George Carlin is dead.

Fuck, and six other words.

R.I.P. George Carlin.

We all went to the park today, and the kids played for hours. While I watched Willow running through the spray in the water play area, a man nearby was singing sad songs in Spanish. I don't understand enough Spanish to tell you exactly what the songs were about, but his tone was plaintive. He broke the illusion of mystery by occasionally interrupting himself to talk on his cell phone. I think he was also listening to an I-pod. It was a strange juxtaposition, the quiet songs and the loud, laughing, children; the old and the new. Observing more carefully, I could see that even this sad singer of songs had a child there somewhere. Even though his feet were planted firmly on cement, they were buried in sand.

The kids are getting a few extra minutes out on their night hike tonight. I spent a moment looking out over the lower field. I could see a group of kids circled up out there in the near darkness. The sky above them, down by the horizon, was a vivid orange fading to light blue, and then to darkness. A razor thin crescent moon hangs in the sky, with the rest of it outlined in Earthshine.

It is heartbreakingly beautiful.

The hills to the southwest have been burning since Thursday. Here in the valley there were a couple of days where the thick campfire smell of smoke hung in the air. Being me, I kept imagining all of the burning Poison Oak bushes up in those hills, and what inhaling the smoke was doing to my lungs. Friday morning was particularly bad. I can't complain though. We still have our house.

Normally, I'd have left for work already, but thanks to good old Memorial Day there's no work tonight. So I can sit here and write boring blog posts instead.

Currently listening to: Leonard Cohen "Field Commander Cohen"

The temperature is supposed to drop this week, which isn't surprising because it sure couldn't have gotten much hotter. Despite the heat, I've still been walking to get the kids from school in the afternoon, dragging our squeaky, red Radio Flyer wagon behind with the girls safe inside. Sure, they could walk, but then they'd get tired and fight over which one got to be carried. Besides, Sophie likes to pretend she's in a limo going to Hollywood. Where she got that idea, I don't know, but it is kind of cute.

I only have three more weeks of working nights before the school year melts into summer. I'm looking forward to changing my weekday schedule back around and getting ready for summer camp to begin. I'm only working 6 weeks of summer camp this year, since the program for kids Willow's age only lasts that long. All the kids are coming to work with me for 6 weeks. I sure hope they don't burn out.

I need a new camera too. My screen has gone black. hmmm. That sounds like a grim metaphor, doesn't it? "Did you hear about Harry? His screen went black. The funeral is next week."

Currently listening to: Tanakh "Saunders Hollow"

First Harvest, originally uploaded by Corbie.

We all went to the Maker Faire a couple of weekends ago, and I've been meaning to blog about it but I haven't been able to download the photos from Jen's old camera. It seems that the software on my computer doesn't recognize it. I'll have to find the time to load the photos on to one of the other computers. In addition to this, my own camera's display screen has finally gone completely dark - it succumbed to the cold during a snowstorm up at Mt. Shasta a few month ago, but still worked well enough for me to see an image. No more.

The Maker Faire is an annual event up in San Mateo, with artisans, geeks, freaks, and other creative types converging on the San Mateo fairgrounds with their D.I.Y. projects. Objects on display (and sometimes for sale) ranged from arts & crafts to robots and rockets, and everything else in between. The kids got to see their first robot battle - actually a series of robot battles, with weight classes and everything. The very first robot to be sundered and have its pieces flung about the arena was one of the cute, little dinosaur robots the girls had been cuddling with earlier. I thought they'd be traumatized, but they were thrilled, even to the point of grabbing bits of crushed plastic and torn rubber skin from the aftermath. Jen got to indulge in some craft shopping, and we all got to hang out with Jeremy, who is a bit of a maker himself. As for myself, I've always wanted to spend more time making things, but don't always have the time, skills, or information I need. My one purchase for the day was a big block of red oak sawdust and rice bran impregnated with the mycelium of the Shiitake mushroom. The block is supposed to yield several "crops" of mushrooms (the part that grows above the ground is the "fruiting body" of the mushroom, used for reproductive purposes - the releasing of spores). Over the last week, I harvested my first batch of mushrooms, and damn, they're the best mushrooms I've ever eaten. I've been eating them raw too. Next time I'll try cooking them. Just a few minutes ago, I cut some mold off the block. Gotta watch that mold. Hopefully I'll have some more mushrooms soon. For your own block, go to Far West Fungi.

