on their butts, keeping a moderate pace by dredging their ice axes as brakes. Ritchie got excited and soon followed. Except he hadn't got his axe in before he started moving, so he started sliding faster. And faster, and faster, until he was catching air and rocketing downslope. He rolled to avoid a rock and used his axe to self-arrest. When he got up he was too far away for me to see in detail, but he seemed to have had a blast, and he shouted up to me something along the lines of, THAT'S HOW NOT TO DO IT!

    So now it was just me and Myron at the top of the slope. He was waiting for me to go, probably so he could collect my shredded remains after what was clearly to be my imminent death. I gathered my guts, plunked my snow-pants-clad butt, and pressed my ice axe into the snow for a brake. I started moving, nice and slow, and I stopped myself easily with my axe. I gave a little sigh of Thank-God-I'm-In-Control relief, lifted the axe a bit, and immediately began careening downward, completely out of control, bouncing, spraying snow with axe and feet, barely sitting upright, twisting, and all the while rocketing faster.

    At some point I got a bit of sanity in my head and rolled onto my belly, a rushing sound in my ears and pink snow in my face, somehow wrangled the ice axe into its position, and dug in with the blade.

    And kept sliding.

    I am certain at this point I uttered some curse word, but I don't know which one. I heard shouts from below, indecipherable, and dug in some more with my axe, putting my full weight on it. And, just like that, I stopped, dangling by the axe in my gloved hands, sleeves, pants, and boots full of snow, snow in my sunglasses, snow in my mouth, snow all over, and I dangled some more. I managed a tittery, high-pitched HA HA! WASN'T THAT A RIDE!

    Myron expertly skidded his way over to me and told me how to get up, and I very slowly and unsteadily crept the rest of the way downward (it was less steep at this point) by kick-stepping (kicking one's heels into soft snow to make little slippery steps). I was not under any conditions going to sit down on my snow-pants-clad-butt again.

    But hey! I made it! And then we climbed over those big rocks again and found a lovely small snowmelt stream, from which we drank blissfully, water so cold it hurts your teeth. Mmm.

    Back at camp, R and his uncle did some fly-fishing and I did some dozing on a rock. We told Ben about our adventures, and he laughed and said he'd watched us, tiny specks that we were, skidding down the snow.

    Then there was dinner and stories and another night of watching the dusk settle against vast dark mountain silhouettes.

    Tower Peak's ascent began much more benignly. We traipsed over some up-and-down meadowy country and, after a good hours' march, ended up at the base of a very, very long scree field. I was all up for a good long scramble when Adele mentioned something called screeing. Turns out that folks were discussing the best way to descend such a slope - yes, you guessed it, sliding. Probably, in my case at least, completely out of control. I stood there for a moment, considering whether or not I really and truly wanted to risk my life again for this mountain, and whether my poor knees, which had been pretty sore after the previous day's adventure, could take it.

    But then I looked around and I looked up and I looked down and I said to myself, Of COURSE I CAN DO IT! And I set off.

    I watched everyone scramble, mountain-goat-like, up the scree easily, quickly disappearing out of my sight and along the ridge to the summit. It took me a lot longer. Thankfully Ben was back there with me, making his own way slowly, and we talked and helped each other find steady paths on hand and foot up the unsteady slope. Besides the fact that scree fields like this one are steep and exhausting, they are also dangerous, because one wrong foot placement can easily start a rockslide that might knock you or your groupmates down with it. Not to mention the risk of errant pebbles to the head or eyeball. By the time we got to the top I was a bit of a bundle of nerves, twitching my way up the final narrow little slope to the summit. The wind almost knocked me right off and down a cliff, which made me too nervous to get my camera out for a photo. But here I am on the summit elevation 12,330 ft, thanks to Myron. Lookit my pants! that's some wind!

    I was dreading going down. I think never having any experience sliding around on unsteady, steep surfaces as a child (skiing, etc) made me a real basketcase about being unsteady on my feet. I'm cool with ice skates - they're on flat surfaces. But put even a bit of a hill into the equation and I turn into a Nervous Nelly, as cautious as a grandma driving in the right lane on I-75.