Another interesting site that had a booth at the faire was Instructables.com., which is billed as the world's biggest show and tell. It's full of user generated instructions for just about everything. Become a maker!

Speaking of making, I don't think I've mentioned in my blog (although she has mentioned it in hers, of course) that Jen had a short piece published in a book called "Can I Sit With You?". Along with several other authors featured in the book, she did a reading at Angelica's Bistro up in Redwood City. She did it well, too, despite her aversion to public speaking. We're all very proud of her. See an excerpt here.

At home, I'm continuing to walk to pick the kids up from school (tomorrow should be fun, with the forecast calling for record heat). Willow had her pre-Kindergarten assessment today, and she is ready for Kindergarten, which is no surprise to anybody. I'm told that she needs to work on her fine motor skills a bit though.

Everything in good time.

Currently listening to: Steve Von Till "A Grave is a Grim Horse"

Willow (as I drove her to school this morning): Why can't I play on the roof?

Here's a fun link. Keep refreshing for continued chuckles.

Even though her days are hectic, Jen still occasionally finds the time to send me an interesting link or two. Today, she sent me this one, which is essentially all about the joy and looming necessity of exploring your immediate neighborhood on foot. They call it a walkshed - sort of like a watershed for people, I guess. The whole idea is to get out there and see how many useful destinations are in walking distance. For instance, which stores are in a half-hour walking radius of your house? What about 45 minutes? An hour? Think of the saved gas money and the bulging calf muscles!

Thinking about it, I don't know my current neighborhood even a fraction as well as I knew my childhood haunts. Despite the fact that for the past three years (barring the current school year), I've hiked for a living, I still, shamefully, often drive when I could be walking. Blame schedules, or my inattention to the clock, or general to-much-to-do-ness, but I almost always drive to get the kids from school, which is only about five or six blocks away. Granted, I park around the corner rather than join the idling line of over-sized vehicles in front of the school, but still...

Today I walked. Willow rode her little plastic bigwheel (or whatever the heck they call them these days) and I brought the wagon because I didn't want any part of the scene that I was sure Sophie would make when she was faced with the prospect of... gasp... walking! As it was, she was so thrilled with the wagon ride that she wants to ride home that way every day. The boys were fine with it as well, but then again they often walk.

I'm going to try to keep this up. It was good to be out there in the Spring air, even if it was humid and overcast.

Then, coincidentally enough, the boys asked to go on a walk so they could "map the neighborhood." They're finally getting to the age where, equipped with a cell phone, it's more or less okay to let them wander off. And wander they did, with drinks and blank paper for making maps. I asked them just now if they actually made maps, to which Alex replied, "yeah, kinda." They plan on finishing the project later. Maybe I'll come along. I know that up the hill and around the corner there is the entrance to a hiking trail of some sort. It's probably not extensive, but it's definitely within walking distance. I've been meaning to mount an expedition up that way for awhile, but I'm such a damn procrastinator. There's also the added problem of getting all four kids (and attendant friends), to all agree at the same time to do the same thing.

One can only try.

(cue voice of Yoda) "There is no try. There is only do!"

Current listening: Crow Tongue "ditch mix volume three"

Unless..., originally uploaded by Corbie.