    Adele and Janet again scooted right down, easy as pie, and Ritchie rocketed down easily too. Me, well, I crept slowly, wincing every time sand and rocks shifted uncontrollably under my feet, dragging me along, upright at least, down the slope. By 3/4 of the way down, though, man, I'd gotten it! I was slippin' and slidin' pretty comfortably! Of course, we were almost down. But still. I made it. At the bottom of the slope, most of the group decided to go climb Midsummer's Dome, but Ben and I decided to take a meandering route home instead, past Pyramid Lake. We had a lovely stroll, talking and bushwhacking our way back to camp through meadows and forests. This is also where I first tasted wortleberries - the best little wild berry you'll ever eat. Oh MAN. All I wanted to do after tasting them was to spend my afternoon foraging like a good little cave-woman, but I suppressed the urge and kept moving instead. Then we made it to camp and when Ritchie got back we had a very quick swim (well, dunk, really). Then it was time for My First Fly Fishing Lesson!

    I was really excited - I'm hoping to do a little fishing in Oregon when I move, and Tom's dad has offered to take me fly fishing, and it's kind of one of those things that just looks so darn lovely and peaceful that you just have to try it. So I did.

    I will not discuss my first 30 minutes with the pole. Suffice it to say I snagged everything but a fish and that some of my old pole-wielding winterguard twisty wrists came back to haunt me. Eventually, though, I got it together, getting something closer to a nice cast, and I even caught a fish! Sadly I forgot to get my picture taken with it, and Ritchie anyway had left to take a nap, so I had no photographer. It's ok though, it was only about 6 inches long. Anyway, I really liked fly fishing. I'm going to have to do it some more. From then on out, I found myself gazing intently at waterways, looking for fish darting in the rocks and imagining myself standing zen-like by the water, flicking the line beautifully just like they do on TV. I think maybe I'll even read A River Runs Through It.

    After a while the titanium scotch bottles were opened again, and we sat about and ate and went to bed. Right before I fell asleep Ritchie woke me up to look at the stars again - and my, they were even more magnificent than before. There's just nothing like seeing the sky so clear and star-bright, so far away from streetlights and skyscrapers and headlights.

    Day 6 - Scorched Earth - Things that Sheep Do

    This was probably the dustiest day of my life. We headed through some country where sheep are still grazed every summer. It's very romantic, Brokeback style, of course, except for the fact that the sheep overgraze the delicate meadows and turn them into dusty, harsh, scorched-earth wastelands. That's why some folks call 'em range maggots. Mostly I spent the day trying not to inhale too much dust and sheep poop. It was really lovely, though, when we weren't in sheep country, and Ritchie and I had even grown accustomed to our stale, hard, dry, flavorless pitas for lunch and they almost tasted good. Prior attempts at eating the pitas were only successful when combining pita, cheese, and peanut butter into a thick, sticky mess that should ONLY be eaten in times of duress. We camped in an old lake bed and made dinner atop a nearby rock face - it was my and R's night to cook, so we pulled out the ingredients Adele had put into the dinner bag - dehydrated chicken, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, cous cous, and some random spices - and turned them into a massive, massive pot of cous cous. Somehow we ate it all. This is probably due to the fact that I rule at cooking and it turned out quite deliciously (though Adele gets credit for the ingredients. I mean, who would put all those things together into one dish? Not I, under normal conditions!). Thankfully Ritchie had agreeably functioned as dinner-finisher the whole trip, and he had it in him for one more night of agreeably cleaning out the pot.

    Day 7 - The Long Way Home, and Wild Currants

    No matter how much you like the wilderness, the last day is always barn fever day. If you've ever been on a horse and made the mistake of moving at faster than a controlled walk when in sight of the barn, you know what this means - it means a full tilt pell-mell dash toward home. We broke camp quickly, R and I dismantling the Walrus one last time to the tune of all the Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs that we could recall.

    With one mile left to go, we set off on a bushwhacking shortcut. I was dubious, but it turned out to be a path dotted with patches of wild currants, which were delightful, though not quite as awesome as the seed-bead-size wortleberries I'd been scouting each day. And then we were at the car. I took off my boots and I'm certain my feet sighed with relief. We piled in, stopped for sodas and chips on the way, and eventually found ourselves back in Laramie, eating awesome pizza made by Ben's wife Mickey, telling Janet stories (she had left to go back to CO to see her sweetie), and looking at Myron's pics from the trip. Back at the house, it felt SO good to be back in a real bed instead of my smelly sleeping bag. Ooh boy.