I spent last weekend down in Malibu, at a place called Camp Hess Kramer, for the Association for Environmental and Outdoor Education's (AEOE) Spring Conference. This is the second AEOE conference I've been to, and the first down in southern California. This time, ten of us went - naturalists, one of our cabin leader advisors, and a cabin leader/songwriter who lent her talents to the AEOE talent show and helped us win two of the four categories. We won for having a skit most closely related to the conference theme (Unless...), and cabin leader extraordinaire, Guinea Pig, won "most educational" for her song, You're Not A Loam. Hear it on her MySpace page. The skit was truly collaborative (both in its creation and in its message), but the song was all Guinea Pig's. We did have and extra collaborator show up while we practiced though - when our cabin leader adviser, Sequoia, put on his hood, a small, agitated scorpion fell out. I think I was more amused than he was.
As for the rest of the proceedings, the conference featured a great number of workshops, the intent of which was to make us more well-rounded outdoor educators. I was disappointed that the workshop where we were supposed to get a chance to dissect a Humboldt Squid, didn't in fact have said squid on hand, but other than that, I had a fun time, going to a workshop on "keeping the magic alive" led by Steve Van Zandt from San Mateo Outdoor Education, a workshop on Cage-free children led by Elaine Gibson from the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History, in which the subject of parental fear was discussed (if anything, it made me rethink the boundaries I set for our children at home more than it had any applications for the children I watch over at work), a workshop on working with English Language Learners (I didn't get a lot of new information from this one, but I did pick up a couple of extraneous activities from a fellow attendee), and a workshop on fire-making (I can now, among other things, make fire using only a flashlight and steel wool). This last workshop probably taught me most, in terms of new skills, but they were all inspiring in a way that makes me regret not being in the field at the moment. Summer camp is only about six weeks away though.

In addition to this, the conference was situated in a canyon that opened onto the beach, so the surroundings were beautiful. I took myself on a hike up to the nearest ridge during the first workshop session, enjoying the view of the pacific and the cacti that grew here and there in the hot, crumbly chaparral soil. I had hoped to see some reptiles, but only saw the region's ubiquitous Western Fence lizards. Despite their relative ordinariness, I took pictures of them anyway. Hiking up the same trail at night, I experienced the infamous Santa Ana winds, which felt for all the world like somebody was aiming a hair dryer at my face.

The conference also afforded my the opportunity to see at least one of my co-workers falling-down drunk. To his credit, he could still deliver a mean astronomy lecture despite being barely able to stand up. Also on hand for the conference was an ex-coworker who worked with us for a few months last year, and now works at the Yosemite Institute. I didn't really know anybody else though.

It was all over quickly, of course, and now I'm in the middle of a week off from work. I'm getting more sleep that usual, but for some reason I'm still tired.

Willow is calling from the other room again. I think her pancake is ready...

Kids discussing the important issues:

Nate (to Sophie): Babies come out of your vagina - your front private.

Sophie: No, they come out of your butt.

Spring is here, but the cold and wind still persist, making jacket-wearing mandatory in the evenings. We've all been spending a lot of time out front, and we're definitely getting a lot of use out of the basketball hoop, although I've seen the kids try to make baskets with a lot of non-regulation balls, such as soccer balls and superballs, and various other even less appropriate things. The neighborhood is now home to a large number of kids, and they often congregate in our driveway. There's a little Korean boy, who is 5 or 6 years old (he says 6), who is always out by himself, completely unsupervised, and who often wanders over when we're outside. The girls were talking with him about the local grocery store, and he replied, "I can't go to (the store) cuz last time I go there by myself the police came. Someone call the police." I don't blame them either. He's way to young to be just wandering around by himself. Unfortunately, I don't know any Korean, so I can't communicate with his grandmother, who he either lives with, or stays with. Jeez.

While all was suburban bliss out on the driveway last week, an unseen menace was festering in the hair of a camper up at work. That's right: head lice. After nice reggae/jazz interval, courtesy of old friends I've Never Been to Brisbane, I got to camp Thursday night to find that nearly 30 kids had been sent home with lice, and that a couple of cabin leaders had some as well. It all started with one girl, who I'm told appeared to have such a large population of lice that she must have been harboring them for weeks, if not months. Of course, nearly everybody in her cabin ended up with small passengers in their hair, as did some kids in her field class. Everybody else was nervously checking their hair and experiencing phantom itching. Overnight, a couple of the classroom teachers discovered that their itching wasn't so phantom. They were not amused. It had been such a great week up until that point too.

This weekend, after carefully washing the clothes I'd worn to camp and inspecting my hair more than I normally do, I declared myself lice-free and took the kids to their first punk show - Extreme Noise Terror! I still ached as recently as Sunday. I've got to learn that I'm to old to go in the pit at punk shows. 40 is definitely not the new 20.

Sunday, I did a reptile party for an ex-coworker's grandson. What a fun way to earn money! I offered the family a deep discount, given that my old co-worker is so cool (I'm currently occasionally student teaching in her fifth grade classroom, and she's up at camp this week as well), but they opted to pay full price. The kids at the party had a great time. One girl kept repeatedly thanking me for being there. I enjoy that kind of feedback.

Nate Frees A Frog

Nate Frees A Frog, originally uploaded by Corbie.

"I say, if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life."

- Bill Watterson in Calvin and Hobbes

I noticed that it's a little harder to make your knees green these days. They've put up fences blocking access to the creeks. This made difficult the freeing of the Chorus frog that Nate caught a month or so ago. It also made us into lawbreakers as we ignored the "no trespassing" signs. The frog needed an escort to the cover offered by the creekside plants. Nate hopped the fence, and I handed the frog over to him. Now I don't have to buy extra crickets when I go to the store.

I've always been a packrat, hoarding bits of paper and detritus, mostly because I have this ongoing notion that I might need to reference something in the future. Yesterday, I spend some time in the garage fighting this tendency by sorting, and then parting with, some of my long hoarded stash of old receipts, college correspondence (do I really still need reminders to attend meetings that happened nearly 20 years ago?), and other oddball items. I even found my graduation program from junior high! whoop-de-do. It felt liberating to dump the majority of my findings into the recycle bin. I was a bit annoyed at how San Jose State uses social security numbers as student I.D. numbers, which meant that I had to shred lots of paper before consigning it to the bin.

I also found the novel version of "The Last Unicorn," the movie version of which has entranced Willow for around half a year now. I might try reading it to her, even though it is aimed at a much older audience. I also found more cassettes I want to convert to digital files. It's nice to be able to put on music that's been sitting in the garage for years, and experience it like no time has passed since I last heard it. I guess that's the nature of nostalgia. I guess my memory of the music from my youth is so vivid because I didn't have such an overwhelming amount of music back then. Songs had a chance to settle and resonate inside me. It's nice to find that they're still there, resonating away.

In amongst the papers I found an unused fragment of an autobiographical piece, no doubt from the time when the OAC was turning out autobiographical vignettes. It took me back to an old routine, one that I'm sure would have faded beyond memory otherwise. Not that I suppose I really need to remember delivering newspapers. Here it is anyway:

As usual, Jerome and Julian are there before me. Jerome is playing minesweeper on one of the office's two computers, and Julian is complaining, a prelude to his other pet subjects: prostitutes, TV, and farts.
Patricio arrives next, not because he has to be there that early, but because he drives down from Modesto every night and is never quite sure how long it's going to take him to commute.
Not long after, the first papers arrive, in neat bundles of fifty. Jerome and I are supposed to break open the bundles and sort them by route so they can be delivered. Tonight however, they are without route numbers, making the job next to impossible.
Kim, who is supposedly in charge, shows up with his usual look of resignation and tells us to do our best. I make my usual negative comments about the company responsible for printing and bundling the papers, followed by several impractical but satisfying solutions to their organizational problems. Kim counters with suggestions about what he could do with my paycheck. I get to work.
These papers, with all the problems they bring, aren't even the ones I've signed on to deliver. They're just these tiny little pieces of colorful financial toilet paper that I suspect very few people actually read. I have made this determination after months of littering sidewalks with them, watching them pile up into little drifts. Now I just throw a large portion of my papers into the recycling pile.

I'm not sure where I was going with that. I abandoned it mid-stream for some reason or other. Scattered throughout my belongings are many such unfinished writings, some of them mere grains of ideas, and some of them even (bad) poetry. I keep them though, because sometimes I go back and discover that I actually like something I'd previously not been bothered to finish. Of course, sometimes the opposite is true.

Sometimes I produce garbage.

Jen has been gone since early Wednesday morning. You can read about her trip on her blog and Flickr page. It's funny, really, the way I can just sit down and read about her trip, as well as see photos, not only from her, but from other people attending the same convention. It's like being there... except not.