    Day 8 - This is When I Chilled

    On our last day in Laramie, we climbed. Well, Ritchie, Myron, and Adele climbed, and I read Anna Karenina. My feet were too blistered to handle climbing shoes, but that was ok, 'cause it was just about perfect to lie on a big, sun-warmed rock and read for a few hours. Then we came home and did some laundry and laughed - a lot - at Myron's 1970's Dartmouth yearbooks (he's an alum!) and ate some dinner and packed and hit the hay one last time before our flights home.

    ---

    And then I flew home! That, believe it or not, is the short version of the trip! Ask me in person sometime if you want to hear some more stories.

    Home. Kind of.

    Gads. It feels awfully weird to be home again after two weeks' worth of traveling.

    En Route

    I'm on my way home today from Wyoming to Florida. Massive lots of stories about WY. Oh man! Hopefully I'll get those up by tonight or tomorrow... Currently I'm at the airport. Using wireless. Like a nerd.

    August 13, 2006

    On my way out

    Leaving for the Wind Rivers tomorrow at 6 am.

    I have two things to say:

    1) Wyoming is gorgeous.
    2) We are packing ice axes and crampons. Oh. God.

    August 12, 2006

    Workin on it

    Man, for someone who types fast, it sure takes me a long time to write things down. I'm workin' on the rest of my travelogue. I hope to get it done before I head out into the Wyoming backcountry, or I'll prolly forget it all.

    August 11, 2006

    Blue Moon

    Anybody ever had a Blue Moon with an orange slice in it? Turns out it's pretty fantastic.

    Onward, Pioneer! (Or, a Week Across Oregon) I

    Part I

    Eugene
    ------

    I flew into Portland on Friday evening, right around dinnertime. My flight was early, so I nabbed my bags and settled in with Anna Karenina to wait for Tom. Shortly he arrived, much greeting ensued, and we set off to get some high-quality Portland grub. We ate in the v. trendy Pearl district at Fratelli (that's where I had the salmon, see my food census part I from an earlier post below). We spent most of dinner catching up on gossip and various and sundry other great topics. We then crashed pretty much as soon as we got into Eugene, as the time difference (3 hours) had set in, and it felt like some godawful hour after 1 AM.

    The next day I overslept! Well, only until 8:30, but we were supposed to be up at 7. Shoot. Tom's parents picked us up for a farmers' market trip at 9 for purposes of buying supplies for the night's dinner. Mostly I ogled all the really really lovely produce. And chuckled a bit at some of the more hippyish hippies. We also hit up the fishmongers' and the meat market and a natural foods store. AND the parents bought me this fantastically detailed Oregon road atlas. This is pretty much going to be my adventure guide to Oregon!

    Post-massive grocery run, T and I set off on our bicycles (well, on his bicycles) and he showed me some of his Eugene haunts - the library, the CAT, the freakin' awesome bike path along the river, which was lined by loads of gorgeous wildflowers, and more. We also stopped back by the farmers' market to hit up the hippie crafts section. This was fabulous. I bought some aged green tea and the most amazing bracelet made of two spoon handles. Really, it's fantastic. I almost got a henna tattoo, but it's a pain to wait for them to dry, so instead we rolled out and kept on bikin'. We ate at the Keystone Cafe for lunch, which is all into free range eggs and hippie-grade pancakes (read: not your usual buttermilk species) and all manner of delicious foods. Spelt toast: who'da known it was so tasty?

    Eventually we went back to T's place, as he's housesitting this summer, and freshened up before heading to his parents' place, where we were to help cook for dinner. We set to work on various tasks (mostly mincing vegetables for the chowder, really) and after a few hours of preparations and email-checking-breaks the guests arrived: 3 of T's architecture friends from the U of O and one of his longtime friends from high school. They were all fantastic and conversation lasted well into the night. The weather was cool and comfortable and hanging out with everyone gave me the most lovely relaxed and friendly feeling. I promised to call T's parents when I return to OR, 'cause I will so hang out with them again!