At home, I've been enjoying the extra sleep, since I've had to take off work in order to wrangle our own kids. It's funny how it's actually more difficult to get four kids up and out of the house in the morning than it is to wake up 150 - 200 kids up at camp. Of course, at camp, I just blast music over the loudspeakers and make helpful announcements on the mic between songs. The cabin leaders do the rest. Not that I'm complaining. It's been awhile since I've gotten to do the morning routine at home for more than a day at a time. It has been generally pretty easy. The boys have even been getting up before me. The girls, of course, still have to be dressed while in that hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness.

I've been staying up late too, working my way through the stack of movies purchased at the local closing (now closed and gone) video rental place. The quality of my purchases ranges from marginal to excellent, but even the marginal ones have some merit, in that they're not children's movies I've seen hundreds of times. I think that watching the movies is equally important to getting enough (or almost enough) sleep in terms of the way it's benefiting my psyche. I feel recharged.

Next week is spring break for the kids. For some reason, my week off work comes at the end of the month, so apparently not all schools have next week off.

I got an actual letter in the mail yesterday too, from a guy I met on myspace, ironically enough. We discovered a shared appreciation for early 2oth century/late 19th century weird fiction, and a shared nostalgia for simpler times (read: pre-computer), which is why I say it is somewhat ironic that we met online. He sent a couple of pieces of original art too, which are very nice indeed. There's always such a difference between seeing images online and actually holding them in your hands.

I also got a wedding invitation, and a cd. Lots of people I know are getting married later this year.

Currently listening to the new cd: Benjamin Escoriza "Alevanta!"

...Gone Tomorrow

...Gone Tomorrow, originally uploaded by Corbie.

I got rid of two things over the last couple of days - my car and my hair.

The car has been sitting, undriven, out front ever since it starting running rough around six months ago. I parked it on the street until some bored representative of the local police department chalked the tires and left a note saying that I had 72 hours to move it. This meant I had to give up the driveway space I'd been parking the van in. Not to mention the fact that we've been paying insurance on a car that nobody has been driving. Chalk it up to procrastination on my part. Anyway, I finally got in touch with a charity and donated the damn thing. It was a little sad to see it go. I spent a lot of time adding character to that car, in the form of stickers, corrosion, busted out lights, and that unique smell every older car achieves (a combination of a decade of spilled drinks and food, coupled with who knows what else...). Granted, not everybody liked that smell. I'd used the car for over six years of paper delivery too, during which time it virtually became a part of me. It was comfortable, despite the steering wheel being so worn through that you had to grip the metal where the rubber sagged off (not fun on hot days), and despite the shininess of the driver's seat where the fabric had been buffed smooth by my butt.

Now it's gone, and we can write it off on next year's taxes. Too bad it didn't happen in time to help us with this year's taxes.

As for my hair - I'd been thinking about getting cut for awhile, but not taking action. It took Jen making the appointment (to coincide with hers) to get me down there. It has been, after all, nearly 20 years since I last got it even so much as trimmed, so all of a sudden having my hair end before it touches my shoulders is a big step.
I've had long hair ever since I could get away with it. Why? I think it was a combination of my musical idols having long hair, and just thinking it looked cool. Over the years, it just became habit (in a do-nothing sort of way). It's been braided by hundreds of kids in that time, and I've probably used up way more than my share of shampoo and conditioner. People would sometimes ask why I had it long, to which I would reply, "think of the money I've saved on haircuts." I'm still getting used to the fact that I don't have to (in fact, can't) put it back in a ponytail. I think I like it. I think...

As for the shorn hair, I'm donating it to Locks of Love. I'm all about giving things to charity this week, it seems.

Currently listening to: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band "13 Blues for Thirteen Moons"

Making A Wish

Making A Wish, originally uploaded by Corbie.

Willow finally got her birthday party, nearly a month after her actual birthday. A while back, she had been invited to a party at "the jumpy house place" and had been impressed enough to want her party there too. Of course, the Jumpy House Place costs about double what other party-oriented destinations do, but money means nothing to the preschool set, so we forlornly forked over the dough and spent an hour or so bouncing up and down on large, inflatable play structures, which actually ended up being a lot of fun. Willow's paternal grandparents came along (but didn't bounce), as did her siblings and some friends from preschool (who did bounce). The bouncing was followed by pizza, soda, and cake. Then, once all of the kids were properly sugared up, the party ended and everybody went home to no doubt continue bouncing in less bounce-friendly domestic environments.

The night before this, I went with my mom to see the latest Central Works play, Wakefield (based on a Nathaniel Hawthorne short story that I have yet to read). Greg, as usual, did the sound. The play concerns a husband who returns home after a 20 year disappearance, much to the outraged disbelief of his wife, a disbelief which grows exponentially when it turns out he'd been living two blocks away all that time, with no real explanation as to why. This is definitely a story for anybody who has heard the call of the open road and taken it, regardless of the consequences. Of course, it also deals with that all too human quality of procrastination - in particular the kind that makes it harder and harder to do something, like phoning somebody, the longer it is delayed. I know exactly what that feels like. In a strange way, it also made me think about that woman who was in the news recently for sitting on the toilet for two years, saying, "maybe I'll get off tomorrow," while her boyfriend just adjusted to the strangeness and enabled her to remain perched on that most undignified of thrones by feeding her.

I'd say go see the play, but its run has ended. So, go see the next play, which should be up and running in July/August.

On Easter, the kids participated in multiple egg hunts, the first at home, the second at the Unitarian church that Jen has been going to lately, and the third at a friend's house. Willow says that she wants to help hide them next time. At this third party, a number of kids were playing "rock band", which is basically karaoke with points. Kids play guitar and drums, and of course, sing karaoke-style. The guitar and drums are electronic mock-ups upon which you must finger the correct chords or hit the right drum at the right time, as indicated on the tv screen. If everybody messes up, the song "fails" and the virtual audience on the screen throws things at the virtual band. So much for enhancing self-esteem. I joined in after awhile, singing Black Sabbath's "Paranoid," Blue Oyster Cult's "(Don't Fear) the Reaper," and "Should I Stay or Should I Go," by The Clash. Loudly. Alex played "guitar" most of the time. The Drummers came and went, in true Spinal Tap fashion.

On Tuesday morning, I took Willow to the Children's Discovery Museum, with all of my pets in tow (excluding the iguana, who is agoraphobic). They had asked me to do this a couple of months ago, as part of a Green Week - a celebration of biodiversity and other things "green." It ended up being a popular event, with my table being quite mobbed for most of the three and a half hours that I was there. While I was managing the table and letting kids touch spiders and snakes, Willow played nearby. This was the first time I'd let her go off on her own, and she did a great job of checking in every so often. I even gave her money to go buy something at the cafeteria, and she dutifully brought me the change. It helped of course that about half of the museum staff knows her.

And here it is, almost the weekend again. The week at work has been chugging along smoothly, with a couple of coyote sightings to liven things up. As I got there on Monday night, I saw a number of deer near the main office being watched by a rather small coyote, who of course ran away when spotted himself. Apparently, the watchers don't like being watched. The other coyote was hanging out by the boys' bathroom, and inspired at least one person to put nature's call on hold.

Still waiting, after all of these years, to see a Mountain Lion.

The View from Above

The View from Above, originally uploaded by Corbie.

I got a rare chance to take out a field class last Wednesday, which was a lot of fun, but I sure felt the effects of losing a couple of precious hours of morning sleep. This was exacerbated by me having a nasty cold/sinus infection/eye infection. Being sick and tired really drains me. I blame the eye infection squarely on Willow, because the infected eye was the one she sneezed on last week. The cold and sinus problems have hit everybody in the family except Alex. At least I missed out on the fever part of it.