    The next day we got up on time and went to the Hideaway Bakery. I had what was probably the most delicious turnover pastry ever since the creation of turnovers: bumbleberry. Perfect crispy flaky tender crust, fat juicy berry interior. Swoon. Also T had this potato donut that was improbably tender and delicious itself. We jetted off after this to Mt Pisgah, which is a great short little hike with a real big view at the top. It's ringed at its base by graceful oak prairies, consisting of wide open swathes of flaxen grass broken up by big, shaggy oaks. I also came close to hugging a poison oak. Thankfully Tom is not a very good jokester.

    Hmm, I think after this we went to Goodwill. The pickins were pretty good - 2 pairs of shoes and a t-shirt to refab. T found some nice shirts. Boys are lucky; Goodwill t-shirts actually FIT them.

    So the day before, I had seen these crazy tall bikes at the CAT. I'd heard of tallbikes, maybe seen some photos before, and I remarked how fun they seemed to Tom. Well, turns out his friend has one, and he took me over to try it out. You'll have to wait to see the photograph to really appreciate these things, but imagine a bike with its seat at your shoulder - that's how tall they are. With a little kind assistance I got onto the thing and took it for a spin. It. was. great. I would totally ride a tallbike to school. If there were no hills (they don't have good balance on hills, being a bit, uh, top-heavy and all).

    Sadly at this point I had to catch the train to Portland for my first RARE meeting.

    Also, sadly at this point I'm too tired to keep writing. Stay tuned for Part II!

    August 10, 2006

    Po Po Beat

    Reporting from a very nice hotel room in Pendleton, Oregon: a few recent DeSoto Police Beat items:

    (it seems to have been a slow week in the po po beat, folks)

    * Southeast Shady Oaks Avenue: A brown cow and a black cow were reported heading toward Carlstrom Field Road together and walking in the middle of the road.

    * 1300 block of Southeast Fourth Avenue: A resident reported someone removed a statue from her yard.

    August 8, 2006

    Eastern Oregon

    It's amazing where you can find wireless internet. Hi from Eastern Oregon.

    (eventually I shall update. now I gotta go find some eats.)

    August 7, 2006

    Food Census Part I

    Delicious foods eaten on this trip so far:

    Fratelli's, Portland

    - Cracked pepper and sea salt-crusted coho salmon over roasted green rhubarb, with a tomato and some-crisp-and-tasty-vegetable coulis

    - Buttermilk panna cotta with fresh berries and a tarragon-and-berry granite

    Farmer's Mkt

    - huckleberries
    - honey+honeycomb
    - pain au chocolat

    The Keystone Cafe

    - eggs 'n' homefries 'n' spelt toast (all organic happy free range etc)

    Tom's house (dinner party!)

    - grilled prosciutto-wrapped figs
    - cheese + homemade bread
    - salmon corn chowda (me an' T made this)
    - tomatoes with basil and vinaigrette
    - warm cous cous salad
    - grilled Italian sweet peppers and onions with flank steak
    - grilled garlic-rubbed bread
    - cornmeal shortcakes with strawberries and fresh whipped cream

    Miscellaneous Deliciousesses

    - bumbleberry turnover
    - potato donut (!)
    - goji berries
    - Blue Sky grapefruit soda
    - some fruit leathers
    - raisin walnut bread
    - several hunks of a very nice 75% dark chocolate bar

    Talladega Nights

    I was going to post some photographs tonight.
    But I left my camera cable in Eugene, and I'm in Portland.

    Instead, read my friend Andrew's review of Talladega Nights - I haven't seen it yet, but being from NASCAR country, I want to, and he's got some good thoughts on it.

    August 5, 2006

    O to the R

    Hello from lovely OREGON!

    I'm here.
    I'm eating well.
    Very well.
    The weather is perfect,
    the people are lovely,
    and Tom and I pretty much bombed around on bikes for most of today.

    I also now own a BRACELET made of SPOONS.

    Tomorrow night I go up to Portland to meet the RARE people, and Monday starts my interview tour.

    Now I'm catching a few minutes of wireless at Tom's parents' house before we set to work helping in the kitchen. More later, when I've got a bit more time to spare, k?

    August 4, 2006

    Travelin'

    As of 9:30 am today, I'm traveling out West for 2 weeks. If I get some internet access, I'll update while I'm out there - if not, you'll just have to wait 'til I come home!

    Itinerary
    August 4-11: RARE job stuff, hangin' out with Tom, driving across the entire state of OR.
    August 12-21: Rock climbing in Laramie, WY and backpacking in the Wind Rivers.

    (I will take copious photographs)
    (of course)

    Federally Funded Misinformation

    Everyone knows that Bush & Co. are very pro-life, abstinence-only types. So you might expect that some of the nation's federally funded pregnancy resource centers might be similarly inclined.

    However, I had no idea that it was this bad (WashPost):

    The report said that 20 of 23 federally funded centers contacted by staff investigators requesting information about an unintended pregnancy were told false or misleading information about the potential risks of an abortion.

    20 out of 23? Lying to pregnant women? And being funded to do so?

    I bet they're the same centers that put up those giant highway billboards being all, "Pregnant? We can help." Except that "We can help" apparently means "We're going to terrify you with false statistics about cancer, infertility, and trauma."

    August 3, 2006

    Non-blistering Temps

    I have excitedly packed PANTS and a BLAZER for wearing whilst out West.
    And FLEECE and WOOL LAYERS for backpacking.
    These are words that have been struck from my vocabulary since I came home in June.

    Man, it'll be good to get a reprieve from this Florida summertime. Oy. I feel for y'all in NYC and anywhere without A/C. We only use the A/C at night at my house, so that we can sleep, but it really does make all the difference. Ironically, the weather down here is actually cooler than that in loads of other places in the country right now. It may be hot for longer down here, long enough that we can grow avocados and pineapples in the back yard, but we just don't get those kinds of heat waves that swallow other places whole. It's reliably, steadily, suffocatingly hot, yes, but (relatively) moderate compared to what the big cities and the Midwest are dealing with this summer.

    Small Town Po Po Beat

    Reading the Police Beat is a great 5-minute work break. I think I'm gonna make posting some of these a regular occurence.

    Today's highlights (actually from the past few days):

    Neighborhood Watch:

    * 2300 block of Southeast Quail Avenue: A man reported that someone stole his well.

    (yeah, I don't know how one would steal a well either.)

    * 1100 block of Southeast Esmerelda Drive: A woman reported that someone severed her connection to electricity.

    * 12900 block of Southwest County Road 769: An alligator hiding underneath a tree beside a house was reported.

    * 900 block of Roberts Avenue: A man complained that he had been hit on the head at the Hess station and does not know who hit him or why.

    * 200 block of South Brevard Avenue: A woman paid for merchandise with five rolls of what were supposed to be dimes, but turned out to be pennies.

    * Lettuce Lake Campground: A pygmy goat was reported running loose in the campground.

    * 100 block of Lowe Street: A resident reported someone was trying to take her air conditioner out of her window.

    August 2, 2006

    Bluegrass at Craig's RV Park

    The Stage




    Tia and David met me one afternoon earlier this summer to go hear some sweet local bluegrass sounds. It was a little different than the mood and style of New England bluegrass (props to the White Mountain Oysters and sitting on the porch of 20 School and listening to the Fogey Mountain Boys!). But we had fun, the music was great, and I got some funny photos. More pics after the jump below.

    Highwaters

    I'm a long, long way from Friday Night Rock, y'all.


    Tia and David

    Tia and David are laughing at something. Probably me.


    Bluegrass Man

    "If I'd knowed you were gonna take a picture, I'da put my teeth in!"
    This guy was fantastic.


    Bluegrass Fan

    Bluegrass Fans

    Shortly after this photograph was taken, the man got up and the woman promptly reached into her purse and pulled out a large bag of pork rinds.

    Good enviro news?

    Yeah, that doesn't happen too often. If I was up on my Gristmill more often I'd have heard about this sooner, but hey, better late than never -

    After a hard-fought battle, NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association) has succeeded in closing off 654,000 square miles to commercial fishing (some just to bottom trawling, some to all fishing)!

    That is a lot of ocean - and, as this USA Today piece notes, it's larger than the rest of our national conservation areas combined, which total approximately 420,000 square miles.