As for the field class, I had the kids pretend that everything they saw was brand new to them, and had them come up with new names for everything. It was pretty easy in some cases, because some of the animals we found were indeed new to the kids. They probably had the hardest time naming the one in the picture here. One kid decided that it should be called, "The Snake that Might Kill You." This is an apt name, but he still used the word "Snake," which I was trying to have the kids avoid doing. This particular snake did in fact recently kill something, as is evidenced by the large lump in its body in the lower right hand corner of the photo. There's probably a partially digested vole in there, but we'll never know for sure.

This coming week, I get to teach another lesson, although it will be in a classroom. I'll have to bring my own snakes for this one.

We're all feeling pretty much better now. There's nothing like getting a couple nights of good sleep to put things to rights. I even got to sit down and watch a couple of horror movies last night while Jen was out seeing Margaret Cho in San Francisco. I can't remember the last time I actually watched two movies in a row (not counting kid movies, which the kids will sometimes watch two or more times in a row). The horror movies came courtesy of the local video store having a going out of business sale. Right now all of the dvds are 70% off and falling. I plan to go back when they're even cheaper and get more. Jen keeps reminding me that space is at a premium around here, but the cheap movies are calling me...

I'll sign off with a quote from Willow. While she was sitting on the couch yesterday, she looked up at me with a thoughtful little face and asked, "how do boys poop?"

She's becoming such an inquisitive little girl.

Now, Jen, Willow, and Nate are all sick. Alex is away at camp (at our second site, so I don't see him when I go to work, although I plan to swing by and visit him on the way in tonight). With Nate and Willow home in the mornings while Sophie is at school, I can actually sleep a bit. Nate and Willow keep each other amused, without the fighting that usually ensues when Sophie is around. So, in a way, it has been pretty peaceful around here this week.

I've been feeling this indefinable compulsion to spend less time at the computer, which, coupled with a strange nostalgia for a time when the world was uncluttered with the frenetic instantaneousness of the computer age, might find me away from the computer for stretches of time. I find I get more done around here when I'm not sitting in front of the screen. This is nothing new, really, and I'm sure it will be a passing thing, but I'm going to embrace the feeling while it lasts.

Current reading: "The Attempted Rescue," by Robert Aickman (which may explain the above compulsion, since this is an autobiographical account of Aickman's childhood during the first half of the last century - quite fascinating, and more than a bit unsettling as well, like his stories).

Current listening: Stille Volk "Maudat"

Nightsnake

Nightsnake, originally uploaded by Corbie.

The kids didn't have school yesterday (except for Willow, who only had it in the morning), and since the weather was warm, I thought it would be a good idea to get up into the hills for a hike. For once, everybody agreed. With their two friends who were over at the time, that made it a total of six kids going on the hike with me, and for once, there was a minimum of fighting/arguing. True, Sophie got a little whiny at times, and wanted to be carried a lot, but then again she is just getting over being sick, and doesn't weigh much anyway.

In the three and a half hours that we were there, we saw a couple of wild turkeys, some dog walkers, a few hikers and joggers, a herd of cows (introduced to the edges of the park to keep the grass down, thus preventing fire hazards during high summer), and a Nightsnake. This last discovery absolutely thrilled me, because I'd been wanting to find a Nightsnake for years. I've lived in this area almost all of my life, and while I knew Nightsnakes were supposed to live in the vicinity, I'd never come across one before. This may in part be due to the fact that they're nocturnal, pretty well camouflaged, and relatively small (although they can get over two feet in length). This one was under a log, or perhaps inside it, because when I rolled the log over, it was upside down, like it had fallen out of the log. All I saw at first was what looked like a bit of white ribbon, since it was belly up and their bellies are cream-colored. I picked it up and turned it over. The snake was pretty cold, so at first it didn't move much. I called the kids over, and we all took turns holding it. Nightsnakes are mildly venomous, but are not considered dangerous to humans. I don't think this one was big enough to puncture skin even if it wanted to bite. I love their eyes too. The have little vertical, "cat eye" pupils, which are common among nocturnal animals.

I took a lot of photos because the screen on my camera is cracked (possibly due to the below freezing temperatures we encountered on our Shasta trip last weekend), and it's hard to tell whether or not the photos are good ones. I figured if I took a lot, at least a few of them would be decent. I think it's about time for a new camera.