    Why is this important? Because world fisheries are collapsing, and fast. Only 10 percent of big ocean fish (tuna, etc) are left compared to populations just 50 years ago. Anybody like Chilean Sea Bass? It's only been on the international market for a little more than a decade and already its population is in severe decline. Fish populations can rebound quickly - WHEN fisheries are closed to fishing, even if just temporarily, and if there are designated safe zones for fish reproduction that help to recharge the populations. So closing off big hunks of ocean is good for the fish, good for the environment (industrial fishing practices can be quite destructive, don't get me started, it's terrible), and, ultimately, good for fishermen and those of us who do love to eat fish.

    Now, those 600,000+ square miles of ocean are, of course, just a drop in the vast oceanic bucket. And we've only got jurisdiction over waters within 200 miles of the US coastline. And closing the ocean doesn't mean there's a fence up - certainly some areas will be fished illegally (grrr). But still - hey, it's a start. Just like how the Nature Conservancy has bought a bunch of fishing permits in California with the intent to ease the burden on fisheries (Sorry, lost that link).

    By the way - The Fish List is a good consumer guide to which fish species are best to eat and which come from overfished, declining stocks. There are a lot of tasty specimens on the to-avoid list, I know. I love me some grouper and tuna. Nonetheless, it's a handy reference.

    August 1, 2006

    Sea Grapes and a Ladybug


    Sea Grapes and a Ladybug

    Testing out posting photos from Flickr to the blog. Looks like it's all systems go!

    Plastic bags

    This is a perfect example of why I often have a hard time applying my New England lifestyle back home in Florida. It's constantly considered weird to be at all environmentally friendly.

    greenerMIAMI goes and attempts to re-use a plastic grocery bag at Publix (something that we did all the time at the Co-Op in Hanover):

    Me (to bagger): "I brought my own bag, thanks, just use this one."

    Bagger: Gives me a strange look, but comprehends. Puts bananas, cream cheese in my bag.

    Cashier: Bagging my bread in a new bag.

    Me: "I brought my own bag."

    Cashier: Gives me really strange & confused look.

    Me: "I only want to use the bag I brought." Take bread out of new bag.

    Cashier: Throws new bag that bread was in for 2 seconds directly into trash.

    Me: "Don't throw it out!"

    Cashier: Confused. "Why?"

    (read the rest of the exchange here)

    Of course, the flip side to this is that if one person's doing it, that's fantastic and makes it that much easier for the next person who does it, and the next, and so on - and somebody's gotta start the ball rolling...

    Jimmy Eat World

    Until this week, I hadn't really thought about Jimmy Eat World in a long time. Man, me and JEW had some good times in high school, cruising around to the sounds of Bleed American and Clarity. But since then, well, they've fallen off the radar a bit.

    But the other day I was jogging on my grandma's treadmill because it has a nice 10% incline (also known as the "wheeze and die" setting) and I dragged out this videotape to watch while on the 'mill that Katie, bless her soul, made me once of 6 pure, sweet hours of music videos from MTV2. In 2001. Oh, it's champion.

    And who should be on there but Jimmy Eat World - in their video for The Middle.

    That's the one where the kid walks into the party and everyone's all dancing around in their underwear and he's all wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, and he wanders around sadly through all the crazy people and at the very end he's about to give up and strip down to join the masses but then he sees a girl who's about to do the same and then they walk out together, happily clothed. It's wonderful. But anyway. It was nice to be reminded of good ol' JEW, and I promptly went home and listened to a few of their songs and returned to my regular summer rotation of Beirut and Of Montreal.

    Imagine my surprise, then, to coincidentally find a few acoustic/rare JEW tracks on a music blog today. For y'all who like me have some nostalgic Jimmy love, check 'em out - man, it'll take you back. If you get a knee-jerk hate reaction to anything remotely resembling what may or may not be something like emo, don't click below.

    Go get The Middle, No Sensitivity, and Lucky Denver Mint, all acoustic, from the blog Come Pick Me Up.

    By the way, the reason that CPMU posted these is that she discovered JEW frontman Jim's side project, Go Big Casino. They pretty much sound like Jimmy Eat World gone acoustic and mellow. Not quite awesome, but So Proud of You has a nice alt.country flavor.

    Topo wilderness

    It's the CONTINENTAL DIVIDE!

    Here's where I'll be backpacking in Wyoming:


    (click here for a larger version)